Recapture (4)
Four heads were displayed on the city gates as a grim warning. The heads of Ioannikios, Devgoros, Alexios, and Nestoric dangled there, picked clean by crows. An extreme punishment, rare even in the East Roman Empire. Yet such severity stemmed from the profound shock their treason had inflicted on the entire empire.
"Wah... my home..."
"How are we supposed to live now..."
People plunged into despair. Ioannikios's decision had obliterated their livelihoods entirely. Naturally, their rage toward the man responsible pierced the heavens.
"Damn that Ioannikios!"
"I'd grind him to dust and drink him down if I could!"
This fury inevitably spilled over onto his house, the Keroularios family. The Keroularios clan had long dominated as power brokers in the East Roman Empire. Some had married into Western European nobility and settled there, but most remained rooted in their stronghold, Constantinople. Sensing the darkening mood, the Keroularios survivors tried to flee with their wealth—but the furious crowds made even that impossible. Desperate, they sought refuge in the church housing the Ecumenical Patriarch, none other than Ioannikios's son, Michael I.
"Your Holiness, protect us."
"You must safeguard our house. Only then can Lord Ioannikios's legacy endure."
Michael I regarded them with a cold stare. He shook his head, rejecting the survivors' pleas.
"I am but a servant of God. He shall bear witness that I share no ties with the Keroularios family."
To the survivors, it was absurd. Michael I had ascended to Ecumenical Patriarch at a young age solely through his father's aid. Yet once enthroned, he had distanced himself from the Keroularios name. In truth, when Ioannikios found himself cornered, he had begged his son repeatedly for church troops—but Michael I had refused to budge.
"How can you, who became Patriarch through Lord Ioannikios's support, utter such words?"
A kinsman's accusation. Michael I rose from his seat and gestured. Soldiers emerged from the shadows. Seeing their menacing air, the kinsman fell silent.
"My rise to God's foremost servant was His divine choice, not my house's. It would be just to execute you for insulting His will, but out of blood ties, I grant mercy. Depart."
Recognizing the final warning, the kinsman nodded reluctantly and led the Keroularios remnants from the church.
As he left, a man approached: Asporos, the archbishop whose efforts had chiefly secured Michael I's patriarchate.
"Well done."
Michael I nodded silently, then posed a question to Asporos.
"Such upheavals will happen often, won't they?"
"Unavoidable, Your Holiness. But you've consistently refused the Keroularios pleas— the Emperor knows this too."
"The Emperor..."
Three emperors now ruled Constantinople: Constantine VIII, his daughter Zoi, and her husband Rogerius. Yet only Rogerius truly deserved the title. Constantine VIII had been a powerless figure even as co-emperor with Basil II. Zoi handled internal affairs but lacked military command, limiting her sway. Rogerius, however, had executed the traitor Ioannikios and won universal acclaim— and as the one wielding true military power, the Imperator, he was the genuine emperor.
"I'm glad we sent Archbishop Asporos to the coronation of Emperor Rogerius and Empress Zoi."
Had they aligned with the Keroularios instead back then, the consequences barely bore imagining. The church held power, but not enough to challenge secular might. In Western Europe, even popes long deferred to emperors; the East Roman Empire followed suit. Defying its emperor would be folly, no matter the church's strength.
"Shall I go once more as Your Holiness's envoy of congratulations to Emperor Rogerius?"
"You, Archbishop?"
"Yes. Celebrating the suppression of rebels would signal whose side the Orthodox Church stands on—the Emperor will understand."
Sending an envoy to congratulate Rogerius on retaking the capital declared political alignment. By disavowing the Keroularios and affirming amity with the emperor, the church removed any pretext for pressure.
"A sound idea. Though it means deferring the crusade against the infidels."
Michael I had been plotting a crusade, but current crises pushed it down the list.
"With the capital in ashes, reconstruction will take years. Our plans must wait."
The patriarch nodded. Asporos continued.
"If our church aids the rebuilding, the Emperor will respond favorably."
A sensible proposal. Michael I sought the archbishop's view.
"To what extent should we contribute?"
"To prove Your Holiness's innocence and win the Emperor's favor..."
Asporos scribbled a figure and passed it over. Michael I's eyes widened at the sum—it strained the church, but was feasible. He nodded.
"The rest is at your discretion, Archbishop Asporos."
Words brimming with trust. In response, Asporos crossed himself, vowing before God to give his utmost.
With the nobles reduced to commoners, I confiscated most of their manors and wealth. Under normal law, impossible—even for non-nobles, all East Roman property enjoyed legal protection. But these nobles were traitors who had betrayed the empire alongside the Keroularios. Traitors' estates were forfeit, executions standard. Yet in our bargain, I spared their lives in exchange for demotion—leaving room to seize portions of their holdings. Thus, I appropriated their manors, farms, factories, and private forces for the state.
"This should drastically shorten Constantinople's reconstruction."
The damage was catastrophic. Without funds, relocating the capital might prove necessary—a historical and symbolic disaster to avoid at all costs. Yet I couldn't let people languish as refugees indefinitely; contemplating relocation was inevitable. Thankfully, resources abounded for rebuilding. It would take time, but Constantinople's fall as capital could be averted.
"What are you thinking, my sweet?"
Zoi approached. I drew her waist close and kissed her briefly.
"So affectionate."
"Thank you. For trusting me and coming this far."
When her uncle Basil II was assassinated, Zoi had honored her father Constantine VIII's will, following me to distant Lazica. For a court-bred woman, the exile was torment. Yet she never complained. Even arriving in near-wasteland Lazica, she threw herself into its revival. Her devotion enabled the reconquest of the Roman capital, Constantinople.
"Thank you for saying so, my sweet."
Zoi slipped from my arms and bowed formally in gratitude.
"I'm the grateful one. For keeping your promise to save my father."
I'd immediately informed Zoi and Theodora of Constantine VIII's safe rescue. They rushed to Constantinople at once. Seeing their gaunt father, they wept and embraced.
"Glad Father-in-law is safe. How is he?"
"Theodora's nursing him. As you know, my sweet, he had chronic ailments."
Constantine VIII, co-emperor with Basil II, shunned politics partly due to this mysterious illness. During the palace escape, he'd even posed as bait to buy us time. His noble sacrifice—if not for it, Ioannikios would have captured and executed us.
"He needs to recover."
Zoi met my worried tone with a gentle gaze, then spoke cautiously.
"Father wishes to see you, my sweet."
"His Majesty? Then I must go at once."
As I turned, Zoi caught my hand.
"Important words will be exchanged."
"..."
Her hint of gravity. I gazed at her steadily.
"Whatever it is, respect Father's choice."
"Does Father-in-law feel the same?"
"Yes. He spoke first. And... I'll honor his decision too."
Zoi's quiet resolve left me nodding in silence.