AMERICAN PUBLIC UNIVERSITY SYSTEM Charles Town, West Virginia LAZARUS RISING: NIKEPHOROS PHOKAS AND THE TENTH CENTURY BYZANTINE MILITARY RENAISSANCE A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of MASTER OF ARTS in ANCIENT AND CLASSICAL HISTORY by James Michael Gilmer Department Approval Date: The author hereby grants the American Public University System the right to display these contents for educational purposes. The author assumes total responsibility for meeting the requirements set by United States Copyright Law for the inclusion of any materials that are not the author’s creation or in the public domain. 0 © Copyright 2012 by James Michael Gilmer All rights reserved. 1  ABSTRACT OF THE THESIS LAZARUS RISING: NIKEPHOROS PHOKAS AND THE TENTH CENTURY BYZANTINE MILITARY RENAISSANCE by James Michael Gilmer American Public University System, August 27th, 2012 Charles Town, West Virginia Dr. Don Sine, Thesis Professor What follows is a discussion of the internal reasons for the “Byzantine Military Renaissance”, a period of rapid expansion from the middle of the tenth century AD to the end of the first quarter of the eleventh. This paper examines how the Byzantine Empire accomplished this drastic change in fortunes, shifting from a defensive position to one of conquest. This paper examines the sources of Byzantine strength, as well as internal motives for undertaking wars of conquest and concludes that the Byzantine Empire expanded during this period primarily as a result of internal factors. This paper culminates with a discussion of the Battle of Manzikert, and examines whether this fateful battle represented a failure of leadership or a failure of the Byzantine military system. It is the purpose of this paper to demonstrate that the rapid expansion of the Byzantine Empire during the latter half of the tenth century and first half of the eleventh was a direct result of a series of institutional reforms undertaken in the first half of the tenth century; we shall further demonstrate that the collapse of these institutions was the direct result of mismanagement during the middle of the eleventh century. 2 CHAPTER I: INTRODUCTION.................................................................................................................5 CHAPTER II: POLITICAL, ECONOMIC AND SOCIAL DEVELOPMENTS..................................10 INTERNAL SOURCES OF STRENGTH:...........................................................................................................16 SOCIAL TENSION:.......................................................................................................................................28 RELIGIOUS MOTIVES FOR EXPANSION:......................................................................................................31 THE OLD ORDER ON FIRE: CIVIL WARS:..................................................................................................34 CONCLUSIONS:...........................................................................................................................................37 CHAPTER III: BYZANTINE MILITARY DOCTRINE:.......................................................................39 MAURICIAN MILITARY THEORY.................................................................................................................39 TROOP TYPES:............................................................................................................................................40 ENGAGEMENT:...........................................................................................................................................41 DISCIPLINE AND CAUTION:........................................................................................................................43 CUNNING:...................................................................................................................................................46 RULES OF ENGAGEMENT:...........................................................................................................................47 CONCLUSIONS:...........................................................................................................................................49 NIKEPHORAN MILITARY THEORY...............................................................................................................50 TROOP TYPES:............................................................................................................................................50 ENGAGEMENT:...........................................................................................................................................57 RULES OF ENGAGEMENT:...........................................................................................................................61 DISCIPLINE AND CAUTION:........................................................................................................................62 CONCLUSIONS:...........................................................................................................................................62 CHAPTER IV: MILITARY PRACTICE:.................................................................................................64 LAW OF THREE:..........................................................................................................................................64 Invasion of Crete...................................................................................................................................64 Pecheneg Wars......................................................................................................................................66 SURPRISE AND CUNNING: AMBUSHES:......................................................................................................67 Battle of Adrassos.................................................................................................................................68 Battle of Vaspurukan.............................................................................................................................69 Battle of Arcadiopolis...........................................................................................................................70 SURPRISE AND CUNNING: MANEUVER:.....................................................................................................72 Battle of Great Preslav.........................................................................................................................73 Battle of the Sperchios River.................................................................................................................76 Battle of the Kleidion Pass...................................................................................................................77 GRAND STRATEGY:....................................................................................................................................79 Battle of Adana.....................................................................................................................................80 SHOCK WARFARE: KATAPHRAKTOI:..........................................................................................................81 Siege of Tarsos......................................................................................................................................81 Siege of Dorostolon..............................................................................................................................83 LEADERSHIP:..............................................................................................................................................86 Siege of Great Preslav..........................................................................................................................87 Battle of Versinikia...............................................................................................................................88 Battle of Pliska.....................................................................................................................................91 Battle of Azazion...................................................................................................................................94 INSTITUTIONAL WEAKNESS:......................................................................................................................96 Battle of Anzen.....................................................................................................................................96 CONCLUSIONS:...........................................................................................................................................99 CHAPTER V: THE EMPIRE UNDONE: THE BATTLE OF MANZIKERT...................................102 MARCHING TO WAR:................................................................................................................................102 BALLISTICS REPORT: LEADERSHIP..........................................................................................................108 3  BALLISTICS REPORT: STRUCTURAL.........................................................................................................114 FALLING DOMINOES:................................................................................................................................116 CHAPTER VI: CONCLUSIONS:...........................................................................................................118 BIBLIOGRAPHY:......................................................................................................................................122 4  Chapter I: Introduction To an observer at Constantinople in 863, it would have seemed that the Byzantine Empire was holding its ground admirably well against the monolithic power of the Abbasid Caliphate. Although the Byzantines had been humiliatingly and emphatically defeated just a generation before, the Abbasids had been unable to make good their advantage. They never could. The thematic levies guaranteed that Constantinople was protected by a veritable ocean of decently trained militiamen, each one the proud and fiercely independent owner of a sizeable plot of land – a literal stake in the political order of the Byzantine state. In 863, however, it must have seemed that the frontier would never change. There would always be jihadis pouring over the frontier to find martyrdom in Byzantine Anatolia, and perhaps a few heads of cattle to take home with them if martyrdom was not forthcoming. There would always be the akritai1 – Byzantium’s Christian version of the Muslim jihadi – just as willing to find martyrdom, or a few head of cattle in expeditions into Muslim lands. But 863 proved to be a turning point in the history of Byzantium’s long struggle with the Arabs. A series of unexpected and spectacular victories marked 863 out as a special year for the Byzantines. More jihadis than usual found martyrdom in Byzantine Anatolia; almost none found any head of cattle. Gradually, painfully, inexorably the balance of power shifted in favor of the Byzantines in their long war with the Arabs. The pace of Byzantium’s long war with the Arabs quickened after 863. The continuous wars on the frontiers, the raids and the pillaging had concealed an inherent instability and weakness in the “monolithic” power of the Abbasid Caliphate. After 863, 1 Byzantine frontiersmen, dedicated to the defense of the faith from the threat of Islam. 5 the Abbasid Caliphate seemed bent on self immolation. Every year brought new rebellions, new plots, and new rivals as more and more territory seceded or was taken by rebels. The Abbasid Caliphate disintegrated – slowly at first, but the pace accelerated with each passing year. By 934 the Abbasid Caliph was a prisoner within what remained of his domain, maintained in Baghdad as a figurehead by the victorious Buyids. As the Abbasids disintegrated, the Byzantines channeled all the latent power of their empire into a policy of reconquest. At first, the Byzantines advanced cautiously: their military system was not designed for offensive warfare, their financial system was not designed to supply armies of conquest, and their social structure strained under the pressures imposed, paradoxically, by victory on the frontier. Conquests were at first few and far between, and the glory accruing from victory was marred by internal divisions between a rising provincial aristocracy and the autocratic power of Constantinople and the imperial bureaucracy. The Abbasid collapse opened a door, but it was still up to the Byzantines to decide to seize the opportunity. Byzantium spent much of the first half of the tenth century gathering her strength for the challenges that were to come. First, the crown needed to assert itself firmly in the brewing conflict with the provincial aristocracy. A series of novels concerning the acquisition of lands and the payment of taxes established the crown’s hegemony over all levels of society, even to the lowest peasant. The nascent provincial aristocracy resisted, gathering strength through a monopoly on government – and especially military – appointments to office in the frontier zones. Ultimately though, the will of Constantinople triumphed and imperial authority was stronger at the death of Basil II (r. 976 – 1025) than it had ever been before. 6  The army was also larger in 1025 than it had ever been before, a result of continuous cultivation of the militia that had sustained the empire during its long war with the Arabs. The crown sided wholeheartedly with this class of Byzantine society in their struggles with the rising provincial aristocracy for privilege, lands and wealth. A series of novels promulgated in favor of the soldiers established the Byzantine military as the single most important and most powerful element of Byzantine society. The ranks of the army swelled with new recruits, each granted a spacious plot of land to defend and farm for the protection and prosperity of the empire. Between 863 and 955, the Byzantines expanded relatively slowly – they were still gathering their strength. By 955, however, Nikephoros Phokas took office as Domestic of the Schools – commander in chief of the Byzantine armies in the absence of the reigning emperor, and second in authority only to the emperor in military matters. Nikephoros embarked on a comprehensive program of reforms that altered nearly every aspect of the Byzantine military. Nikephoros’ army fought differently, marched to battle with different equipment, pursued different ends in war, and was sustained in peace through different means. Nikephoros’ reforms unlocked the latent potential of the Byzantine military for sustained, offensive actions: campaigns of conquest. Hitherto the armies of the Byzantine state were geared wholly for defense: they were supplied largely by provincial levies that were not normally paid during peacetime – and were thus expensive to raise for campaign – and the soldiers were motivated by a desire to protect the lands granted to them by the emperor in a specific province. It was a local army, potent in the defense but ill-suited to expeditions abroad. 7  By 960, however, the Byzantine army was ready to venture beyond the borders. It had become a professional force, highly trained and disciplined, re-outfitted into an army of specialists who were highly trained both in how to handle a disparate array of weapons individually and how to synergistically combine their talents to maximum effect. It was an army that required considerable discipline on the part of its soldiers and a degree of competence on the part of its generals, but it was also an army that could engage and defeat any rival. Between 960 and 1025 the Byzantines put their “New Model Army” to the test in a near-continuous sequence of annual campaigns along every inch of the frontier. Lands which had been lost centuries earlier were reclaimed for the empire. By 1025, the Byzantine Empire stood in the position the Abbasid Caliphate had held in the beginning of the ninth century: it seemed the Byzantines could expand at will in any direction they chose. Internal considerations, however, hindered just where “any direction they chose” happened to be. Byzantine society was still riven by divisions between the rising provincial aristocracy – temporarily restrained by the iron will of Basil II – and the ideals of the court elite of Constantinople. The long war with the Arabs had been won on the frontiers, but at the cost of generating a distinct spirit of self-reliance and regional pride that was not easily suppressed by the crown. In large part the expansions of the Byzantine military renaissance are attributable to the ever-deepening rift between the provincial elite and Constantinople. From the outside, the Byzantine empire of Basil II “Boulgaroktonos” – the Bulgar-Slayer – gleamed, seemingly at the height of its power and majesty. Over the 8 course of the preceding seventy five years, the Empire had experienced a renaissance: the Byzantines were internally united under the firm hand of their celebrated emperor; they were increasingly wealthy; and the borders of their empire had exploded outwards to their largest extent since the fateful Battle of Yarmuk in 636, four centuries earlier. Yet the appearance of splendor concealed a society in turmoil; success had bred new problems, and only the iron hand of Basil II (r.976 – 1025) kept these divisive forces – ironically the same forces responsible for the Empire’s rapid growth – in check. Two generations earlier, the Empire had begun a series of reforms that harnessed the immense internal strength of the state and channeled that strength outward, overcoming all of the Empire’s traditional rivals – and then some. Two generations later it was all gone, squandered by poor leadership that left the mighty empire a pale reflection of its former self at the turn of the twelfth century. It is my contention that the Byzantine Empire blossomed in the latter half of the tenth century as a direct result of a series of institutional and military reforms undertaken in the beginning of the tenth century: these reforms were then allowed to lapse, and Byzantine power atrophied as a result of mismanagement in the eleventh century. 9  Chapter II: Political, Economic and Social Developments After the Battle of Yarmuk in AD 636, the Byzantine Empire was thrown firmly on the defensive against the rising power of the Arabic Caliphate. For two centuries the Byzantines were locked in a struggle to the death against their mighty foe, tenaciously defending the territories that remained to the empire but never quite mustering the strength to reclaim what had been lost. In Ad 863, the balance of power between the two great powers began to shift – slowly, but inexorably. Scholars debate fervently as to the causes for this shift in the balance of power: some see the Byzantine resurgence that followed as a byproduct of Muslim weakness and nothing more, while others contend that Byzantine expansion was fundamentally a result of Byzantine strength. After AD 955 the tempo changed as the Byzantines changed their approach to warfare and began to expand vigorously into lands that had been lost to the empire for centuries. Under the guiding hand of Nikephoros II Phokas (r. 963 – 969), the Byzantines became more aggressive in channeling the tremendous latent strength of their empire into a focused policy of reconquest. Nikephoros and his successors campaigned vigorously and successfully, and by the death of Basil II in AD 1025 the empire was poised to expand in any direction it chose. Success, however, jeopardized the internal order of Byzantine society and it was only the iron grip of the emperors of the Macedonian Dynasty that held Byzantium together. In AD 863, the Emir Umar of Melitene was ambushed while returning from a plundering raid in Byzantine Anatolia. The Emir and his entire raiding army were slain to a man. Just weeks later, the Emir Ali ibn Yahya was also slain by a raiding force in the province of Upper Mesopotamia. Nine years later Chrysocheir – the leader of the 10 Paulicians2 – was also slain while returning from a raid into Byzantine Anatolia. This series of victories marked the beginning of a long, arduous shift in the balance of power between the Arabs and Byzantines. Gradually – but inexorably – the Byzantines began to take the offensive. Fewer and fewer raids penetrated the Byzantine frontier; more and more began to take place in Arab lands. The shift was gradual; the Byzantines at first continued to operate under the cautious precepts of Maurician strategy. As a result they initially made few major conquests. Two expeditions against Melitene, one against Tephrike, and one major expedition against Tarsos all met with failure. Nevertheless, any expeditions of conquest into Arab lands would have been unthinkable at the beginning of the ninth century. By the end of the tenth century, however, Byzantine armies were regularly operating on the Arab side of the frontier.3 One immediate effect of the changed balance of power on the eastern frontier was a shift in the allegiance of the Armenians. One by one, the Armenian border lords joined with the Byzantines against the Arabs, stretching the frontier zone and threatening the Arab border emirates with encirclement. By the beginning of the tenth century, close cooperation between Byzantines and Armenians had allowed M’leh – an Armenian border lord – to transfer his allegiance to Byzantium and establish a Byzantine outpost or kleisourarchy north of Melitene. Other Armenian lords followed suit, generating a steady influx on the eastern frontier of new Byzantine outposts, manned by Armenian immigrants as well as Anatolian Greeks.4 Tensions on the Bulgar frontier occupied Constantinople’s attention from 917 – 927; after a brief hiatus, however, the Byzantines again threw their full weight against the 2 A group of dualist heretics opposed to Byzantine authority. 3 Whittow, Mark. The Making of Byzantium: 600 – 1025. University of California Press, Berkeley and Los Angeles, California. 1996. 311-314. 4 Ibid., 315-316. 11 Arabs on the eastern frontier. Melitene was repeatedly harassed, raided, and besieged until the city finally fell in 934. Emperor Romanos I Lekapenos (r. 920 – 944) was able to use these successes to broker a peace treaty in 937 with Tarsos5 and the Ikshīdids of Egypt, ensuring a relative tranquility on the eastern frontier while the Byzantines gathered their strength. When the treaty lapsed, it was the Byzantines who took the offensive: the Domestic of the Schools John Kourkouas campaigned regularly from 942 – 944, raiding at will over the Anti-Taurus Mountains and sacking the cities of Arzen, Dara and Amida. The city of Edessa surrendered the sacred Mandylion6 in order to avoid a similar fate.7 In December of 944, Romanos Lekapenos was overthrown by his sons, who were in turn quickly overthrown by Constantine VII “Porphyrogenitus”8 (r. 913 – 959)9 whose minority had been overshadowed by the regency-turned-reign of Romanos Lekapenos. Kourkouas, as a supporter of the old regime, was replaced by Bardas Phokas. Byzantine raids continued under the leadership of the new Domestic, who sacked Adata in 948. In 949, Bardas definitively conquered the city of Kalīkalā10 which was then resettled with Greek and Armenian colonists, the native inhabitants having been expelled when the city fell. Other than Melitene, however, this was essentially the first major, permanent conquest in over a decade: an expedition against the Arabs of Crete in 949 failed due to 5 Tarsos was a major city on the Cilician Plain and a gathering point for jihadis intent upon raiding Byzantine Anatolia. It was a heavily fortified city, disproportionately militarized due to its position on the frontier. 6 A very famous, very old icon purportedly created by an impression of Christ’s face upon a sheet of cloth; thus the icon was “not made by hands” and especially sacred. Ibid., 321. 7 Ibid., 317-321. 8 Literally “Purple-born”; Constantine was the legitimate heir to the throne, but had been eclipsed when Romanos Lekapenos assumed power during Constantine’s minority. 9 Constantine had been crowned emperor as a minor in 913, and “shared” the throne with Romanos I Lekapenos and the latter’s sons from 920 – 944. 10 The seat of another major raiding emirate, which had become exposed to Byzantine attacks as a result of shifting Armenian alliances. 12 reckless leadership, and in Anatolia, the Hamdanids were able to launch annual raids from Northern Syria during the 950s with a considerable degree of success. By 955 it was apparent to Constantine that new leadership and new tactics were needed to accelerate the pace of expansion. Bardas was replaced by his more vigorous son Nikephoros Phokas, who implemented a thorough program of reforms. 11 Between 934 and 955, the Byzantines had successfully regained the initiative from the Arabs. They were no longer on the defensive, and armed with new allies and vigorous commanders, had begun to raid Arab lands regularly. But the borders had only shifted slightly; Melitene and Kalīkalā represented the most significant conquests, and added a small strip of land to the empire. Between 955 and 976, however, the newly reformed armies of Nikephoros Phokas and his successor John Tzimiskes (r.969 – 976) managed to annex a vast stretch of land comprising most of Northern Syria. There are many theories to explain this sudden shift in Byzantine fortunes. One of the more prominent is that of Mark Whittow, who argues that the Byzantines were able to accomplish so much primarily due to Muslim disunity. Whittow points out that Byzantine expansion began in the 860s while the Abbasid Caliphate was in a state of internal crisis; from 890 to 928, the Abbasids had regained some semblance of order and Byzantine expansion halted. From 930 into the 970s, the Abbasids again entered a state of free-fall, and all resistance to the Byzantine Empire was undertaken at a purely local level: consequently, Byzantine expansion was the result of targeting weak opponents. After 976, new dynasties established themselves in Egypt and Persia, and expansion halted in the east as easy targets dried up. Byzantine military reforms, while helpful, were not responsible for expansion. In the words of the contemporary Arab geography 11 Ibid., 321- 327. 13 Ibn Hawqal, the Byzantine “position is precarious, its power insignificant, its revenues small, its population poor and wealth rare, its finances are in a bad state, and resources minimal.” The Byzantines had been able to defeat the Arabs solely due to Muslim disunity: endless civil wars and revolts had “left the field open to the Byzantines and allowed them to seize that which was previously closed to them, and to have ambitions that until recently would have been unthinkable.”12 Ibn Hawqal is not wrong, nor is Whittow, when he states that the Muslims had “left the field open to the Byzantines.” Strife at succession was endemic in the Abbasid Caliphate – as were large scale revolts – during the latter half of the ninth century. From 869 to 883, a massive uprising of agricultural workers – the Zandj – paralyzed agricultural production in Iraq. The damage caused by this uprising was so severe that Egypt eclipsed Iraq as the wealthiest province of the Caliphate. During the beginning of the tenth century, the Arabian Peninsula was ravaged by the Karmati rebellion; simultaneously, the rival, Shi’a dynasty of the Fatimids established their own Caliphate in the Maghreb. By 913 the Fatimids were in a position to threaten Abbasid control of Egypt. The Fatimids were repelled, but in 936 the Abbasids made Egypt a fief of Muhammad Ibn Tughdj, the “Ikshīd.” While this helped to prevent the Fatimids from conquering Egypt for themselves, it also effectively removed Egypt from central control. Persia was equally restive: Alī ibn Būga and his brothers, relying upon the support of native Persians and Daylami mountain warriors, formed their own state in Persia during the early tenth century. By 945, the Buyids had annexed Iraq and occupied Baghdad; while the Abbasids retained the title of Caliph, they held no actual power. Thus it was that by 945, the former Abbasid Caliphate was no more: Syria was divided among local 12 Ibid., 328-329. 14 emirs – the strongest of whom were the Hamdanids; Egypt was ruled de facto by the “Ikshīd”; the Buyids controlled Persia and Mesopotamia; and the Fatimids controlled the Maghreb, with ambitions to conquer Egypt. The Byzantine Empire’s monolithic rival had indeed disintegrated.13 Whittow, and Ibn Hawqal, are also correct in their assumption that the Byzantines would have been unable to undertake such sweeping conquests had the Abbasid Caliphate remained whole. Reforms or not, the Byzantines were still heavily outmatched: in 800, the Abbasids generated an annual revenue of thirty-five million nomismata.14 In comparison, in 800 the Byzantines collected a meager two million nomismata. The Abbasids controlled ten times more arable land, and could routinely muster expeditionary armies that were larger than the entire Byzantine army.15 In 836, Theophilos tested the strength of his adversary in a daring raid on Melitene. While the emperor raided the Abbasids successfully, the following year he faced an overwhelming invasion army that swept through Anatolia like a storm, shattering Byzantine resistance with ease. Whittow is certainly correct, then, in arguing that the Byzantines would have been unable to make the sort of sweeping gains against a unified Abbasid Caliphate that were made possible by the Caliphate’s fragmentation in the beginning of the tenth century. But Whittow overstates his case. In 950, the Sayf ad Dawla was able to muster an army of thirty thousand to undertake a raid of Byzantine Anatolia.16 Clearly, the resources of Northern Syria – while certainly less than that of the entire Abbasid Caliphate – were still considerable. Both the Fatimid Caliphate and the Buyid Confederation were far larger, 13 Ibid., 330 – 333. 14 The standard Byzantine gold coin, minted at 72 to a pound. 15 Treadgold, Warren. Byzantium and Its Army: 284 – 1081. Stanford University Press, Stanford, California. 1995. 210. 16 Dennis, George T. Three Byzantine Military Treatises. Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, Washington D.C., 1985. 157. 15 with the former controlling all of Egypt and most of Syria by 976, while the latter controlled Persia and Iraq. All three regions were populous, urbanized, and consequently provided a rich pool of manpower and taxes. These were no petty dynasties, easily overcome by an ancient empire whose finances were in disarray, whose resources were minimal, and whose position were precarious; we cannot simply accept Muslim disunity and weakness as the sole cause for Byzantine expansionism. Internal Sources of Strength: The principal thrust of Whittow’s argument is simple: the Byzantine Empire overcame a multitude of weak neighbors during a period of opportunistic expansion between the middle of the ninth century and the first quarter of the eleventh. Whittow explains the expansion of the empire primarily through reference to external developments beyond the empire’s control; in so doing, he neglects to take into consideration the considerable reserve of strength at the empire’s disposal during this period. He also minimizes the internal causes of Byzantine expansion; while the disintegration of the Abbasid Caliphate certainly presented an opportunity for expansion, Byzantium was at first reluctant to seize the moment. The greatest source of internal strength available to the Byzantine Empire was its highly developed military system. The military was divided into two constituent elements: the themata, a collection of regular provincial militia; and the tagmata, an elite, professional, full-time contingent of the army based out of Constantinople. The themata operated under the command of regional governors, the strategoi; each strategos oversaw the regular training and maintenance of the soldiers under his command. The 16 soldiers of the themes – known as stratiotai – were granted a farm17 to support their military endeavors; the revenues accruing from this grant of land were to support the soldier in civilian life as well as providing for the maintenance of a horse and full military panoply. During campaign service, the stratiotai were paid wages; otherwise, however, government expenditures toward the thematic levies were minimal. In contrast, the tagmata represented a full-time standing army of elite cavalry regiments typically stationed at Constantinople. Before the reign of John Tzimiskes, there were four regiments: the Scholai, the Exkoubitores, the Vigla, and the Hikanatoi; a fifth, the Athanatoi, was created during the reign of John Tzimiskes. The tagmata were recruited, trained, supplied and paid by the imperial government directly. When not serving under the emperor’s direct command, the tagmata served under the Domestic of the Schools, the emperor’s second in command.18 The military system outlined above provided two principal advantages. First and foremost, it guaranteed the Byzantine Empire a steady supply of trained soldiers. The stratiotai of the themes provided the empire a ready pool of manpower. They were not full time soldiers, but – if properly maintained – the thematic levies were better trained than most of the foes the Byzantines were likely to face. The stratiotai were also stationed in the provinces, ready to mobilize at the first sign of invasion; the fact that they owned lands in those provinces provided added incentive to the stratiotai to fight valiantly, as they were defending their own homes and livelihoods as well as that of their neighbors. Their competence is proven in the numerous raids of Byzantine lands that ended in disaster for the invader: the destruction of the army of Umar of Melitene, or that 17 The stratiotika ktemata, or “soldier’s properties”; McGeer, Eric. Sowing the Dragon’s Teeth: Byzantine Warfare in the Tenth Century. Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, Washington D.C. 2008. 199. 18 Ibid., 198-199. 17 of Chrysocheir were each accomplished primarily by the soldiers of the themes. The Byzantine military system created a vast army of trained soldiers. In 842, that army stood at 154,600 men: 24,400 in the tagmata and 130,200 in the themata. On the eve of Nikephoros Phokas’ great campaigns of reconquest, the army had grown to 179,400 men: 29,200 in the tagmata and 150,200 in the themata.19 What is immediately apparent in these figures is the disparity between tagmata and themata in overall numbers; what is equally apparent is the power of the tagmata to deal with any individual thematic army, should the local strategos chose to rebel.20 This was the second principal advantage of the Byzantine military system: it was structured to guarantee the imperial government in Constantinople the advantage in any conflict with the provinces. The tagmata provided the empire with a highly mobile, disciplined, well-equipped strike force with which to quell any disturbance in the provinces, whether domestic revolt or foreign incursion. Another tremendous advantage of the Byzantine military system was financial: by granting stratiotai ktemata in lieu of regular wages, the Byzantine government ensured the stratiotai of the themes would require only minimal investment by the central government in maintenance. This was an essential feature of the Byzantine’s defensive strategy: the Byzantine army was disproportionately sized due to the fact that not all of it needed to be paid, providing a potent multiplier to defensive force.21 The stratiotai equipped themselves, essentially paid themselves from the produce of their farms, and only drew heavily upon the resources of the central government when levied for 19 Treadgold, 162. 20 The largest individual theme was the Anatolikon, which could muster 18,000 troops in 773. The Armeniak theme was the next largest at 14,000; most other themes were substantially smaller. Any individual theme would thus be dramatically outnumbered by the tagmata; in the event of a larger rebellion, quality would also play a role as the tagmata represented the empire’s best troops. Ibid., 74. 21 The necessary corollary is that the Byzantine military system was not as well designed to fight an offensive engagement: the troops were less motivated to fight abroad with a field to be tilled at home, and were also more expensive when deployed abroad then when used defensively at home. 18 campaign. The self-reliance and added stake in the defense of imperial lands ownership of land this gave the stratiotai was contingent wholly upon the central government’s willingness to grant sizeable estates to the thematic soldiers, and subsequently to ensure that able-bodied men remained in possession of stratiotai ktemata to work the lands and serve in the armies. A considerable amount of land was necessarily granted as stratiotai ktemata to garrison the themes – about one-quarter of all cultivated lands in the empire.22 Initially, the amount of land granted to stratiotai was not fixed by law but by custom; in the course of the tenth century, however, the emperors of the Macedonian Dynasty legislated on the amount of land necessary to support a thematic soldier’s military pursuits. During this period, one nomismata would buy 2 modii of land – approximately four-tenths of an acre. Land legislation of Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus mandated that a regular cavalryman needed to maintain lands worth at least four pounds – 288 nomismata, or 576 modii – of land to fulfill his military obligations. Naval marines and infantry, whose equipment was less expensive, required lands worth about two pounds of gold or less. During the reign of Nikephoros Phokas – who worked tirelessly to build a better equipped army, especially in the form of kataphraktoi cavalry – the minimum land requirement for a cavalryman increased to five pounds of gold – 360 nomismata, or 720 modii. In contrast, the average peasant freehold ranged from fifty to one-hundred modii of land, a small fraction of the size of a thematic military estate.23 The thematic soldier, however, was not expected to farm all of the lands granted to him as stratiotai ktemata by himself. His labor alone would have been vastly 22 Ibid., 178. 23 Ibid., 173-176. 19 insufficient to maintain such a large estate. One family’s labor could make a maximum of one-hundred modii of land productive; consequently, a regular cavalryman in the tenth century owned enough land to employ at least seven families. However, this did not make the thematic soldier so rich that his labor was not helpful to the cultivation of his estate. During periods of prolonged peace it was not at all uncommon for stratiotai to sell their military equipment to buy better farming equipment. Stratiotai spent a considerable amount of time in their fields, tilling the earth themselves. Because their labor would not have been necessary to the productivity of the estate, stratiotai could be absent for extended periods of time on campaign without serious detrimental effects to the rural economy.24 The stratiotai ktemata system enabled the Byzantine Empire to recruit, train, and equip a vast army of soldiers while minimizing government expenditures. Nevertheless, the military still represented the largest single item on the budget. In 942, as the Byzantines began to take the offensive against the fragments of the Abbasid Caliphate, the military represented sixty-five percent of the empire’s total expenditures; by 1025, at the death of Basil II and the end of Byzantine expansion, military expenditures had grown to seventy-one percent of the total budget.25 The military budget could fluctuate considerably depending upon how often a given emperor went on campaign. A single, large annual campaign cost the empire between two hundred thousand and three hundred thousand nomismata; from 960 to 1025, the Byzantine Empire was almost continuously 24 Ibid., 175. 25 In 942: 2 million nomismata spent on military; 1.1 million nomismata spent on all other expenditures (total budget 3.1 million nomismata); in 1025: 4.2 million nomismata spent on military; 1.7 million spent on all other government expenditures (total budget of 5.9 million nomismata). Ibid., 198. 20 campaigning on one front or another. Despite this, Basil II was able to save 14.4 million nomismata between 989 and 1025 alone, an annual rate of ~ 350,000 nomismata.26 Basil II and his predecessors accumulated considerable surpluses through a rigorous system of taxation levied primarily upon land, especially that of independent, free-holding peasants. Byzantine tax collection established the village as a single corporate entity in which all villagers were liable for taxes upon their own properties. The village as a community paid any shortcoming of an individual villager, guaranteeing that the central government collected a reasonably stable and relatively substantial amount of money from the peasantry. Consequently, the state was assured of a reliable, steady source of income. The central government regulated this system through control of the sale of lands; the provincial gentry, known as the dynatoi, were discouraged –and eventually legally excluded – from buying-in to the village system. The central government carefully regulated grants of stratiotai ktemata, in this case primarily for the military rather than financial resources this made available to the state.27 Lands which had been abandoned – either because of war, natural disaster, or the financial ruin of the land’s previous owner – were still assessed, and the village was still responsible for meeting the tax obligation for these abandoned lands. The owner of lands that abutted those that had been abandoned became liable for the tax burdens of the lands in question, but would also receive ownership of the abandoned lands if he cultivated them. The central government sought to keep all productive lands in the empire under cultivation; after all, if a peasant was liable for the taxes of a given piece of land, he 26 Ibid., 189; 193-194; 198. Basil’s savings, in spite of being at war nearly constantly, demonstrate conclusively that the Byzantine military system was sustainable long term. Later financial problems were not a systemic problem born in the tenth century, but the result of mismanagement in the eleventh. 27 McGeer, Eric. The Land Legislation of the Macedonian Emperors. Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, Toronto and Ontario Canada, 2000. 10; 7-8. 21 might as well cultivate it and derive some benefit from his forced ownership. However, this could also force peasants to assume control of unproductive lands – or simply lands that they lacked the means to cultivate on their own. In times of crisis, this could create a vicious cycle by which lands were abandoned when a peasant was unable to meet his tax obligations; his neighbors, already struggling, were forced to assume ownership of the land but were unable to generate enough revenue from that land to meet their own increased tax burdens. The only way a peasant could escape his tax obligation was to abandon the land, which would then be reassigned to one of his neighbors, continuing the cycle.28 Another possibility existed, however. If a peasant could not meet his tax obligations, he could sell his lands to one of the rising provincial elite, one of the dynatoi. Beginning during the reign of Romanos I Lekapenos in the early tenth century, this option became one which the peasantry increasingly found attractive and which the crown found increasingly concerning. Romanos defined the dynatoi in land legislation dating from the early part of his reign as any of the following: members of the military, civil or ecclesiastical hierarchy; provincial magnates; or monastic foundations.29 The emperor was motivated by a concern both for the well-being of the peasantry – many of whom were selling their ancestral lands for a pittance, simply because the local dynatoi represented the only willing buyers with liquid assets – but also by a concern for the structure of Byzantine authority. Until the tenth century, Byzantine government was 28 Setton, Kenneth M. “On the Importance of Land Tenure and Agrarian Taxation in the Byzantine Empire, From the Fourth Century to the Fourth Crusade.” The American Journal of Philology, Vol. 74 no. 3. (1953). 238 – 239. 29 More precisely, to quote Romanos’ novel: “the illustrious magistroi or patrikioi…persons honored with offices, governorships, or civil or military dignities…those enumerated in the senate… thematic officials or ex-officials…metropolitans, archbishops, bishops, higoumenoi, ecclesiastical officials or supervisors, heads of pious or imperial houses.” McGeer, Land. 26. 22 deeply centralized; all authority and avenues for advancement flowed from Constantinople outwards to the provinces. Each villager was responsible for his tax payments to the crown directly, with no intermediary levels of government. The intrusion of the dynatoi into this direct relationship hindered the emperor’s ability to collect taxes, levy soldiers, and administer justice at the local level. It was, in effect, the beginning of a creeping tendency toward feudalization and decentralization that would weaken the central government at Constantinople in favor of the provincial elite.30 The dynatoi, however, were paradoxically the product of Byzantine successes along the Arab frontier. From the seventh century onward, Byzantine society became heavily militarized – it was absolutely essential to maximize the military potential of the empire in order to stave off the vastly larger armies of the Umayyad and later Abbasid Caliphates.31 As a side effect of the theme system, vast quantities of lands were assigned to the stratiotai, as has already been mentioned. The stratiotai were in turn loyal to the strategos of their theme. Over time, frontier families – the Phokades, Maleïnoi, Argyroi, Kourkuai, and Doukai being the most prominent – came to monopolize the available positions as frontier strategoi by virtue of their long service with the armies. Service in the armies, and especially with army administration, led in turn to the accumulation of considerable wealth as these families drew salaries from the central government and reinvested in estates in their provinces. Successful commands – especially after the middle of the ninth century when the Byzantines began to raid rather than be raided – contrived to make each of these families even richer and more powerful.32 30 McGeer, Land. 7-9. 31 Ibid., 28-29. 32 Whittow, 337-338. 23  As the dynatoi of the frontiers were also military commanders, they tended to acquire an oikos of armed followers and loyal clients from the veterans of their commands and the descendants of those veterans. The retinue of each dynatos formed the nucleus of his field army on campaign; it was the one regiment of elite soldiers upon which he could rely no matter the odds, and consequently served equally well off the field of battle as a bodyguard. While the personal retinue of each dynatos could prove exceptionally valuable upon the battlefield – the Athanatoi were likely created out of John Tzimiskes’ personal oikos, and fought with distinction – they were a political liability for the crown as their loyalty lay first to the dynatos they served. An ambitious dynatos could use his oikos for a variety of subversive purposes: strong-arming local stratiotai into selling their lands illegally to the dynatos, intimidating peasants and stratiotai alike, or even fomenting rebellion against the central government.33 Romanos’ solution to the intrusion of the dynatoi into village affairs was simple. Following the famine of 927 – 928 – an event which drove many peasants to destitution – Romanos legislated that all further sales in village lands were to be governed by the “right of first refusal.” The new law required any peasant who wished to sell his lands to first offer those lands to his immediate neighbors, excluding dynatoi. Only when every neighbor who could conceivably have an interest in the lands in question had refused to purchase the villager’s estates could that villager then offer to sell his lands to one of the dynatoi. Furthermore, Romanos established that any land alienated unfairly – he had in mind the land deals contracted during the famine especially – would be considered to 33 McGeer, Sowing. 219-221. 24 have been made under duress, thereby entitling the villagers in question to reclaim their lands at the original purchase price.34 Romanos’ land legislation, although well-intentioned, was ultimately too lenient. Peasants were only permitted to reclaim their lands within a twenty year statute of limitations, after which the sale of their lands – however unfair – became legally incontrovertible. The law required peasants who wished to reclaim their lands to reoccupy the lands in question in order to raise the money necessary to reimburse the original buyer, but revenues from the lands were often insufficient to raise the necessary sums quickly enough. Further, peasants in such dire financial straits as to consider alienating their properties in the first place often had neighbors who were just as poor – and thus preemption was rarely effective at preventing the intrusion of the dynatoi into village lands. And, of course, it was entirely conceivable that “the strong” could simply ignore the laws and compel their weaker neighbors sell anyway. By the accession of Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus to independent rule in 944, it was evident that Romanos’ land legislation was not working. In particular, Romanos’ legislation had not adequately addressed the issue of the stratiotai ktemata, the military lands that formed the backbone of the thematic system. Hitherto soldiers could alienate their military properties provided they retained enough to perform their military services, with no fixed amount defined as what that “minimum” value should be. Constantine changed this, and fixed the minimum value of a military estate for cavalrymen at four pounds of gold. Any stratiote who had sold too much land could reclaim it from the purchaser, with terms of compensation contingent upon the “fairness” of the original land deal. Constantine had three primary goals in mind with this legislation. First, he had to 34 McGeer, Land. 10-12. 25 ensure that each of the stratiotai possessed enough land to pay for their military equipment; if not, the thematic levies would gradually wither in quality and discipline. Second, Constantine had to ensure that the stratiotai would not be dispossessed of so much land that they became dependant upon others for their wellbeing. It was not uncommon for a strategos to recruit from the stratiotai to fill the ranks of his personal oikos. Each soldier called away to the private service of a dynatos was thus lost to the central government, if not necessarily to the army as a whole. The dynatoi were, after all, quite happy to fight the Arabs, where their “borrowed” stratiotai advanced the cause of the empire; however, they could just as easily be turned against the capital in a dynatos’ bid for the throne. Finally, Constantine had to ensure that all men who were liable for service could be identified and called up in time of need.35 Hitherto, stratiotai ktemata represented land owned by soldiers; from Constantine onward, it would gradually come to represent land that provided soldiers. The military obligation incumbent upon stratiotai ktemata evolved during the reign of Constantine into an obligation of the land, not necessarily the owner. An individual stratiote or owner of stratiotai ktemata could serve himself; he also had the option to send another in his stead; and, increasingly from Constantine’s legislation onward, he had the option to pay an additional tax to support the military endeavors of another in his stead – a sort of scutage.36 Nikephoros Phokas promulgated additional land legislation that fixed the minimum value of military lands at twelve pounds of gold – a vast estate to be sure. Part of the motivation for this legislation, however, was to ensure that all lands that could be registered as military were – previously, if a stratiote possessed more than the minimum 35 Ibid., 17-18. 36 Ibid., 19-20. 26 amount of stratiotai ktemata he could register the rest as non-military lands. With the twelve-pound limit, all lands of a stratiote would necessarily be registered as military, maximizing the military potential – especially in the form of scutage – from these lands. Nikephoros’ military reforms were devoted to increasing the quality of the army’s equipment, especially armor, as well as the army’s size: by registering more lands as military, Nikephoros was able to accomplish this goal while also curtailing the political independence of the dynatoi.37 Despite imperial legislation, however, the dynatoi remained a powerful force on the Byzantine frontier. In the Anatolikon theme, Cappadocia and Paphlagonia the nearness of Muslim territory – and therefore the constant threat of raids – coupled with a lower population density and the absence of large towns made the dynatoi incredibly influential. Wealth stemmed from the land, especially livestock – and livestock are an easy target for the oikos of a dynatos bent on strong-arming a local peasant into selling his lands. Coastal Anatolia, however, was far more densely populated. As a result, individual families had a much harder time establishing any sort of pre-eminence there, and dynatoi influence in the coastal provinces was minimal.38 With the fall of Melitene, however, Romanos Lekapenos was presented with a dilemma: should he follow normal procedures, the victorious soldiers of John Kourkuas would take possession of the fertile plains around the city. Instead, Romanos chose to annex Melitene and its surrounding lands as kouratoreia – imperial lands. This had the effect of increasing both the prestige of Romanos Lekapenos and his revenues; it also prevented either from accruing to Romanos’ over-mighty subject, John Kourkuas, or any 37 Ibid., 104-107. 38 Ibid., 30. 27 of his kinsmen. In an effort to further extend the reach of Constantinople, Romanos and his successors gradually increased the power of the “theme judge,” a civilian official initially subordinate to the strategos. The theme judge was an official directly appointed by the imperial government at Constantinople; theme judges were also rotated on a regular basis to prevent them from developing the sort of entrenched, personal authority that was making the strategoi into a growing threat to the central government. The political/military organization of the new lands won in the east also betrays traces of the mistrust that was brewing in Constantinople toward the military elite: the eastern conquests were generally organized as “Armenian Themes”, distinct from regular themes in that they were much smaller, territorially and in the number of troops stationed there.39 Social Tension: Constantinople had good reason to watch the dynatoi with suspicion. When Romanos Lekapenos first assumed power in 917, his reign was immediately challenged by Leo Phokas, the Domestic of the Schools. Leo was the empire’s foremost military commander, with a large clan of loyal family members – many with military commands of their own. Leo could also count upon the support of the stratiotai of the Anatolian themes by virtue of his long tenure as their commander. Leo’s attempted coup, however, faltered for one simple fact: Leo could not find any support in Constantinople. The people of the capital had no wish to welcome an outsider, especially one of the Anatolian dynatoi, to power. Constantinople, the province of wealthy merchants, guildsmen, and courtiers, had nothing to gain from the rule of a military outsider. Leo’s soldiers wanted land, opportunity for plunder, higher pay. In contrast, the Constantinopolitan elite wanted 39 Whittow, 343 – 347. 28 lower taxes, splendid churches, and the tranquility on the frontier that would make internal prosperity possible.40 Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus was lucky in that his independent reign was relatively undisturbed by the mounting tension between crown and aristocracy. But there were still signs of dissension within the Byzantine Empire. Early in his reign, Constantine attempted to halt further Byzantine expansion into the Levant by brokering a peace with Sayf ad Dawla, Emir of Aleppo. Although his negotiations were ultimately fruitless, Constantine met with active resistance from the commanders of the eastern armies. Constantine and his advisors at the capital had endured enough of war; they wanted a stable frontier, not further expansion and the costs of maintaining armies in the field every year. Although the empire was becoming more prosperous as fewer and fewer raids penetrated the Byzantine side of the border, many in Constantinople were resentful of paying heavy taxes to finance what they were coming to see as unnecessary wars.41 When Nikephoros Phokas took the throne in 963, it was as a member of the Anatolian landowning aristocracy that had already been struggling for dominance with Constantinople for two generations. Nikephoros was described by contemporaries as a “tachycheir”, a man dedicated, practically obsessed with war and military endeavors. His efforts to reform the army at a social level primarily affected land ownership and the taxes due of military lands. In an effort to increase the revenues of the state – motivated, in equal parts, by concern for the welfare of his army and ironically of the church he seemed to be attacking42 – Nikephoros also decreed that monasteries, bishops, and 40 Ibid., 341. 41 Ibid., 347-351. 42 Nikephoros was himself genuinely deeply pious; he gave generously to the Great Lavra of St. Athanasios on Mount Athos, where he intended to retire as a monk. Nikephoros also campaigned vigorously against Islam in the east, where he recovered several holy relics. Ibid., 352. 29 metropolitans were forbidden to accept any further donations of lands from the laity. Economically, the emperor sought to keep valuable lands under cultivation. Many donations exceeded the abilities of the religious foundations to cultivate for want of labor, and in any event the religious foundations were subject to far fewer taxes. Militarily, Nikephoros sought to increase the quantity of land available to be distributed as stratiotai ktemata; not, in this particular instance, to increase the pool of thematic soldiers levied from these lands but rather to increase revenues earmarked to the maintenance of the army, particularly the tagmata.43 Nikephoros’ legislation, however, was viewed as blasphemy by the church and earned the emperor the censure of his church. It is hardly surprising that when Nikephoros petitioned the Patriarch of Constantinople to permit soldiers fallen in battle against the infidel Muslims or other religious enemies to be considered martyrs of the faith the Patriarch turned him down. The notion of “holy war” was not completely foreign to Byzantine thought; the Taktika of Leo VI, as well as the skirmishing treatise De Velitatione Bellica both stress the importance of the war against Islam. Among the Anatolian dynatoi – for whom fighting the infidel had become a way of life, a source of pride, and a path to wealth and power – the notion that a soldier who fell in battle against the “Agarenes” was a martyr seemed perfectly natural.44 In Constantinople, however, the Patriarch simply reminded Nikephoros the dictates of Orthodox theology: according to the Thirteenth Canon of Basil of Caesarea, any soldier who killed an enemy in war was to “abstain from communion for three years, since their hands were unclean.”45 The 43 Ibid., 351. 44 Ibid., 351-352. 45 Regan, Geoffrey. First Crusader: Byzantium’s Holy Wars. Palgrave Macmillan, New York, New York, 2001. 191. 30 Anatolian dynatoi might want Holy War, but the Patriarch retained the power to refuse them; Constantinople had again triumphed over the provinces. Religious Motives for Expansion: While Nikephoros Phokas could not impose his will upon the Patriarch of Constantinople and compel the Patriarch to accept fallen imperial soldiers as martyrs, the emperor could – and did – continue the war against Islam as though it were in fact a crusade. For six years the emperor campaigned vigorously against the Arabs of Northern Syria, delegating the “problem” of the Bulgars to Sviatoslav of Kiev. The Muslim poet Ibn al-Adīm recorded that Nikephoros “was unyielding with the Muslims. He is the one who conquered Aleppo during the rule of Sayf ad Dawla…He is also the one who conquered Tarsos, Massīsa, Adana…He concentrated his efforts on conquering the lands of Islam…The Muslims feared him greatly.”46 Nikephoros’ main objective, at least in the eyes of the Arab Muslims, was simple: to reclaim the city of Jerusalem and drive the Muslims back to Arabia. A contemporary Muslim Imam, Ibn Nubāta, reported that when Nikephoros: entered Tarsos, [he] climbed its pulpit and asked those around him “Where am I?” They said: “In the pulpit of Tarsos.” He answered: “No, I am [already] in the pulpit of Bayt al-Maqdis (Jerusalem). This city was preventing me from that one.”47 The religious element of Nikephoros’ campaigns was immediately evident to observers, contemporary and modern. As a deeply pious man himself, Nikephoros needed little incentive to embark on a veritable crusade against Islam. He was methodical in his conquests, but also relentless; given the opportunity, there is little doubt he would have 46 Maria El Cheikh, Nadia. Byzantium Viewed by the Arabs. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 2004. 169-170. 47 Ibid., 170. 31 continued expanding until he had indeed expelled the Arab Muslims back to the sands of Arabia. When John Tzimiskes seized power in a palace coup in 969, he was forced to deal with Sviatoslav and the unfinished war with the Bulgars first. After John defeated Sviatoslav he eagerly campaigned extensively in Syria and seemed bent on finishing his predecessor’s crusade. While we cannot be certain how sincere John’s religious motivations for waging war were, we can be sure that he proclaimed his triumphs – loudly – to every Christian neighbor who would hear. John’s goal was simple, and ambitious: to unite all eastern Christians – in particular those Armenian lords who had not yet committed to the Byzantine cause – under his banner. John campaigned almost leisurely down the Syrian coast toward Jerusalem in 975. The Byzantines met with little resistance, and conquered a large new swath of territory. John dispatched a detailed letter to Ashot III Bagratuni, the Armenian King of Ani, recounting the glories of his recent campaign and all but inviting the Armenian lord to join forces with the victorious Byzantines. John had departed from Antioch in spring of 975; from there, the Byzantine Emperor had besieged and conquered Baalbek, levied tribute from Damascus and Tiberias, and advanced as far as Nazareth. There, his forces hesitated to occupy Jerusalem out of concern that the “abominable Africans (Fatimids)” who had fled to the coastal fortress might harass the overexposed imperial lines of communication. John then marched back to Antioch via the west coast of Syria, besieged and captured Beirut – capturing one thousand Africans along with their general – and levied tribute from the town of Sidon. John boasted to his fellow ruler that even the Abbasid Caliph dared not ride against him from “Babylon” – though, of course, the Abbasid Caliph would care 32 little for the tribulations of his rival, the Fatimid Caliph of Egypt and Syria.48 John’s goal is clear: he was attempting to awe Ashot of Armenia into joining the Byzantine cause; for Ashot: should realize how many good things have been accomplished in these times…For the rule of the holy cross of Christ has been expanded, the name of God being praised and glorified throughout these places (we conquered). Our empire has prospered because of the greatness and strength of God…49 Whether John truly believed that he was partaking in a grand crusade for the salvation of his soul and the expansion of his faith, or simply the expansion and glorification of his realm we cannot know; what we do know is that John sought to bring Armenia into his orbit, and the simplest means of doing so was to shatter the strength of Armenia’s other traditional patron, the Arabs. In so doing, John was also increasing the strength of his church and his empire and winning himself a reputation for greatness. The expansion of the empire and the faith seemed laudable goals to the Army and Armenians. John’s means, however, were not quite as acceptable at Constantinople – nor, ironically, were his ultimate ends, though they strengthened the Byzantine Empire as a whole. One of the principal bonds connecting every subject of the Byzantine Empire – whether he was an imported Slav, a native Greek, or even an Arab defector – was adherence to the Orthodox Church of Constantinople. This bond had been forged in the collapse of the Empire’s heterodox provinces before the onslaught of Islam in the seventh century, and had given the Empire strength enough to defend itself against its far larger, richer, and more powerful neighbor. The Christian – and more specifically, Chalcedonian Orthodox Christian – identity trumped all others. However, the Anatolian dynatoi were 48 Matthew of Edessa, trans. Ara Edmond Dostourian. Armenia and the Crusades: Tenth to Twelfth Centuries. University Press of America, Lanham, New York, 1993. 29-33. 49 Ibid., 33. 33 willing to include others, specifically Armenians, who were not quite so Orthodox. From the late ninth century, Armenian recruits and immigrants gradually poured into the Byzantine Empire, settling on the frontier and fighting with the emperors in their campaigns of conquest. If John Tzimiskes had survived and his letter had found a receptive ear in Ashot III Bagratuni, the Byzantines would undoubtedly have continued their march into the lands of Islam. John’s goal was the creation of a new order, a truly “Roman” superpower in the Eastern Mediterranean and the defeat of Islam; the price, however, was the destruction of the old order.50 The Old Order on Fire: Civil Wars: The death of John Tzimiskes in 976 presented a problem: who would now rule the empire? Basil II was legally already emperor, and old enough to reign on his own. John Tzimiskes’ Domestic Bardas Skleros, however, expected to slide easily into the role of co-emperor as Basil was a young man and inexperienced in the art of war. After all, he reasoned, the empire needed someone with military experience and ties among the Anatolian dynatoi to actually rule. On this point, however, the young Basil naturally disagreed. A bloody civil war followed in which Bardas Skleros was able to rally the support of most of Anatolia but failed to gain any support from the western themes or the capital. Bardas Skleros was eventually defeated, though not directly by Basil II; Bardas Phokas, kinsman to the murdered Nikephoros Phokas, prosecuted the war on Basil’s behalf. The Anatolian dynatoi were divided: some had closer ties to Phokas, and left Skleros’ camp in favor of Phokas. For the Anatolian dynatoi, however, it was simply a matter of choosing which of the two men would make a better emperor – Basil had no 50 Whittow, 355-357. 34 illusions about their true loyalties. An uneasy peace prevailed until 98651, when Bardas Skleros abandoned his exile at Baghdad to make another bid for the throne. Basil again dispatched Bardas Phokas in hopes of exploiting the divided loyalties of Anatolia, but Bardas Phokas first allied with and then disposed of Bardas Skleros, and instead proclaimed himself emperor. With the help of a contingent of Norsemen that would later form the Varangian Guard, Basil met Bardas on the field of battle and defeated him, ending the civil war.52 The civil wars highlighted the tension between the central government and the provincial magnates, especially the Anatolian dynatoi. Basil became determined to quash the power of these magnates and their ability to challenge his authority and promulgated two new pieces of land legislation aimed at breaking their power. The first, the novel of 996, dealt definitively with the alienation of village lands. It abolished the statute of limitation established by Romanos Lekapenos and Constantine Porphyrogenitus. Henceforth any land sold under duress could be reclaimed by the original owner at any time. All sales in village lands to dynatoi were declared illegal and thus there was to be no compensation for the purchase price of the land, or for any improvements built upon the land after it was acquired. Confirmation of proper ownership of a dynatos’ estate could be demanded by the emperor or his officials if there was any question to the legality of the dynatos claim to the land; only imperial chrysobulls, logged with the genikon were considered valid proof of ownership. In 1002, Basil went a step further in curbing the power of the dynatoi, obliging them to pay the allelengyon53 on all abandoned 51 Basil II had just been defeated and humiliated by the Bulgars on the night of August 16-17th, 986; his forces were ambushed in a mountain pass on their return from Bulgar lands in an ironic twist of traditional Byzantine defensive tactics. Ibid., 369. 52 Ibid., 361-371. 53 The standard land tax. Setton, 238. 35 village lands. The novel of 1002 made the dynatoi responsible for the village tax arrears, a move which greatly bolstered the financial power of the crown vis-à-vis the provincial aristocracy.54 Basil also dramatically shifted the focus of Byzantine foreign policy. Under John Tzimiskes, one can conjecture that the ultimate goal of Byzantine foreign policy would have been the occupation of Jerusalem, or perhaps even Egypt. Under Basil, however, the Byzantines began to slowly disengage in the east and redirect their efforts westward. In 997, the Fatimid general Mangūtakīn attempted to defect to Byzantium, transferring the allegiance of Damascus with him; all he needed was a detachment of Byzantine soldiers to hold out against inevitable Fatimid reprisals. Basil, however, turned him down, and a golden opportunity to annex Damascus and its hinterland was lost. In 1001 Basil negotiated a truce with the Fatimid Caliph al-Hākim which was renewed in 1011 and 1023. During this period of truce, the Fatimids provided Basil with a number of pretexts for war: in 1009, al-Hākim destroyed the sacred Church of the Holy Sepulcher, and in 1017 the Fatimids occupied Aleppo, a Byzantine protectorate. In Armenia, however, Basil was compelled to follow a different course. Tao was annexed in 1000 and Vaspurakan in 1021 and the annexation of Ani was arranged in 1022.55 The principal difference in Basil’s treatment of Armenia and Syria lay in this simple fact: the Armenian lords presented a ready ally for Anatolian dynatoi – David of Tao had fought on behalf of Bardas Skleros during the civil wars – while the Arabs did not. Consequently, the emperor needed to be involved in Armenia to prevent his over- mighty subjects from plotting against him with outsiders. Once in direct control of 54 Ibid., 240-241. 55 Whittow, 380-386. 36 Armenia these possibilities for intrigue could be closely monitored and quashed as they became problematic. Basil’s policy in the west was also politically motivated: Bulgaria was not in the east, and any expansion into western territories would strengthen the western themes vis-à-vis the eastern themes. During the civil wars, the western armies had remained loyal to Basil; expansion into Bulgaria would strengthen this prop of Basil’s government and serve as a counterbalance to the strength of the Anatolian dynatoi. Lastly, there was also a personal motivation for Basil’s annexation of Bulgaria. The Bulgars had humiliated him in 986, and Basil needed to extract revenge for this humiliation. Conclusions: One can readily see that the motives for Byzantine expansion during the reigns of Nikephoros Phokas, John Tzimiskes, and Basil II ranged widely. Nikephoros Phokas was almost certainly motivated by religious zeal; his men, by some combination of religious zeal and desire for lands and glory. John Tzimiskes fought for the glory of the “Roman” identity of his people, nearly forging a new order in the process. Basil II fought for revenge and for the stability of his realm, expanding into Bulgaria and Armenia to pacify Anatolia. Each of these rulers had the opportunity to expand in part because of Muslim disunity, as Whittow has argued, but also because of Byzantine strength. The Byzantine Empire was populous and rich; its army was large and disciplined, and after the reforms was perfectly suited to destroy any of the empire’s rivals. The Empire’s internal structures, however, weathered the shift away from the defensive poorly. The same decentralized military structure that had given the empire the strength to resist continuous attacks from a larger, more powerful rival for centuries threatened to tear the state apart 37 from within when the pressure of that rival relaxed. Nikephoros Phokas and John Tzimiskes had both been easterners, able to call upon the loyalty of some of the very same dynatoi that tore at the empire’s unity; Basil II had simply ruled with a fist of iron and brooked no resistance. But dark days were in store for the empire if ever the crown weakened in its battle with the aristocracy. 38  Chapter III: Byzantine Military Doctrine The promotion of Nikephoros Phokas to the position of Domestic of the Schools in 955 marks the beginning of a radical shift in Byzantine military history. Hitherto, the Byzantine Army had been a defensive institution. The strength of the Umayyad and later Abbasid Caliphates had precluded the idea of wars of conquest. Generals who fought carefully, preserved their armies and their civilians unmolested first and foremost, and won battles by maneuver rather than brute force were favored because this was what worked; this was the approach necessary to Byzantine survival. After 863, the Byzantine Empire entered a period in which survival was no longer the only goal: the Byzantines could, for the first time in nearly three hundred years, begin to take the offensive. Under the guidance of Nikephoros Phokas, the old military regime fell away and the full potential of the Byzantine state was channeled outward against the empire’s traditional rivals; the army became more aggressive, more diverse, and far more powerful than it had ever been before. Maurician Military Theory The Strategikon of the Emperor Maurice (r. 582 – 602) provided the standard set of Byzantine military protocol from its inception during the reign of Maurice until it was largely superseded by the Praecepta Militaria of the Emperor Nikephoros II Phokas. As such it represented the theoretical basis for Byzantine military operations before the career of Nikephoros Phokas and the reforms he implemented. Maurice envisioned war as limited and primarily defensive. The purpose of such war was to protect the lives of Byzantine citizens and soldiers first and foremost; it was war not for glory, not for God, and not for gold, but for the people. As such, Maurician strategy was perfectly suited to 39 the radically altered strategic realities the Byzantine Empire faced after the debacle at Yarmuk. Maurician defensive strategy allowed the Byzantine Empire to endure for centuries on the defensive against a powerful rival, but was ill-suited for wars of reconquest. Troop Types: Maurice begins his discussion of military matters with a description of the soldier which was to be the mainstay of his military system, the regular cavalryman. These men rode into battle equipped with a recurve bow, a quiver of thirty to forty arrows, two lances “of the Avar type,” and a longsword. Unlike the steppe warriors that seem to have inspired their primary armament – the composite recurve bow – the Byzantine regular cavalrymen were fully armored. A hooded coat of mail, supplemented by a plumed iron helmet and iron gauntlets, provided these cavalrymen with a formidable degree of protection.56 Byzantine infantrymen came in three flavors: the heavy infantryman, the archer, and the javeliner. Heavy infantrymen comprised about eighty percent of the Byzantine foot; archers and javeliners together provided the remaining twenty percent.57 Heavy infantrymen marched into battle equipped with a “Herulian sword”, a lance, lead darts, and a large shield. The archers and javeliners together provided the army with light infantry, and marched into battle wielding a recurve bow or javelin and a sling. The infantry as a body was relatively lightly armored: all infantrymen wore a “Gothic tunic,” while the first and last ranks of each infantry file were ideally – but not always – outfitted 56 Maurice, trans. George T. Dennis. Maurice’s Strategikon. University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. 1984. 11-12. 57 Ibid., 144. 40 with a coat of mail. The heavy infantry consequently relied heavily upon their large shield for defense; the light infantry, upon their dexterity.58 Engagement: Maurice recommended that, whenever possible, each of the above types of troops was to engage their closest counterparts among the enemy.59 The regular cavalry – consisting of about half the army – would advance from the flanks against the enemy’s cavalry forces, holding their fire until fired upon.60 The rear lines of the formation would then open fire, attempting to open as many gaps in the enemy line as possible. As the distance between the two armies dwindled, the forward lines of the Byzantine regular cavalry – with lances at the ready – would charge forth into the weakened enemy line.61 Where possible, the Byzantines would deploy a single droungos just behind the front ranks, effectively out of the enemy’s line of sight. As the main line advanced toward the enemy, this concealed droungos would maneuver around the enemy’s flank; if timed properly, this force would charge in tandem with the main line but would strike the enemy formation from an exposed side, causing panic and destruction.62 While the regular cavalry engaged their counterparts among the enemy army, the Byzantine infantry forces would advance steadily to meet the enemy’s infantry. The heavy infantry would advance in a foulkon formation, spear-points bristling over a solid wall of locked shields. As the heavy infantry advanced, the light infantry would keep their distance, maintaining a constant hail of projectiles to unnerve and weaken the enemy line. The archers would arc their fire directly over the heads of the heavy infantry, 58 Ibid., 138- 139. 59 Ibid., 84. 60 Ibid., 141-144. 61 Ibid., 37. 62 Ibid., 46. 41 attempting to open gaps in the enemy line. At mid-range, the heavy infantry would hurl javelins or iron-tipped darts, if they carried them.63 The battle plan described above was created with a few basic assumptions in mind: first, Maurice assumed that the enemy would deploy with a variety of troop types, with a rough balance of infantry and cavalry. Byzantine infantry was trained and equipped to engage enemy infantry; likewise, Byzantine cavalry was trained and equipped to do battle with enemy cavalry. While Byzantine cavalry could engage enemy infantry and vice versa, this was not the role allotted to them and they would be out of their element. Maurice’s second assumption was that the enemy would stand fast and receive – or launch – a charge, resulting in a battle which was decided by a general mêlée. Against a foe that refused to engage at close quarters the Byzantines would find themselves at a severe disadvantage; the heavy infantry, outfitted only for hand-to-hand fighting, would be useless. Another, relatively minor weakness of the Maurician military system was the absence of any armor-penetrating weapon from the arsenal of the regular cavalryman. Against lightly armored foes, the arrows of the regular cavalry would rain death from afar; at close quarters, the lance and sword these men carried would prove just as deadly. But against a heavily armored warrior these weapons would lack the penetrative power necessary to cause injury. A more serious innate disadvantage to the Maurician military system was the failure of Maurice to employ specialized troops to exploit synergistic combinations of skills. The Maurician system is notably lacking in a heavy cavalry arm, men in heavy armor capable of crashing through a line of enemy infantry and disrupting their 63 Ibid., 146. 42 formation. Maurice also fails to separate horse archer from lancer, resulting in a hybrid troop type with an admirable degree of flexibility but perhaps lacking in the finely honed skills that specialization would bring. Infantry and cavalry also fight practically independently of one another, a situation which prohibits either arm from aiding the other effectively. Discipline and Caution: With infantry and cavalry thus fighting their direct counterparts among the enemy the primary factor which would determine success in any given encounter was the discipline and training of the troops involved. The Byzantines understood this, and took great pains to ensure their soldiers were well trained and upheld rigorous standards of discipline. In this, Maurice was guided by the ancient maxim that “Nature produces but few brave men, whereas care and training make efficient soldiers.”64 Generals were enjoined to ensure their men received continuous and thorough training – the gold standard for regular cavalrymen being the rather impressive ability to fire arrows while mounted, in any direction, rapidly, and with unerring accuracy against targets as narrow as a spear.65 In addition to rigorous weapons training, Byzantine soldiers were also expected to adhere to a strict code of discipline. Maurice cautioned against the dangers of allowing the men to begin plundering their fallen rivals several times throughout the Strategikon. Indeed, failure to control one’s lust for plunder during a battle was an offence punishable by death, with any ill-gotten gains thus acquired being distributed evenly amongst the army.66 Failure to abide by these prohibitions was considered a serious breach of 64 Ibid., 84. 65 Ibid., 11. 66 Ibid., 19-20. 43 discipline and placed the army in peril of being caught off-guard should their once- defeated foe rally and return to the fight.67 The same concerns about a rallying enemy inform Byzantine policy for pursuing a defeated enemy: only a portion of the army is to be detailed to pursue a vanquished rival. The pursuit would be conducted by a detachment of regular cavalry, deployed in loose order; following steadily upon their heels would come a second detachment of regular cavalry in close order. Should the advance troops in loose order encounter resistance, they were to fall back upon the supporting line of close order troops.68 Maurice’s innately cautious approach to warfare is also demonstrated in his oft repeated advice to employ good, sober scouts. As he often reminds the general, in war “a general should never have to say: ‘I did not expect it.’”69 When battle is expected, scouting patrols would be doubled, with additional scouts deployed a mile ahead of the main army.70 The army would advance with added caution whenever an enemy was known to be nearby, or when an enemy ambush was particularly likely – Maurice even advises his generals to turn back from rough terrain if they cannot guarantee their army’s safety.71 The general is likewise to send out “frequent and far-ranging patrols” to prevent the enemy from successfully ambushing the army.72 In cases where it was absolutely essential that rough terrain be traversed, the cavalry and baggage would be positioned in the center of the army, protected to the front and rear by the heavy infantry. If it is necessary to travel through a valley, the cavalry is to dismount and march on foot.73 The 67 Ibid., 68. 68 Ibid., 48. 69 Ibid., 81. 70 Ibid., 74; 71. 71 Ibid., 81. 72 Ibid., 64. 73 Ibid., 101. 44 light infantry would be deployed in a screen, covering the flanks of the army and advancing up to a mile ahead of the army as a vanguard/scouting force.74 An overriding concern for the safety of the men under a general’s command is another hallmark of the Strategikon. Maurice insisted that a general was to care for the men under his command. Failure to attend to the wounded will cause the rest of the army to fight with less vigor; more importantly, a general’s carelessness will cause him to lose troops who could otherwise have been saved. A small body of men would therefore be detailed during battle to attend to the care of the wounded, ensuring that fatalities were kept to an absolute minimum. These men are also responsible for conveying water to the front lines, ensuring that the men do not suffer undue fatigue during a long, hot day’s fighting.75 Concern for the men in the Strategikon also extends to the person of the general. It is not the place of the general to “take part personally in raids or other reckless attacks.” Instead, such duties must be delegated to competent subordinates; the life of the general is too important to the morale and cohesion of the army as a whole. If the general falls or is captured, his absence can cause even the strongest army to flounder and fall into chaos and anarchy.76 One of the most unusual bits of advice presented in the Strategikon is the injunction to avoid, whenever possible, a direct engagement. Maurice derides the pitched battle as “a demonstration more of luck than of bravery.” Consequently, it is far better to “hurt the enemy by deceit, by raids, or by hunger…” than by direct trial of arms.77 Only 74 Ibid., 153. 75 Ibid., 29-30; 86; 70. 76 Ibid,. 64. 77 Ibid., 83. 45 if the general possesses an overwhelming advantage or has no other option should he engage in a pitched battle.78 Cunning: Ideally, Maurice would have preferred to avoid battle wherever possible; however, battle was not always unavoidable. If a general decided to give battle, the precepts established by the Strategikon urged that general to avoid a direct engagement. Maurice’s approach to battle is best summed up as follows: Warfare is like hunting. Wild animals are taken by scouting, and by other such stratagems rather than by sheer force. In waging war we should proceed in the same way, whether the enemy be many or few. To try simply to overpower the enemy in the open, hand to hand and face to face, even though you might appear to win, is an enterprise which is very risky and can result in serious harm.79 Any enemy army, no matter how feeble it appears, should therefore be undermined before the general gives battle. An enemy with strong cavalry should be deprived of forage to weaken his horses; an enemy with a large army should be harassed by raids and cut off from resupply, allowing famine to do a general’s work for him; an army consisting of a coalition of peoples should be turned against itself by any means available. The enemy who relies upon archery must be forced to give battle at close quarters; if he relies upon steppe warriors, attack at the end of winter when the enemy’s horses will be weakest. A reckless enemy should be drawn out for battle and then delayed until their ardor gives way to carelessness; a careless enemy or one who is made so should be harassed constantly by sudden raids, day and night.80 A frontal charge would be out of the question among Maurician tactics; we have already discussed the Byzantine predilection for the concealed-droungos flanking 78 Ibid., 90. 79 Ibid., 65. 80 Ibid., 64-65. 46 maneuver. Any opportunity which presented the chance to bring a body of soldiers into battle unexpectedly provided the Byzantines with the invaluable advantage of surprise; a sudden, unforeseen attack is difficult indeed to deflect and can allow badly outnumbered forces to vanquish numerically superior enemies with ease. The Byzantines were particularly fond of ambushes where the terrain provided for such tactics – ravines, valleys, dense woods, steep hills – but were equally adept at creating opportunities to launch surprise attacks against their rivals using misdirection. A favorite tactic of the Scythians adopted by the Byzantines was the feigned retreat. A small body of picked men would be deployed as bait; once the enemy army began to pursue this force, ideally in loose order, the bait force would withdraw toward a prearranged ambush site. Once there, the remainder of the army would spring from hiding, surrounding the unlucky enemy and, in the moment of panic and confusion that the sudden appearance of so many Byzantine soldiers would produce, shattering the enemy’s morale and winning the battle.81 Rules of Engagement: Routing an enemy, shattering his morale and forcing him to flee: this is the principal goal of any engagement a Byzantine general undertakes. Maurice envisioned a military system which placed a high value on human life; what other army in the ancient world had a corps of medical personnel? The general was not to needlessly expose his men to danger: this is the principal reason why pitched battles were to be avoided if possible. When battles were fought, however, the goal was limited: the enemy was not to be completely encircled and destroyed, merely driven from the field. This is especially if the Byzantine army successfully takes a fortress or city; it is then “important to leave 81 Ibid., 52-53. 47 the gates open, so that the inhabitants may escape and not be driven to utter desperation.”82 A defeated enemy who is left an avenue of retreat has been given his life; if no such avenue of retreat exists, the defeated man will fight with the strength of despair to wrest his life away from the victor. Maurice’s commitment to a limited war of maneuver is also demonstrated in his advice for resisting foreign invasions. When the enemy invades – for it is a question of when, rather than if – he is not to be met in pitched battle. First and foremost, the general is to ensure that all moveable goods and supplies have been ferried to strong fortresses; the country should also be cleared of livestock. Forts which are deemed vulnerable due to their position should be reinforced with detachments of troops. Preparations should be made to “transfer the inhabitants of weaker places to more strongly fortified ones.” The general is to prepare ambushes, harry the enemy’s movements night and day, block the invader’s anticipated line of march, and destroy all supplies the enemy could utilize. The point of decision will be on the invader’s return to his own lands, when his men are weighted down with plunder and exhausted by their long march.83 Should the army find itself besieged in some town or stronghold before this, it is not to engage the enemy outside the walls unless absolutely necessary to hinder the enemy’s siege works. It was utterly imperative – even at the risk of allowing the lands to be pillaged, villages and property to be burned – to ensure the survival of the army and the people unmolested. At all times the presence of imperial troops, even if they made no aggressive moves, would cause the enemy pause and force him to contain his raids – small parties of men would be lost to the lurking imperial armies.84 82 Ibid., 81. 83 Ibid., 107-108. 84 Ibid., 108-110. 48  Another possibility available to a more aggressive defender was the counter raid. Should the general deem the prospects of success favorable, a detachment of the army would be dispatched into an invader’s homeland. The expeditionary force would necessarily be small, to avoid weakening army’s ability to defend their own lands; nevertheless, even a small counter-raiding party sent into enemy territory could seriously dampen the morale of raiders in Byzantine territories as they began to fear for the safety of their homes and possessions.85 Conclusions: One of the most significant features of the Maurician military system was the rigidly defensive, cautious nature of the grand strategy it represented. Maurice was deeply concerned for the safety of his men; the implication is that he has few. Maurice carefully lays out plans to defend Byzantine territory from hostile encroachments; the implication is that wars will be fought on Byzantine soil. Enemy incursions were to be contained or redirected, rather than directly confronted and annihilated. The chapter on sieges briefly mentions the possibility of a Byzantine siege of enemy lands; the far greater portion of that chapter, however, deals with Byzantine responses to enemy sieges of their own towns and strongholds. The military system devised by the Emperor Maurice was designed primarily to provide for the Byzantine Empire’s defense. In this purpose the army acquitted itself admirably well, surviving the seventh century, enduring the eighth, and standing ready in the ninth to roll back the advances of Islam. But Maurice provides less insight into how a general might conduct himself campaigning into enemy lands. Should the empire find 85 Ibid., 107. 49 itself ascendant, with the power to challenge its rivals in their own lands, the empire would need a new grand strategy. Nikephoran Military Theory In 955, the Byzantine Empire did find itself ascendant. The balance of power had begun to shift inexorably in favor of the Byzantines after a series of victories in the middle of the ninth century. Nikephoros Phokas, the new Domestic of the Schools, instituted a series of comprehensive of the Byzantine Army. Nikephoros changed how the army fought at every level: he introduced new categories of troops, new tactics, and new operational goals. Before the reforms, the Byzantine Army was an institution perfectly equipped to defend the empire’s ancestral lands from invaders – no matter the odds. Maurician strategy had kept the empire relatively safe and secure for centuries and prevented the empire’s conquest by a rival that could put more troops on the field for a single campaign than the Byzantine Empire could muster in total. When that rival splintered, however, the cautious tenets of Maurician strategy became a hindrance; Byzantium needed new leadership, new tactics, and new methods of waging war to seize the moment. Troop Types: The Nikephoran reforms introduced several new types of soldiers, each outfitted to fill a unique niche within the army. The first new class of soldier discussed in the Praecepta is actually a re-imagining of the traditional Maurician heavy infantry, dubbed hoplitai. There are to be four hundred hoplitai in each of the twelve thousand-man regiments forming a model army, for a total of 4,800 hoplitai; they are the single most numerous type of soldier. The hoplitai are lightly armored, wearing only a short tunic of 50 coarse silk or cotton reaching to the knees, leather boots also reaching to the knees, and a thick felt cap to protect the head. Gone are the coats of mail recommended by the Strategikon; the hoplitai are protected exclusively by a large shield. They are better armed for melee than the Maurician heavy infantry, each man being equipped with a sword, longspear, and his choice of axe or mace. 86 The latter weapons are significant: it implies an awareness that the infantryman might find himself fighting an armored opponent at close quarters, a contest for which his short sword would be of limited use.87 Nikephoros dispenses with the iron-tipped darts of the Maurician heavy infantry, but not the sling; the hoplitai would not be expected to fight at a range but were capable of doing so if the need arose.88 Nikephoran light infantry were organized along nearly identical lines to their Maurician predecessors, with a blend of javeliners and “proficient archers” providing the army with ranged support. Each regiment included three hundred archers and two hundred javeliners, together providing six-thousand soldiers in a model twelve-thousand man army. This was a considerable increase – 1:1 – in the proportion of light infantry to heavy infantry prescribed by Maurice, which had stood at 1:4. The light infantry is even less armored than the hoplitai, wielding a small buckler in place of the large body shield of the heavy infantry. Each archer was equipped with a spare bow, three spare bowstrings, and a complement of one-hundred arrows. This was a drastic increase in the ammunition available to each archer compared to the thirty-forty which had been 86 McGeer, Sowing. 13-17. 87 Haldon, John. “Some Aspects of Byzantine Military Technology from the Sixth to the Tenth Centuries” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies. Volume I, 1975. 39. 88 McGeer, Sowing. 13-17. 51 standard. Light infantrymen were also equipped with their choice of a sword or axe, providing some measure of melee capability.89 The Maurician military system envisioned archers and other light infantry primarily as a screening force, useful in maneuvering terrain unsuitable for the close formations of heavy infantry. Maurice intended light infantry to be utilized in a skirmishing role, primarily against other infantry: Nikephoros, however, seems to have realized the enormous potential of light infantry to be useful against an enemy’s light cavalry. The enemy Nikephoros has in mind are the Arabitai, Bedouin light cavalrymen armed with lances and overly fond of hit-and-run style tactics. Arabitai and other light cavalry fought primarily as skirmishers, relying upon their agility and speed to avoid entanglements with the Byzantine regular cavalry. They were lightly armored and lightly armed, and often were no more than a nuisance – provided the Byzantine army they were attacking maintained order. Light infantry, especially foot-archers, represented the most effective countermeasure to raids by light cavalry. Arabitai could be held at a safe distance by the hail of arrows Nikephoros’ vastly increased corps of light infantry could lay down as cover fire. Horse archers would be outranged by the larger, more powerful bows used by foot archers. Nikephoros’ reforms to the light infantry guaranteed the Byzantine army would be well equipped to handle attacks by any foe who favored light cavalry tactics, whether nomadic horse archers or the slightly more settled Arabitai. The final new class of infantryman was a specialist, the menavlatoi. These soldiers were armed with a short, stout pike – the menavlia – which was essentially a sharpened oak, cornel or “atzekidia” sapling just small enough for a man to wield. It was an incredibly resilient weapon, and was specifically designed to penetrate armor without 89 Ibid. 52 shattering. The menavlatoi would be deployed ahead of the hoplitai on the battle line, their short menavlia well behind the tips of the longspears of their comrades. However, in the even of a charge by armored heavy cavalry, the longspears of the hoplitai were likely to shatter; the menavlia was not. The menavlatoi would brace their pikes against the earth, receiving the enemy charge and impaling riders and horses alike. This was their primary function; the menavlatoi, however, could also be used effectively against other infantry or stalled cavalry. Menavlatoi were equipped with the same small buckler of the light infantry, rather than the heavy shield of the hoplitai. The menavlia itself, while too heavy to wield with a shield, was much shorter than the longspear of the hoplitai. It was therefore a much more maneuverable weapon, which the menavlatoi could use at close quarters relatively easily.90 The traditional, Maurician regular cavalry also received a minor face-lift as a result of the Nikephoran reforms. Five hundred man regiments of regular cavalry would henceforth be divided into specialized archers and lancers, with three hundred men equipped as lancers and two hundred equipped as archers; a model army would consist of sixteen such regiments. The men were outfitted with a heavy klibanion,91 along with a large shield for defense. All would carry longswords; lancers would also carry both a lance and a mace for melee combat, while archers would be equipped with a powerful recurve bow92 and a quiver with forty-fifty arrows.93 Nikephoros Phokas also introduced two new types of cavalry specialists to supplement the traditional, Maurician regular cavalry. The first of these two types of 90 Ibid., 17-19. 91 A lamellar cuirass of iron or boiled leather plates. This type of armor was sleeveless, reaching to the waist. Ibid., 67. 92 A composite recurve bow, about 45 – 48” in length, of the Hunnic type. The bow was designed to fire 27” shafts. Haldon, “Some Aspects”, 39. 93 McGeer, Sowing. 41; 212-214. 53 cavalry were the prokoursatores. These were light cavalrymen, gathered together in five hundred man regiments; their purpose was to scout ahead of the army and skirmish with the enemy before the battle began in earnest.94 The prokoursatores were subdivided into two classes: archers and lancers. The lancers were armed with a long lance, sword, and mace; they wore a heavy klibanion and iron helmet, providing a considerable degree of protection. They also carried a large shield, smaller than that of the hoplitai but still substantial. In a five hundred man regiment, three-hundred and eighty men would be lancers. The remaining one-hundred and twenty were skilled archers, equipped slightly differently from the lancers. The archers substituted lance for recurve bow, retaining however the sword and mace for melee combat. Archers would not be equipped with a shield, which would restrict their ability to fire accurately. Most were outfitted with simple lorika,95 while some would wear the sturdier klibanion.96 The final new class of soldier incorporated into the Nikephoran military system was the kataphraktoi. In a model army, there would only be a small regiment of kataphraktoi; at most, five-hundred and four men in the whole army. The kataphraktoi were deployed together in a blunt-wedge formation twelve men deep. It was their role to charge directly into the heart of an enemy army, often directed toward the enemy general or some other critical target. They would smash through all resistance, inexorably closing on their target and hopefully inducing panic at their approach.97 The kataphraktoi were the best equipped troops in the army; they were both heavily armed and heavily armored. Each was outfitted with a klibanion, chainmail armor sleeves, arm and leg guards of coarse silk or cotton “as thick as can be stitched” to protect the extremities, an 94 Ibid., 27. 95 A waist-length shirt of chain-mail, with sleeves reaching to the elbows. Ibid. 96 Ibid., 41. 97 Ibid., 47. 54 epilorikon98 of coarse silk or cotton, and a heavy iron helmet complete with zabai99to protect neck and face. Even the horses were armored, with klibania of bison hide covering the horse’s chest and felt or boiled leather armor covering the body to the knees. For added protection those kataphraktoi equipped for melee combat also carried the same large shields of the regular cavalry. Armament varied, with the kataphraktoi being divided into two categories: melee warriors and archers. Most – 354 – of the kataphraktoi were equipped for melee combat, wielding either lance, mace, or saber as their primary weapon. All were equipped with flanged iron maces, a saber, and a longsword. The remaining one-hundred and fifty men were equipped as archers, wielding a recurve bow and longsword, but dispensing with lance, saber and mace.100 The principal advantage provided by the kataphraktoi to the Byzantine military system lay in the introduction of the potential for a devastating mounted charge against enemy infantry forces. The kataphraktoi would charge their enemy at a measured pace, ensuring the entire formation made contact together and augmenting the force of the charge beyond the aggregate sum of its constituent parts. As the riders bore down upon the enemy, they would raise their shields to ward off arrows; upon impact with the enemy formation they would rely upon their heavy armor to win the day. For the enemy’s spears and menavlia will be shattered by the kataphraktoi and their arrows will be ineffective, whereupon the kataphraktoi, gaining in courage and boldness, will smash in the heads and bodies of the enemy and their horses with their iron maces and sabers, and they will break into their formations and from there break through and so completely destroy them.101 98 A sleeveless, padded surcoat worn over armor. Ibid., 70. 99 Strips of chainmail attached to armor to smaller exposed areas. Ibid. 100 Ibid., 35-37. 101 Ibid., 309. 55 A charge by the kataphraktoi represented a fundamental shift in Byzantine tactical thinking. Maurician tactics had emphasized the value of flanking and encircling maneuvers – a direct, headlong charge was accepted as necessary but the savvy general was expected to come engage the enemy with more finesse. Nikephoros, however, seems to have realized that the mounted charge, aimed directly at a critical juncture in the enemy’s lines – directly at the enemy general, or a weakened flank – could be incredibly effective if it broke through. Enemy morale would be shattered by the steady, calm, utterly implacable advance of the kataphraktoi. The morale effect of witnessing these men basically sauntering through the front lines of one’s army, shattering all resistance and shrugging off every blow – one can imagine the effect this would have on the nerve of any enemy general who watched these horsemen come inexorably closer to his own position.102 The Nikephoran reforms introduced into the Byzantine military system an idea which had not existed before: that different types of soldiers could be advantageously deployed against unlike rivals to great effect. Maurice had insisted that infantry could only be used effectively against other infantry, cavalry against other cavalry. Nikephoros dismissed this notion completely and created two categories of soldiers – the menavlatoi and the kataphraktoi – which were specifically designed to engage radically different types of troops than themselves. In the Maurician system, battles were won by Byzantine resolve and discipline as essentially equal combatants strove for advantage in even contests. Nikephoros loaded the dice, however, and ensured that, properly deployed, Byzantine troops would win over their rivals through a combination of discipline and a “rock-paper-scissors” effect. A Maurician heavy infantryman pitted against a like- 102 Ibid., 307-313. 56 equipped rival would win, most of the time, because he was better trained and more disciplined than his rival. But a Nikephoran menavlatoi would win almost every time against any melee horseman because his equipment was designed to allow him to do so and he possessed the discipline necessary to use the advantage that gave him. A Nikephoran heavy infantryman pitted against a like-equipped rival would also win, most of the time, as a result of his training and discipline. A savvy general, however, would avoid pitting scissor against scissor and would instead hurl the rock of his kataphraktoi headlong into the enemy, smashing through their lines without engaging in a fair fight. Engagement: Nikephoros Phokas instituted a wide array of reforms designed to strengthen the Byzantine Army, and formations and tactics were no exception. In place of the standard, double-line formation devised by Maurice, Nikephoros implemented a curious new formation: the “double-ribbed square.” This new formation was formed in the model army by twelve regiments of one thousand men, three to each side of the square. Twelve gaps were left between these regiments, sized to allow for twelve to fifteen cavalrymen to sally forth as though through the gates of a fortress. Thirty to fifty javeliners guarded each gap, with additional reserve troops gathered in the center of the formation to strengthen any weak point. Each regiment was then drawn up seven ranks deep: two lines of hoplitai to the front, three lines of archers behind them, and two additional lines of hoplitai brought up the rear. The formation was thus “double-ribbed,” meaning that it could face either direction with equal staying power; it lacked any vulnerable flanks. Attached to each regiment of one-thousand men were two hundred javeliners – most posted at the aforementioned gaps – and one hundred menavlatoi. When an enemy 57 charge was imminent, the menavlatoi and one of the rear ranks of hoplitai would funnel forward, forming ranks in front of their comrades. As the men braced for impact, the formation would thus have a single line of menavlatoi deployed in the foremost rank, with three ranks of hoplitai behind. Three ranks of archers would be deployed behind them, with an additional rank of hoplitai deployed as a rearguard.103 Once the enemy came into range – approximately one-hundred fifty meters – the front ranks of infantry would crouch to allow the archers to open fire, and the enemy would fall under a continuous barrage of missiles as he approached.104 When the enemy made contact with the front ranks of infantry – the archers would not have enough time or firepower to prevent this – light infantry, mostly javeliners, would pour through the intervals nearest the threatened section of the line to flank the enemy’s cavalry. Since the charge would have stalled by this point, the nimble javeliners would be able to attack individual riders who may have been wounded or unhorsed, or even simply cut off from their brethren.105 The new infantry-square formation presented several advantages. First and foremost, it was impossible to attack from any vulnerable section. An attack from the rear or flank would meet just as much resistance from spears and arrows as a direct frontal attack. This had an incredibly favorable effect upon morale, as each man in the formation new that at all times his back was covered. An implicit but equally powerful motive for this arrangement was also that each man knew that he was being watched at all times by his comrades; he could not simply drop his weapons and flee, for his fellow soldiers in the rear ranks would bear witness to his cowardice. The second advantage of the new formation was the open center area. Just like the Byzantine marching camp upon 103 Ibid., 15-19. 104 Ibid., 272. 105 Ibid., 19. 58 which the formation may have been based, this inner area allowed baggage to be safely stored, reserves of equipment – especially arrows – to be conveyed to the front lines easily, and for wounded or fatigued soldiers to withdraw from the front for rest and treatment. Men were also detailed to bring water rations from this central “safe zone” to the front line of battle to prevent fatigue and dehydration from compromising the army’s performance.106 Infantry, however, were not expected to do much of the fighting. Battle would be joined first by the prokoursatores, sent out ahead of the army to scout and skirmish with the enemy. If possible, these men alone would harass the enemy army and capture prisoners without themselves being surrounded by the enemy. When enemy resistance became too intense, the prokoursatores would gradually withdraw back toward the main army, drawing the enemy into ever more reckless pursuit. In a model battle, the regular cavalry of the army would then charge the enemy, quickly routing them and pursuing them relentlessly off the field. If, however, the enemy continues to approach or is unable to be routed by a detachment of the regular cavalry, the battle would draw ever closer to the infantry square. Additional regular cavalry would be dispatched, a squadron of three five-hundred man regiments deployed in echelon attacking the enemy’s front while additional cavalry funneled out of the sides of the infantry square to attack the enemy from each flank. The general and his guard would follow, observing the battle and sending regiments of guards to aid where needed but not engaging directly unless absolutely necessary. If necessary, the light infantry would sally forth out of the infantry square to attack the enemy cavalry as it engaged the Byzantine cavalry. Should the enemy’s morale hold still, the cavalry would withdraw to safety within the infantry 106 Ibid., 262-264. 59 square. The hoplitai would attempt to hold the enemy back while the menavlatoi exited the sides of the infantry square to attack the enemy’s flanks. The cavalry, if it had rallied, would support this endeavor. 107 If the battle remained undecided, the kataphraktoi would be unleashed, charging in absolute silence at a measured pace directly toward the enemy commander. Their charge would be screened by the prokoursatores; these light cavalrymen and the archers within each kataphract wedge would hold their fire until the enemy opened fire upon them, after which they would unleash a hail of arrows to create gaps in the enemy line. Their steady, inexorable advance was designed to break the enemy’s nerve as well as his lines; while the kataphraktoi drove home their charge the prokoursatores would pour around the flanks of the enemy formation to create added confusion and panic. When the enemy forces routed, the kataphraktoi were to follow behind slowly in case the enemy rallied; the prokoursatores, two of the general’s bodyguard regiments, and three of the four regiments detailed as rear-guards were all to join the regular cavalry in pursuing the defeated enemy relentlessly.108 Rules of Engagement: The culmination of a Nikephoran battle was the pursuit and utter destruction of an enemy force.109 This simple fact demonstrates the vast change in the theory of war that had taken place under the guidance of Nikephoros Phokas. Wars were no longer about maneuver and routing the enemy’s army, and Nikephoros was not in the slightest concerned about leaving an escape rout to entice his enemy to flee rather than fight on to the last. This is because the goals of war had changed since Maurice had written the 107 Ibid., 23-29. 108 Ibid., 47-49. 109 Ibid., 191. 60 Strategikon three and a half centuries earlier. Nikephoros was committed to defending the empire and its citizens, to be sure; but he differed from Maurice in his perception of the means of attaining this goal. Where Maurice had sought simply to turn back invaders and had shrunk from an even fight, Nikephoros promised his commanders that victory would be theirs even against a force several times larger than their own. What Nikephoros recommended was a war of will: any enemy could be defeated, provided he was first bested in three small engagements.110 Raids, feints and ambushes were still of paramount importance in the Nikephoran military system, but their ultimate purpose had shifted. Three successful, small-scale engagements against any enemy host would erode the enemy’s morale so completely, and bolster the Byzantine’s morale so thoroughly, that the enemy army would be defeated in mind before it ever took the field. The pitched battle that followed would be nothing but a formality, as the shock factor of Nikephoros’ kataphraktoi and the confidence of the Byzantine soldiers made short work of their foes. Discipline and Caution: The key to this military policy, then, was to ensure that the Byzantine army could engage in three small-scale skirmishes successfully and not be caught unawares itself. Nikephoros’ “Law of Three” could easily be turned against the Byzantines; it was therefore imperative that Nikephoros ensure his men would never present the enemy with the opportunity to break their will. The army was most vulnerable to these sorts of small- scale skirmishes when it was encamped and when it was foraging. It was therefore imperative that the army set up a secure camp at every point during the campaign. While Nikephoros relieved his men of the duty of digging a trench at temporary camps, no other defensive work is ignored. The encampment was to follow standard patterns to ensure 110 Ibid., 51. 61 the army would be able to fight effectively, even in the dark – everyone would already know their surroundings. The camp was always to be fortified with a palisade of shields, supported by spears braced against the ground. These formed a porcupine hedge of sharpened points resting atop the infantry’s palisade of shields, and ensured that enemy cavalry would not be able to easily charge through the camp. Companies of soldiers were detailed the task of foraging, and were assigned additional companies of soldiers as guards to blunt sudden enemy attacks against careless foraging parties. The army was never more vulnerable than when the soldiers were sleeping; consequently, officers would patrol just outside the palisade every night to ensure that the men posted as sentries were tending to their duties.111 Conclusions: Everything about the Nikephoran military system was geared toward the expansion of the Byzantine Empire. Maurice had provided the empire with an army capable of holding the borders and protecting the people; Nikephoros Phokas transformed that force into an army of conquest. The new army was confident, supremely well equipped, and vigorous. The Maurician army could defeat an enemy, turn back an invader, and protect the frontiers; the Nikephoran army could lure an enemy army to annihilation, pillage his lands, and occupy his cities. Nikephoros greatly expanded the diversity of troop types and their role in battle: no longer was a battle simply an exercise in comparative discipline between two otherwise evenly matched foes. Asymmetric application of force, exploiting the vulnerabilities of particular troop types, became the new order of the day. The new army had new goals: the destruction of enemy armies, both while they attempted to raid Byzantine territory and, for the first time in centuries, 111 Ibid,. 53-57. 62 while they defended their own lands from Byzantine invasions. War was still inevitable – but it was no longer war for survival, to protect the people; it was once again war for glory, for God, and for gold. 63  Chapter IV: Military Practice As we have seen, the military doctrine of the Byzantine Empire changed drastically in the middle of the tenth century. In order to attribute the changed fortunes of the empire to this change in strategy, however, it is first necessary to demonstrate that the Byzantines actually followed through on their own advice. The following battles demonstrate the renewed nerve of the Byzantine army after the Nikephoran reforms, and the willingness of Byzantine commanders to engage in battles that traditional, Maurician strategy dominant before 955 would have deemed un-winnable. While the Byzantines were by no means universally successful, the following engagements demonstrate that, when the Byzantines followed the precepts of their own military strategy, they were more often successful than not. Law of Three: One of the most important precepts established by Nikephoros Phokas was the notion that a general could – and should – offer battle against a foe with equal or greater forces, provided that foe had been appropriately “softened.” Three engagements, no matter how small, were necessary to erode the will of the enemy and bolster the courage of one’s own men. Nikephoros Phokas’ own invasion of the island of Crete provides a perfect example of the “Law of Three” at play. Nikephoros landed on Crete early in 960 with a vast host of men. The general deployed his troops from the ships in full battle array, correctly anticipating enemy resistance and routing a force of Arab soldiers sent to prevent his landing; arrows “poured down like hail” upon the fleeing Arabs, who were 64 closely pursued.112 True to the theory he was later to commit to writing, Nikephoros immediately constructed a fortified encampment to minimize the threat posed by the remaining Arab troops, still scattered across the island. After launching an unsuccessful attempt to raid and pillage the environs of the capital city of Chandax, Nikephoros settled down for a drawn out siege and constructed a circumvallation wall around the city. Nikephoros’ fleet simultaneously blockaded the enemy’s harbors; the Arabs were trapped within the city.113 All, that is, except for a large relief army that had surreptitiously advanced upon Chandax and was encamped within the hills nearby the city. During a routine patrol, Nikephoros himself discovered the waiting enemy army. The next evening, he assembled a force of picked men. Nikephoros and his small detachment of elite soldiers quietly approached the Arab camp, and at dawn launched a brutal surprise attack upon the drowsy Arabs. Leo the Deacon reports that forty thousand enemy soldiers were slain, shattering any hopes Chandax may have had for relief from the outside.114 Now victorious in two skirmishes, Nikephoros’ next move was designed to undermine the enemy’s eroding morale while bolstering that of his own men. In a grisly display of his victory, Nikephoros had his men collect the heads of their fallen enemies; some were mounted on the circumvallation wall as a warning to the defenders, while the rest were launched by catapult into the city.115 The “Law of Three” was satisfied; the enemy’s morale all but broken. While the siege would continue for many months after, the Arab defenders of Chandax never mustered the resolve to fight outside their walls 112 Leo the Deacon. Trans. Alice-Mary Talbot and Denis F. Sullivan. The History of Leo the Deacon. Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, Washington D.C. 2005. 62. 113 Ibid., 63-65. 114 Ibid., 66. 115 Ibid., 67. 65 again. Nikephoros’ men, heartened by the successes they had already achieved, endured a long, bitter winter outside Chandax without complaint. When spring came again, Nikephoros was able to take the city with ease.116 A second, and perhaps more impressive, example of the “Law of Three” in action is provided by the Pecheneg invasion of 1047. On December 15th, 1046, eighty-thousand Pecheneg warriors crossed the frozen Danube River bent on looting and pillaging anything and everything they could come across. The horde was opposed by the collected forces of the Duchies of Bulgaria, Paristrion, and Thrace under the command of the Pecheneg exile Kegenes. While the Byzantine’s choice of commander in this expedition was a bit unorthodox, Kegenes’ tactics were not: he immediately began to harass the Pechenegs with daily raids and skirmishes. In every encounter, the Byzantines were successful, and winter, continuous defeat in every clash – no matter how minor – and disease began to erode the Pechenegs’ will to fight. By January 13th, 1047 Kegenes felt confident enough to launch a general assault upon the Pechenegs. The Pechenegs, already broken in spirit, quickly threw down their weapons. They were then dispersed by the victorious Byzantines, disarmed, and settled throughout the Balkans in small communities as federates.117 In each of the two engagements cited above, the Byzantines would have acted very differently were they still operating under the rules of warfare laid out in the Strategikon. At Crete, Maurice would have hesitated to attack such a large Arab relief army – the forty thousand warriors defeated by Nikephoros would surely have outnumbered Nikephoros’ expeditionary force by a considerable margin. The Patzinak 116 Ibid., 76-79. 117 Skylitzes, John. Trans. John Wortley. A Synopsis of Byzantine History: 811 – 1057. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK. 2005. 429-430. 66 invasion would also have been handled quite differently by Maurice. Under either the Nikephoran or Maurician systems of warfare, the Patzinaks would have been harassed endlessly with raids; however, Maurice would have waited for disease, constant defeat in skirmishes, and the harsh conditions of winter to force his enemy to retreat. Against such a large host of enemies, Maurician strategy dictated that the enemy might be ambushed on their return to their own lands if an exceptional opportunity presented itself, but should not otherwise be engaged; Nikephoran strategy dictated that an exceptional opportunity had been created by a series of small victories. Kegenes knew that victory would be his if he attacked because the enemy was, as Nikephoros had promised, already broken. Their numbers counted for nothing. Surprise and Cunning: Ambushes: A recurring feature of Byzantine generalship under both the Maurician and Nikephoran military systems was a predilection to engage in battle using a combination of brute force and cunning. Surprise attacks, ambushes, night battles and stratagems were all intended to create in the enemy what Edward Luttwak calls a moment of: …temporary nonreaction of the unprepared enemy. Surprise transforms the balance of strength because so long as and in the degree that it lasts, the enemy is transformed into a mere inanimate object that cannot react: it is then very easy to attack in effective ways. If, moreover, surprise can be used to diminish and dislocate the enemy, there is no return to the prior balance of strength even when surprise ends.118 Surprise attacks, by any means achieved, would enable a much smaller force of prepared Byzantine soldiers to challenge much larger forces of unwary enemies. The Byzantines understood this facet of strategy, and employed surprise attacks whenever the opportunity presented itself. 118 Luttwak, Edward. The Grand Strategy of the Byzantine Empire. The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts. 2009. 340-341. 67  The Battle of Adrassos in 960 provides an excellent example of one of the Byzantine’s favorite tactics, the ambush of a departing raiding force. While Nikephoros Phokas was engaged in besieging the Arabs at Chandax, the Emir of Aleppo, Ali ibn Hamdan “Sayf ad Dawla” launched a major raid into Byzantine Anatolia via the Cilician Gates. Nikephoros’ brother, Leo Phokas, was appointed commander of the eastern armies and tasked with checking the raids of Hamdan. However, the forces at his disposal were limited – a “small and weak army…terrified at the successes of the Agarenes and their daily victories.”119 Leo therefore decided the only way to compensate for the enemy’s superior numbers and morale was to lay a trap. Leo would garrison the passes which Hamdan was likely to use on his return to Aleppo, and would launch an ambush on Hamdan’s troops as they marched home. At this stage of their journey, the Hamdanid troops would be weary from the march and laden with the spoils of successful raiding – prisoners, loot, and captured animals. With troops scattered along the road, garrisoning caves and watching from steep cliffs, Leo awaited the arrival of Hamdan’s army.120 On November 8th, 960, as the Hamdanid army trudged home burdened with plunder, they reached a section of the road which was narrow, steep, and unsuitable for horsemen to ride. The entire army was forced to dismount and march in broken formation. Leo’s army lined the mountain pass in hiding, ready to strike when the time was ripe. Once the Hamdanids were deep in his trap Leo gave the signal to advance. Leo’s “small and weak” army burst out of hiding, swords in hand; the Hamdanids were utterly routed. Most of the Hamdanid army was either captured or slain, and Ali ibn 119 Leo the Deacon, 72. 120 Ibid., 72-74. 68 Hamdan narrowly escaped capture by scattering gold and silver behind him as he fled to deter pursuit. Hamdan’s prisoners were freed, his loot was reclaimed, and his army scattered, all by a “small and weak” army.121 Both Maurice and Nikephoros Phokas recommended that a general attempt to ambush a raiding force after it had completed its raiding activities; the raiders would then be laden with the spoils of war and unwary in apparent victory. But a clever general could accomplish a great deal by ambushing a raiding army before it had a chance to plunder the lands extensively, thus sparing the people a great deal of hardship. It was riskier, to be sure, but when the gamble paid off a powerful enemy could be defeated before he had a chance to inflict any real damage. The Battle of Vaspurakan demonstrates what a talented general could accomplish against a raiding army, even early in an enemy’s raid. In 1048, the Sultan of the Seljuk Turks dispatched an army of twenty thousand men under the command of his nephew, Asan the Deaf, to harass the Byzantines and plunder Armenia. Asan forced his way through to Vaspurakan with ease, destroying, killing, and burning everything he and his army came across. The Byzantines organized an army to defend themselves under the command of Katakalon Kekaumenos, who devised a cunning trick to entice the Turks into an ambush. While his subordinates debated whether to attack the Turks by day or in secret at night, Kekaumenos decided to move his army from its current encampment into hiding all around the camp. The goods, tents and pack animals were all left in the camp for the Turks as ready plunder. When Asan and his warriors approached at dawn, they found the Byzantine camp devoid of defenders but full of plunder. The Turks dispersed throughout the camp, looting merrily. As evening approached and the Turks lost all 121 Ibid., 74-75. 69 semblance of discipline, Kekaumenos ordered his troops out of hiding. The Byzantines stormed their own camp, catching the Turks completely off-guard and slaughtering any who dared to resist. The great majority of the Turkish forces, including Asan the Deaf, were captured or slain, the camp and all its attendant plunder was reclaimed, and the Seljuks were driven out of Armenia.122 When a favorable opportunity did present itself, the Byzantines could accomplish considerable feats of arms with only a handful of troops. The Battle of Arcadiopolis, fought in spring of 970 in the province of Thrace, provides a “textbook” example of Byzantine cunning on the battlefield. In 966 Emperor Nikephoros Phokas had requested the aid of Prince Sviatoslav of Kievan Rus to attack the Kingdom of Bulgaria. Sviatoslav was only too happy to oblige, and invaded Bulgaria with a considerable army in 968. An attack on Kiev by Pechenegs occupied Sviatoslav’s attention for the beginning of 969, but by the year’s end Sviatoslav had nevertheless managed to occupy northern and eastern Bulgaria, bringing his forces to the border of the Byzantine Empire itself. Nikephoros had only intended to humble the Bulgarians; Sviatoslav’s successes were far beyond the scope of anything the Byzantines had planned for, and Nikephoros’ successor John Tzimiskes was faced with a substantially stronger, more aggressive neighbor in the north than the Bulgarians whom Nikephoros had sought to weaken. In spring of 970, the Rus invaded the Byzantine province of Thrace, sacking Phillippoupolis and marching against Constantinople.123 In 970, John had only just taken the throne and was unable to march in force against Sviatoslav. To counter the threat posed by Sviatoslav, John dispatched magister 122 Skylitzes, 420-422. 123 Haldon, John. The Byzantine Wars: Battles and Campaigns of the Byzantine Era. Tempus Publishing Ltd, The Mill, Brimscombe Port Stroud, Gloucestershire. 2001. 97. 70 Bardas Skleros and the patrikios Peter to take a small force to test the mettle of Sviatoslav’s Russian warriors.124 Thirty thousand “Scythians” – Rus warriors, as well as Magyars, Pechenegs, and Bulgarians recruited into Sviatoslav’s army – awaited them.125 Against this vast host, Skleros had a mere twelve thousand men. Aware that he lacked the numbers to defeat the enemy in a direct engagement, Skleros resolved to win the battle through guile. Skleros gathered his army into the stronghold of Arcadiopolis and awaited the arrival of Sviatoslav’s army. The enemy swiftly arrived and laid siege to the city. Skleros, however, strictly forbade his men from engaging with the enemy. Skleros contrived to give the enemy a false sense of security, and as night after night passed without incident, the “Scythians” abandoned themselves to drinking and carousing, paying less and less attention to camp security – their enemy was clearly too frightened to come out and fight.126 Skleros, however, was not as idle as he seemed. The magister divided his force in three: two divisions were posted at prepared ambush sites, while Skleros himself led a third division of two-three thousand men in a surprise attack against the unsuspecting enemy army. Skleros fell first upon the Pecheneg contingent of Sviatoslav’s army; fierce fighting ensued in which the Pechenegs and other “Scythian” troops were roused to blind fury and drove Skleros from their camp. Skleros, with the enemy in close pursuit, gradual withdrew his men in good order – all the while ensuring that the enemy had not abandoned the pursuit. Eventually, the running engagement entered, then passed through the ambush site; Skleros’ men turned to engage the enemy, while the remaining nine-ten thousand Byzantine soldiers suddenly emerged in a clamor from their hiding places along 124 Ibid., 97-98. 125 Leo the Deacon, 159. 126 Skylitzes, 276. 71 the road. The Pechenegs were hit hard on both flanks, caught perfectly in Skleros’ trap and in complete disarray. Their resolve quickly shattered, and they fled the field – in the process disordering the ranks of the remainder of the “Scythian” army that had followed the Pechenegs with less zeal. The ambush had worked perfectly; thousands of the enemy lay dead, their army scattered and utterly demoralized.127 The Battle of Arcadiopolis is a perfect example of the classic “Scythian Ambush” recommended by both the Strategikon and the Praecepta. By engaging with a small, disciplined detachment and then feigning flight, the general is able to entice an enemy to lower his guard. Should the enemy follow, should he take the bait, the general can force an enemy into a prepared ambush without the vagaries of chance or anticipating the enemy’s line of march. Additionally, the enemy trapped in a Scythian ambush is likely to be exhausted through pursuit, with men no longer in the close-order formations of a set piece battle. At the moment the trap is sprung, the enemy is taken completely by surprise; he cannot react appropriately, and becomes a non-responsive target for the wrath of the ambushing soldiers. Engaging in this sort of maneuver requires rigid discipline in the baiting force, and a laxity of discipline among the enemy – a wary foe is unlikely to take the bait. The Scythian ambush is a gamble, deliberately placing all of a general’s forces outside of the normal battlefield formation and thus making it simple to divide each wing, should the enemy attack in force. As such, it is perfectly in keeping with the confident mentality of the Nikephoran military system, which encouraged the general to create – rather than await – opportunities to engage in pitched battles on favorable terms. Surprise and Cunning: Maneuver: 127 Haldon, Wars. 98. 72  Tactical surprise could be generated in other ways: a Scythian ambush was an effective way of creating surprise against a prepared enemy, but another method of creating “surprise” without hiding forces was simply to ensure that the army was not where the enemy expected it to be. The Battle of Great Preslav, fought in eastern Bulgaria in 971, is an excellent example of this operational-level surprise. In spring of 971, following the success of Bardas Skleros at Arcadiopolis, the Russian forces of Sviatoslav withdrew into Bulgaria to regroup and John Tzimiskes, now secure on the throne, embarked to meet them with a large army. His generals advised him to advance cautiously into Bulgaria – first taking the time to properly reconnoiter the terrain and ensure the enemy had not blocked the mountain passes.128 But John would not wait; he advanced at the head of a great host, relying upon the suddenness of his advance to take the enemy off their guard and thus force the way into Bulgaria. In the event, John had correctly surmised the state of the Bulgars’ defenses: the mountain passes had not been fortified, as Sviatoslav did not believe that John would march against him until after celebrating Easter.129 Thus, John was able to lead an advance force of five thousand infantry and four thousand cavalrymen, the swiftest in his army, across the Haemos Mountains into Bulgaria without incident.130 By crossing the Haemos Mountains before Easter, John had gained operational surprise against Sviatoslav. John’s small vanguard arrived quickly on the plains surrounding the capital of the Bulgar nation, Great Preslav, where they then engaged an 8,500 man strong contingent of Bulgar troops engaged in training exercises outside the 128 Maurician strategy dictated that if the mountain passes were held – or even likely to be held – by the enemy, the army would need to follow a different route. John is ignoring this advice in favor of the more aggressive spirit of Nikephoran military doctrine. 129 Leo the Deacon, 177-178. 130 Skylitzes, 282. 73 city.131 The Bulgars, their morale already shaken, nevertheless formed up for battle and resisted the Byzantine onslaught bravely. The Bulgars, however, fought almost exclusively as infantrymen: a powerful charge by the Immortals132 shattered the enemy’s left flank and their army disintegrated into a rout.133 The survivors fled for the safety of the city with all haste; the Byzantines pursued them relentlessly, slaughtering thousands as they fled. The city garrison rallied to the support of their fellows, each man hastily grabbing whatever weapon happened to be closest. However, their efforts were in vain – they were unable to properly form ranks, and consequently engaged the Byzantines in a disordered line along the road to Great Preslav. This makeshift force was also quickly routed, and as it fled a Byzantine contingent of horsemen raced ahead to block the road back to the city. The enemy “were overtaken as they dispersed over the plain in flight; they were annihilated until every piece of level ground was covered with bodies and even more of them were taken prisoner.”134 At the Battle of Great Preslav, the Byzantines were able to score an overwhelming victory over the Bulgars. The reasons for their success are multiple: first and foremost, the audacity of John Tzimiskes in forcing the Haemos Mountains quickly – one might almost say recklessly – before the Bulgars could prepare their defenses ensured operational surprise. Great Preslav and its large garrison would have presented a far harder target if the enemy had been aware of the Byzantine’s approach, had prepared defenses in the mountain passes, or had simply been able to form ranks against the Byzantines rather than being caught off-guard in training exercises. Maurician strategy 131 Ibid. 132 A guard regiment of professional cavalry soldiers, normally 4,000 strong. Leo the Deacon, 157 n105. 133 Leo the Deacon, 180. 134 Skylitzes, 282. 74 dictated a slow, measured advance through the mountains; Tzimiskes would never have taken the Bulgars off-guard had he followed older military doctrine. The second significant reason for the Byzantine triumph at Great Preslav was the heavy cavalry, almost certainly including a regiment of kataphraktoi, which shattered the Bulgar left flank. It is significant to note that this phase of the battle was fought entirely in accord with Nikephoran military doctrine: the enemy had not broken under the attacks of John’s cavalry alone, which made a heavy cavalry charge necessary. The kataphraktoi shattered through the enemy ranks easily, their heavy armor protecting them from the spears of the Bulgars. Once the left flank had broken, the Bulgar army was easily overcome – they fought on foot, ensuring that the Byzantine pursuit on horseback would easily overtake the fleeing army, and ensuring that reinforcements from the city garrison would not arrive quickly enough to bolster the failing left flank. Under the Maurician military system, John would have engaged the Bulgars with his own infantry – badly outnumbered though they would be – and flanked the enemy with his cavalry. However, he would have lacked the heavy cavalry forces necessary to break through on the left flank; the Bulgars may then have had enough time to allow reinforcements from the city garrison to bolster their lines. Great Preslav could still have been a Byzantine victory even under the Maurician system of warfare, but at the cost of a longer, bloodier battle in which Byzantine discipline, rather than the lances of the kataphraktoi, decided the day. Operational surprise tended to be much easier to achieve when on the offensive than an ambush, traditional or Scythian. Indeed, the Byzantines began to develop something of a reputation for favoring the Scythian ambush. During John Tzimiskes’ invasion of Bulgaria in 971, a detachment of scouts headed by Theodore of Mistheia 75 encountered the troops of Sviatoslav on a reconnaissance mission. Theodore’s men, though only numbering three hundred, launched a furious attack against the Russians, who “would not venture forth because they feared a trap and gave way with many wounded and a few fallen. They scattered into the nearby mountains and the deep, thickly grown glens…”135 As a result, enemies who were familiar with Byzantine tactics began to become wary of traps, as the above encounter during John’s Bulgar war demonstrates. During the reign of John’s successor, Basil II the Byzantines again marched to war against the Bulgars. In 997, the Bulgars launched a major incursion deep into Byzantine territory. They were led by their Tsar, Samuel; earlier in the year Samuel had defeated Gregory Taronites, the Duke of Thessalonica, and the path into Greece lay open. Samuel had been unable to seize the city of Thessalonica, but proceeded through the Vale of Tempe to ravage Thessaly, Boeotia, Attica and the Peloponnese. To contain this incursion Basil II dispatched Nikephoros Ouranos with command of the remaining armies of the western provinces. Ouranos marched into Larissa, leaving his baggage train there before making a series of forced marches through Thessaly and across the plain of Pharsala. This placed Ouranos on the far shore of the Spercheios River, with the Bulgar army and Samuel on the opposite shore. Although he must have been surprised by the rapidity of Ouranos’ march, Samuel was not unduly worried by the presence of the Byzantine army on the opposite shore of the Spercheios; the river was swollen and deemed impossible to ford. However, Ouranos was not so easily deterred, and his scouts discovered a point at which the river could be forded. The general roused his men after nightfall, marching in silence along the banks of the flooded river to the recently discovered ford. The Byzantines 135 McGeer, Sowing. 301. 76 approached the Bulgar camp in silence, storming the camp before anyone could raise the alarm. Most of the Bulgar army was asleep, and those few who roused before being slain were in no shape to fight. Samuel and his son Romanos were both badly wounded but managed to escape; the remaining Bulgars were taken prisoner with heavy losses. All of the prisoners and loot that the Bulgars had taken in their raids throughout Greece were released; Ouranos then returned back to his base at Thessalonica.136 The Battle of the Spercheios River demonstrates an excellent example of Byzantine defensive warfare, which remained largely unchanged by the Nikephoran reforms. Maurice had advised generals in the Strategikon to attack an enemy army as it withdrew, laden with prisoners; he had also advised that an enemy who encamped carelessly would be exceptionally vulnerable to a night attack. This is exactly what Nikephoros Ouranos had done at Spercheios, true in form to all the mandates of Byzantine strategy. However, it is a testament to the newly vigorous desire to create a favorable opportunity to give battle that Ouranos searched as long and hard as he did for a ford across the river. The Battle of the Kleidion Pass in 1014 provides another example of this new, insatiable desire to create a favorable opportunity to give battle. In spring of 1014, Basil II set out on campaign against the Bulgar Tsar Samuel, marching for the Bulgar capital of Ochrid via the Kleidion pass. Samuel, however, was prepared for the emperor’s advance: he set up a series of palisades blocking the passes and stationed an “adequate guard” of soldiers to hold the pass against the emperor’s army. When Basil arrived, he was dismayed to find the path held against him. Initially, the emperor tried to force the pass but his men were unable to dislodge the Bulgars, who held the high ground by virtue of 136 Skylitzes, 323-324. 77 their fortified positions. However, rather than giving up the campaign Basil dispatched a body of picked men under the command of Nikephoros Xiphias to find a path around the palisade. Xiphias led his men back out of the Kleidion pass, through a series of goat paths on Mount Valasitza, and suddenly appeared on July 29th directly behind the Bulgar lines. Xiphias then launched an all out assault on the Bulgars, whose resolve crumbled at the sight of Byzantine soldiers behind their lines – exactly where they were not supposed to be able to be. As the army’s morale disintegrated, Samuel fled, abandoning his men to their fate as the victorious Byzantines pulled down the palisade and completed the encirclement of the Bulgar army. According to legend, fifteen thousand Bulgars were capture and ninety-nine of every hundred were blinded; the hundredth man in each century being spared an eye so that he would be able to lead his fellows back to Ochrid.137 The Battle of the Kleidion Pass demonstrates a remarkably effective use of operational maneuver. The Byzantine army could not have succeeded at a direct, frontal assault; not without incurring grievous casualties. The Nikephoran system had removed some of the Byzantine disdain for a direct frontal engagement, but not to the point of inviting losses when other options were available. By probing the mountain for other means of entry, Basil replicated the success of Nikephoros Ouranos at the Spercheios River on an even grander scale, defeating a Bulgar army that was not laden with prisoners or the spoils of war but ready for battle. Maurice had counseled his generals to avoid entering a mountain pass that was likely to be held by the enemy, and to attempt to force a mountain pass known to be held by the enemy would have been regarded as pure folly. The Bulgars understood this, and clearly expected their Byzantine rivals to simply 137 Ibid., 330-331. 78 withdraw; when the Byzantines did not, but instead managed to outmaneuver the Bulgars their cause was doomed and their morale was broken. Grand Strategy: Another striking feature of the Battle of the Kleidion Pass is the change that had occurred in “grand strategy” under the Nikephoran system. Maurice had counseled his generals to avoid at all costs encircling an enemy completely; it was infinitely preferable to leave the enemy a way out in order to avoid fighting desperate enemies. The corollary of this strategy, however, was that the Maurician system could never win a complete victory over an enemy army, as the enemy would always be able to withdraw with some portion of their army intact. The Nikephoran system, however, abandoned this notion of war as limited. An enemy army could and should be encircled if possible; a broken army should be pursued with all haste, saving only a token force to follow slowly in disciplined ranks to serve as an anchor point in case of reversal. A general fighting under the Maurician system of Byzantine warfare would have avoided battle at Kleidion; however, if forced to give battle, and subsequently successful, that same general would have pursued the broken Bulgar army far enough to ensure that it could not regroup and harry the successful Byzantines. Such an approach to warfare was fine when the goal was simply to protect the borders; however, if Basil II was to invade and conquer Bulgaria, he would need to completely destroy or win-over the entirety of the Bulgar army. Basil could not afford the luxury of allowing the Bulgars to lose a few thousand men at Kleidion, only to regroup a few days’ march distant to challenge him again. The entire army, if at all possible, had to be eliminated – whether taken prisoner or slain was 79 irrelevant. This was warfare of a much different, much bloodier character than that conceived in the Strategikon. The Battle of the Kleidion Pass was not the first instance of this newfound bloodlust in Byzantine warfare. Nikephoros Phokas himself, as we have already seen, dispatched forty thousand Arab soldiers in a night assault on Crete as part of his occupation of that island in 960.138 Another, slightly later example of this type of warfare is provided by the Battle of Adana in 964. Nikephoros Phokas, by this time emperor, dispatched the magister and future emperor John Tzimiskes as commander of the eastern forces to Cilicia. When John arrived at Adana, he was confronted with a powerful army of the Hamdanid Emir of Aleppo. The battle was fierce, because the forces against which John was doing battle were the finest of the Hamdanid Emirate – hand-picked elite soldiers of the emir. Some of the enemy fell “according to the rules of war” but a portion, perhaps five thousand, dismounted and fled up a precipitous mountain. There they believed they would be safe, under the fairly reasonable assumption that the Byzantines would not dismount to pursue – after all, the Hamdanid army had been scattered to the winds in panic. However, John Tzimiskes was not so easily turned away; he surrounded the mountain and ordered his men to dismount. He and his men then advanced up the mountain side, slaughtering every Hamdanid soldier they came upon – the mountain was afterwards dubbed the “mountain of blood.”139 As John Skylitzes astutely notes, however, this was the beginning of the end for the Hamdanid Emirate. With the elite of the army utterly destroyed and a large portion of the regular soldiers scattered or killed in the aftermath of the battle, the Byzantines were 138 Leo the Deacon, 66. 139 Skylitzes, 257. 80 largely unopposed in their efforts to conquer Cilicia the following year.140 Individual cities would still provide resistance, but no aid would come from their nominal masters in Aleppo. The Hamdanid Emirate was essentially defanged by the brutal slaughter of five- thousand of its best warriors on the “mountain of blood.” Shock Warfare: Kataphraktoi: The Battle of Adana hamstrung the Hamdanid armies, opening the frontier to further Byzantine incursions. In 965, Nikephoros Phokas marshaled a vast host – over forty thousand strong – and crossed the Taurus Mountains into Hamdanid territory. One of his first targets was the heavily fortified city of Tarsos. Immediately upon arriving in the environs of the city Nikephoros ordered the perimeter to be stripped of trees and brush to flush out any Arab forces that may have taken refuge there; several earlier Byzantine expeditions against Tarsos had run afoul of ambushes launched from the scrubland that surrounded the city. Nikephoros next built a circumvallation palisade around the city, closing it off from all sources of relief and resupply. The citizens of Tarsos, however, were unimpressed by Nikephoros’ vast host and siege preparations. The garrison sallied forth to meet Nikephoros in battle on the plains approaching the city gates. As the defenders formed ranks, Nikephoros arrayed his “ironclad horsemen” – the kataphraktoi – in the vanguard with a host of archers and slingers to provide covering fire arrayed just behind the kataphraktoi. Nikephoros took personal command of the right wing – ignoring his own injunction for a general to avoid needlessly exposing himself to danger; John Tzimiskes commanded the left wing. At the sound of a single trumpet, the entire host moved into action with “incredible precision…the entire plain sparkled with the gleam of their armor. The Tarsians could not withstand such an onslaught…they 140 Ibid. 81 immediately turned to flight, and ingloriously shut themselves up in the town, after losing most of their men in this assault.”141 While the garrison forces had not been completely destroyed by Nikephoros’ “ironclad horsemen,” they had been much humbled and did not dare to venture outside the city walls again.142 The Battle of Tarsos demonstrates very clearly the destructive potential of a charge by the new kataphraktoi over level terrain. Without the impediment of brush and scrub, the horsemen had nothing to slow them down, and their precise, measured charge produced a deep psychological trauma as they steamrolled everything in their path without hesitation. Typically, the kataphraktoi would be deployed against an enemy leader or similar focal point in the enemy defense – at Great Preslav, this had been the Bulgar left wing. If the kataphraktoi succeeded in their charge – or seemed likely to do so – the threatened sector of the enemy line would rout, sometimes before the charge even struck home. If the kataphraktoi succeeded in their charge, especially against an enemy commander, it would almost certainly precipitate a general rout of the enemy army – a medieval army was overly dependent upon the personal authority of its commander, making the enemy commander the Achilles’ heel of the enemy army. It was imperative, however, that the kataphraktoi charge at a measured pace: in the West, a tendency among feudal knights to charge at whatever pace their horses were capable of resulted in the knightly charge disintegrating into a collection of charges aimed in the same general direction by individual warriors. Cohesion was essential to the Byzantine tactic, with the kataphraktoi inflicting far more damage as a unit than the aggregate sum of the charges of each individual warrior.143 141 Leo the Deacon, 108. 142 Ibid., 106-108. 143 McGeer, Sowing. 306-307. 82  The kataphraktoi had proven themselves at Tarsos against an Arab force; at the Siege of Dorostolon in 971, they would prove themselves again against a mixed for of Russian and Bulgarian warriors. Shortly after the victory at Great Preslav, John Tzimiskes advanced with the entirety of his host – around thirty thousand men – against Sviatoslav and the remainder of the Russian army, which had holed up in the fortress of Dorostolon. Scouts reported the Russian army at sixty thousand men – clearly too many, as excavations have shown the fortress of Dorostolon could not have quartered so many men, but the army was considerable and confident of victory. Rather than await the arrival of the Byzantine Emperor passively, Sviatoslav’s men arrayed for battle in a dense shield wall in the plains outside the fortress. John arrayed his own forces in three divisions, with a reserve force of kataphraktoi behind each wing and a secondary line of foot archers behind the center. By midday the two armies had maneuvered into range of one another. Suddenly, under a constant hail of arrows, the Russians charged with a fierce roar. The Byzantines halted the Russian charge, but although they opened gaps in the Russian shield wall were unable to force their enemies back. The Russians, however, were likewise unable to push back the Byzantine lines, and after about an hour of inconclusive fighting the two battle lines disengaged to regroup. After a brief rest, the Russian troops again charged, and again their charge was halted – the Byzantines were able in this second encounter to force the Russians back, but still could not break their ranks. By late afternoon both armies were wearied and seemed to have made no progress. At this point John ordered his kataphraktoi to launch a concerted attack against both flanks of the enemy army. The kataphraktoi charged the Russian flanks while John’s heavy infantry rushed forward in support; the kataphraktoi trampled the Russian 83 shield wall with irresistible force. Within minutes the Russian forces had been driven back, their morale and formations shattered. A general rout ensued in which the Byzantines gave close pursuit and captured or killed a large portion of Sviatoslav’s army before the remainder reached the safety of Dorostolon.144 Although John had badly defeated Sviatoslav’s army, the Russians stoutly resisted his efforts to take Dorostolon. After his army failed at a series attempts to break out of the siege, Sviatoslav resolved to command his army personally and launch one final, desperate attempt to break the siege. On Friday, July 24th, 971 Sviatoslav gathered his army for the attempt. After spending the morning preparing themselves for battle, the Russians filed onto the plains outside the fortress and formed ranks in a solid shield wall by late afternoon. In an effort to compensate for the devastation caused by the Byzantine kataphraktoi, and to counter for his diminishing numbers, Sviatoslav deployed his men with a marsh to one flank and woodland to the other. This also placed him closer to the fortress, ensuring there would be fewer casualties should the army be forced to flee back to Dorostolon. Sviatoslav also placed most of his archers on the flanks of his army, determined to inflict as many casualties as possible upon the Byzantine cavalry – hoping in this that his archers would be able to kill the Byzantines’ horses, making the fallen riders easy prey for Russian infantry. The battle began in late afternoon with a heavy Russian charge – and, with heavy arrow fire disrupting the Byzantine cavalry, the Byzantine center began to give ground. John, realizing that his men were quickly becoming tired under the heat of the day, ordered water mixed with wine to be distributed among the men. This helped stave off exhaustion during the drawn out engagement, and provided the Byzantines with an edge over the less organized Russians. However, water 144 Haldon, Wars. 99-100. 84 alone could not change the course of battle: John realized he needed to get his men onto a broader frontage where his cavalry and superior numbers could be used to better effect. He gave the order to withdraw, slowly and in good order, to better terrain; the Russians gave close pursuit. Although the Byzantines’ withdrew in disciplined ranks, the ferocity of the persistent Russian attacks began to tell against their morale. As the center began to waver, John decided to commit his own bodyguard and personally led a charge against the Russian center. Seeing their emperor charging bravely into battle steadied the Byzantine troops, who joined John in his charge. Again the heavy armor and weaponry of the kataphraktoi played a crucial role in winning the encounter, rolling over the Russian shield wall and causing heavy casualties. Simultaneously, kataphraktoi under the command of Bardas Skleros charged one of the Russian flanks unexpectedly, causing tremendous casualties and shattering the already frayed Russian morale. A general rout ensued, with the Byzantines killing or capturing as many as fifteen thousand Russian warriors.145 The Siege of Dorostolon and the attendant attempts by the Russians to resist that siege demonstrate perfectly the advantages accrued to the Byzantines in their adoption of a new set of military doctrine under the leadership of Nikephoros Phokas. In each engagement, the Russian and Byzantine forces were evenly matched until a charge by the kataphraktoi turned a Russian flank and precipitated a general rout. Maurician strategy would have relied solely upon the discipline of the Byzantine infantry to decide the encounter; one can imagine that the Byzantines would have suffered tremendously heavier casualties had this been the strategy adopted at Dorostolon. Furthermore, reliance solely upon the discipline of the Byzantine infantry may not have sufficed to win 145 Ibid., 103-104. 85 the battle: the opening engagements of the siege were stalemates until the kataphraktoi were committed, and the final engagement saw Byzantine morale flagging until a timely charge by the kataphraktoi turned the Russian flank and center. The marshes and woodland around the fortress would have presented a serious problem for the mobile tactics prescribed by Maurice for the Byzantine regular cavalry, limiting the effectiveness of Maurician-style tactics at Dorostolon. Lastly, Maurician strategy dictated that the army that invaded Bulgaria to root Sviatoslav out was too small – the Russians must have outnumbered the Byzantines by a fair margin if they could still suffer fifteen thousand casualties in their final attempt to break through the siege, having already suffered serious casualties in their previous attempts. And yet John was able to take Dorostolon, drive Sviatoslav out of Bulgaria, and annex eastern Bulgaria. The Russian army was shattered in the process, with the Byzantines suffering minimal casualties – three hundred and fifty in the final engagement against fifteen thousand Russian losses. In a four month campaign that Maurician strategy could not have conceived of John had conquered eastern Bulgaria and destroyed a powerful rival; the potency of the new strategic paradigm could not have been more clearly demonstrated.146 Leadership: It would be a mistake, however, to conclude that every Byzantine victory – or defeat – was due solely to the quality of the military paradigm currently in force. A general could follow military doctrine or choose to innovate, and these decisions would influence the outcome of a battle. Leadership and the qualities of a general played a part, for good or ill, in deciding victory. 146 Ibid., 104-105. 86  John Tzimiskes proved to be one of the Byzantine Empire’s most charismatic commanders. His personal bravery – at times verging on recklessness – inspired his troops to fight beyond their strength, and was essential to winning several victories. John’s role in the Battle of Adana has already been discussed: although his men were hesitant to advance against a desperate force of elite infantry holed up on the mountain side, John personally led the final charge on foot. In so doing, John forced his men to follow or admit that they lacked the courage to follow their commander, or the dedication to see that he survived his reckless charge. The aftermath of the Battle of Great Preslav also serves to demonstrate John’s fearless leadership. Following the rout of the city garrison, the John’s men launched a furious assault on the city walls. The Byzantines, “full of righteous indignation,” threw scaling ladders against the walls and overcame the city’s outer defenses with ease. However, the more resolute portion of the enemy army – eight thousand men in all – took refuge in a fortress within the palace district of the city. John’s victory was not complete until this force had been reduced: he therefore detailed a sizeable detachment of troops under Bardas Skleros to storm the citadel. The men, however, were reluctant to make the attempt as the citadel was stoutly made and deemed impregnable. Upon observing his troops’ reluctance, John dismounted his horse, seized his weapons, and charged alone toward the entrance to the citadel. His men were shamed into action; how could they stand idle and watch their emperor conquer danger alone? Each man took up his arms and joined the emperor with a fierce battle cry, and the reinvigorated army swept all resistance before them.147 147 Skylitzes, 283-284. 87  Skilled leaders could do much to augment the capabilities of their men, encouraging them to excel far beyond their native talents. Yet standard Byzantine military practice discouraged the general from directly engaging in battle unless absolutely necessary. The final Battle of Dorostolon is an excellent example of an occasion upon which John Tzimiskes operated completely within the limits of Byzantine military doctrine. The battle was gradually turning against the Byzantines as their infantry center began to give way; with all other reserves committed elsewhere, John was perfectly justified in leading the charge with his personal bodyguard to turn the tide of battle. However, both Nikephoros Phokas and Maurice would have demurred over John’s decision to dismount and stride confidently toward the citadel and certain death at Great Preslav in a bid to compel his hesitant soldiers to charge. Good leadership could do much to sway the tide of battle, making a partial victory total or even stem the tide of defeat to win the day. It is equally true, unfortunately, that poor leadership could do much to sway the tide of battle against the Byzantines and cost them success on the battlefield, even in the face of favorable odds. The Battle of Versinikia in summer of 813 presents a perfect example of the cost of poor leadership. Emperor Michael I determined in spring of that year to march against the Bulgar Khan Krum, whose forces had despoiled much of Thrace and were marching to meet Michael near Adrianople. Michael’s forces consisted of three components: one flank consisting of the thematic soldiers of Thrace and Macedonia – about eight thousand strong – under the command of John Aplakes, one flank consisting of the thematic soldiers of Anatolia – about eight thousand strong – under the command of Leo, and the center consisting of the tagmata – about four thousand strong – and the thematic levies of the Thrakesion and 88 Opsikion themes, about six thousand additional soldiers in all. The entire army numbered around twenty-six thousand men and clearly outnumbered the Bulgarians. Michael, however, was indecisive: should he attack? Some of his generals urged caution; Aplakes demanded that the army should charge at once against the Bulgars, who were outnumbered – perhaps by as many as two to one – and deployed on lower ground, both decisive advantages. Over the course of two weeks, Michael did nothing, watching the enemy army before him but making no move. Finally, Aplakes informed the emperor that the Thracian and Macedonian thematic soldiers would engage the next day, with or without the support of the rest of the army. Aplakes’ forces charged down the ridge upon which the imperial army was encamped, engaging the Bulgars ferociously and turning their flank. As Aplakes’ small detachment of the Byzantine army continued, however, it began to meet stiffer resistance as the Bulgars rallied and began to use their superior numbers against Aplakes’ smaller force. For Michael remained indecisive, and merely watched the progress of the battle from the ridge above. As the battle unfolded below, the Anatolian levies decided to quit the field, and promptly reversed their standards and fled the field. The troops of the center began to waver, concerned by the spectacle unfolding before them of Aplakes’ now hard-pressed divisions giving ground before the Bulgars and the inexplicable withdrawal of Leo’s Anatolian levies. Eventually these troops began to abandon their posts and join the Anatolians in retreat; Michael was powerless to stop his soldiers in their flight or send aid to the beleaguered Aplakes, and he too fled the field. Krum could hardly believe his good fortune, but lost no time in exploiting it: his men surrounded and destroyed the Aplakes’ soldiers and then plundered the veritable arsenal left by Michael’s panicked soldiers as they fled the field.148 148 Haldon, Wars. 76-77. 89  The Battle of Versinikia was an unmitigated disaster for the Byzantines; a smaller force of Bulgarian troops had been able to defeat the imperial army piecemeal while the larger portion of that army fled from their own shadows in panic. The reforms of Nikephoros Phokas were but a glimmer on the horizon: Versinikia would have been fought entirely under the auspices of Maurician strategy. To some degree, the innate caution counseled by Maurice may have hindered the Byzantines at Versinikia. Maurice had advised that a general was not to engage an invading enemy outright unless an incredible opportunity presented itself. One could also argue, however, that the Bulgar army’s position at the base of a steep ridge, surrounded and outnumbered two to one by the Byzantine army, provided Michael with just such an irresistible opportunity. Once the battle began, however, Michael clearly did not done follow Maurician strategy. Aplakes assault upon the Bulgar lines was a serious breach of military discipline: however, the battle would have been a Byzantine victory if Aplakes’ small force had been supported by either of the two remaining divisions of the imperial army. It is an inexcusable fact of the battle that Michael watched passively as a sizeable portion of his army fought valiantly, alone and unsupported. Either he was unable to command the rest of his army to charge – indicating that he lacked even the most rudimentary abilities as a commander – or he was unable to see that a charge was necessary, indicating that he lacked even the most rudimentary abilities as a tactician. Either way, Michael’s uninspired leadership led directly to the destruction of nearly a third of his army in a battle that, had he simply fought the battle rather than seeking a way to avoid it, would have been a Byzantine triumph. 90  Although Versinikia was lost principally due to the paralytic indecision and over- caution of Michael I, it is nonetheless intriguing to imagine the course of the battle under the auspices of Nikephoran strategy. Michael and Krum arrived at Versinikia on June 7th; battle was not joined until two weeks later, during which time the Byzantine army had done absolutely nothing to harm the enemy. Under Nikephoran strategy, this would have been an opportune time to engage the enemy in small contests – minor raids and skirmishes to bolster the army’s morale and confidence, both of which were diminished by events prior to the battle. The “Law of Three” could then have been applied in full: a series of Byzantine skirmishes and raids, if successful, would bolster the confidence and morale of the imperial army while shattering the resolve of the Bulgars. When the armies finally engaged two weeks later, the Bulgars would already be broken in spirit and ready to lose. Recklessness: At Versinikia, the Byzantines lost a sizeable portion of their army to a weaker foe for lack of initiative. But recklessness could be an even more dangerous quality, especially in a talentless general. Indeed, Versinikia would never have been fought but for the military failures of Michael’s predecessor, Nikephoros I. In summer of 811, Nikephoros led a vast army on an invasion of Bulgaria with the intention of destroying Bulgar power once and for all. The army got off to a good start, gathering at the crossroads of Markellai on the road to Pliska in an effort to confuse the Bulgars of their true destination. The invasion began in earnest on July 19th/20th; the Bulgars were taken by surprise and were unable to impede the emperor’s progress though he divided his army into several columns on the march. On July 23rd, Nikephoros arrived at Pliska and 91 stormed the city, defeating the garrison and a relief army of approximately the same size with ease.149 On July 24th, despite offers of peace from the Bulgar Khan Krum, Nikephoros set out in pursuit of the remaining Bulgar forces. His objective had become to annexation of Bulgaria, and he would brook no council from anyone – least of all the emissaries of the Bulgar Khan. The Byzantine army advanced swiftly toward Serdica and the Bulgar army, despoiling the lands as they passed until they entered a heavily wooded valley. Nikephoros’ generals advised their emperor to slow down, that he was advancing too fast, but the emperor – and the common soldiers – were confident of victory and would accept no delays. The Bulgars, however, were not idle as Nikephoros bore down upon them: they constructed a wooden palisade across the exits of several wooded mountain passes through the Sredna Gora Mountains along Nikephoros’ route. These palisades were reinforced with a ditch to slow an invading army, and garrisoned by a detachment of Bulgar troops. On July 25th, Nikephoros’ scouts informed the emperor that the way ahead was blocked by an enemy force behind a wooden palisade. Nikephoros is reported to have fallen into a state of panic and despair; he had foolishly believed the Bulgars could offer no further resistance after the loss of Pliska. The worst news escaped the emperor’s notice: Krum was shadowing the Byzantine army with an army of his own, assembled of Bulgars as well as allied contingents of Slavs and Avars. Nikephoros, however, had not detailed enough scouts to discover that he was in fact in deeper peril than he realized. When Nikephoros subsequently ordered the army to make camp rather than attempt to extricate itself from the blocked mountain pass, he was unwittingly presenting the Bulgar 149 Ibid., 73. 92 Khan with an irresistible opportunity to corner the Byzantines between the fortified mouth of the pass and Krum’s army.150 Nikephoros, however, was not quite done: in a move of supreme stupidity, he allowed his army to encamp scattered about carelessly. Apparently he even neglected to post guards – hardly surprising in light of the scant attention he devoted to scouting patrols – because in the pre-dawn hours of July 26th, 811 the Bulgar army suddenly burst into the Byzantine camp. Krum had brilliantly executed a night ambush upon the sleeping Byzantine army; within minutes Nikephoros and his inner council had been slaughtered in their tents. While hope remained that the emperor might still have survived, the guard regiments fought heroically; when it became clear that the emperor must have been slain, all thoughts of resistance fled as the men scattered in panic. Some fled into the nearby marshes and drowned – so many, in fact, that their bodies formed a bridge for their comrades and the Bulgars pursuing them. Some fled south, but the way ahead was blocked by the palisade the Bulgars had erected to prevent the enemy from entering their country. In terror, many tried to scale the palisade and fell to their deaths on the other side; some managed to get across and set fire to the timbers supporting the palisade in an effort to aid their comrades. In the event, however, the fallen timbers did create a bridge but a perilous one – it too was in flames, and collapsed under the weight of a host of Byzantine soldiers in full armor fleeing in terror. While a portion of the army was able to break out and escape back to Byzantine territory, the vast majority perished.151 150 Ibid., 73-74. 151 Ibid., 74-75. 93  The Battle of Pliska was a disaster for the Byzantines on par with the equally crushing defeat of Adrianople in 378. With the destruction of the imperial army the Bulgars were able to reclaim the lands they had lost in Nikephoros’ invasion and begin their own invasion of Byzantine territory. Nikephoros’ death at their hands in a surprise attack may well have contributed to Michael’s hesitation to engage at Versinikia. But the defeat at Pliska was fundamentally due to a failure of leadership rather than a failure of the Byzantine military system. Nikephoros was, by all accounts, grossly overconfident in victory, and especially so after sacking Krum’s palace and destroying two Bulgar armies. He advanced recklessly, detailing few scouts and even fewer guards. When the army faced determined resistance Nikephoros’ nerve broke completely. The army could still have extricated itself through the simple expedient of reversing course; likewise, Nikephoros could probably have forced the palisade if he chose to march forward. Maurician military doctrine required Nikephoros to scout the mountain pass before entering to prevent precisely this sort of disaster from befalling the Byzantines. Once he realized his mistake, Nikephoros had the opportunity to correct it by ordering his men to either withdraw or forge ahead: instead he compounded his error by encamping carelessly, knowing the enemy was nearby. The army encamped scattered, with no guards, and no trench, with an enemy army in the immediate vicinity; it was a combination bordered on suicidal. When disaster struck, it was solely because Nikephoros had carelessly neglected every tenet of Byzantine strategy. The Battle of Azazion provides an equally sordid example of what could happen when the Byzantines failed to follow their own advice. In 1030, the Emperor Romanos III Argyros (r. 1028 – 1034) embarked upon a campaign against the Mirdasid Emirs of 94 Aleppo. His subordinates, chief among them the patrikios John Chaldos, urged the emperor to reconsider: Romanos was marching to battle against Aleppo during summer, and planned to encamp in an area with scarce water. Chaldos reminded the emperor that the Byzantines were unaccustomed to the desert heats and would be fatigued by their heavy armor while the Arabs troops, less encumbered and familiar with the vicissitudes of a Syrian summer, would have the advantage. But Romanos was enamored of the reputation of a conqueror, and dismissed the advice of his more talented subordinates. The army encamped at Azazion, a fortress two days’ march from Aleppo, and awaited the arrival of the enemy. Romanos dispatched a reconnaissance force of tagmata under Leo Choirosphaktes to find and engage the Arabs; unfortunately, the Arabs instead found and captured Leo. The Arabs, emboldened by their victory, began to harass the emperor’s forage parties, and within a short time the Byzantine army had been deprived of both food and water. Romanos next dispatched the former Duke of Antioch, Constantine Dalassenos, with a body of soldiers to try to break the Arab blockade but Dalassenos was defeated and fled back to the camp in terror. All thought of resistance fled: emperor and army met in council and decided to open the gates of the camp the following day and flee with all haste. Many of the men were sick with dysentery, and all were parched with thirst; morale was nonexistent. As they exited the camp the Arabs again attacked, and the shattered nerves of the Byzantine soldiers gave way: they fled headlong in terror to the safe haven of Antioch, the Arab raiders nipping at their heels as they fled. Thus ended the grand expedition of Romanos III Argyros against Aleppo.152 The defeat at Azazion was ultimately a minor affair, as the imperial army was able to extricate itself without serious losses. However, Romanos seems to have wisely given 152 Skylitzes, 358-360. 95 up the idea of campaigning personally at the head of any army: his poor leadership was directly responsible for army’s defeat. Nikephoran strategy reminded the general repeatedly to ensure that the army always camped near water: the fact that Romanos camped so far from water that his men could be cut off from obtaining it doomed his expedition from the beginning. On an operational level, Romanos made three critical mistakes: first and foremost, he encamped in a region without ready access to water; second, he invaded Syria – a warm region – in the middle of summer; and third, he made no effort to ensure that his departure time and destination were kept secret, ensuring that the Mirdasids were already deployed in force near Aleppo.153 Romanos’ unsuccessful attempts to drive the Arabs back in a series of failed skirmishes, combined with the hopeless position of the army, conspired to turn the “Law of Three” against the Byzantines: as Nikephoros would have predicted, an army already beaten in two skirmishes – and one could argue defeated a third time by being forced into an untenable location – was already broken by the time Romanos ordered the army to withdraw. Thus, when the Arabs charged the army as it filed out the gates there was no thought of resistance, only flight. Institutional Weakness: The Byzantines lost many battles throughout their long history. There were many reasons an army could be defeated: it could be outnumbered, taken by surprise, or simply poorly led – with the latter two often closely intertwined. Only rarely was the Byzantine army simply outclassed by an enemy; the most famous example from the period under consideration being the Battle of Anzen. 153 McGeer, Sowing. 143. 96  In 837, the emperor Theophilos mounted a major raid on the lands of the Abbasid Caliphate. Theophilos captured the cities of Arsamosata and Sozopetra; he also extorted tribute from the city of Melitene, a major Arab fortress. These acts provoked the wrath of Caliph Mu’tasim, who vowed revenge: in 838, the Caliph marshaled a vast host to invade Byzantium and seize the symbolic city of Amorion, Theophilos’ birthplace. Theophilos prepared his armies to face the Muslims, sending a large detachment to Amorion to bolster its garrison while taking a force of about twenty-five thousand men to guard the mountain passes leading from the Cilician Gates – in Abbasid territory – into Cappadocia and Byzantine territory. Theophilos, however, was at a distinct disadvantage: Muslim scouts had spotted his army without themselves being spotted, giving the Muslims the initiative. They divided their army into three columns: one was dispatched via Melitene under the command of Afshin into the Armeniak theme while the remaining two columns advanced on Amorion via the main road through Ankyra. The Muslims planned to converge on and seize the city of Ankyra, then march united against Amorion.154 Theophilos’ scouts eventually spotted the Afshin’s forces in the Armeniak theme, consisting of about twenty-thousand warriors including a substantial body of Turkish horse archers. Theophilos decided to engage this smaller force while it was isolated, leaving a smaller detachment to guard the road to Ankyra and proceeding with the remainder of his troops to meet Afshin near Anzen. On July 21st, the imperial army sighted Afshin’s forces encamped in the plains near Anzen; the Byzantines then occupied a hill to the south of the Muslim positions and readied for battle. There, the Byzantines debated upon strategy: some of Theophilos’ officers advocated a night assault, while 154 Haldon, Wars. 78-80. 97 Theophilos himself and some of his officers favored an attack at dawn, confident in the superior numbers of the Byzantine army to win the day. At dawn the following day, Theophilos ordered his men to engage the enemy. At first, the Byzantines were successful in driving back Afshin’s men; three-thousand Arabs fell at the first assault and their flank crumbled. By noon, however, the tide of battle began to turn against the Byzantines as Afshin committed his Turkish horse-archers. The Byzantines came under heavy fire as the Turks kept up a rapid pace, withering hail of arrows that halted the Byzantine advance. The Arab forces, no longer closely pursued, successfully regrouped and counter-charged. Morale in the Byzantine army had begun to waver as the hail of Turkish arrows took its toll; in the confusion of battle the troops had lost sight of the emperor and believed that he had fallen. Confused, weary and disheartened, the Byzantine lines crumbled under the reinvigorated Arab charge.155 Theophilos, however, had not fallen: he, his guards, the tagmata and an allied force of Kurdish warriors had managed to extricate themselves from the routing army and sought refuge on the hill of Anzen. This hill was quickly surrounded by the victorious Muslims, and only the intervention of a heavy, sudden rain156 prevented the Turkish horse-archers from destroying the army from afar. With this temporary respite Theophilos was able to escape with a small contingent of guards. His beleaguered army, about two-thousand strong, fought on and was eventually forced to surrender to Afshin.157 The Battle of Anzen is significant as the first encounter between Turks and Byzantines on the field of battle. It is also significant in that it demonstrates that the Maurician military system was inadequately equipped to deal with a powerful force of 155 Ibid., 80. 156 The moisture slackened the tension in the Turks’ unprotected bow-strings, greatly diminishing the effectiveness of their archery. Ibid., 82. 157 Ibid., 80-82. 98 mounted archers. The Byzantine regular cavalry had atrophied since Maurice’s day, becoming primarily a force of lancers and swordsmen with substantially fewer archers in their ranks. Even had the Byzantines possessed mounted archers of their own, however, the Turks would have had a decided advantage – they were born on the steppes, trained as horsemen and archers practically from birth. In an even contest, the Turks would possess superior archery skills and would be able to outshoot the Byzantine regular cavalrymen. A better solution to the problem of horse-archers was that presented by Nikephoros Phokas in the Praecepta: ranks of infantrymen, trained as foot archers. An infantry archer can wield a larger, stronger, longer ranged bow than any horse-archer by virtue of the fact that the foot archer stands immobile. Furthermore, a horse-archer presents a much larger target – both horse and rider – than any foot archer, who would have the added advantage of serried ranks of heavy infantry wielding large shields as protection. A Turkish horse archer, in contrast, might have a small buckler. In 838, the Byzantine army was ill-equipped to face a foe reliant upon horse-archers; the Nikephoran reforms ensured that the army would be adequately equipped to do battle with any foe. Conclusions: When the emperor Maurice died in 602, the Byzantine army was a talented, disciplined entity governed by a concrete set of doctrines. Its generals were individuals who had been trained to value caution over valor on the field of battle; they had been trained to place a high premium on the value of lives over land and glory; it was an army well suited in mindset and equipment to the defense of a vast empire. By the earlier tenth century, however, Maurician military doctrine had become outmoded. The Byzantine Empire was no longer on the defensive; it was no longer as 99 critical to ensure the safety of every Byzantine soldier because the army was no longer as badly outnumbered. As the Abbasid Caliphate disintegrated, the Byzantines were able to envision a future in which the frontiers could expand. The tide had turned, albeit after almost three centuries of continuous struggle. This revolution in the balance of power in the Eastern Mediterranean necessitated a revolution in Byzantine military thinking, and under the guidance of Nikephoros Phokas, a new military doctrine was born. The Byzantine Empire could, for the first time in centuries, seriously contemplate major campaigns into enemy lands. The tenth century saw the birth of a new model army in Byzantium, one designed to engage in and win the sort of pitched battles that had been shunned for centuries. Kataphraktoi, literally gleaming in their full-body armor, stood ready to batter down any enemy formation; prokoursatores, drawing on a lifetime of experience defending against and participating in raids on the frontier lands, stood ready to harass the enemy like stinging flies; and the stalwart menavlatoi stood ready to receive any enemy’s charge. Specialization had the added advantage of allowing each warrior to fully master the weapon with which he fought – a process that was aided by Nikephoros’ insistence that each man fight with the secondary arm that he was most comfortable with.158 Specialist horse-archers could shoot farther, faster, and harder than the generalist regular cavalrymen that Maurice had devised; all other troop types were more proficient with their primary weapons and inevitably more confident on the battlefield for that fact. Specialization of arms also allowed the new model army to employ synergistic tactical deployments to maximize the effects achieved by each specialist. The menavlatoi were specifically designed to destroy enemy heavy cavalry – alone if need be 158 Haldon, “Some Aspects”, 39. 100 – but they were dramatically more successful in this role when properly supported. By insisting that the front ranks of infantry crouch to allow the archers behind them to fire direct, rather than arcing shots against incoming cavalry, Nikephoros guaranteed a more effective use of a branch of the army that would traditionally have been practically useless against heavy cavalry.159 After the enemy charge had bogged down on the spear points of the heavy infantry, Nikephoros recommended deploying javeliners at close range against the encumbered enemy cavalry – again utilizing the disparate strengths of different types of soldiers to allow them to cooperate to maximum effect. Neither form of light infantry – archer or javeliner – stood any chance at stopping a heavy cavalry charge alone, as neither would have the resolve to stand their ground in the attempt. But by forcing the enemy to charge ranks of spearmen, Nikephoros ensured they would be immobilized and vulnerable to the faster but lightly armed javeliners at close range; he also ensured that the archers could fire with impunity, protected by a veritable human palisade of infantrymen. 159 Eric McGeer. “Infantry versus Cavalry: The Byzantine Response,” Revue des études Byzantines, tome 46, 1988. 140-143. 101  Chapter V: The Empire Undone: The Battle of Manzikert The Battle of Manzikert in August of 1071 brought a decisive end to the Nikephoran military system; it also set in motion events that would, over the course of almost four centuries, destroy the Byzantine Empire. Perhaps because of the long-term effects of the battle, the Byzantine defeat at Manzikert has acquired a certain sense of inevitability. Historians point to various factors contributing to the debacle, many of these factors stretching back a generation or more and establishing Manzikert as the culmination of trends that had begun at the death of Basil II. In a sense, they are half right: Manzikert did highlight the sickness that had set in after the death of Basil II; the battle itself, however, was not a foregone conclusion, not the result of trends over which the actors on the field of battle were powerless to control. Marching to War: In the late 1040s, the Byzantine Empire had become a fairly tranquil realm. Peace prevailed between the Byzantines and all of their major rivals; the borders were secure and relatively quiet from the Danube River in the Balkans to the Armenian highlands in the east. In the western provinces, the themata had largely been demobilized as a result of the long peace. Very few threats in living memory had required the intervention of anything more than the professional forces of the tagmata.160 In the east the situation was not quite as pacific, and the themata of the eastern frontier were regularly employed in defense against raiders – the most recent of whom being the Seljuk Turks. Nevertheless, the levies of central and western Anatolia were rarely necessary as the raiders almost never reached the western extremities of the peninsula, and thus their training began to 160 Carey, Brian Todd. Road to Manzikert: Byzantine and Islamic Warfare, 527 – 1071. Pen and Sword Books Ltd., Barnsley, South Yorkshire, England, 2012. 120-121. 102 lapse. In 1053, the strategic situation changed dramatically: Constantine IX Monomachus (r. 1042 – 1055) disbanded the “Iberian Army” of the Armenian frontier, discharging fifty-thousand stratiotai from service in an effort to trim the budget.161 As an immediate result Turkish raiders faced little resistance in Armenia and were able to penetrate farther and farther into Anatolia. By 1064, the Seljuks had sacked the Armenian capital of Ani and were de facto masters of Armenia, although the territory remained nominally a province of the Byzantine Empire.162 In the second week of March, 1071, Emperor Romanos IV Diogenes (r. 1068 – 1071) departed from Constantinople for the Armenian frontier. His goal was to reverse the inroads of the Seljuks and reestablish the frontier line. To that end, his immediate goal was to recapture the fortified city of Manzikert which had recently fallen to the Turks. Strategically, this was the purpose of the expedition; politically, Romanos needed a major victory to bolster his shaky hold on the Byzantine throne. In 1068, Romanos had ascended the throne as the husband of the legitimate emperor’s mother. Should he falter, even a little, his palace rivals – chiefly the Doukas clan – would be all too happy to see him replaced.163 Romanos’ army was, by all accounts, impressive. Roughly forty-eight thousand men rode out with the emperor for the Armenian frontier: a detachment of the Varangian Guard, several regiments of the Imperial tagmata, thematic levies from Anatolia, Armenia and Syria, the personal oikoi of the dynatoi, Pecheneg and Ogūz Turkish mercenaries, and a contingent of five hundred Norman knights under Roussel de Bailleul. The army’s progress across Anatolia, however, was marked by ill omens that dampened 161 Treadgold, 80. 162 Haldon, 112. 163 Carey, 135-136. 103 the men’s morale. Turkish raids scattered the Anatolian levies, and Romanos was only able to restore order with some difficulty. Some of the mercenaries decided en route to mutiny and began raiding the emperor’s subjects; only by the threat of engaging the rest of the imperial army were these men persuaded to stand down, at which point they were prudently shipped back to the quieter western frontier where they could do less mischief. Even more unsettling, however, were the sun-bleached corpses of Manuel Komnenos’ failed expedition of a few years prior. The men were hardly encouraged by the ignominious fate of the last expedition to repel the Seljuks, and morale was clearly flagging.164 To make matters worse, Romanos had decided to bring his chief rival, Andronikos Doukas, along on campaign – leaving the far more talented Nikephoros Botaneiotes behind in Constantinople as his loyalty was suspect.165 The emperor also progressively alienated his men by refusing to ride or camp with them, preferring instead the luxury of imperial finery.166 By late August, the army had trudged across Anatolia and arrived in the vicinity of Lake Van. Romanos decided to split his vast army: Joseph Tarchaneiotes and twenty- five thousand of the best troops – including most of the archers – were dispatched to conquer Chliat, while Romanos and the remaining twenty-three thousand soldiers would march against Manzikert. Both cities fell easily, overwhelmed by the size and strength of the imperial army. Morale was buoyed by these first, quick successes.167 On Wednesday, August 24th the Seljuks finally made an appearance. Romanos ordered Nikephoros Bryennios to engage the Seljuks, whom he believed represented only 164 Ibid., 137-138. 165 One wonders at the wisdom of bringing one’s fiercest political rival along on campaign because another general’s loyalty is suspect; what had Nikephoros done to make Andronikos Doukas seem the more loyal of the two? 166 Haldon, 113-114. 167 Carey, 139. 104 a small raiding force. In reality, however, this was the vanguard of a vast army – about twenty thousand men – commanded by the Seljuk Sultan Arp Arslan. Bryennios’ small detachment was badly outnumbered and almost captured; Romanos then sent a larger detachment, still believing the Seljuk force to be a raiding party. The emperor dispatched Vasiliak Basilakes to reinforce Nikephoros’ detachment, but even with reinforcements the Byzantines were badly outnumbered and almost encircled. Vasiliak charged blindly into the Turks, who seemed at first to flee – only to find himself quickly surrounded and captured as the Turks executed a flawless Scythian ambush. Bryennios managed to extricate the remainder of the Byzantine forces, but the initiative had clearly fallen to the Turks and Byzantine morale waned.168 That night – under the cover of the darkness afforded by a new moon – a detachment of Seljuk raiders surrounded the imperial camp and opened a continuous barrage of arrows. Their raid perfectly coincided with a foraging mission undertaken by Romanos’ Ogūz mercenaries; the Seljuks harried their Turkish cousins relentlessly, and as the Ogūz attempted to flee to the safety of the imperial camp they were mistaken for Seljuk raiders and many were slain in the confusion. By dawn, the Byzantine army was exhausted, nerves frayed by the continuous bombardment of Seljuk arrows; Romanos dispatched a force of infantry archers to drive the now-visible Seljuk raiders back. This they accomplished, forcing the Seljuks to withdraw with heavy losses; losses, however, which were more than made good when the surviving Ogūz mercenaries defected to serve their Turkish cousins.169 168 Ibid., 140-142. 169 Haldon, 121. 105  Romanos spent most of the rest of Thursday, August 25th in negotiations: Alp Arslan wanted peace, as he had no illusions about his army’s chances of victory against a disciplined for of Byzantine soldiers that still outnumbered him. Romanos, for his part, had no desire for peace: he still believed170 that Tarchaneiotes was no more than a few days’ march away with twenty-five thousand men, more than enough to completely overwhelm the Sultan’s much smaller army. Furthermore, to simply march of the field without accomplishing anything – at a price-tag of about three-hundred thousand nomismata – would be political suicide. Romanos needed a victory for political reasons, and thought that he had the military force to achieve one.171 By midday, Friday, August 26th, it was clear that the issue would have to be decided on the battlefield, and without Tarchaneiotes’ division. Romanos deployed for battle, placing himself in the center division with five thousand infantry; Theodore Alyates, strategos of Cappadocia, commanded the right wing of Anatolian and Armenian thematic cavalry; Nikephoros Bryennios, Domestic of the Schools, commanded left wing with the western tagmata. The vanguard consisted of two thousand Turkish horse archers – those who had remained loyal; the rearguard consisted of the oikoi of the dynatoi under the command of Andronikos Doukas. Romanos advanced briskly against the Seljuk forces; the Seljuks, just as briskly, refused their center, allowing the wings of their army to draw closer to the Byzantines and shower them with arrows as the entire Seljuk army formed a horseshoe. As the afternoon dragged on and the heat, coupled with Seljuk arrows, wore down the men’s patience several Byzantine companies broke ranks to charge wildly against their tormenters. Each of these companies were quickly lured into 170 Erroneously, as Tarchaneiotes had fled at the sight of the incoming Turkish army, taking with him twenty-five thousand of the emperor’s best soldiers. This detachment of the army was now well on its way to Melitene and safety. Ibid., 120. 171 Carey, 142-143. 106 the gullies that divided the battlefield and ambushed by larger contingents of Seljuk troops. As dusk approached it became apparent that Romanos could neither catch the Seljuks nor be easily defeated by them; his army was still intact, heavily armored and therefore largely impervious to the continuous barrage of Seljuk archery. Realizing, however, that his camp –which the Turks had attacked so successfully two nights before – was under defended and still contained most of the army’s supplies, Romanos ordered a general withdrawal.172 It was at this point that everything went wrong: the rearguard, which was supposed to prevent the army from being encircled as it carried out this maneuver, simply walked off the field. Andronikos Doukas had managed to subvert his fellow dynatoi, convincing some that the signal to withdraw was actually a signal that the emperor had fallen in battle – which Andronikos sincerely hoped would soon be true. Alp Arslan recognized the fleeting opportunity this presented, and ordered his men to charge; the right wing of Romanos’ army, morale already weakened by everything that had already gone wrong on the campaign, quickly broke ranks and fled. The left wing, composed of the more professional troops of the tagmata, fought valiantly until they too were overwhelmed - the victorious Seljuk troops having wheeled around after defeating Romanos’ right flank to encircle his left. As both flanks broke ranks and fled, the Byzantine center was completely surrounded. Romanos fought stoutly to the end, being wounded several times, but the issue was no longer in doubt: the battle ended at sunset, with the emperor and a large portion of his army captives of the Sultan. The rest of the army escaped the field, the Seljuks being far too concerned with plundering the 172 Haldon, 122-124. 107 emperor’s camp and capturing the emperor to make any committed pursuit. Overall, the Byzantines lost a scant two-thousand men; all the rest had either fled or been captured.173 The battle, however, was not an unmitigated disaster – not yet. Romanos negotiated his release with Alp Arslan, promising a hefty ransom to appease the Sultan. Romanos was able to reach Dokeia within eight days where he was met by the survivors of the left and right wings. Both Bryennios and Alyates pledged their loyalty to the emperor, and campaigned with him in the civil war that followed. The disaster for the Byzantine Empire was the civil wars that followed the Battle of Manzikert. Andronikos Doukas also survived the battle, and marched back to Constantinople with the army that Romanos had provided for him. There, he proclaimed Romanos deposed; ten years of civil war would follow in which the Byzantine Empire pitted its own strength against itself, blind to the encroachment of its neighbors on every border until the Empire had been all but destroyed.174 Ballistics Report: Leadership Romanos IV Diogenes marched to Manzikert confident of achieving the victory he so desperately needed to secure his throne; he marched away from Manzikert by the mercy of the Sultan he had sought to lay low, and within months had lost the throne he had hoped to save. A multitude of things went wrong at Manzikert: one of the most significant factors that led to Romanos’ defeat on the battlefield was Romanos’ leadership. The Battle of Manzikert represented, on a grand scale, the traditional Byzantine tactic of a diversionary raid. The Nicephoran treatise De Velitatione Bellica 173 Ibid., 125-126. 174 Ibid., 126-127. 108 recommended that a strategos faced with an invasion by an enemy force which he could not possibly defeat on the field of battle should do the unthinkable: he should march out of his own lands, refusing the enemy’s offers of battle, and invade the enemy’s lands – answering an invasion with a counter-raid. The invading enemy force would then be compelled to return home, having accomplished nothing: they could hardly leave their families at the mercy of Byzantine raiders. The problem with the Battle of Manzikert, however, is that Romanos carried this strategy – intended for local defense – to an imperial level. It was, in short, overkill: any of the local strategoi could have mustered an effective raid with far fewer troops to divert Alp Arslan from his siege of Byzantine territory. Romanos, however, was not interested in simply diverting Alp Arslan away from Byzantine lands: Romanos wanted to engage with and defeat the Sultan, ending the Seljuk threat to Byzantium once and for all. Romanos marched out explicitly seeking a large scale confrontation – his throne depended on it. As matters stood, the Seljuks were raiding Anatolia practically at will and had all but annexed Armenia; Romanos could have chosen to strengthen the border defenses, but to do so would hardly have won him glory. A grand battle, in which the Empire’s chief rival were captured or slain, his armies dispersed, would do much to solidify Romanos’ tenuous hold on the throne. Romanos’ leadership on the march to Manzikert contributed much to the Byzantine defeat upon arrival. Romanos insisted upon distancing himself from his troops, encamping separately, riding separately, and in general refusing to mix with the men. This undermined the bond a general should share with the men under his 109 command; it was also directly contrary to the ancient advice preserved in the Strategikon that a general’s conduct should: Be plain and simple like that of his soldiers; he should display a fatherly affection toward them; he should give orders in a mild manner…In carrying out very critical operations the general ought not set himself apart as though such labor was beneath him, but he should begin the work and toil along with his troops as much as possible. Such behavior will lead the soldier to be more submissive to his officers…175 By refusing to partake in the toil of the march with the men under his command, Romanos imparted the impression that such labors were beneath him. This did nothing to endear him to his men. Romanos’ may not have had his troops’ love by the time he reached Manzikert, but had he commanded in accord with the military precepts of Nikephoran strategy, he should still have attained victory. Yet Romanos advanced carelessly, falling into the trap which the military treatises unanimously warn against: failure to adequately scout. When Romanos ordered Nikephoros Bryennios to lead a detachment of men to disperse the Seljuk “raiders” – actually the vanguard of Alp Arslan’s twenty-thousand strong army – one is simply baffled by the emperor’s inability to notice the approach of twenty thousand horsemen. The difficulties which Nikephoros and Vasiliak then found themselves in – and the men lost in this vain attempt to dispel the Seljuk vanguard with a small force of Byzantine cavalry – did nothing to improve the army’s confidence in Romanos’ leadership, or their already flagging morale. Upon realizing that the “raiders” were actually the vanguard of Alp Arslan’s army, Romanos ordered his troops to build a fortified encampment. In this, Romanos led his men well: the encampment his men constructed must have been properly manned, for the 175 Maurice, 79. 110 Seljuks were unable to take the camp at night. Furthermore, the emperor’s army passed the night under a hail of Seljuk arrows without taking any serious losses – an indication that Romanos had built his camp in accord with the military treatises, which specify a large gap between the camp’s palisades and the soldiers’ tents.176 Furthermore, in the morning Romanos was able to disperse the Seljuk horse archers with a company of infantry archers – again, a tactic taken directly from the military treatises.177 The events of the following day, however, again cast a shadow on the emperor’s generalship. While the Seljuks were being driven off by Romanos’ infantry archers, a large band of Ogūz mercenaries defected from Romanos’ camp to join their kinsmen; ties of blood proved more potent than the lure of Byzantine gold. Romanos should never have had these men anywhere near the battlefield; according to standard Byzantine military practice, mercenaries “akin to the enemy” were to be separated out of the army to prevent them from defecting to the enemy – exactly what occurred at Manzikert.178 Romanos could not compel the Ogūz to loyalty through promises of gold; he also failed to compel obedience from Joseph Tarchaneiotes and over half of the imperial army. On Thursday, while negotiations were ongoing with Alp Arslan, Romanos sent messengers to find Tarchaneiotes and command him to return to Manzikert to aid the emperor – the combined strength of each half of the army would have amounted to well over forty thousand men, even without the Ogūz mercenaries, and would have completely overwhelmed Alp Arslan by weight of numbers alone. But Romanos could not find Tarchaneiotes – once again managing to lose an entire army – and thus was forced to fight at Manzikert with less than half of his forces. That Tarchaneiotes had not already 176 Dennis, 271. 177 Ibid., 281. 178 Maurice, 69. 111 marched to the emperor’s aid speaks volumes for the amount of respect Romanos commanded with his generals: Tarchaneiotes had twenty-five thousand men under his command, including all of the best troops of the imperial army and most of the archers. His army alone could have engaged Alp Arslan, likely with a better chance of success than Romanos’ detachment. Instead Tarchaneiotes abandoned the emperor to fend for himself. The separation of the imperial army represents another, major strategic mistake made by Romanos in the prelude to Manzikert. Tarchaneiotes had been given most of the infantry archers – these men were essential to the imperial army’s ability to counter the Seljuk army’s numerous horse archers. Yet Romanos seems to have sent the vast majority of his infantry away, leaving himself a scant five thousand foot soldiers. This is hardly the twelve thousand recommended by Nikephoros Phokas as the core of an expeditionary army; the infantry were essential as a mobile camp, a bastion of defense should the cavalry be overcome and need to flee. From this infantry bastion, archers could lay down suppressing fire; the regular infantry could use their large shields to provide a veritable shield wall, blocking most of the enemy’s arrows; and the cavalry could rally, regroup, and be sent back out to fight. But Romanos had over three times as many cavalrymen as infantry. He simply could not deploy in the square formation recommended in the Praecepta, at least not in any useful way. Another critical failure of leadership which manifested in the poor performance of the themata under Theodore Alyates was predicted by Nikephoros Phokas’ “Law of Three”. The Byzantines had been defeated in the opening skirmishes of the Battle of Manzikert when Nikephoros Bryennios attempted to disperse the Seljuk vanguard; they 112 had been defeated again when Vasiliak attempted the same; they had spent a night under heavy attack; the following morning a substantial portion of the army had defected; and attempts to send for reinforcements came to naught. The army that marched out to battle on August 26th, 1071 was already broken in spirit; when the Seljuk onslaught broke on Theodore Alyates’ levies, their morale shattered and they fled the field. Romanos may not have been able to control the outcome of each skirmish, but he should have been aware of Nikephoran military doctrine and adjusted his plans accordingly; a few more successful skirmishes, like the infantry maneuvers that drove the Seljuk raiders away from Romanos’ camp, might have shored up the army’s morale. Romanos’ final, ultimately fatal mistake came in placing Andronikos Doukas in command of the rearguard. As commander of the rearguard, Doukas would be expected to come to Romanos’ rescue should the emperor find himself in trouble; Romanos clearly gambled that he would not find himself in need of Doukas’ services. Had any other commander been detailed to the rearguard, Romanos may yet have fought the Seljuks to a stalemate at Manzikert; a generation later, the Crusaders were able to escape a very Manzikert-like situation at the Battle of Dorylaeum because the timely arrival of the Crusader’s rearguard broke the Seljuks’ encirclement of the Crusader forces and shattered the Seljuks’ morale.179 Yet Romanos had to place Doukas in command of the rearguard for political reasons: if he left Doukas at Constantinople, he could expect a palace coup while he was on campaign; if he placed Doukas in command of the center and the imperial army won at Manzikert, then Doukas – not Romanos – would be a hero. Ballistics Report: Structural 179 Smail, R.C. Crusading Warfare: 1097 – 1193. Second Edition, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, England, 1995. 168-169. 113  Defeat at Manzikert was primarily the result of poor leadership on the part of Romanos IV Diogenes, with a good bit of “help” from Andronikos Doukas. The aftermath of the battle, however, was the result of trends that began immediately after the death of Basil II in 1025. Maladministration during the intervening forty-six years had done much to sap the tremendous internal strength Basil bequeathed to his successors on his death. One of the most immediate problems left for Romanos by his predecessors was the state of the themata of the interior. Basil II, John Tzimiskes and Nikephoros Phokas were all military men; they had ensured that the mandates of the military manuals were followed, and that all the thematic levies were regularly drilled. Basil and his generals in particular recognized that: For the soldiers to stay at home and do nothing, to get no exercise, not to go on campaign each year at the proper time, this is to reduce them to the ranks of merchants and common farmers. For, selling their combat gear and their best horses and buying cows and the other things one would expect of a farmer, and gradually becoming accustomed to leisure, they embrace it…If, in the event of an enemy advance, it should be necessary for the army to march out…nobody will be found who can do the work of a soldier.180 When Romanos IV took the throne in 1068, the themes of the interior had fallen into idleness; the men had sold their military equipment and “best horse” in an effort to be better farmers. Peace had reduced the great reserves of manpower represented by the interior themata to a mob of undisciplined farmers; they were no longer really soldiers, and it is small wonder that the Turks brushed them aside so easily after the Manzikert frontier was breached. 180 Dennis, 319; emphasis added. 114  The root of the problem was simple: the emperors after Basil, save for a few exceptions, had not cultivated the stratiotai class that formed the backbone of the Byzantine military. In 1028, Romanos III Argyros had abolished the allelengyon completely: this had the immediate effect of substantially reducing the revenues of the imperial government.181 It had the added, long term effect of altering the balance of power between the dynatoi of the provinces and the imperial government: Basil’s laws had mandated that the dynatoi were to be responsible for any arrears in the allelengyon at the village level, effectively keeping imperial revenues high and diminishing the economic power of the dynatoi. At a stroke, Romanos III reversed this arrangement to the detriment of imperial authority. The dynatoi once again had the means to force the stratiotai who owned lands they coveted to sell; landless stratiotai became bound as the clients of individual dynatoi, or simply lingered on the muster rolls of the army without owning the necessary estates to provide for their military functions. The dynatoi steadily grew richer, the imperial government poorer, and the themata decayed as an institution. By 1071, the central Anatolian plains had been all but emptied of stratiotai and other peasant farmers: the dynatoi had converted these lands into sheep-farms.182 When the Turkish storm broke on the Anatolian plateau, there was no one there to resist. In 1055, the financial difficulties of the imperial government came to a head: Constantine IX Monomachus was confronted with a problem that would have been inconceivable during the reign of Basil II – the imperial government was essentially bankrupt. The millions of nomismata carefully saved by Basil II had all been spent on largess and civilian building projects; government revenues, critically reduced by the 181 Setton, 243. 182 Runciman, Steven. A History of the Crusades: Volume I, The First Crusade and the Foundation of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, England, 1951. 64. 115 legislation of Romanos III, were no longer up to the task of paying for both the habits of the crown and the needs of the army. Constantine, however, was a bureaucrat and not a soldier; pay to the army was slashed, new currency minted using less gold, and the Iberian levies – fifty thousand men, all experienced veterans defending the Empire’s eastern frontier in Armenia – were disbanded. Strategically, this decision makes no sense: Armenia could easily have formed the eastern bulwark of the empire, allowing fifty thousand soldiers of the interior themes to be disbanded – after all, they had already essentially become farmers. But to do so would be politically inexpedient, as the interior provinces were accustomed to drawing a pension without having to serve; to disband the themata of the interior would provoke them to revolt. On the frontier, service could be commuted to scutage without provoking the ire of the frontiersmen; no revolt would follow. Constantine gambled that no enemy would appear to threaten the frontier either; his gamble led directly to the conditions that prompted the Battle of Manzikert and all the tumult that followed. Falling Dominoes: The Battle of Manzikert, however, hardly needed to be the major catastrophe it became. It was, rather, the first of a series of dominoes to fall. Defeat at Manzikert led directly to the deposition of Romanos IV, which in turn led directly to a series of civil wars lasting over a decade. During these civil wars, one candidate for the imperial throne after another attempted to use the Seljuks as “Kingmakers” to destroy their rivals. Paradoxically, the regions of Cilicia, Antioch and Melitene survived the onrushing Turkish hordes that conquered the rest of Anatolia so quickly: Philaretus Brachamius was able to hold a de facto independent realm of “Lesser Armenia” for over a decade 116 using the remnants of the eastern tagmata and themata. These were battle-hardened troops of the frontier, well equipped to hold the Turks at bay – as the Iberian levies would have been, had Constantine not dismissed them from his service in 1055. And thus it was that central and western Anatolia, where the themata had not been called up in generations, fell virtually without resistance while distant Antioch remained nominally Byzantine until 1086.183 183 Treadgold, 218; 41. 117  Chapter VI: Conclusions As the year 863 dawned, the Byzantine Emperor Michael III could reasonably expect another year of desultory raids on the eastern frontier. His thematic forces would contain the worst of the jihadi raids, and would prevent devastation of the frontier zone or permanent annexations. The twin victories of 863 on the eastern frontier dramatically shifted the tenor of the long war with the Arabs. Two major raiding parties and their leaders had been slain, greatly diminishing the ability of the Arabs to undertake major raids into Byzantine territory. The years that followed saw the unthinkable: the Abbasid Caliphate entered a downward spiral, fragmenting into a myriad array of petty dynasties more concerned with jockeying for their own piece of the disintegrating Arab Caliphate than confronting the “infidels” across the Taurus Mountain range. It took time, however, for the Byzantines to feel confident enough to emerge from their trenches and foxholes. Their entire military system had been geared toward minimizing the damage an Arabic raid could inflict upon the countryside. Generals were cautioned to avoid pitched battles, simply because the troops under their command were virtually irreplaceable – it took too much time and money to raise new levies. The Byzantines learned to do much with little. Wars of conquest, however, proved to be too much with too little during the seventh and eighth centuries. The first task at hand for the Byzantine Emperors during this period of cautious expansion was to tap the latent military potential of their domain. Romanos Lekapenos and Constantine VIII legislated extensively on the sales of village lands and the stratiotika ktemata which formed the backbone of the thematic military system. Under 118 the guidance of Romanos I, Constantine VII, and later Nikephoros Phokas the Byzantines maximized the military potential of their lands. They also maximized the tax revenues attainable from those lands, guaranteeing that “excess” military lands remained a productive part of the Byzantine war machine by contributing scutage toward the recruitment of an ever larger force of professional soldiers. The ninth century saw the Byzantines slowly emerge from their long defensive posture. They made few gains – their methods were simply too cautious, their numbers too few. However, after 955 the pace of the war with the Arabs accelerated greatly under the guiding hand of Nikephoros Phokas. As we have seen, Nikephoros utilized the vast military potential made available by his predecessors’ legal reforms. By 960, the Byzantine military was the largest, most disciplined, and best equipped in the region. Under Nikephoros’ guiding hand it had become a well-oiled war machine designed for conquest, and over the course of eighty-five years of continuous campaigning it would prove the genius of its architect. The reforms implemented by Nikephoros Phokas enabled the Byzantine army to realize its full potential on the battlefield. The new army was confident in its own abilities, and justly so: it was better trained, better led, and better equipped than any of its rivals. Specialization of arms made the army more flexible, enabling the Byzantines to conceivably face any of their traditional foes successfully on the field of battle. A new playbook of tactics guaranteed that the new types of troops provided their full synergistic advantages to one another, and made full use of their strengths against the enemy. The chronicles document the effects of Nikephoros’ reforms: the Byzantine army conquered more land in the five years that Nikephoros was emperor than it had since 119 Justinian, four centuries before. Even more lands were “reclaimed” under the guidance of John Tzimiskes and Basil II – and by the end of Basil’s long reign the Byzantines seemed poised to expand in any direction they chose. All levels of society were geared toward war: the village community provided the bulk of the taxes necessary to finance wars of conquest, the nobility provided leadership and highly trained bands of their personal retinues, the clergy provided moral guidance, and the emperor provided the will to go forth and expand. After the death of Basil II, however, the Byzantine war machine gradually began to rust. Later emperors were less concerned with expansion and less competent as commanders; they tended to live in fear of the war machine that Basil and his predecessors wielded as though it were an extension of themselves. Basil’s successors relaxed spending on the military, allowed the regiments to forgo their training, and trimmed the budget by abandoning expensive annual campaigning. The military was allowed to atrophy, in part because the Byzantines had been too successful under Basil II. There was simply no-one left worth fighting: the Fatimids presented little threat, and were generally keen to sign truces with the Byzantines. This made the eastern frontier reasonably stable. The northern frontier was mostly tranquil after the expulsion of Sviatoslav back to Kiev and the annexation of Bulgaria, Byzantium’s second oldest rival. Zeal for land, glory, and wealth provided the Byzantine frontier aristocracy – and the stratiotai under their command – with powerful incentives to expand at the expense of the Muslims in the second half of the tenth century. By the middle of the eleventh century, however, the central government was less concerned with vanquishing the Muslim menace than it was with keeping the sitting emperor on the throne. To that end, 120 much of the rigid central control that had been exercised to the benefit of the lower classes –and especially the stratiotai – against the dynatoi during the tenth century was relaxed in the eleventh century. It became far easier for a dynatos to expand his estates into neighboring Byzantine villages than to do so abroad, and the dynatoi rapidly absorbed the estates of their weaker neighbors. Gradually, inexorably, the themata of the interior were allowed to sell off their military equipment in favor of ploughshares and oxen. Many of the stratiotai must also have sold substantial portions of their military estates, and some became retainers in the oikoi of the dynatoi. In time, the redoubtable stratiotai who had beaten back Sayf ad Dawla as recently as the 950s were allowed to become farmers and bodyguards. Of the hundreds of thousands of “soldiers” on the books in 1070, few had any actual combat experience. Thus it was that the Seljuks found Anatolia virtually undefended and annexed it practically at will. A scant two-thousand Byzantine soldiers fell at Manzikert, hardly enough to justify the ease with which the Seljuks overran Byzantine Anatolia. The Byzantines, however, had disarmed themselves in the vain belief that their enemies had long since been vanquished. The reforms of Romanos Lekapenos, Constantine VII, and Nikephoros Phokas had been allowed to lapse; the might of the empire allowed to atrophy. As a direct result of these reforms the Byzantine Empire had mustered the strength and resolve to challenge and overcome virtually every one of its traditional rivals; when these reforms no longer held force, when the Byzantines no longer followed their own advice, the tremendous reserve of strength cultivated during the tenth century withered away and the Byzantine Empire faced complete collapse. 121 Bibliography: Primary Sources: Dennis, George T. Three Byzantine Military Treatises. 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