The Tzimiskiad: A Iōannēs Tzimiskes Co-Op twixt Romanos_the_Fourth and EparkosTonTrapezous
- Thread starter Eparkhos
- Start date
-
- Tags
- byzantine empire
Thank you, Prefect. The basis for our PoD is comprised of two parts: Tzimiskes’s survival of his OTL poisoning in late 975/early 976, and his siring of a male heir (or two) with his wife Theodora. What new challenges might Tzimiskes’s Empire face now that his rule is ensured? To what glorious ends will he guide the Eastern Roman Empire? What adventures shall he see along the way? Stay tuned to find out...
For those of you who are wondering, the TL will be written mostly in third person objective narrative style, with a few extra updates for stylistic purposes. Updates will be weekly, every Saturday with an occasional Wednesday or Thursday special episode. We are currently working on the first update, so hang in there!
For those of you who are wondering, the TL will be written mostly in third person objective narrative style, with a few extra updates for stylistic purposes. Updates will be weekly, every Saturday with an occasional Wednesday or Thursday special episode. We are currently working on the first update, so hang in there!
Last edited:
From the I. Skylitzes Encyclopedia of the Roman Empire, Edition V:
“John I Kourkouas, called “Tzimiskes”, (c. 925 - 994), East Roman Emperor, was born in Cappadocia, the son of a distinguished statesman of the Armenian Kourkouas family. An outstanding general, he aided his uncle Nikephoros Phokas in taking the throne in the year 963. Afterward he conspired to slay Nikephoros and take the throne for himself, with the help of Nikephoros’s wife, Empress Theophano... After killing Phokas, Tzimiskes was elected Emperor, and resolved to justify his coup by conquering the enemies of the Empire...Defeated the Russians at the battle of Dorostolon, forcing them to abandon Thrace... Defeated the Abassid Caliphate in a series of celebrated campaigns, taking Sidon, Beirut, and Tripoli for the Empire, among others... at the crest of his triumph, Tzimiskes returned to Constantinople, only to uncover an unwelcome conspiracy within his own camp...”
“John I Kourkouas, called “Tzimiskes”, (c. 925 - 994), East Roman Emperor, was born in Cappadocia, the son of a distinguished statesman of the Armenian Kourkouas family. An outstanding general, he aided his uncle Nikephoros Phokas in taking the throne in the year 963. Afterward he conspired to slay Nikephoros and take the throne for himself, with the help of Nikephoros’s wife, Empress Theophano... After killing Phokas, Tzimiskes was elected Emperor, and resolved to justify his coup by conquering the enemies of the Empire...Defeated the Russians at the battle of Dorostolon, forcing them to abandon Thrace... Defeated the Abassid Caliphate in a series of celebrated campaigns, taking Sidon, Beirut, and Tripoli for the Empire, among others... at the crest of his triumph, Tzimiskes returned to Constantinople, only to uncover an unwelcome conspiracy within his own camp...”
His eldest son would still be in his teens when Tzimisces dies. Will he live long enough to build on is father's successes, or will someone squander it all in a palace coup?
A series of fortuitous events will help his son’s chances of survival.
Spoilers...
EDIT: To put it honestly, Basil’s threat will not be ignored.
Last edited:
I: POD
The Cilician farmlands, brown and parched from months of drought, shimmered beneath the waves of an unusual hot fall. Ioānnēs Tzimiskes reigned in his horse and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his dark red shirt. He sighed, swung off his horse and walked towards the supply wagons traveling alongside his column, idly watching the Klibanophoroi ride along the dust-covered road. Athanatoi marched alongside them, the foot soldiers running at the same clip as the horsemen. Ioannes stopped next to one of the wagons, whistled and raised an arm into the air, and an officer broke off from the column and rode over to him. He was young, probably late teens, and wiped his face as he tried to bow in the saddle. Ioannes tossed him the horse’s lead.
“Keep her moving, in the line. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
The young officer nodded, and started to ride off. Ioannes called after him.
“Thank you….”
The officer whirled around so fast that it nearly unseated him. “Manouēl Erōtíkos Komnēnos, sir.”
Ioannes grimaced and nodded, and Manouēl Erōtíkos Komnēnos rode off back towards the army. He jogged after the closest wagon, muttering
Who the hell names their kid ‘Erōtíkos?’”
The carts rode two feet above the ground, and Ioannes me the jump to its back in one bound. He dropped his waterskin into one of the crates, pulled out a new one and slung it over his shoulder. He jumped off and ran to reclaim his horse.
The sun dipped low over the Tauros Mountains, casting the camp into shadow. Ioannes stood from his seat on the low dirt wall and walked into the tilt, brushing past canvass fabric as he went. He was five rows in when he turned left, and seven tents after that he stopped, and leaned on one tent’s frame. He rapped lightly on the rails, and after a
few seconds with no response, swept open the flat and shouted in, “Vardans!”
Vardans Skleros shot out of bed, lunging for his sword. Ioannes grabbed his arm and jerked it towards him. Vardans released his scabbard and gave an exasperated sigh.
“Ioannes? What the hell is it?”
Tzimiskes glared at him him. “Watch your mouth, I’m not pulling Patriarch Antony off you again.” Skleros glared back. “And Vasil’s holding an emergency meeting.”
Vardans rose, and Tzimiskes turned and walked out, Skleros scrambling after him. They picked their way across the camp, and in a few minutes they were outside the command tent. Ioannes held the flap open and waved
Vardan through. He walked past him, and Ioannes stepped in and dropped th flap.
The tent was dim, lit only by a single lantern. The eunuch Vasileios Lekapenos sat at a table in the middle of the space and Kristophoros Kourkouas, Ioannes’ younger cousin, paced along the edge of the tent. He stopped when they entered, and sat on one of the camp stools around the edge of the table. Vasileios rose to greet them.
“Basileus Tzimiskes,” he said in a thick Konstantinopolitan accent. The eunuch slid a pitcher of water from under the table and poured some into a wooden cup. “Would you like something to drink, basileus?” he said.
Ioannes shook his head and held up his waterskin. Vasileios grimaced and set the
cup on the table.
“Something wrong, Vasil?” Skleros said. His eyes were narrowed and his face couched.
“No, no, I’m fi—” Kristophoros snatched the cup and downed it in one gulp. He turned and nodded at Ioannes. “Sorry, I should have asked first.”
Vasileios went bug-eyed.
“What was it this meeting was about?” Ioannes asked.
Vasileios laughed, high-pitched and anxious. “Oh, not much, there’s a new Fatimid Claiph, that’s all.” He started walking towards the tent entrance. “That’s all, we can all lea—”
Kristophoros slumped forward, his head slamming into the table. Ioannes and Vardans both shot out of the seats,
Tzimiskes grabbing his cousin and Skleros the eunuch. Vasileios threw himself forward, but his foot slid on a puddle of spilled water and he flew backwards slamming his head into the table. Ioannes pressed his fingers to Kristophoros’ neck. No pulse. Across the room, Lekapenos gave a deep sigh and stopped moving.
Tzimiskes and Skleros looked at each other, at the bodies, and back at each other.
“Good God, that bastard.” Vardans muttered.
“Keep her moving, in the line. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
The young officer nodded, and started to ride off. Ioannes called after him.
“Thank you….”
The officer whirled around so fast that it nearly unseated him. “Manouēl Erōtíkos Komnēnos, sir.”
Ioannes grimaced and nodded, and Manouēl Erōtíkos Komnēnos rode off back towards the army. He jogged after the closest wagon, muttering
Who the hell names their kid ‘Erōtíkos?’”
The carts rode two feet above the ground, and Ioannes me the jump to its back in one bound. He dropped his waterskin into one of the crates, pulled out a new one and slung it over his shoulder. He jumped off and ran to reclaim his horse.
The sun dipped low over the Tauros Mountains, casting the camp into shadow. Ioannes stood from his seat on the low dirt wall and walked into the tilt, brushing past canvass fabric as he went. He was five rows in when he turned left, and seven tents after that he stopped, and leaned on one tent’s frame. He rapped lightly on the rails, and after a
few seconds with no response, swept open the flat and shouted in, “Vardans!”
Vardans Skleros shot out of bed, lunging for his sword. Ioannes grabbed his arm and jerked it towards him. Vardans released his scabbard and gave an exasperated sigh.
“Ioannes? What the hell is it?”
Tzimiskes glared at him him. “Watch your mouth, I’m not pulling Patriarch Antony off you again.” Skleros glared back. “And Vasil’s holding an emergency meeting.”
Vardans rose, and Tzimiskes turned and walked out, Skleros scrambling after him. They picked their way across the camp, and in a few minutes they were outside the command tent. Ioannes held the flap open and waved
Vardan through. He walked past him, and Ioannes stepped in and dropped th flap.
The tent was dim, lit only by a single lantern. The eunuch Vasileios Lekapenos sat at a table in the middle of the space and Kristophoros Kourkouas, Ioannes’ younger cousin, paced along the edge of the tent. He stopped when they entered, and sat on one of the camp stools around the edge of the table. Vasileios rose to greet them.
“Basileus Tzimiskes,” he said in a thick Konstantinopolitan accent. The eunuch slid a pitcher of water from under the table and poured some into a wooden cup. “Would you like something to drink, basileus?” he said.
Ioannes shook his head and held up his waterskin. Vasileios grimaced and set the
cup on the table.
“Something wrong, Vasil?” Skleros said. His eyes were narrowed and his face couched.
“No, no, I’m fi—” Kristophoros snatched the cup and downed it in one gulp. He turned and nodded at Ioannes. “Sorry, I should have asked first.”
Vasileios went bug-eyed.
“What was it this meeting was about?” Ioannes asked.
Vasileios laughed, high-pitched and anxious. “Oh, not much, there’s a new Fatimid Claiph, that’s all.” He started walking towards the tent entrance. “That’s all, we can all lea—”
Kristophoros slumped forward, his head slamming into the table. Ioannes and Vardans both shot out of the seats,
Tzimiskes grabbing his cousin and Skleros the eunuch. Vasileios threw himself forward, but his foot slid on a puddle of spilled water and he flew backwards slamming his head into the table. Ioannes pressed his fingers to Kristophoros’ neck. No pulse. Across the room, Lekapenos gave a deep sigh and stopped moving.
Tzimiskes and Skleros looked at each other, at the bodies, and back at each other.
“Good God, that bastard.” Vardans muttered.
Last edited:
BASILEIOS MAKEDON... son of Basileus Romanos II, and junior co-Emperor from 960 until 976... was born during the reign of his grandfather Constantine VII, who died shortly after his birth... crowned as a symbasileus at the age of two, alongside his father... after his father's mysterious death in 963, Basileios remained a figure of little political significance, and is rarely attested during the reign of Emperor Nikephoros, who officially acted as his protector and regent... as he grew into young adulthood, Basileios was watched with increasing suspicion by his latest regent, Ioannes Kourkouas Tzimiskes, who sought to dominate the affairs of state alone...
Last edited:
So the Komnenid dynasty gets butterflied away. Such are the Vicissitudes of alternate history. :-D
are you sure? The only person that is said to have died is kristophoros who isnt one of the komneni, unless im missing something?
The Komnenoi as a dynasty are not going to be completely butterflied, though they will obviously have a very different history ITTL.
A: Yeah, The Komenoi are fine and are...important...later.
B: It’s implied that Vasileios was killed when his head struck the table. The sigh is a death rattle
Now, after that update you may be wondering, ‘Who the hell would name their kid Erotikos?’
The Pale Death of the Saracens, that’s who.
Erotikos Komnenos is the bastard son of Bardas/Vardans Phokas, the son of Nikephoros II. Vardans mistress tracked down Nikephoros in 961, and upon learning of Bardas/Vardans infidelity agrees to support them both, nicknaming the child Erotikos and forcing Bardas/Vardans to spend time with him.
Is this a Chekov’s Gun?
Maybe. We haven’t decided yet.
Is this a shameless bump?
Also maybe. I’m not going to tell you.
The next update will be on Weds day. Good night and sleep well.
The Pale Death of the Saracens, that’s who.
Erotikos Komnenos is the bastard son of Bardas/Vardans Phokas, the son of Nikephoros II. Vardans mistress tracked down Nikephoros in 961, and upon learning of Bardas/Vardans infidelity agrees to support them both, nicknaming the child Erotikos and forcing Bardas/Vardans to spend time with him.
Is this a Chekov’s Gun?
Maybe. We haven’t decided yet.
Is this a shameless bump?
Also maybe. I’m not going to tell you.
The next update will be on Weds day. Good night and sleep well.
Since we’re not going to use it, here was my original Goldbergian scheme to kill of the sons of Romanos:
“Pft. No.
Basil is taken on a trip to Khalkedon, but is thrown out of the boat halfway. The staff at Khalkedon is told that he returned to Konstantinopolis with a cold. The next day, Basil’s corpse is thrown in front of a speeding oxcart, making everyone think he’s dead. The funeral is close coffin due to the oxcart strike, hiding the signs of drowning. Basil’s body is taken out and the coffin filled with dry straw and manure. The smell fills the catacombs and Konstantinos is fetched, and told that the body was improperly embalmed, and that it has to be opened to be reembalmed. Konstantinos is asked to be there as he is Basil’s only living family.
Then, a suicidal man is found, and he and Konstantinos open the coffin alone. As soon as it is opened, the man throws in a burning rope, causing a massive explosion that kills them both and destroys the coffin. This is called a collapse in the tombs, caused by centuries of poor maintenance.”
“Pft. No.
Basil is taken on a trip to Khalkedon, but is thrown out of the boat halfway. The staff at Khalkedon is told that he returned to Konstantinopolis with a cold. The next day, Basil’s corpse is thrown in front of a speeding oxcart, making everyone think he’s dead. The funeral is close coffin due to the oxcart strike, hiding the signs of drowning. Basil’s body is taken out and the coffin filled with dry straw and manure. The smell fills the catacombs and Konstantinos is fetched, and told that the body was improperly embalmed, and that it has to be opened to be reembalmed. Konstantinos is asked to be there as he is Basil’s only living family.
Then, a suicidal man is found, and he and Konstantinos open the coffin alone. As soon as it is opened, the man throws in a burning rope, causing a massive explosion that kills them both and destroys the coffin. This is called a collapse in the tombs, caused by centuries of poor maintenance.”
Atop the Konstantinian Sea Walls, Vasileios II Makedoni plucked hatefully at his lyre, staring into the wood as to not half to look up. He got eight notes right, then hit the wrong note. Dammit.
“Again.”
He glared up at his tutor, Sabbas Hatzipas, nostrils flaring. The man glared back.
“No.”
Sabbas’ mouth twisted into a false smile. “What did you say?”
Vasileios stood and threw his lyre into the Prospontis. “I said no. I’m tired of having to deal with your shit teaching.” He spat onto the ground directly in front of the tutor’s chair. “Now have a good frickin’ day.” He turned and stomped towards the stairs.
“Wait.”
He turned around. “What the hell is it?”
Hatzipas walked purposefully towards him. He stopped about a foot away and put a hand on Vasileios’ shoulder. He leaned forward and looked him in the eye. Vasileios felt a sharp pain in his chest, then nothing.
“I was only teaching you shit because you are shit.”
Sabbas pushed the young emperor’s body into the sea, then turned and walked back to his chair. He reached under it and pulled out a jug of wine and a fire striker, then drank the wine without swallowing. He smashed Vasileios’ stool into the chair, pulled a sliver of wood out of the wreck and set it alight. He threw the striker over the wall, then dropped the wood into his mouth.
When the City Watch arrived a few minutes later, all they found were a pair of broken stools, a half-empty bottle of wine, and the splattered remains of the tutor.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I managed to get this out. I'll have the regular update on Wednesday, hopefully this'll tide you over.
“Again.”
He glared up at his tutor, Sabbas Hatzipas, nostrils flaring. The man glared back.
“No.”
Sabbas’ mouth twisted into a false smile. “What did you say?”
Vasileios stood and threw his lyre into the Prospontis. “I said no. I’m tired of having to deal with your shit teaching.” He spat onto the ground directly in front of the tutor’s chair. “Now have a good frickin’ day.” He turned and stomped towards the stairs.
“Wait.”
He turned around. “What the hell is it?”
Hatzipas walked purposefully towards him. He stopped about a foot away and put a hand on Vasileios’ shoulder. He leaned forward and looked him in the eye. Vasileios felt a sharp pain in his chest, then nothing.
“I was only teaching you shit because you are shit.”
Sabbas pushed the young emperor’s body into the sea, then turned and walked back to his chair. He reached under it and pulled out a jug of wine and a fire striker, then drank the wine without swallowing. He smashed Vasileios’ stool into the chair, pulled a sliver of wood out of the wreck and set it alight. He threw the striker over the wall, then dropped the wood into his mouth.
When the City Watch arrived a few minutes later, all they found were a pair of broken stools, a half-empty bottle of wine, and the splattered remains of the tutor.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I managed to get this out. I'll have the regular update on Wednesday, hopefully this'll tide you over.