THE PROPHESIZED EMPERORS (PART 1)
Hyperpyron issued in the reign of Alexios II Komnenos
Of the Komnenian System and the Rhõmaîon Feudalism
In retrospective analysis, the prevailing historiographic perspective towards the study of the History of Rhōmanía under the Komnenoi dynasty tells us of a process of “feudalization” [1] of the political and economic organization of the Empire, which, paradoxically as it may sound, was both a cause and a consequence of the rise of this Paphlagonian dynatoi family to the porphyry throne. The consolidation of the pronoia system, the concentration of governmental powers in the hands of a few aristocratic families centered around the imperial dynasty, and the happening of a gradual “Latinization” of the military ethos of the aristocracy, are said to be the evidences of this process, tacitly recognized as “imported” from the Western and Central European sociopolitical phenomena. Opposing voices have been appearing to sustain an argument challenging the dominant conceptualization, and even refuting the very premise that Rhōmanía’s political framework did indeed see anything that could be genuinely named “feudal” in nature. Despite the debate, the choice of terminology, above referred in the above Title's name, is deliberate; it invokes a series of interconnected changes and identities that became prevalent in the Komnenian Era in Constantinople.
Compared to the reigns of his predecessors Alexios and John, the reign of Manuel actually had seen a genuine attempt to weaken, and not to strengthen, this trend towards political decentralization and territorial fragmentation. While John had taken advantage of the impressive territorial expansion - or restitution - onto Osrhoene and northern Syria, [eastern Anatolia, northern Syria and western Armenia] to distribute pronoia to the dynatoi families associated to the Komnenoi, such as the Doukaioi, the Bryennioi, the Palaiologoi and the Kamateroi, among others, and thus secure their loyalty, Manuel emphasized the centrality of his own family, of his direct descendants and collaterals, even at the cost of sponsoring lesser well-liked members. To this effect, he bestowed his kinsmen with offices not only in the court itself and in military positions, as it was usual, but also in the civilian bureaucracy, not only in the capital, but also in provinces of strategic interest, according to their degrees of familial connection and consanguinity.
In addition, it is in external relationships that Manuel truly extended the reach of the dynastic influence, to levels that had never hitherto been seen: his kinsmen, especially women, married into various other dynasties, not only from fellow Orthodox Christian confession, such as the Rus' and the Georgians, but also from the Latin sphere: the Imperial Welfs, the French Capetians, the Lombard Attonids, the Hungarian Árpads, and even their rivals, the Sicilian Hautevilles and the Syrian Capetians. Moreover, most of the Rhõmaisist scholars agree that the system was considerably more “open” to include and even incorporate aliens to the regime, notably foreigners such as the Franks, the Turks, the Vlachs, the Cumans, predicated in their usefulness to the interests of the state, notably of the military and of commerce. A few other scholars argue that this is not exactly a peculiarity of the Komnenian regime, or rather that it is distinctive from previous imperial dynasties not by quality, but perhaps by quantity. In any event, this element is often conflated with the perception that the Komnenian Emperors were far more inclined towards admitting cultural heterogeneity due to an utilitarian interest. In the case of the relations between Constantinople and the other Christian European polities, a common trope in historiographic assessment is the supposed “Latinophilia” that prevailed in the standpoint of the Komnenoi, especially from Manuel and his successors.
In conclusion, by the time the latest Emperor suddenly died in his ill-fated Egyptian expedition, sharing the fate of old Cambyses’ army, the political system was cemented in a structure of kinship and lineage whose keystone was the imperial oikos. On the other hand, the flaws and deficiencies of this system, as his successors would find out, were related to the fact that, by the late 12th Century, this extensive network of familiars had greatly multiplied since the ascension of Alexios I, and they eagerly disputed the various financial, material and immaterial resources available, now entrenched in factions and backed by the aforementioned other noble families, whose own ambitions towards the purple might have dwindled, but their interest in monopolizing their influence over the throne certainly did not.
The accession of Alexios and John had not been uncontested, and Manuel’s might have been, had he not acted preemptively by removing and setting apart his potential claimants, such as his cousins, to a de facto exile in remote provinces of Cherson and Cyprus. This is another evidence of the importance of assessing the Komnenian political framework: kinship and association with the Basileus being the fundamental bridge connecting the members of the royalty and the high aristocracy, Manuel had had to distance them from rule without actually violating their physical integrity - such as was the notorious case of Andronikos, Manuel's cousin, who had twice insulted the deceased Emperor - or even debasing their own legitimacy, and thus, even if naked of any real or meaningful political, administrative or military positions, these claimants were bestowed with significant honorifics and shares of the state’s revenues.
In 1176 A.D., then, after Manuel’s sudden death, according to John Kinnamos, having recently returned from Egypt to Constantinople, the anxieties of political factionalism became almost palpable in the courtly atmosphere, and eyes turned to the late Basileus’ appointed heir: *Alexios Porphyrogénnētos.
Of The Character Of Alexios II Komnenos And Of The First Years Of His Reign
*Alexios was Manuel’s first male son, aged 27 years at the time of his inheritance, and he was supposed to be the last fulfiller of the “AIMA” prophecy [2].
In regards to his personality, *Alexios was a personage much different from his immediate dynastic predecessors, who had, each in their own manner, performed according to the general expectations of the monarchical role in Rhõmaîon society, that is, by presenting themselves as majestic and enlightened rulers and virile and judicious leaders. In all their social appearances, be in the palace court, in the public buildings or on campaign, either in the throne or in horseback, *Alexios, John and Manuel had cultivated imageries of regal decorum, of paternal magnanimity, of diplomatic finesse, of spiritual solemness and of martial charisma, sometimes all at the same time. The new monarch, ever since his first year of reign, was noticeably parsimonious in his public appearances; he would be seen in the throne, to hear petitions, appeals and requests, in the relevant ceremonies and courtly events, in the mass, but that was it. He seldom visited the Hippodrome or the theaters, and never left the capital itself, not even to visit the neighboring provinces, and never marched personally on campaign.
While this hardly concerned the most senior members of the court, such as the own Komnenoi, and also the Axouches, the Doukaioi, and the Bryennioi, among other dignitaries - because they could more easily influence the young and reclusive Emperor by presenting themselves as dependable deputies - it soon enough bred suspicion and discredit among Constantinople’s citizens, to whom the Basileus’ public performance was a pillar of social and political expectations, as is the case in the majority of crowned monarchies, and, beyond the capital, added to the usual wariness of the provincial elites, notably in outlying regions of the Empire, such as Bulgaria and Syria, in regards to the general indifference of the central government to the relevant matters of regional concern.
Contemporary scholars have attempted to comprehend his personality and demeanor from the descriptions of historical records, attributing his seclusiveness to mania, hypochondria or even madness. Others see it as a consequence of his upbringing: “His lifetime inspirations were soft-spoken philosophers and pious celibates instead of the men of the lance and the sword”.
To be fair, Alexios did impress his contemporaries by his polite erudition, by his energetic industriousness, notably in regards to the administrative affairs of the State, and especially by his religious piety and devotion.
Indeed, he excelled in the knowledge of literature and poetry, of material sciences, from medicine to astrology, and of diplomatic correspondence, being fluent in Latin, Armenian and even Arab, and fortunately many of his pieces of writing survive still today, and he did exchange letters with various heads of state written by his own hand, such as those with the Arabic Caliphate, with the Papacy and with the Kings of Germany, of Hungary and of France.
As for his presence in matters of administration, the contemporary sources affirm that he, going much further than his predecessors in the throne, participated in minutiae of the bureaucratic activities associated with the imperial crown, notably of fiscal and economic nature - such as minting, taxation and accounting. The circumstances demanded attention and focus in these matters, because, after consecutive decades of expensive warfare, from Armenia to Hungary and from there to Egypt, the treasury was exhausted, though the extent of *Alexios’ participation did raise the eyebrows of the chroniclers of his reign.
And at last, but not least, his persona is known to posterity especially by his genuine devotion to the religion, in its public and ceremonious, and in its private and confessional facets. His measures of fiscal austerity, implemented ever since the beginning of his reign, did not impact the Church, and, as usual, not only the temples and the monasteries continued to enjoy tax exemptions, they were also granted recurrent donations in lieu of royal charity. Now, more than even his predecessors, *Alexios truly thrived in the imperial role of the Caesar as censor and regulator of the public religion. Whereas his great-grandfather and his father had never convened ecumenical councils, and his grandfather had only presided over one of these, *Alexios convened three different ecumenical gatherings in a short period of time: one in Constantinople, in 1178, to debate about the doctrinal distinctions between the Catholic Roman and the Greek Orthodox rites, such as the filioque clause and the Crusadist doctrines; and a second one in Sis in 1180, to where the Catholicos of Armenia had reallocated his seat as result of intense lobbying by the Roupenids, as well as a third one in Alexandria, in 1184, soon after its recapture during the *Third Crusade, which sought to reapproximate the Constantinopolitan and the Antiochene and Alexandrian patriarchates after centuries of estrangement. It is telling that the Basileus himself did not participate in any of these synods, but was rather represented by his legates, notably his cousin, Protovestiarios John Doukas Komnenos, who was the governor of the Theme of Antioch. Perhaps this was dictated by political expediency, to implicitly demonstrate the impartiality of the Crown in regards to these theological matters, though it seems that *Alexios’ timid demeanor weighed heavily.
Of Rhõmaîoi and of the Third Crusade
The events and revolutions related to the *Third Crusade will be opportunely addressed in other passages of this Chronicle, whereupon we will see its antecedents, its proclamation and the preparation of the noble princes who participated on it. For the time being, we will speak of it in straightforward passages, so as to understand the role played by Rhõmanía in its evolutions.
Manuel's Crusade, very much concordance with his character and his spirit, had been a fruit of his personal ambitions - perhaps even megalomania -, and, indeed, in his view, the Crusades ought to be captained and commandeered by the Greeks, not by the undisciplined and uncouth barbarians. As we have already made clear, however, this comprehension of the reality of Crusading was not endeared by the Rhōmaîoi themselves, who loathed and feared this movement and the ideology that sustained it. If *Alexios might have expected to lead such an exalted expedition, his hopes had been dashed in the very early years of his reign, and, after the debacle with the Patriarchate, he did not make any other attempts.
In the West, however, the penultimate decade of the 12th Century saw the kindling of the embers of a new Crusadist movement, whose main protagonist was none other than the other claimant to the ancient Roman heritage - King Henry the Lion. It is said, in fact, that Henry had pledged to take the cross as early as 1170, but was deterred from doing so due to the various constraints and issues faced during his reign. But now, having mostly pacified the Lombard fiefs and preserving stability in Germany by placing his sons in the government of Bavaria, Swabia and the Rhine Palatinate, the Emperor saw it was the moment to venture to the Orient, and, accordingly, the seated Pontiff, Pope Romanus [II], proclaimed a new Crusade in 1181 A.D. Romanus, in fact, was one of Henry’s most dedicated allies, whose ascent to the Throne of Saint Peter had owed to Bavarian money and influence.
The timing of the events was hardly a coincidence.
The Frankish princes had anxiously accompanied the unfolding of the late Rhõmaîon Basileus’ gamble to obtain the rule of Egypt - the Holy See and Germany had certainly done it, as did the Italian city-states and Sicily -, and now the German king saw in Constantinople’s adversity an opportunity. There are, of course, many causes and motives that sustained the pretenses of the leaders and participants of the *Third Crusade, not in the least the fact that the Teutons desired to avenge the losses suffered in the *Second Crusade, forty years before - one of whose leaders had been Henry’s father and predecessor, Henry VI.
******
Constantinople had been forewarned by Henry’s heralds in the preceding year of the campaign, and, accordingly there was great anxiety in the Rhõmaîon capital, not to say outright hostility. *Alexios would not falter, however. In spite of the financial predicaments, he drew whatever revenues could be retrieved; this meant hardening the fiscal burden over some of the provinces, but, when the German Emperor arrived in Rhõmaîon territory, in the summer of 1182, the young Basileus was ready to receive the Crusaders and to join the expedition. Henry chose a different path from that of the Crusaders from northern Europe usually traversed - that is, following the course of the Danube until Belgrade, and from there to Constantinople -, by crossing the Alps through the Brenner Pass, and then he ranged the whole of Italy, from Verona to Rome and from there to Bari, joining with the Lombard liensmen loyal to him. The purpose of this tour de force was evident: Henry sought to demonstrate his potency to the recently defeated communes of the north, and also to the often hostile Italo-Normans. With him came many and many nobles and knights from the Empire, from Saxony to Bavaria and from Swabia to Moravia, as well as the Danish army led by
King Valdemar , and the Flemings under
Count Phillip of Flanders.
King Béla [III] of Hungary was committed to join the Crusade, though he would only depart in the following year, and, finally,
Prince William [II] of Sicily [3] and
King William [IV] of England had both pledged to support the cause.
From Bari to Dyrrachium, and from there overland to Constantinople, the seemingly innumerable army of the Latins was certainly the largest one ever assembled to this holy cause, and not a few of the Constantinopolitan aristocrats feared even that Henry desired to make himself master of both the west and the east. Predictable logistical issues arose from the sheer number of troops, non-combatants and load carriers that had to be provided for, but the Germans generally maintained their discipline and did not harm the well-being of the Greek provinces.
*Alexios’ hurriedly mustered an army of tagmata, thematic levies and mercenaries from the races of the Cumans, the Turks and the Vlachs, was far less numerous, though not necessarily not less impressive, Unlike his predecessors, *Alexios did count with the goodwill of the reclusive Armenians established in Cilicia, owing to the extensive influence of his mother, the Empress dowager, who had granted them many honors and boons, and their army, despite smaller than one might ask for such a daunting enterprise, was nonetheless dependable and formidable.
In Asia, the armed pilgrims followed the time-honored route connecting Nicaea and Aleppo, and, from there, they marched to Tripoli and then onward to Jerusalem. As it was the norm, logistical constraints, disease, exhaustion, climatic adversities and attrition provoked premature casualties, but, maintained by supporting Rhōmaîon, Pisan, Venetian, Genoese and Dalmatian fleets, they did arrive in Jerusalem in a far better shape than their preceding generations of armed pilgrims and adventurers, including their own Germanic forefathers who had suffered a grim fate in 1145 A.D. For the first time in decades, the ports of Acre and Tripoli became busy with hundreds of vessels carrying food staples, beverages, daily utensils and tools, salt and sugar, cattle and beasts of burden, equines, textiles, and so forth. With them, a significant number of noncombatant pilgrims came as well, from among the middle and poor classes of Italy and Hungary. As for the Rhōmaîoi, their control of Tyre was providential, because it gave them a safe harbor midway between Cyprus and Anatolia and Egypt.
******
Over the course of the first year of campaigning, now unable to use Damietta as a base, the Franks and the Rhōmaîoi entrenched themselves in Bilbeis. In a certain regard, the project of conquest of Egypt was simultaneously easier and harder to be accomplished now than in the previous attempts. Easier because there was no large military force able to oppose them, thus there was no expectation of pitched battles. Harder because there also lacked any centralization opposition to decapitate; the provinces of Egypt had been carved according to the clout of power of the respective warlords, most of them of Turkish, Armenian and Berber origin, and each of them had to be fought and subdued. The cities of the Nile had been fortified and were garrisoned by hundreds of conscripts and even mercenaries in some places, mostly of Berber origin, demanding siege operations.
The now independent mamluks who had formed the backbone of the Caliphal army were formidable, but their ranks were much diminished. The Berbers and Bedouins operated as raiders and bandits, but their advances could and did harm the logistical network linking the Christian army to the resources arriving by the sea. The local Arab qadis and imams were mostly uncooperative and commonly incited either violence or disobedience among the rabble and the peasantry, these usually directed against the Coptic Egyptians, who were now less inclined to provide any useful support to the invaders. Finally, the Yemenis had occupied the coastal Erythrean towns.
In this regard, the massive size of the allied host - according to conservative estimates, it was composed of as many as thirty thousand men-at-arms, ignoring the non-combatants - conspired against its own success. Despite its famous bountifulness and fertility, Egypt had been plagued for almost three consecutive generations by warfare, political anarchy and demographic migrations. Now, the Christians were struggling with epidemics, malnourishment and low morale. Yet, their advance was steady and determined. While never short on money, sustained as they were by Lateran-sponsored tithes and royal-decree scutage coming from Europe, as well as by plunder, the inadequate supplying of basic resources nonetheless obliged the cross-bearers to prey upon the hapless subjects, indistinctly from Saracens, Copts and Jews alike. Their warpath was as brutal as it could be.
Fustat and Cairo fell after a relatively quick, rather anticlimactic, sieges.
It was a bloody affair even then.
The Saracens showered the assailants with arrows, darts, boiling oil and even naphtha. The Crusaders, with grim resolve, escalated the walls after constructing towers, and their ramparts were bombarded by trebuchets. In Fustat, where the buildings were cramped in tunneled streets, the engagements became vicious after the Christians trespassed the defenses. In the end, however, it was a doomed effort for the Saracens. They were not fighting for their state or monarch anymore, but solely by their own lives. The Franks and Rhōmaîoi and their auxiliaries reveled in ransacking and brutalizing the population. While the worst spasms of violent frenzy dispelled after the first days of occupation, the fate of those who remained was harsh as well. Thousands and thousands of Saracens and Jews were dispossessed, raped and enslaved. A massive caravan of captives was brought to the port of Damietta and carried to Italy and Byzantium by sea. Many others were forced to trek across the Sinai to Palestine and were taken to the Mediterranean by the way of Acre. Hundreds of them perished; the elderly, the children and the sickly were forsaken to the jackals and vultures.
Having secured the whole of the Lower Nile region, they then pivoted to the northwest in their march and assaulted Alexandria. The Alexandrines staged a brief, but rather symbolic resistance; the local warlord was soon betrayed by his own guardsmen, and the city surrendered peacefully, expecting mercy. This time, *Alexios did manage to restrain the excesses of violence, but the Mahommedan and Hebrew inhabitants were also given to a new life of captivity far beyond their fallen homeland.
It was soon afterwards, in November 1183 A.D., that *Alexios himself departed from Egypt, this time by the way of Alexandria across the Mediterranean. In his place, once again was appointed his cousin, Andronikos, the Great Primicerius, a veteran of Manuel’s wars, and it was soon enough that the hapless Alexandrines would witness the debauched vices of this rotten fruit of the Komnenoi genealogy.
******
The infighting between the Christian occupiers and the local warlords, of Saracen, Turkic or Moorish allegiances, would continue in earnest for the years to come, but the subjugation of Lower Egypt and of the former Fatimid palatine capital finally turned the balance unequivocally in favor of the two Emperors.
And then, the pressages of the troubles to come between the nation of the Rhõmaîoi and of the races of the Franks were seen even before the end of the campaign.
Matters such as the division and distribution of spoils, ransoms for prisoners, resources and other goods, likely provoked arguments. However, it was the geopolitical matter that generated an impasse: what was to be the fate of the realm of Egypt? While we have no certainty of the terms of these debates, we can infer that the Rhõmaîon Basileus had expected to annex the whole of Egypt, even if content with ceding shares of spoils, but many of the Frankish lords desired to hold the lands as well.
Henry seems to have been ambivalent to these circumstances; while he himself did not apparently envision Egypt as a new Crusader State and much less as a new imperial territory, and did not seem bent on faltering with the promises of honor given to his son-in-law, he, however, did seem partial towards the Crusader knights who stayed to occupy and rule the realm for themselves, provided that they gave their oaths of fealty to *Alexios. The foremost among them, after all, was none other than his own cousin,
Welf, the powerful Margrave of Tuscany and Spoleto, who claimed various cities in Lower Egypt, including Damietta, for himself, supported by many Latin nobles. Soon after Henry's departure, Welf, who now commanded an army of three Teuton and Lombard hundred knights, assisted by the Flemings and the Hungarians, took possession of Cairo and Fustat, and would later be acclaimed by knights and barons alike - or, more likely, he produced such an act of acclamation -
Princeps et Doux Aegypti/Egyptorum [in Teutonic, simply
Herzog], and received oaths of fealty from other noblemen, who desired the wealth of the heartland of Egypt.
This was an obvious, even if tacit, challenge to the Rhõmaîon suzerainty, because the title was not granted, but rather assumed by him in spite of the Basileus' will.
Yet, the question was easier solved in paper than in practice: the Franks in sheer numbers outnumbered the Rhõmaîon by far, and had occupied many cities and strongholds, while *Alexios saw it only as an strategic imperative to place his soldiers in Alexandria and in Cairo, Fustat and Bilbeis. The idea was to distribute the revenues of the money-fiefs, preserving the very much same structure of administration and taxation used by the Fatimids, but one could not deny that the Franks had indeed come to stay in Egypt - a land far more bountiful and prosperous than the whole rest of the Orient.
With the Egyptians out of the way - and whatever Muslim potentates that could have opposed them, in fact - there was seemingly no other common adversary in sight to united these races.
Of the Alexios’ Seclusion and Abdication
By all accounts, the Basileus returned to Constantinople profoundly changed, haunted by the tragedies and barbarities that he had witnessed - no, partaken in, actually. Any experience of war ought to be able to transform a man's perception of the world, let alone a war as brutal as the Crusades in Egypt.
His thoughts were now ever besieged by these dark memories; transitioning from the body to the soul by the oculi of his Christian devotion and piety, they germinated sentiments of guilt, hopelessness and misery. Such is, sadly, the condition of Mankind under the cursed ascendancy of Adam and Eve, and even the sovereigns over the skin of the Earth stay at the mercy of the eternal perdition lest they achieve salvation. The Franks believed that they ought to receive divine amnesty in this carnal plane by brandishing their swords against the infidels, though Christ had said that “all those that take the sword shall perish by the sword”; of course, salvation had to be achieved by faith and piety, not by bloodshed
[4].
In the years immediately afterwards, *Alexios remained in almost absolute seclusion in the Palace, accessible to but a few select courtiers and kinspersons, and would dedicate himself to theological inquiries and religious acts of devotion. Sometimes, he would order the palatine officers to distribute alms, food and donatives to the impoverished citizens, or a donation to churches, or a new prayer.
Niketas Choniates argues that the Basileus was given to sloth and dissoluteness, his spirit corrupted by the vices of a bountiful living, while the more pragmatic look of John Kinnamos attributes his seclusion to a deep melancholy provoked by the unbalance of his humors. Other contemporary accounts describe the solitude as being a façade to disguise his obsessive inquiries into mysticism and alchemy, or even that he had been stricken by a raving madness. More recent scholarship considers that he likely was suffering with chronic depression or perhaps bipolar disorder (maybe even both), pathologies certainly aggravated by his timid and aloof personality.
The Emperor's practical absence became notorious and evident not just by the fact that not only the procedures and common activities of the public administration started to be carried out by his various aristocratic and bureaucratic subordinates, but also the great political decisions of the State started to be delegated as well. This was and is problematic in any monarchical commonwealth, where the monarch personifies the authority of the state and of concord in the realm, and even more so in Rhõmanía, because the complex bureaucratic apparatus and the extensive network of aristocratic foci revolved around the person of the Autocrat as well.
The one who came to exercise enormous influence in the Imperial court was none other than the
Dowager Empress, the Emperor's mother,
Sophia, to the detriment of his wife,
Anastasia - there is some merit, perhaps, to the scholarly argument that *Alexios’ mother herself might have enforced his own palatine sequestration so as to preserve the image and the authority of the Crown and to dissuade pretenders and conspiracies. It certainly helped that the Empress Sophia, a charismatic and intelligent woman, already living at the court of Constantinople for many years, integrated into the Byzantine culture and mores despite her Armenian ascendancy, could depend on several influential supporters - such as
Alexios Axouch (rumored to be her lover after Manuel’s death) and his sons,
Andronikos Lapardas and
John Doukas, the
Great Hetaeriarch [Greek. megas hetaireiarches] and
John Komnenos Vatatzes. Anastasia, in turn, despite having joined Byzantine society by virtue of her religious conversion to Orthodox Christianity, was still seen as a foreigner of barbarian blood, whose position at court served only to favor the despised Latins. That she was Teuton, and not Italian or French, for example, was wholly irrelevant. The new Basilissa would never obtain the same clout of influence and adoration as her own mother-in-law, whose presence in court would remain considerable for many years to come. Regarded by the contemptuous courtiers as a semi-barbarian foreigner destitute of any significant marital devotion of her consort, the Basileus, Anastasia had indeed surrounded herself with other Latin favorites to attempt to counterbalance the pervasive influence of the various ministers and mistresses who vied for the Emperor’s attention.
A few modern historians, such as [Fictional Greek Scholar] suggest that, during Sophia's tenure, the Greeks and the Armenians, due to a supposed cultural and confessional proximity, would have allied themselves in the Imperial court against the Latins to promote their own interests. This Romantic, rather oversimplified, perspective, does not seem to conform to the social reality of Byzantine society, where the point of view was ever based in the perception of "otherness" in regards to cultural, linguistic and religious divides. The Armenians were seen as xenos as much as the Franks, and whatever admittance they saw into the inner circle of the upper echelons of Byzantine society in the period was the preserve of select aristocrats from Cilicia and Osrhoene associated to the Basilissa dowager. And, if they did oppose the ever growing Latin influence in Constantinople, it was less due to cultural bigotry and more out of incompatible political agendas.
In any event, after some years, we see an abrupt change of scenario: in 1185 A.D., barely two years after his campaign in Egypt, *Alexios decided to abdicate in favor of his younger brother. At the time, he had no sons, only an infant daughter, Angelica, and it did seem that she was not considered as a viable successor.
Now, *Alexios announced he would live the remainder of his life dedicated to contemplation and to the love of God, and, thus, after divorcing Anastasia, he donned the monastic habit and joined the Athonites, where he would indeed live the rest of his life in confinement.
While we can not reasonably doubt that his motives were sincere, and that, perhaps he expected that pledging his mortal life to veneration of the divine would allow him to cope with the melancholy that tortured him, the unfolding of the events and the circumstances that orbited his abdication of the throne and the abnegation of his matrimony were most likely influenced by the agency of powerful individuals of the imperial court, such as Basilissa Sophia, the Patriarch of Constantinople,
Alexios Axouch, and others. The course of events, from 1185 to 1186, when *
Andronikos Porphyrogénnētos was crowned, is rather expeditious and convenient; from the perspective of these powerful patricians, they were simultaneously ridding the throne from a passive and feeble monarch, who had demonstrated weakness in face of the arrogance of the Franks and of a disliked consort of dubious loyalties, in exchange for a more energetic and conscientious, but still compliant, successor. Indeed,
Andronikos I was described, in his twenty-third year of life, as being strong of body and of mind, and devoted to his mother and to the will of the great nobles.
Andronikos certainly did saw ahead of him a destiny of greatness and he firmly believed that it was necessary to enforce the hegemony and suzerainty of the heirs of the ancient Roman Empire upon the haughty Franks, who had for so long usurped and undermined the authority of the Emperors.
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Author’s Comment: To be candid with my readers, I still don’t know if I liked this chapter, in the sense that, I have doubts if this is the best/most interesting narrative development in regards to the Byzantines. I can’t still figure if I’m convinced by the way I described Alexios’ accession and abdication in adequate terms. But then, this chapter has long been in the making (ever since the end of the last year), and it does allows me to advance the TL and to tackle some issues I’ll need to address:
1. After the two attempts of the conquest of Egypt by Manuel, it was all too convenient to have a successor emperor who was, in some ways, an opposite to Manuel’s ambitious and proactive personality. This makes it easy to have the Franks finally be the protagonists instead of coadjuvants of the Egyptian conquest.
2. The flaws of the Komnenian regime, and more specifically of Manuel’s policies in regards to the political cohesion of the imperial dynasty and the aristocratic circles. While these flaws will not necessarily thwart the longevity of the dynasty in the rule of Byzantium, they will give space to events of political instability - as they did IOTL between Alexios II and Andronikos’ accession.
3. The outcome of the Third Crusade, without making the Crusaders even worse of a Mary Sue. Perhaps now we have some plausible reason for the unfolding of events.
The first part of this installment is mostly based on the description of the “Komnenian System” as presented by Paul Magdalino in Chapter 17 of “The Cambridge History of the Byzantine Empire c. 500–1492” [v.g. The Middle Empire c. 700–1204. (2019). In J. Shepard (Ed.), The Cambridge History of the Byzantine Empire c. 500–1492 (p. 249-728). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.]. It is a very interesting and important analysis of the merits and flaws of the political habitat developed by the Komnenoi between the late 11th C. and late 12th C., and it sheds some light to explain the rather quick downfall of the Komnenoi between its apogee under Manuel and its collapse under Andronikos.
While the Byzantines and, in particular, the Komnenoi in rule, will have a longer-lived existence, I figure it was fit to address the broad aspects of this structure and to see how it might be impacted by the divergences we’ve been seeing in the TL.
Chapter’s Footnotes:
[1] Even if I think that we don’t need to shy away from using the apparently alien term of “feudalism” (or “feudalization”) to describe the peculiarities of the distribution of certain economic, political and military resources from the central ruler to the subordinate rulers during the Komnenian Period, we must always have caution precisely because there are some differences. For example, though the pronoia system, involving distribution of land among the martial equestrian nobility, seems conspicuously similar to the general Western and Central European model, in Byzantium the decentralization of power into the provinces owed to military expediency, but the larger part of the powers of the state were still centralized (and concentrated) in the monarch, the Constantinopolitan bureaucracy and the court, a far cry from the situation seen elsewhere, in which the monarchs were in constant dispute for actual centralization without jeopardizing the aristocratic privileges and prerogatives.
[2] The word AIMA means “blood” in Greek, and it has been associated to a supposed prophecy regarding the Komnenian Emperors: that each monarch would have the first letter of their names related to the order of the coined acronym A-I-M-A. Manuel apparently believed in the prophecy and, IOTL, he named all his male sons with the initial letter “A” - thus we had historically Alexios, Ioannes, Manuel and Alexios. In-TL, the situation is very similar, barring the fact that Manuel actually had three sons: Alexios, Andronikos and Alexandros.
[3] OTL William the Good of Sicily. Here he’s not King.
[4] There’s a very interesting argument regarding the position of the Byzantines towards the idea of holy wars and Crusades, and the idea of absolution of sins through participation in warfare. In general terms, these ideas, which became fundamental tenets in the Latin doctrine during the Crusader Era, were never really accepted in the Byzantine East. If anyone is interested in further reading, I suggest this article: <https://novoscriptorium.com/2019/09...are-as-a-divinely-ordained-means-of-religion/>. Some passages of the chapter were based on this text.
[5] This Andronikos is a fictional one. I know it's confusing to have many Andronicuses around, but it was a fairly common name among the Komnenoi dynasts.
- Also, i remember @Rdffigueira saying the concerning situation as relatively negligible, so i may also forewarn every and all that this is mostly a personal thing of mine vs myself from two years ago, although, admittedly is a pleasure to highlight these things, after all, i'm bringing something (negligible) to the table, that surely counts right? 
