The premise of this timeline is that the sacking of Constantinople in 1204 could have been prevented and that the Emperor Alexios IV, instead of acting like an incompetent and childish twit, turned out to be a rather competent leader. (I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies. Im sure there are plenty of them but I wrote this primarilyfor fun. Still, I hope you will find it fairly plausible.)
The following section is written in the form of a contemporary chronicle, composed by an anonymous Byzantine historian in the mid Thirteenth Century.
In September of the year 1203, the young emperor Alexios found himself in a position of despair and great anxiety. Though he maintained an attitude of forbearance at court, the troubles faced by the empire weighed heavily upon his conscious. Owing to youthful naivety, he had been persuaded by the war captains of the Frankish crusaders to pay a dear price in exchange for their aid in restoring him to his birthright. As Alexios had been an exile from his homeland since boyhood, he greatly overestimated the wealth and strength of the realm, which had been lain low by the perfidious rule of generations of corrupt and decadent emperors. To add to this shock, Alexios discovered that his father, long imprisoned by his brother Alexios the Usurper, had been freed by the mob and proclaimed emperor. This was possible because the usurper, in the manner of a coward, had fled to Adrianople when the fleet of the crusaders had reached the city. Alexios’ father had been blinded by the usurper, to prevent him from retaking the throne should he ever escape his imprisonment, but this did not stop the people of Constantinople from raising him once more to the purple.
The empire Alexios returned to was a hollow shell of its former glory. The imperial coffers had been drained over decades of fruitless war and the continued loss of taxable lands to the infidels. The army was a poorly equipped and ill disciplined mess; its number reduced to a pathetic level after centuries of former glory. Even the imperial palace, though still splendidly decorated, was in need of repair. Alexios presided over his duties in a hall that rang with the pitter patter of rain drops from a leaky roof, as if he held court in a poor country church!
In truth, Alexios’ father terrified him. Years of imprisonment had withered his body so that he resembled a wind battered sapling. The scars where his eyes had been put out by order of Alexios’ uncle, the usurper, were gnarled and ghastly. Most disturbing of all was his black, cynical manner, so different from the father Alexios remembered as a small boy. When Alexios had told Isaac the price that the crusaders had demanded, he simply laughed. It had been a sickening cackle, the laugh of a madman and it had chilled Alexia’s spine. Isaac had informed him that the entire treasury held less than half that sum and that the army, months in arrears of pay, could not muster enough men to satisfy the demands of the Franks and still hold the borders, which in those days, (as they still are, Lord preserve us!) were surrounded on all sides by grasping barbarians.
After Alexios had recovered from his initial shock, he at first sunk into apathy. The crusaders would just have to accept what he could give them, he had reasoned. What other choice did they have? Isaac had recommended means to acquire more revenue, primarily through confiscating church property and the lands of nobles that he hated (of which there were many). Alexios had acquiesced readily enough to these seizures and eventually a sum of 100,000 silver marks had been raised. Alexios had skimmed a certain percentage of this money for himself, as he was used to a comfortable lifestyle from years of living under the patronage of his brother in law, the Holy Roman Emperor Phillip. The fair and honest majority though, he offered to the crusaders under the advisement that they accept this as payment in full. The crusaders however had their own debts to pay, to the Doge of Venice to be exact, and this situation was found by them to be entirely unacceptable. Alexios had initially agreed to pay a sum of 200,000 silver marks, in addition to a force of 10,000 soldiers and the use of the Navy (which, like the army, was in a sad state of affairs). None of these promises could now be kept.
The Franks were greatly disturbed by the apparent poverty of the Imperial court and perceiving that Constantinople was as yet the wealthiest city of Christendom, began to plot in a manner of foul betrayal. At this same time the citizens of The City, as proud and stiff necked a people as the ancient Israelites, began to chafe at the presence of the foreign heretic army. Riots erupted throughout the districts of The City and no Frankish born stranger could count himself safe on the streets. It seemed inevitable that full blown conflict would break out. It was at this state of affairs that the emperor Alexios found himself despairing. Despite his rather undeserved reputation for hedonism and childish play, the emperor was perceptive enough to realize that his reign and quiet possibly the future of his realm were in jeopardy.
Enter Theodore Laskaris, Deus ex Machina in the manner of the great pagan dramatists of old. Laskaris was of the minor gentry of Constantinople and at this time was a young officer serving in the city. Though he had married a sister of Alexios’ uncle, the usurper, he forsook any familial obligation he might have felt and offered his services to Alexios and his court. Isaac was wary of the young soldier and whispered privately to Alexios that he should be disposed of quietly. Alexios, for his part, was captivated by the straight forward, no-nonsense Laskaris. Though he affected the manner of a simple soldier, Laskaris’s outward demeanor concealed a cunning mind of serpentine brilliance. His loyalty, he confessed, was to his empire and not the personage of any one man. This statement would have been treasonous had it been spoken by any other, but said with bold conviction by Laskaris, it seemed honorable and dignified to Alexios. Throughout the autumn of 1203, Laskaris met frequently with Alexios, while Isaac, who grew increasingly less lucid, fell out of the normal affairs of state. In an effort to discredit his son, Isaac spread foul rumors of impropriety between Alexios and his new favorite. However, these rumors seemed only to increase the doubt the citizens of the city felt towards Isaac’s competency. In December of 203, Isaac died suddenly, presumably from old age. Meanwhile, the empire was being reborn in the darkened corridors of the imperial palace.
Theodore Laskaris knew that the Frankish army was nothing more than a cancerous tumor on the empire and that it must be removed quickly if the patient was to be saved. A conventional battle he discounted, for the empire could count upon few troops of sufficient quality. Any such assault would be a gamble the empire could not afford to lose. In The City itself, Laskaris knew that the Varangian Guard alone could be entirely trusted with holding the walls and defending the emperor. The themes outside Constantinople could provide only a poorly equipped militia, men who would be reluctant to serve outside of their home districts. The crusaders could muster thousands of armored warriors, and the formidable power of the Venetian fleet. Laskaris had no doubt that the citizens of The City would defend their homes, and that the walls and defensive structures were formidable, but he could assume only a defensive posture. After much consideration, Laskaris and Alexios reached a consensus. What could not be won by force of arms, would be wrought through guile.
With great fanfare, Alexios’ courtiers brought word to the commanders of the Franks that the long overdue tribute due to them had finally been collected. It was revealed that Alexios had spared no effort in stripping the churches, monasteries and palaces of Constantinople and all Thrace bare of their precious and sacred valuables. This he did in fact (with the full and covert knowledge of the abbots and bishops, but I do not wish to drive ahead of myself) and the treasure was so great that it was piled in the great hall of the former monastery of St. Martin, within the city walls. Much indignation and shock was felt by the citizens when they watched as the parade of holy vessels went by, their sacred heritage sold as plunder to foreign barbarians! Alexios’ emissaries to the Franks bid them welcome to a great new year’s feast, to be held at the monastery of St. Martin on the 1st of January, where full and deserved payment of tribute would be received. With glee the commanders of the crusaders excepted this invitation, along with their trusted retinues of retainers. The citizens of the city watched in barely muted horror as the procession of barbarians made their way to the feasting hall, where they were met by the emperor and the patriarch, resplendent in their vestments. Several great tables had been prepared, each piled high with food and drink of every type and description and in the center of the room, a dais stacked with fortune enough to make Croesus blush in envy. Wine flowed freely in that hall on that evening! The emperor was a magnanimous host, ruddy faced and gregarious amongst the warriors. As day gave way to night, the emperor stood and bid his apologizes, but he must attend to business, and urged his honored guests to continue in their revelry. No sooner had he left the hall, quickly followed by the patriarch and their attendants, than the true entertainment of the evening began. In the words of that greatest of historians, the noble Thucydides, “here beginneth the war!”
From every doorway and window burst the Varangian guard, hulking, wild haired men fierce in mail and lamellar, wielding two-handed great axes with skillful ease. At their lead was Theodore Laskaris, sword in hand. With fearsome war cries they fell upon the Franks, most of whom were well into their cups and all but defenseless, though all of their party were armed and a number wore mail. It is said that Laskaris personally slew the lord of the Franks, Boniface, and I attest this is true. Alexios was later shown the decapitated head of Boniface, who was the cousin of his brother in law, Phillip. He was said to have remarked simply “ah, a pity,” before having the head shipped to the Doge of Venice.
At the very same time as this slaughter was being perpetrated, the siege machines upon the walls assaulted those Venetian ships in The City’s harbor. Burning pitch and Greek Fire were poured down upon them and a number of older hulls were set on fire and sailed toward the Venetians. The Venetian Doge, the unconscionably ancient Dandalo (whose mind was even yet as wicked and sharp as the finest damascene blade), separated as he was from the commanders of the crusader army, pulled back his ships lest they succumb to this furious assault. The great chain across the Bosporus was quickly re-raised, sealing off the inner harbor from further transgression. For the moment, the forces of the Franks were utterly befuddled; Laskaris and Byzantium were winning.
The news of the Frankish leader’s wretched fate burned through the streets like plague and soon all The City was in tumult. Men formed themselves into armed parties and with shouts of “Basileus! Basileus!” they fell upon every Frank and Venetian unlucky enough to be within the walls. Bodies were torn apart by the mob, or lynched from the battlements. The emperor Alexios was now the people’s champion in the fickle minds of his subjects.
Meanwhile, the army of the Franks sat in indecision in their camps outside the walls. At first they suspected that their nobles had merely been held overlong due to drink. The party of leaders had included some three hundred knights, both leaders and their retainers. It was only when the decapitated body of Boniface was catapulted into their camp that they knew the depth of their circumstances. Much anger and disbelief clamored through their ranks! The Venetian fleet had fled the inner harbor and without their assistance a seaward assault was impossible. The landward walls of the city were far too strong for the crusaders to overcome This they had learned, like all barbarians before them: Avar, Slav, Arab, Rus, Hun and so on. Therefore, despite their murderous rage, the Franks could do little but fume in impotence.
Inside the city, Laskaris had paraded the imperial forces before the Hagia Sofia in a triumphal procession. Laskaris and Alexios rode side by side through the streets, to the cheers and adulations of the crowd. The icons of Christ the Lord and the Holy Mother passed in front of the sacred vessels, on their way back to the churches of the city. Of the army there were close to thirty thousand men. Five thousand of these were the Varangian, heroes of the hour. The rest were thematic militia, in various states of quality. Of these, close to five thousand were horsemen, mostly of a light and medium type. Two thousand sailors from the navy, oarsmen and archers, marched along as well.
After a few days, it became clear that the Venetian navy had abandoned the crusaders at the straights. With the great chain risenand the city’s defenses alert, a forced assault would be suicidal indeed. Alexios sent envoys to the Franks inquiring that, now that they were abandoned by their erstwhile allies, might they wish to enter into alliance with him? The reply was in the affirmative, for the crusaders had no wish to starve or die upon The City’s defenses. Alexios had gained a fearsome army indeed, a force of some 10,000 armored knights and men-at-arms.
Over the winter months, statements of loyalty for the emperor poured in from the governors of the thematic districts. Alexios the usurper had been captured by the governor of Epirus, attempting to ferment rebellion there. He was blinded and sent back to Constantinople in chains. Remembering the fate of his own father, Alexios ordered his traitorous rival put to death. His body was drawn and quartered and the pieces carried to the corners of the empire to be displayed as a discouragement against rebellion. Laskaris did not mourn his brother in law’s demise.
II.
Through the spring of 1204 Alexios, under advisement from Laskaris, who already by this time was being called “the cunning,” issued decrees of taxation and of conscription. Portions of Alexios’ new Frankish army were detached to the eastern frontier, to guard against any inequities that might be planned by the Sultan. But the lion’s share of the army was kept under the emperor’s personal watch in Thrace. An agreement was reached with the Venetians in which the resumption of trade would begin. Venice, heavily indebted through their construction of the great fleet, could not afford a protracted war with the Romans. Neither did Alexios feel secure in pursuing the conflict. Constantinople and his throne were secure; this was enough for now.