Our Fractured Crown: An Eastern Roman Timeline

[Averious]

It had been nearly two weeks of sailing from Caffa now; since his vessel and a dozen others had escaped from the Tartar wrath--from the Hell that God had first cursed them with, and then His faithful.

They had spent Christmas aboard.

The Mar Nero, far from a placid woman, had bitched at them the entire voyage, as she was oft fond of doing, even this early in the day.

"Capitano!" came Lorenzo's voice; his helmsman--Giovanni, the Capitano of this vessel, perked up from his stupor; he'd heard coughing below, and his mind flashed with the images of the Pestilenza.

Had they failed to escape it?

"What is it, frate?" Giovanni offered, drawing a hand through his beard, before standing up to full height and coming to stand near his oldest friend and shipmate. Lorenzo looked a tad worried, and in a moment Giovanni figured out why--they were passing through the Stretto di Costantinopoli, and into the Propontis.

A dark look rushed over his face, and he gave Lorenzo a glare, "No, I'll not dock in the same city as those sorde eretico!" Giovanni spat; the filthy Orthodox had taken from him his home in Galata, he wasn't about to beg for aid there, and as far as he knew, most of the ships around them--independent, and equally fleeing, would feel the same.

Most of them, these sailors, had lived in Galata to ply the Mar Nero and her trade, and this hadn't changed even with the loss of Galata--they had instead moved to Caffa… which God had ordained they lose too.

What had they done to earn His ire?

"I'll not dock in any Greco port--I'll not go scraping for their aid; we will make for Siracusa, and then if needed Cagliari," he pressed, having seen Lorenzo about to open his mouth--he heard a cough again below deck, how it echoed and then muffled against the wood; grinding his teeth in agitation--in worry.

"Capitano--do you think the Doge will rally a reprisal?" Lorenzo offered as if trying to take his friend's mind off of things--they passed deeper into the Stretto, and on they went. If they had been porting in the Neorion (the thought of it bringing fresh anger to him, as it only came first to mind now that Galata was gone) the time to lower sails would have been now.

But the command never came from the Capitano.

"With what Lorenzo? The Cità Matre is too busy wrestling with the Aragunese over Sardegna--more now that the Greci have taken off the tips of our fingers in the Aegean," Giovanni answered, before sighing deeply; his eyes drifting to the horizon. Lorenzo looked a tad tired, but Giovanni chalked it up to the fact that he had been on duty for a half-day at this point.

"What should our heading be then Capitano? I'll need to correct for our destination," Lorenzo asked, and Giovanni focused, offering a slow nod.

"I'll be back, frate," came Giovanni's answer, along with a handwave that told Lorenzo he was going to his quarters to fetch the charts and strumenti di navigazione--his friend, curly-haired as he was, offered a nod.

The door swung softly then, as Giovanni entered; moving to draw the curtains, and let in the sun through his quarters finestrini. A beat later, he went for his charters, and the strumenti on his desk--a mild pinch hit his calf, and Giovanni instinctively drew back--and made for his stiletto, only to stop, and sigh.

He'd probably twinged it a little--that was all; pushing back the darker thoughts at the very back of his mind.

Giovanni made again for his charts, and strumenti--taking them in hand, carefully, and adjusting his cappello around his greasy locks, before stepping back out onto the deck to the sound of the moza going about their deck work.

They would be in safeport soon, that Giovanni was sure of.

 

[A Random Man]

Good interlude, the Italians merchants are clearly not happy with the resurging Romans (derisively calling them Greeks) and the seizure of their holdings.

 

[Averious]

Good interlude, the Italians merchants are clearly not happy with the resurging Romans (derisively calling them Greeks) and the seizure of their holdings.

Thanks! I was aiming to capture the swirling pool of emotions that would have run through the merchants of Italy--especially those of Genoa. In the end, this also serves to lay the groundwork for the Black Death--as it's Giovanni's vessel, amongst the others trailing around his, that bring the Black Death to Europe in their flight from the Golden Horde.

Only, without major Aegean ports... they're all making for Western Mediterranean ports... namely Genoa herself.

 

[A Random Man]

Only, without major Aegean ports... they're all making for Western Mediterranean ports... namely Genoa herself.

It will be interesting seeing how the Empire handles the Black Death, though I assume the Romans will have it a bit (a little bit) easier than other countries. I hope Andronikos is able to think out of the box to handles such a dangerous sickness. I only hope Venice suffers greatly from the plague 😈😈😤😤

 

[Averious]

It will be interesting seeing how the Empire handles the Black Death, though I assume the Romans will have it a bit (a little bit) easier than other countries. I hope Andronikos is able to think out of the box to handles such a dangerous sickness. I only hope Venice suffers greatly from the plague 😈😈😤😤

More time to prepare, foreknowledge from 800 years ago--it'll help.
As for Venice? They're going to feel the hurt--just, sadly, not as much as Genoa.

 

[Averious]

"It seemed that almost everyone became forgetful of friendship, human and natural affection; they no longer visited one another, hardly ever spoke to one another. Brother abandoned brother, uncle nephew and sister brother, and very often wife abandoned husband. What is even worse and nearly incredible is that fathers and mothers refused to see and tend their children, as if they had not been theirs." - Matteo Villani, Nuova Cronica.

---

1346 to 1348

Swords dance in France, trebuchets sing in Iberia... and men die, coughing, hacking up blood, and bursting blackened pus in Italy.

God has looked upon Italia, and found it wanting; casting to its shores a dozen or so Genoese vessels, each fleeing the death and disease of the Tartars... and bringing with them disease in turn.

It spread from these ships; like an unseen tide, and within a week the hundreds fell and died in Sardinia, and Corscia--in Genoa. Hundreds turned to thousands, and then to tens of thousands, as in the weeks that followed it spread like wildfire across Italy.

In Rome the anti-papist, and Italian proto-nationalist, Cola di Rienzo, enacted a short-lived stint, wracked as it was by disease and banditry, wherein he proclaimed Pope Clement VI's temporal powers over the city revoked; attempting to rally Italy around him as its's new ruler, much to Petrarch, and others, joy [1]. Of course, Cola's lacking character soon showed, and whatever gains he had made, such as earning recognition from the Pope himself, and from the politically fractious Naples [2], would crumble to dust, as he was forced from the city into a mountain monastery.

Already the disease made a mockery of good order in Italy; a man could sup with his wife, children, and servants one night--and find each dead, and disfigured, the following morning; asking God why he, and he alone, had survived while his family had not.

Such stories became common--as the Death spread further, and further, into Egypt from the coastlands throughout 1348.

In France, swords still danced as if Italy wasn't aflame; the English took Calais in September, only for that month to end, as if fate spoke, with the first recorded cases of the Death appearing in Marseilles, and from there spreading into Provence by year's end.

Sicily too, by year's end, was afflicted, after ships fleeing Genoese ports brought to Messina the Death--from which it spread.

Mainland Italy, reeling still, would now also suffer a massive earthquake; causing further panic--striking the region of Venice, and Milan; leading to the sudden murder of Jews in a religious frenzy. Fear that the end was coming held--and Pope Clement would declare a papal bull condemning and outlawing the murder of Jews.

Next came upper France, and England--the swords ceasing their dance, as a de-facto truce suddenly fell upon the Hundred Years War

Eastward the Death made a meal of Spalato on Christmas Day; many writers in the city proclaiming it a clear judgement from God, crying out in agony as by the new year dead lined the streets.

1349 to 1353

Rhomania had heard of what had unfolded; some in the court considered it God's favour that their hated enemies were suffering, but Andronikos himself found such a thought unpleasant to have about their fellow Christians--Kantakouzenos agreed, but not because of such Christian reason.

No, Kantakouzenos, ever the scholar, saw in the Death a mimic of the Plague of Justinian--and that, more than anything else he'd ever experienced, frightened him.

Italian merchants, especially from Genoa, were now legally barred from the Empire's ports, and the court isolated itself in the Boukoleon Palace; messages being sent by boat from the Palace's harbour across the city, and the Empire, instead of through the palace gates.

The fact that Constantinople had still not recovered, in terms of population, since the days of the earliest Palaiologi, turned out to be a boon; as within the massive lands behind the Theodosian Walls, there was space to quarantine. Thus, even as those such as the Italians resorted to beating back, and walling up the infected in their own homes (a practice that spread across Europe) until they died, the Death crept down into the Balkans and slew hundreds of thousands.

But not as many as it could have.

Even still, bodies continued to pile up across the Empire, and the broader East, as it spread--skirmishes with the Turks dwindling to nothing as they were caught between the Death flooding in from the Roman West and the Ilkhanate East.

Panic would come to the Empire in late 1349, as Andronikos III himself, alongside his wife Anna of Savoy, would both contract the Plague after breaking the court's quarantine (against Kantakouzenos' protests) in an attempt to give alms alongside the Ecumenical Patriarch John XIV Kalekas. Kalekas would come through unscathed, while other members of the court, such as Alexios Apokaukos, long the Megas Doux of the Empire, would die.

Into the vacuum stepped the now 19-year-old John Palaiologos, left as unscathed as Kalekas, and alongside Kantakouzenos the Imperial Heir would take charge of the Queen of Cities, and Empire, on Christmas Day, 1349.

Anna of Savoy, Empress Consort for roughly 22 years, and mother to John and Maria Palaiologos, would die of the Plague in early January.

Andronikos III, Emperor and Autocrat of the Romans for 22 years, would survive but crippled, and too weak to govern. The Sword of the Empire--the Warrior-Emperor who had defeated Orhan Gazi, Stefan Dusan, and many more, in battle--who had led the Empire through 22 long years of struggle, would never walk again--never ride again... never raise a weapon in hand, in the name of God, and Empire, ever again.

By mid-1350 the Plague had burnt itself out in Constantinople; now gnawing on the guts of Germany, and Scotland, on its track further north, and east.

Genoa, as the end of the Plague came to most of Europe circa 1351, went from a city of roughly 70,000, rivalling contemporary Constantinople, to a scant few thousand. Giovanni di Murta, second Doge of Genoa, would be its last; having died the previous year in 1350 to the Death, and taking with him the vital stability Genoa had relied on. Without him, the already brimming Aristocrat v Oligarch feud would boil over; toppling what was left of the city as they fought over the remaining scraps. Genoa would not rise again [3].

As the last reports of major Plague outbreaks faded, of course, Edward III made his moves in Brittany once more; the year ending with a massive thirty-man duel over the fate of the Bretons; the Combat of Thirty. Each participant had been carefully chosen by each side in what was considered the very height of chivalry.

And? The French cheated; turning what was a ground melee into a rout when Guillaume de Montauban, a French squire, broke the codes of chivalry, mounted his horse, and rode down the English.

There could be no better way, cynically, that such a dark chapter of history could be bookended that year, 1353; with the breaking of oaths, and cheating.
---
[1] The writings of Petrarch and other intellectuals of the time (which would alongside the Palaiologan Renaissance lay the foundation for the Italian Renaissance), put into words the notion of Papal temporal authority being something moot, and wrong. Such things would later be used as justification, and ammunition, in the Reunion Movement--and the following, gradual, Unification of Italy in the mid-1700s.

[2] King Robert of Naples' death in 1343 left a complicated succession affair between his granddaughter Joanna, who he insisted be crowned Queen of Naples, and his kinsmen in Hungary; causing infighting over the Kingdom between the two branches of the House of Anjou that only got worse due to Robert's refusal to pay the tithes and tributes he owed the Papacy, resulting in denouncement. This is to say nothing of the issues caused by the Black Death.

[3] Genoa, over the next half-decade, would be partitioned out between its neighbours in various minor wars and skirmishes; the city itself falling in 1359 to John II, Marquis of Montferrat; successor and son of Teodore Palaeologus-Montferrat, who had died in 1338. From this, the House of Palaeologus-Montferrat would become a regional power in Italy, alongside Milan, Florence, and Venice--laying important groundwork for what became the above-mentioned Unification of Italy.

 

[A Random Man]

Great chapter, RIP Anna of Savoy 😭😭😭

 

[Rommel1941]

Very nice tl congrats on coming back with the large gap in time. So one thing that was always an issue was a succession situation. As well as a military command structure. A good emperor could lead his men to victory but it often replayed on a good leader to control the sofisicated army. As well as the risk during the death of an emperor. So ant thought on an orginized succesion plan for generations out.

 

[Averious]

"Crippled in body, but not in mind, Andronikos III Palaiologos, Emperor and Autocrat of the Romans, would give what was left of himself as counsel and legal weight to his son and heir John V Palaiologos in those last years," - Alexandros Komnenos, Resurgent Palaiologoi, Chapter 7 of 10, 'The Black Death and it's Aftermath'.

---

1354

Reports of the Plague abating had begun to trickle into the Boukoleon around the celebrations of Christmas the previous year, 1353, although news of small, sporadic outbreaks still came, even if these quickly burnt out.

John V Palaiologos, having been named Co-Emperor [1] by his father shortly after he'd awoken crippled early in 1350 had been swimming against the tide throughout his first three years; only having a chance to truly breathe, and look up from various letters, missives, messages, and duties (which Kantakouzenos had been more than willing to help with) with the end of the Death.

Andronikos was bedridden; the Plague having destroyed his body, but not his mind; John often coming to his father for instructions, and inspiration, even as with time the elder Emperor began to prefer drawing back--acting as a rubber stamp so that his son would be forced to rule in his own right.

The first true test of this would come in March of 1354, with the arrival of a contingent of Latins from Achaea; a dozen or so, led by a Baron of Achaea, Philippe Durand.

Tradition dictated that they be made to wait a week before meeting the Emperor; this they bore through, only because of the reputation of the Palaiologi as warriors, and with Durand's insistence.

As tradition said, they would have been put through a revolving show of artefacts, rituals, and so forth; instead, John, using the knowledge his dearly departed mother had left to him, made a fusion of what he considered the worthwhile 'Latin traditions' with those of the Romans.

The arrivals were officially given an Announcement of Arrival within the Boukoleon Palace, and from there, rather than some obtuse and long precession they would be led by John's guard directly to the Emperor. Therein, as he sat upon the heightened throne of marble, silks and gold above them, was the menagerie of artefacts shown around them--as a sort of ambient imagery.

Of course, the Emperor had himself announced as well; John V Palaiologos, Emperor and Autocrat of the Romans. Had he been more blatant, and less wise, he would have also ensured 'and your rightful sovereign' had been included.

But no.

It was Durand, their leader, who stepped forward; he spoke Romaic, the others did not, and thus it was clear why he had been chosen--or at least the admitted reason. Of the lot he was clearly the most imposing; cutting a clear Italo-Norman figure.

"I would bring forward a swearing of oaths, Your Imperial Majesty," came the words of the Baron; they had come seeking to enter the service of the Empire, for Naples was in chaos, and the devastation of the Death was clearly felt.

Robert II of Taranto, rightful Prince of Achaea since 1332, and titular Latin Emperor since 1346, had not once set foot in the only domains left to him that actually gave him a semblance of a claim on his titular title; the Barons of the land were sick of it, and sick of his absence; now they turned to the clear power in the region, and offered fealty to John.

The Emperor, in truth gladly surprised, put on airs expected of a sovereign of his pedigree; placing the impression forward that he was deep in consideration for what felt like an eternity to the dozen Latins present.

Finally, however, John would offer acknowledgement, and make clear the notion that he would accept--he would be their Prince of Achaea.

Thereafter a small feast was held, wherein the Emperor cut the figure of Alexios I, and Manuel I, in placing himself amongst the Latins--although at the clear head of the table; alongside his wife Helene Kantakouzenos, and father-in-law John Kantakouzenos. The Emperor, of course, had chosen to leave his children in the care of his brother-in-law Matthew Kantakouzenos; his young heir Andronikos the Younger still only 6 years old, and his other children, Manuel and the twins Irene and Maria the Younger, in turn 3 and 1 respectively.

Come the near-end of March, as the Latins had been there near a full month, they would depart only from Constantinople after the customary swearing of feudal oaths, which John recognised with his own writ; thereafter giving them gifts of silk, and gold, and allowing them to pass.

Andronikos III, upon hearing John tell him this all from his bedside, on the eve of his birthday, is said to have smiled deeply and praised his boy; putting aside whatever reservations he had in order to spend what, it turned out, was his last day in happiness for his successor.

He would die on the 24th of March, aged 56; a single day short of 57.

John, it is said, openly wept upon seeing his father's corpse the following morning.
---
[1] Andronikos III broke with tradition by not naming his son and heir Co-Emperor sooner; although historians lack a concrete reason, the theories put forth include the notion that Andronikos was still holding out hope for John Kantakouzenos to take power alongside him (which John V himself hinted at in his surviving letters), or that the Emperor simply didn't want to burden his son with the duties of rulership too young, as he had been forced to. Thus, instead of a gradual build-up of skill, John V was forced to put his education into practice in the gauntlet that was the latter three years of the Black Death.

 

[Whiteshore]

And so Andronikos III passes into history as one of the greats and not the last forlorn chance Rhomania had.

 

[A Random Man]

Great chapter, RIP Andronikos III, an Emperor who took power from his grandfather and remade Rhomania into a respected entity once more. May John V lead Rhomania to new heights.

 

[Whiteshore]

May John V lead Rhomania to new heights.

As they say in the old days, may he be luckier than Augustus and better than Trajan.

 

[Curtain Jerker]

Glad to see this is back! Just re-read most of it, looking forward to seeing what happens next.

 

[Vikingen]

Hm, not to be an anti byzaboo…but I want John to have a…really bad time. At least at first. Because guys, we all love a good comeback. You don’t have a Aurelian without a crises of the third century.

 

[A Random Man]

Hm, not to be an anti byzaboo…but I want John to have a…really bad time. At least at first. Because guys, we all love a good comeback. You don’t have a Aurelian without a crises of the third century.

I kinda don't want that TBH

 

[Vikingen]

I get not wanting there to be immediately be a crises. But I just feel that if we just constantly win then like…what’s the fun? This is, in my opinion at least, more of a story than a timeline, and therefore should treat the empire as a character. One that has ups and downs.

 

[Averious]

John's hand came to rest softly over the covered remains of what had once been his father; the mighty Emperor and Autocrat of the Romans--the great warrior-Emperor who undid the failures of his lesser predecessors.

It had been, in the mind of John, Andronikos III who had redeemed the Palaiologi from usurpers into true Emperors; he would have to live up to this.

Here he lay now, in the light that cascaded down from the dome of the Hagia Sophia; emblamed, and cloaked in silks and sigils of the Empire--ready for the procession of servants, aids, family and others who knew him.

And later, a small public viewing.

Father and son had planned the building of an Imperial Crypt befitting the Imperial Household, and in this there was only one place wherein they should lay in their eternal rest; the Hagia Sophia herself.

In his three years as Co-Emperor, John had overseen the beginnings of the Imperial Crypt being built as a part of the Hagia Sofia's complex; the first wing had opened a half-year before Andronikos himself had died, with John having had his mother's body there shortly thereafter [1].

Now his father would join her, and in time, so too would he, and all his descendants.

---

Born as Andronikos 'Doukas Angelos Komnenos', Princeling of the Imperial House of Palaiologos on the 25th of March, 1297, and most commonly known by his regnal number as Andronikos III Palaiologos, the life of the Emperor known as the Sword of the Empire would not be an easy one, nor one lacking in destiny.

Proclaimed Emperor, although as the junior ruler, as early as his 11th birthday, 1308, Andronikos had worn the Purple and dedicated his life to the Empire for which he was born to serve, and rule, for 46 years of his 56 years; 26 of which were as senior Emperor--in that time taking the Empire of the Romans from a quickly crumbling rumpstate to one on parity with that of the one bequeathed to the dynasty by its wily founder Michael VIII nearly a century prior to Andronikos' death.

In his time Andronikos would, alongside John Kantakouzenos, Grand Domestic of the Empire and Chartophylax of the Imperial Library, lead their generation into the 7-year-long civil war known as the War of the Two Andronikos against his incompetent grandfather, and namesake, Andronikos II--achieving victory, and claiming for himself the title of senior, singular, Emperor and Autocrat of the Romans.

Andronikos III had inherited, as aforementioned, a crumbling rumpstate--one in which his predecessor had cut both military, and naval funding, as well as allowed the fall of Roman-held lands to the Turks, and Latins, in a gross neglect of duty.

The Sword of the Empire would rise to the challenge, and spend much of his reign, from 1328 to 1342 (although the latter half had been mainly in repelling raids, and akin, alongside his longtime friend Artemios of Nicaea)--14 years--in battle against the enemies of the Empire. In this, he reformed the Imperial Army not only once, but several times, and with the aid of the Megas Doux Alexios Apokaukos would refound the Imperial Navy with which he would force out the Genoese, and reclaim the Aegean.

While some have, in recent memory, derided his tendency early on to enact constant reforms to his military as an eclectic taste there is no denying that when commanded by him, and his carefully chosen lieutenants, such as Artemios of Nicaea, Manuel of Bitola, Michael of Arta, and Sfyrios, there was victory.

Not an administrator by any real means, more a consummate worker, Andronikos heavily relied on his closest friend and confidant John Kantakouzenos to aid him in the running of his government, and it is clear with hindsight that it was John, not Andronikos, that created the fertile soil from which the Palaiologan Renaissance blossomed and grew. Instead, Andronikos' abilities lay more in steady work, and the ability to skillfully pick loyal, and willing, people to delegate tasks to.

Famously, the Emperor was also a skilled miniaturist; creating several drawings in the Romaioi style within various documents, and manuscripts, that survived long past him.

As Emperor, one could summarise his career as one of progress, stability, and expansion; a gradual rebuilding that took advantage of any opportunity offered to capitalise over others, while not losing sight of diplomacy, and careful administration; even if in this he was influenced by others.

His pedigree as a warrior though, is without question; having never lost a battle to the enemies of the Empire, nor shirking from fighting on the frontlines in his time as the Sword of the Empire. In this, he directly defeated famed figures such as Stefan Dusan of Serbia, and Orhan Ghazi of the Ottomans; stabilising the Anatolian Frontier around the Propontis coastline, beating back the Serbs to the borders of northern Macedonia, and reclaiming Epirus, Thessaly, and much of the Aegean Isles.

Important cities such as Pursa, and Arta were reclaimed in his reign, and important governances set up to maintain the integrity of the lands he reclaimed.

If anything, simple or not, could be said of his reign it is this; he left the Empire in a much better state than he found it, and in turn, bequeathed it to a well-prepared adult heir; more than can be said for most who've worn the Purple.

To Andronikos III, Emperor and Autocrat of the Romans, until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand.
---
[1] John V would do more in terms of burials than just handle the founding of the Palaiologi Crypt. The Emperor would also invest in the careful expansion and refurbishment of the Imperial Tombs beneath the Church of the Holy Apostles, and by the end of his reign every Emperor before the Palaiologi that he could find (including those buried in exile within monasteries) would be carefully reinterred there; most notably Basil II, who's original burial had been brutally upended by the Latins in the 1204 Sack, and his body desecrated before Michael VIII Palaiologos rescued it and had it reburied in Selembyria; where John had it reclaimed from.
In the modern day, the Imperial Tombs, in sequential order from Constantine the Great to John IV Laskaris, are viewable on tour, although many sarcophagi are simply empty representations.

 

[A Random Man]

Nice overview of Andronikos III, an Emperor worthy of the land he lived in. Nice creation of the Imperial Tombs by John V, that will certainly make sure the Palaiologi are not forgotten.

 

[Vikingen]

I do think a rough map would be very helpful at a time like this. With perhaps the different governorships marked out.

 

[Averious]

Attached below are two rough maps for visualisation purposes; barring a few errors I can't quite fix (such as the Isles containing a chunk of Thessaly) these are rather accurate.

I chose to specifically focus on the Balkans because even I don't quite know how Anatolia looks at the moment; considering the constant skirmishes between the remaining Turkish Beyliks. Once things progress a bit more I'll likely add an addendum, or secondary, post updating things.