Justinian II: The Roman Emperor Who Lost his Nose and his Throne and Regained Both

By Peter Crawford

“An exceptional, well written, exhaustively researched, and detailed biography” of the controversial Roman emperor—from the author of Constantius II (Midwest Book Review).
 
Justinian II became Roman emperor at a time when the Empire was beset by external enemies. His forces gained success against the Arabs and Bulgars but his religious and social policies fueled internal opposition which resulted in him being deposed and mutilated (his nose was cut off) in 695. After a decade in exile, during which he strangled two would-be assassins with his bare hands, he regained power through a coup d’etat with the backing of the erstwhile Bulgar enemy (an alliance sealed by the marriage of his daughter, Anastasia).
 
His second reign was seemingly harsher and again beset by both external and internal threats and dissension over doctrinal matters. An energetic and active ruler, his reign saw developments in various areas, including numismatics, administration, finance and architecture, but he was deposed a second time in 711 and beheaded.
 
Drawing on all the available evidence and the most recent research, Peter Crawford makes a long-overdue re-assessment of Justinian’s colorful but troubled career and asks if he fully deserves his poor reputation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Oct 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9781526755315

Peter Crawford

Dr Peter Crawford gained a PhD in Ancient History at Queen's University, Belfast under the tutelage of respected classicist Professor Brian Campbell. His previous books, _The War of the Three Gods_ (2013) and _Constantius II_ (2015) were also published by Pen & Sword. He lives in County Antrim, Northern Ireland

Book preview

Justinian II

For Nana and Papa

Justinian II

The Roman Emperor Who

Lost his Nose and his

Throne … and Regained Both!

Peter Crawford

First published in Great Britain in 2021 by

Pen & Sword History

An imprint of

Pen & Sword Books Ltd

Yorkshire – Philadelphia

Copyright © Peter Crawford 2021

ISBN 978 1 52675 530 8

ePUB ISBN 978 1 52675 531 5

The right of Peter Crawford to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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Queenie: ‘Just tell me one thing. Is her nose as pretty as mine?’

Blackadder: ‘Oh, no, no … ma’am.’

Queenie: ‘Oh good, because otherwise I would have cut it off. And then you would have to marry someone without a nose and that wouldn’t be very nice, would it?’

Blackadder: ‘No, ma’am.’

Queenie: ‘Imagine the mess when she’s got a cold! Yuck!’

Blackadder: ‘Well, quite ma’am.’

Blackadder II: Episode 1 ‘Bells’

Contents

Acknowledgements

Introduction

List of Illustrations and Maps

List of Plates

List of Emperors, Caliphs, Popes and Patriarchs

Heraclian Stemma

Umayyad Stemma

Chapter 1 The Roman Empire of

AD

668

Chapter 2 Imperial Opponents: Arabs, Avars, Lombards, Slavs, Bulgars and Khazars

Chapter 3 Before Power: The Early Life of Justinian II

Chapter 4 Justinian’s First War with the Umayyads

Chapter 5 Saving the Second City: Justinian in Thessalonica

Chapter 6 A ‘War of Images’ all about The Money? The Romano-Umayyad War of 692

Chapter 7 Justinian, The Orthodox Champion?

Chapter 8 Administering an Empire in Transition: Forces, Furrows and Finances under Justinian II

Chapter 9 Mutilation and Exile: The Revolt of Leontios

Chapter 10 The Lion and the Snake: The Reigns of Leontios and Tiberius III

Chapter 11 Justinian’s Exile and Restoration: Chersonites, Khazars and Bulgars

Chapter 12 On the Warpath? The Restored Justinian in the Balkans and the East

Chapter 13 Rome and Ravenna: Justinian’s Revenge and Reconciliation

Chapter 14 Cherson, Khazars and the Revolt of Bardanes: The End of the Heraclians

Epilogue

Conclusions

Notes

Bibliography

Platessection

Acknowledgements

Iwould like to give thanks to the established team of contributors who have played some part in the production and publication of this book.

To Phil Sidnell and Pen & Sword for once again giving me the opportunity to write about ancient history. Or are we into the medieval period now? These timelines are so confusing …

Also to Matt Jones and his production team at Pen & Sword who turned this gather-up of text, photographs, diagrams, maps and drawings into this colourful tome.

To my sister, Faye Beedle, for making sense of my vague instructions and outlines to present such excellent maps and diagrams, and then inexplicably volunteering to draw an emperor without a nose …

To Noble Numismatics for once again granting me access to their excellent archive of images, particularly as coinage played such a major role in the reigns of Justinian II and Abd al-Malik.

To the historians, writers, artists and photographers whose work has been consulted, digested, detailed and cited within. I hope to have done you all justice.

To Dr John Curran, whose fault this all remains …

To the Classical Association in Northern Ireland for providing me with useful distractions.

To all the staff, past and present, at Queen’s University, Belfast, and Dalriada School, Ballymoney, for all the time and effort you have put in to get me this far.

To the ‘DRINK’ chat for all the much-needed distractions and ‘did ye ayes?’

To the innumerable cups of tea.

And to Mum … those bookcases are starting to overflow a little.

gratias vobis ago

Introduction: A ‘Tweet’ and Treasure

There is no way to avoid this, so I will just come out and say it: the idea for this book largely came from the composing of a tweet; a tweet that was never actually sent!

‘Justinian II: the Roman emperor who lost his throne and his nose, only to somehow regain both … and then lose his head.’

As the summing up of around forty-three years of Roman imperial history, I do not think that there are too many people out there who would not be at least somewhat interested in the story encapsulated in that tweet’s 120 characters. I am sure that plenty of other Roman historians have raised an eyebrow when confronted with the spectacle of a Roman emperor with no nose. This unsent tweet became the basis for a pitch, leading eventually to what you have in your hand/on your screen.

I have investigated parts of the seventh century

AD

before, but in a previous literary outing for Pen & Sword I found it difficult to come to a natural end point. This was largely my own fault, for unlike my other books, I had not set out to follow the life of a specific emperor – in hindsight I should have focused on Heraclius. Another part of this inability to come to any chronological conclusion was my fascination with various aspects of the second half of the seventh century. In particular, it was the sheer extent of the Arab conquests, not just at the expense of the Romans, but also the North African Berbers, Iberian Visigoths, Gallic Franks and those living from the Central Asian Steppe to the boundaries of Chinese influence and parts of the Indian subcontinent. Perhaps more fascinating still was the mixed Roman response to the appearance of existential threats to their empire in the east and north.

At times, an empire with such a rich history of militarism just seemed to be completely ‘fought out’. Important provinces like Syria, Thrace and Egypt were given up without much of a fight. There was to be no grand campaign of attempted reconquest in the mould of Justinian I in the West or Heraclius against the Persians in the East. Perhaps even more surprising was the Roman inability to make any sizeable gains against the disparate Bulgar and Slav invaders of the Balkans. It would be 200 years before any substantial reclamation of territory was achieved. This might seem like an immense amount of time for the Roman Empire to either be on the back foot or merely holding its own; however, it is perhaps not so surprising given the massive shock to the Roman system that the Arab conquests and the collapse of its Danube frontier had been. Centuries of dominance in the Mediterranean had been washed away in little more than a decade, with long-established military, administrative and economic structures no longer fit for purpose. Indeed, at least the first century after the initial wave of Arab conquest was spent in a transition from scrambled, improvised defence to something approaching a new administrative and military system, punctuated by two decades of what is dubbed ‘military anarchy’.

And yet, despite my personal interest in these events, that inability to find what felt like a natural stopping point prevented me from continuing to look at the seventh century for literary inspiration for a few years. What actually brought me back to this period after looking into other emperors – Constantius II and Zeno the Isaurian – was a piece of serendipitous shopping. In my favourite little second-hand bookshop in Belfast – Self Help Africa on Botanic Avenue – I found a copy of Harry Turtledove’s translation of the years 602–813 of the Chronicle of Theophanes the Confessor for the monstrous price of 50p. You have to take advantage of such good fortune!

Armed with such a combination of tweet and treasure, I dived back into the story of the Roman Empire in the second half of the seventh century and quickly latched on to the story of the ‘emperor without a nose’: Justinian II. His was a life lived at a time when the Roman Empire was starting to realize that the Arab conquest was not necessarily one to be overcome with a single great military action; the loss of the eastern provinces was becoming a little less impermanent. In the past, this had not been a period covered in much detail in the pages of history, although more recently, attention has been paid to the emergence of Islam, the subsequent conquests made under its banner across three continents and how the reeling Roman Empire reshaped itself into a bulwark against further Arab expansion into Anatolia. However, while there has been growing interest in this period, with some pieces on his edicts, coinage and religious policies, the life and reign of Justinian II usually gets tucked away as a curiosity in more general histories of the ‘Byzantine’ Empire.

Constance Head is the most prolific writer on Justinian II, starting with several articles surrounding his restoration and a re-evaluation of his second reign, culminating in a biography in 1972. While that was and still is a fine piece, replete with summations that – as will be seen throughout this work – make it eminently quotable, it did not illicit the reformation of Justinian’s tarnished reputation that might have been aimed for, nor a significant increase in his historical profile. This is seen in the fact that Head’s biography, which while still very readable, is nearly fifty years old, and there has been little move to replace or update it.

It is surely surprising that such a colourful character as Justinian II has not attracted more direct attention. Expanding briefly on the aforementioned non-tweet summary, Justinian II was the last of the Heraclian dynasty, which had saved the empire from the Persians and struggled valiantly against the Arab tide. After a reign of ten years involving military achievement and reverse, administrative expansion and innovation and religious debate, he lost his throne – and his nose. He then spent ten more years in exile, where he survived two plots to kill him, before returning home to regain the throne through barbarian help, only to again lose it, along with his head. As will be examined below and throughout this work, a major part of such a colourful and intriguing character being sidelined is due to the nature and perhaps paucity of the sources, but even this is an assumption that, as Head points out,¹ requires some careful examination.

This work largely follows a similar chronological layout to Head’s biography, along with a couple of thematic sections. The opening chapter will look at the state of the Roman Empire at the time of Justinian’s birth in around

AD

668. With the contraction of imperial territory and the expansion of the Arab caliphate to encompass much of the Mediterranean coastline, it might be expected that the list of Roman opponents also contracted. However, if anything, that list expanded, or at least there was more variety in the sources to provide a better look at the number of imperial opponents – Arabs, Avars, Lombards, Slavs, Bulgars and Khazars. This is shown in my decision to gather that list into a single chapter of introductions for those various enemies rather than interrupting the narrative flow of the main text on several occasions to present an outline of various imperial opponents.

Such was the timing of his birth that the life of Justinian II encapsulated the controversial end of the reign of his grandfather, Constans II, and the entirety of his father Constantine IV’s time on the throne. These periods were not only important to the survival of the empire, but also as Justinian’s formative years. While following the chronological progress of Justinian’s first reign, chapters will be given over to his imperial administration and religious policies, which will take in various developments throughout this period. We will then return to the chronological progression, with some focus on specific geographic areas, following Justinian’s exile and restoration, his actions in the Balkans, the East, Italy and then Cherson, before his final deposition and demise. Throughout this book, we will also be introduced to various individuals whose careers coincided with that of Justinian II, such as the men to claim the imperial throne during his lifetime – Leontios, Tiberius III and Philippikos Bardanes. Significant time will be given to aspects of the reign of the Umayyad caliph Abd al-Malik, as well as the Bulgar khan Tervel and the Khazar khagan Busir. There will also be a look at various religious officials, including several popes, patriarchs and bishops.

I had originally planned to have this work take in not just the life and reigns of Justinian II, but also the reigns of his immediate successors – Philippikos Bardanes, Anastasius II and Theodosius III, culminating in the climactic defence of Constantinople by Leo III against the Arabs in 717–718. However, adding that would have made this book too long, bursting at the seams as it already is. Instead, the continuation of the ‘Twenty Years of Military Anarchy’ after Justinian II’s demise is addressed in a brief epilogue, perhaps providing a taster for a future title focusing on the life and reign of Leo III.

Sources

Reflecting the dire situation the Roman Empire found itself in, the seventh century

AD

and on into the early eighth is usually considered a period of poor source material for virtually all of the Mediterranean. A particular issue is the lack of a surviving contemporary secular history in the mould of Procopius or any of his continuators: Agathias, Menander Protector or Theophylactus Simocatta. It seems to be because of this that, despite the clear importance of this century to the Roman Empire, the lands around the Mediterranean and world history in general, historians have largely accepted the surviving material with an uncritical eye and even neglected the entire period as ‘a veritable Byzantine Dark Age’.² More recently, however, the fantastic work of James Howard-Johnston in Witnesses to a World Crisis (2010) has helped to demonstrate that while certain periods of the seventh century may be lacking a contemporary historian of the standard of a Tacitus, Ammianus Marcellinus or Procopius, it is still possible to reconstruct a workable chronology from the various sources of material that do survive.³

For Justinian II, it is the lack of criticism of the Eastern Roman source tradition that has led to his prevailing depiction as ‘irresponsible, intensely cruel, devoid of any redeeming features’.⁴ The oddity of Justinian’s deposition, mutilation and exile may also have encouraged history writers – contemporary and later – to accept the monstrous depictions exaggerated/invented of him. This is seen in what is perhaps the only significant work on Justinian II before Head’s biography in 1972: Charles Diehl’s 1923 article ‘L’Empereur au nez coupe’ (‘The Emperor with the cut nose’). While pioneering, Diehl took much of the material hostile to Justinian at face value, with limited criticism of what they were saying and why, propagating the almost entirely negative portrayal of Justinian. We must look beyond that historiographical hostility, the incredulity his reign might spark and the morbid fascination inspired by his rhinokopia and reclamation of the throne to investigate who Justinian might have been, what he did during his reign and why, and what effect he had on the Roman Empire and its neighbours.

The most important contemporary source for the life and times of Justinian II is possibly the so-called History to 720, which focuses on the period from just before and after the assassination of Constans II through to the early years of Leo III’s reign.⁵ While usually listed as ‘anonymous’, there has been some suggestion that the author of this chronicle is recorded in other historical material. The tenth-century Roman encyclopaedia known as the Suda mentions a ‘Trajan the Patrician’ as a contemporary of Justinian II and the author of a ‘remarkable short chronicle’. Such praise could reflect the importance of his work in filling a gap in the historical record.⁶ This identification seems to fit with what can be discerned about the writer of the History to 720, although there is some cause for caution. It may even be that the author was more a contemporary and even close associate of Leo III, or perhaps even Leo himself.⁷

Whoever the author of the History to 720 was, ‘his work is the ultimate source of most of what we know about internal Byzantine politics in the late seventh and early eighth centuries’.⁸ The writer appears to be an office-holder who took care to present Leo III in a positive light, while destroying the reputation of Justinian II with ‘a grim tale … well told’.⁹ He compiled his chronicle from his own experiences, rather than from extensive research, bolstering it with the knowledge of his contemporaries and government, which can give good information but also skewed propaganda. In this, the author of the History to 720 was ‘not a true historian’.¹⁰ He fails to analyse his sources, contemporary or otherwise, and when lacking evidence, he did not go looking for it. Consequently, the work seems more like a ‘collective memoir’, providing a ‘history’ of what he and his contemporaries remembered; or perhaps more crucially, how he and his contemporaries thought Leo III might want the reign of Justinian II remembered.

Of course, the strange thing about this History to 720 with its pivotal role in the story of Justinian II is that none of it survives as a separate work. Its importance stems from the fact that it is considered the source of information for the reign of Justinian II used by later writers, most importantly Patriarch Nikephoros and Theophanes the Confessor. This led to the distaste for Justinian II expressed by the History to 720 – actual or propagandist – shining through in a large section of the Eastern Roman historical tradition, going a long way to perpetrate and exaggerate the negative portrayal of Justinian throughout the ages.

Patriarch Nikephoros I came from an iconodule* family native to Constantinople, but nonetheless continued in service to the iconoclast Constantine V, who had banished his father. His support for icons saw him serving as an imperial commissioner at the Second Council of Nicaea in 787, where the first wave of Iconoclasm was overturned. Over the next twenty years, he resided at a cloister along the east coast of the Bosphorus and served as the director of a poor house in the capital, only to suddenly be chosen as patriarch of Constantinople by his imperial namesake, Nikephoros I, on 12 April 806. This caused some problems with the Church establishment, as the now-Patriarch Nikephoros had not been part of the clergy, marking his accession as uncanonical. However, the support of the emperor retained Nikephoros in his patriarchal place. That was until the restoration of Iconoclasm by Leo V. Forced off the patriarchal throne, Nikephoros was sent to the monastery of Agathias and then that of St Theodore, where he continued his writing until his death in 828. Despite his iconodule beliefs, Nikephoros was well-enough thought of for his tolerance to be put forward as a candidate for the patriarchate again in 820 during the transition to the reign of Michael II.

This tolerance and non-partisanship can be seen in parts of his Historia Syntomos/Breviarium, which covers the period 602–769. However, that non-partisanship is not extended to the depiction of Justinian II, which is heavily influenced by the negativity presented in the source material of Justinian’s successors. Constance Head, following Louis Orosz, suggests that Nikephoros used a ‘713 Chronicle’ compiled during the reign of Philippikos Bardanes, who would have required that the historians of his time ‘reflected the official view that Justinian had fallen because of his misdeeds and that Vardan, who played so large a role in the coup that dethroned him, was justified’.¹¹ Such an approach has Theophanes using an even more hostile source from the reign of Leo III; however, it has been suggested that ‘the differences between the two accounts … are not nearly as significant as Head suggests; it appears that they merely reproduce slightly different sections of the same narrative’¹² – i.e. the History to 720.

Nikephoros appears to use just the History to 720 for Justinian’s reign, which not only explains the anti-Justinian bias but also may reflect the general lack of sources available for parts of the seventh century. This is also demonstrated in the significant twenty-seven-year gap in Nikephoros’ history between events surrounding Heraklonas, Martina, Valentinus and Constans II in October 641 and the assassination of Constans in 668. Theophanes uses his Syriac source for this period, so ‘we can hardly avoid the conclusion that there was almost no Byzantine historical material for that period’.¹³ Furthermore, Nikephoros’ classicizing style may make his work succinct and easily digestible, but the removal of dates and the lack of critique of the events recorded reduces the overall usefulness of the Breviarium. This frequently leaves him in the shadow of Theophanes, who records all the same information and more,¹⁴ even if the latter is not necessarily as reliable as Nikephoros. And yet, when these drawbacks and the bias provided by the History to 720 are taken into account, Nikephoros’ Breviarium ‘remains an extremely valuable source of information’.¹⁵

As well as following the tradition set out in the History to 720, Theophanes the Confessor also shared a similar background and life path to Nikephoros: Constantinopolitan origin, iconodule family and the son of an imperial official. After his father’s death, Theophanes was educated at the imperial court of Constantine V, at odds with his iconodule beliefs, and yet he served in various official positions under Leo IV. Theophanes then embraced religious life but without joining the clergy, entering the Polychronius Monastery near Cyzicus and then serving as abbot of a new abbey nearby. This saw him present at the Second Council of Nicaea in 787 in support of the icons. Leo V attempted to convince him to embrace Iconoclasm, first through argument and then through two years of imprisonment and physical torture. When this failed, Theophanes was exiled to Samothrace in 817, but the extent of the torture had undermined his health, and he died mere days later.

Theophanes’ Chronographia came into being between 810 and 815 through the request of George Syncellus as a continuation of George’s own chronicle, which covered the period from the Creation to the accession of Diocletian in

AD

284. Theophanes freely admits that George had provided him with the material to complete the work that now bears his name, which raises the question of exactly how much of the writing of the Chronographia Theophanes did? Could it be that he merely collated the material that George had already collected to bring his chronicle from 284 up to their modern day in the early ninth century? It would seem likely that the Chronographia of Theophanes should perhaps be regarded as a collaboration between Theophanes and George Syncellus, with the latter having gathered a significant amount of the material, while the former stitched the material together and collected materials himself.¹⁶

Covering the period from the accession of Diocletian in 284 to the fall of Michael I in 813, Theophanes’ Chronographia is made up of two parts: the first is a year-by-year account, while the second is a series of chronological tables which contain numerous errors and may not have been completed by Theophanes. Further confusion arises from Theophanes’ attempts to label each year with the regnal years of emperors, kings, caliphs and patriarchs. Despite these issues, and others such as a lack of critical insight, Theophanes’ work is extremely useful for the seventh and early eighth century due to the lack of other source material. Theophanes’ work was well-regarded enough in the ninth century to be used as the basis of a tripartite Latin compilation, along with George Syncellus and Nikephoros, by the papal librarian Anastasius in 873–875. Theophanes also eventually received his own continuation in a series of works known collectively as Theophanes Continuatus, commissioned by Constantine VII to chronicle the period from 813–961.

Through their usage of the History to 720, Theophanes and Nikephoros share a similar chronological order of events and include similar specific information through a similar vocabulary; however, both give information the other does not.¹⁷ Furthermore, despite sharing the same background, beliefs, timeline and source, Nikephoros and Theophanes were seemingly unaware of each other’s work, which seems peculiar. The dating of the Breviarium is unclear, but seems likely to be either a product of the 780s or the 820s. If the former, why is there no evidence that Theophanes used it for his Chronographia? If the latter, why is there no evidence that Nikephoros used the wealth of information presented by Theophanes? The answer may be in their shared iconodule beliefs, which might have seen their works kept out of circulation until the final defeat of Iconoclasm in 843. Iconoclasm and the reaction to it may in general have seen considerable information lost.¹⁸

Also in spite of their shared source, Theophanes is even more prejudiced against Justinian than Nikephoros, frequently providing more depth/ exaggeration on unfavourable incidents. It could be that Theophanes was making up these extra details either to sensationalize his account or due to his personal opposition to Justinian; however, such intentional fabrication would be against Theophanes’ own claim to have not added to the reports he was using and the usual treatment of their sources by Roman historians.¹⁹ This suggests that Theophanes had other sources for the era of Justinian II not used by Nikephoros. He may have had access to an iconodule chronicler who began his history in c.720, perhaps something of a continuation of the History to 720.²⁰ The potential work of Trajan the Patrician is not the only source of uncertain name and authorship to be used by Theophanes and others. Along with the likes of Agapius of Hierapolis, Michael the Syrian and the Chronicle of 1234, Theophanes seems to have used a now lost Syriac source from around 750, the author of which has been frequently investigated and postulated as Theophilus of Edessa.²¹ The origin of many of these works under the Isaurian dynasty could explain their anti-Justinianic leanings. Not only was there the need to make a previous dynasty look bad in order to present a legitimate basis for its overthrow and replacement by a new dynasty, but there were several political, religious and personal reasons for Leo III to have sought the destruction of Justinian’s reputation.

There is a section of Theophanes’ Chronographia under AM6177 (ad 685– 686) which has been expanded upon after Theophanes’ death in 818 as it knows the length of several patriarchates which took place after that year: Theodotus (815–821), Antonius (821–834) and John VII Grammaticus/ Lekanomantis (834–843). Indeed, as the additions record that Lekanomantis had only been patriarch for six years and one month and it is known that he would be patriarch for another three years, this would seem to date these Theophanic additions to the year 840. Such additions highlight the care that needs to be taken with primary sources. Copyists and revisionists can have little compunction with changing the text of the works they are dealing with, which can cause problems for the historian looking to rely on the information stored within.

Due to such inherent biases, problems and the way its author presents material, Theophanes’ Chronographia must be used with care, particularly for the period of Justinian II where his use of two sometimes overlapping and contradictory sources creates issues. However, Theophanes’ style of reporting – stitching together rather than blending material – allows for some useful disentangling of his source material.²² By using other sources, such as Theophilus for information on Umayyad Syria and perhaps the city chronicle of Constantinople, ‘Theophanes has left much the fullest and most useful account of Roman history’²³ for the period around Justinian II’s lifetime. Without his work, the period of 669–720 would be much the darker.

Another ninth-century source to have used the History to 720 is George Monachos. He presents some information not in Theophanes or Nikephoros, but such ‘embellishments’ seem more like extra detail rather than invention. Through the combination of Theophanes, Nikephoros and George Monachos, the anti-Justinianic hyperbole of History to 720 does reach a wide audience; however, even at its times of greatest exaggeration, there is a more positive presentation of Justinian lurking within their words, a reflection of their inability to hide the positives. That said, while the extent or intent of some of Justinian’s actions may have been embellished for propagandist aims, it is unlikely that they were all complete inventions. Therefore, while we might find that Justinian was a courageous, intelligent and able emperor, that should not obscure the man of short temper and impatience.

Many of the other Eastern Roman histories to survive in any useful form derive their information either directly from Theophanes or his sources, and therefore ‘add scarcely anything to our knowledge’.²⁴ The Spanish Chronicle of 741 relies either on the Syriac source used by Theophanes (possibly Theophilus) or on the Greek work used by said Syriac source for much of the seventh century.²⁵ As well as commissioning the Theophanes Continuatus, the tenth-century emperor Constantine VII oversaw the publication of De cerimoniis aulae Byzantinae – ‘On Ceremonies’, describing court ceremonies and protocol – and De administrando Imperio – ‘On the Governance of the Empire’, which gives useful information on domestic and foreign policy. These may not be histories, but they do provide anecdotes and insights into various areas of the empire important during the reign of Justinian II. As already mentioned, the tenth-century Agapius of Hierapolis used the Syriac work of Theophilus of Edessa, although he also used other Greek and Syriac sources. This sees his Kitab al-Unwan, while surviving in patchy form, record some useful information about the Later Roman Empire and its interactions with the Arabs.²⁶ The likes of the late eleventh/early twelfth-century Compendium Historiarum of Kedrenus also drew heavily on Theophanes and George Monachos.²⁷

It is perhaps not until the twelfth century that the considerable dependence on Theophanes for the later Heraclian dynasty slackens a little with the publication of the Syriac chronicle of Michael the Syrian. This patriarch of the Jacobite Church was a prolific consumer of source material, which is seen not just in the number of genres he addressed in his writing – canonical, theological, liturgical, historical – but also how his twenty-one-book history used at least 150 different sources.²⁸ A century later, another prominent Jacobite bishop, Gregory Bar Hebraeus, produced a combined world and church history in Syriac. It focused on the Near East and can provide some useful extra information about the period, such as the presence of several imposters claiming to be Justinian’s son during the reign of Leo III in both Roman and Arab territory.²⁹

While the majority of the historiographic focus for the reign of Justinian II falls on the sources from within the Roman Empire or following its literary tradition, there are other traditions from which to gather useful information. It was long held that the perceived distortion of Muslim sources rendered them supposedly useless for events relevant to the Roman Empire of Justinian II. It has taken something of a leap of faith to trust aspects of the Islamic historical tradition for the first century of Muslim history, which was not formally recorded until the later Abbasid period. Straightaway, this presents a non-contemporary element to these sources, with the most prominent Muslim writers, al-Baladhuri and al-Tabari, coming from the ninth and tenth centuries respectively. Then again, this is no different than having to rely on Nikephoros or Theophanes as ‘primary’ sources. Many of the Muslim sources act as compilers of other Muslim works, whether they be poets, historians or recording oral traditions. Again, this is not all that different from how we use the Roman source tradition, with various types of source material used to build the narrative picture. Indeed, the Muslim sources are frequently much better at identifying where they are getting their material from, while Roman sources merely record the material with little reference to its origin, leaving historiographical investigation to uncover their sources.

However, the Muslim sources focusing on the events of the late seventh/ early eighth century frequently concentrate on internal affairs, with foreign matters ‘covered usually in brief notices, which simply round up the news at the end of a year-entry’.³⁰ Many of these reports are also lacking context, with even some internal affairs such as the outbreak of the First Fitna – Islamic civil war – ‘attributed entirely to internal causes’³¹ without reference to external pressures. Reverses suffered against various opponents – Romans, Mardaites, Berbers or Khazars – are frequently passed over either in total silence or it is merely stated that the battle took place without any reference to its result. But even with these problems, the internal affairs recorded by Muslim sources can provide useful context to Romano-Arab conflict. As will be seen, the distraction of the Second Fitna played a critical role in allowing Justinian II’s reign to get off to a good military start. And while context and detail can be lacking in Muslim reports, they can help provide some clarity or backing for aspects of the Roman record which seem unclear, such as the target of a Roman or Arab attack under a certain commander or into a certain region.

Looking west, there is a cadre of sources which can provide somewhat alternative views on Justinian II. Through the compilation work of Louis Duchense in the late nineteenth century, and itself likely a compilation of various authors over time, the section of the Liber Pontificalis – ‘Book of Pontiffs’ – covering the late seventh/early eighth century appears to be contemporaneous with the reigns of Constantine IV and Justinian II. While unsurprisingly partial to the papacy, the Liber Pontificalis provides a good look at imperio-papal relations from the period. Along with the preserved records of the church councils – Acta Conciliorum Oecumenicorum – it chronicles important aspects of the controversy over Quinisext, such as the presence of papal representatives and their signing up to its decisions, the journey of Pope Constantine to the imperial capital and Justinian’s intervention in the Romano-Ravennate feud.³²

Another contemporary of Justinian II to record information about him is, perhaps somewhat surprisingly, the Venerable Bede in far-off northern England. His various works present how even three centuries after the end of Roman Britain, the empire still had an influence on the island. Bede also records the Western Christian response to Quinisext and even aspects of Justinian’s Chersonite exile which other sources like Nikephoros and Theophanes seem to get a little incorrect. These earlier western sources are also less hostile to Justinian II than the eastern tradition, passing over the period of the emperor’s supposed brutal reprisals in silence.

However, within a century, other western sources were starting to present a darker picture of Justinian, perhaps becoming infected with the bias promoted by the Isaurian dynasty. The eighth-century historian Paul the Deacon presents useful information on the Lombards from their legendary Scandinavian origins through their migrations to the death of Liutprand in 744 in his Historia Langobardorum. Despite using the Liber Pontificalis and Bede as sources, Paul is much more willing to buy into the anti-Justinian rhetoric, describing him in bloodthirsty terms.³³ Even more tainted by anti-Justinian bias is the ninth-century Liber Pontificalis Ecclesiae Ravennatis – ‘Book of the Pontiffs of the Church of Ravenna’ – of Andreas Agnellus. In terms of characterization of Justinian, Agnellus is much closer to Nikephoros and Theophanes than the earlier western sources. He is frequently so ‘imaginative’,³⁴ even Virgilian, in his recording as to undermine the value of his specific details. He may even devolve into intentional disinformation, such as the motives about Justinian’s attack on Ravenna. He is one of the sources that records Justinian’s wearing of a false gold nose.³⁵

On the subject of gold, numismatics can also provide valuable information about the state of the empire at a particular time and place. The circulation of coins can imply how well the Roman economy was operating, while a large amount of coins in a particular area is a good indication of a strong imperial presence at a particular time. Most importantly for political disruption and usurpation, coins can demonstrate who held power at certain times, as well as the outward appearance presented by the imperial court. Furthermore, it will be seen that during the late seventh and early eighth centuries, numismatics represents a considerable source of information for various political, religious, artistic and even foreign policies not just of Justinian II but also of Abd al-Malik’s caliphate.

One substantial issue with many of the sources is the matter of dating. By the late seventh century, along with Anno Mundi – ‘World Year’ measured from the Creation based on the Septuagint text of the Bible – the Romans were using a fifteen-year indiction cycle. This saw the year begin on 1 September, which can cause problems when attempts are made to equate such dates to the modern Gregorian calendar. For example, Theophanes places Constans II’s assassination and Justinian II’s birth in AM6160, which equates to a period of 1 September 668 – 31 August 669. Therefore, without a specific date or an indication of season, there would be a lack of certainty of the year of Constans’ murder without outside help. And when there is no outside help forthcoming, we are left with a date of 668/669, as is the case with Justinian II’s birth year.

This indiction trouble finds little solution when looking to the Muslim sources; indeed, it may even be exacerbated. This is because the Islamic calendar, usually denoted as ‘AH’ – Anno Hegirae: ‘in the year of the Hegira’, which starts in 622 – is based on the lunar cycle. Consequently, it is always considerably out of sync with the calendars of today and of the seventh/ eighth century. This means that when combined, these Roman indiction and Islamic Hijri calendars can produce substantial dating problems, such as the likes of Theophanes and al-Tabari dating the same events a couple of years apart. This can make building a secure chronology for certain periods of Justinian II’s life quite difficult.

Indeed, it was long thought that the likes of Theophanes had ‘systematically misdated’³⁶ virtually every major event during the reign of Justinian II. This was largely accepted by academia, only for more in-depth looks at dating systems, events and other sources to suggest that Theophanes is more correct in his dates than usually supposed. There are still some errors, such as with the death of Abd al-Malik being dated to AM6197 rather than AM6198 – October 705 – or with events between 699 and 704 being a year too late; however, these may show ‘that Theophanes like the rest of us had trouble converting eastern sources’ years of the Hegira into ordinary solar years’.³⁷ You might think to look to Nikephoros for some help with these dating issues, but he simply avoids adding to this specific problem by not recording many dates at all. ‘They are casualties of the classicizing makeover given to his sources’,³⁸ although the order of his events is largely chronological.

As can be seen from the extensive, yet not exhaustive, secondary bibliography attached at the end of this work, there has been plenty of modern material to digest regarding the life and times of Justinian II; however, there are a few specific historians I would like to highlight. The various articles of E.W. Brooks from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries might seem a little dated, but several remain of considerable use to this day. As already mentioned above, the 1972 biography of Justinian II by Constance Head came in very useful to the creation of this book, as did her articles on various aspects of Justinian’s reigns. Similarly prolific and useful on Justinian II is James Breckenridge, with his short book of 1959 on Justinian’s coinage particularly valuable, a subject bolstered by Mark Humphreys’ 2013 article on the supposed ‘War of Images’ between Justinian and Abd al-Malik. Andrew Ekonomou’s 2007 work on the supposed ‘Byzantine Papacy’ provided an avenue into the western outlook on Justinian II, especially over Quinisext. Finally, any writer on the Roman Empire of Late Antiquity or the Early Medieval period almost certainly makes good use of the various books and articles of John Haldon.

Spelling Conventions

Given the various languages that sources for the seventh and eighth centuries were written in – Latin, Greek, Armenian, Syriac and Arabic – as well as the other peoples and languages those sources talk about – Germanic, Avar, Slavic, Bulgar, Khazar Turkic, Berber – it becomes important for the sake of clarity to establish spelling conventions. As I freely admit to having almost no knowledge of any of these languages, I have endeavoured to maintain consistency with what are essentially personal choices, rather than any sort of linguistic principles. But with the amount of names that do appear in this work and my direct quotation of numerous different sources, there is likely to be some disparity in the spellings employed. Hopefully, this does not create any difficulty in the identification of an individual or place. More prominent Anglicized versions of personal names will be used over Latin or Greek, so for the most part we will be in the realms of Justinian, Constantine and Leo, rather than Ioustinianos, Constantinus and Leon. On occasion though, due to the number of individuals sharing the same name, different spellings may be employed to differentiate them, such as ‘Heraclius’ and ‘Herakleios’.

The eastern and northern neighbours of the Roman Empire present trickier problems, as the same name can have many different spellings in their transliterations into Latin/Greek and then into English. For example, the name of the first caliph of the Umayyad dynasty has been transcribed in various ways – Muawiyah, Mu’awiya, Mu’awiyah, Muawiya, Mauias. I have tried to use versions which are more obviously Arabic in origin, Muawiyah and Abd al-Malik, rather than some of the ‘butchered’ transliterations of Roman sources. There are similar issues with other names of non-Mediterranean origin, such as Tervel, Busir and perhaps Apsimar.

The Anglicized ancient name of an existing town, city or region prevails in the text, such as Constantinople over Istanbul, Antioch over Antakya or Anatolia over central Turkey. Roman-era provincial names will also be used over modern equivalents, although on many occasions, a lesser-known place name will be accompanied by its more modern equivalent or a more famous nearby location to aid in its identification. As for the empire as a whole, while some trace the beginning of the ‘Byzantine Empire’ to the refounding of Constantinople by Constantine I in

AD

330, I am of the opinion that the empire based on that new imperial capital and the eastern provinces remained recognizably and lineally the Roman Empire until at least 1204, if not all the way to 1453. Therefore, apart from in quotations from other historians, throughout this work, the realm of Justinian II will be named as the ‘Roman Empire’ and its inhabitants will be known as ‘Romans’. As for its neighbours, the name ‘Umayyad caliphate’ and ‘Arab caliphate’ will be used largely interchangeably, except when some differentiation is required during the Fitnas, where there was more than one Arab faction to identify. The semi-nomadic proto-states of the Danube delta and the northern Caucasus also require some appellative definition. While there were other Bulgar groups across various parts of Europe and the Eurasian steppe, those who settled around the Lower Danube are to be referred to either as the ‘Danube Bulgars’ or the ‘Bulgar Khanate’, with their ruler known as the ‘khan’. The Turkic realm of the northern Caucasus will be referred to as the ‘Khazar Khaganate’, with its ruler the ‘khagan’.

Any errors in continuity and consistency remain my own.

*Iconoclasm was the great religious dispute of the eighth and ninth centuries, initiated by Emperor Leo III in the 720s. He felt that in their excessive reverence for religious icons, Christians were breaking the Second Commandment against graven images and perhaps had been punished by God through the Arab conquests. In a series of edicts, Leo seemingly forbade the veneration of religious images, creating a schism in the Church between his supporters – iconoclasts (‘breakers of icons’) – and his opponents – iconodules (‘lovers of icons’).

List of Illustrations and Maps

All maps, plans and diagrams were drawn by Faye Beedle

Geographical Maps

The Roman Empire in c.668

Themes of the Roman Empire in c.717

Constantinople, city plan

Romano-Umayyad Frontier Zone

Lombard Italy

Fall of Old Great Bulgaria (665) and the Migration of the Bulgars

Roman Crimea and Justinian’s Escape

The Umayyad Caliphate and Roman Empire c.750

Strategic Maps

First Fitna

Second Fitna

Second Fitna Actions

Arab Invasion of North Africa

Tactical Diagrams

Battle of Maskin

I: Initial Deployments

II: al-Ashtar’s Attack

III: Abd Allah’s Flank Attack

IV: Attack of Muslim b. Amr and Khalid (?)

V: Deaths of al-Ashtar and Muslim b. Amr al-Bahili; Desertion of Attab’s Cavalry

VI: The End Game

Battle of Anchialus

List of Plates

Coins

Courtesy of Noble Numismatics (http://www.noble.com.au/), unless otherwise stated

HERACLIUS, CONSTANTINE III AND HERAKLONAS: gold solidus, issued between 635 and 636 from Constantinople mint. Obverse: Heraclius centre, Constantine III left and Heraklonas right, cross above. Reverse: cross on steps, monogram of Heraclius left, VICTORIA AVGUE CONOB.

CONSTANS II AND CONSTANTINE IV: gold solidus, issued between 654 and 659 from Constantinople mint. Obverse: crowned Constans left, Constantine right, DN CONSTATINUS C CONSTI. Reverse: cross on steps, VICTORIA AVGUE CONOB+.

CONSTANTINE IV, with Heraclius and Tiberius: gold solidus, issued between 674 and 681 from Constantinople mint. Obverse; three-quarter facing bearded bust of Constantine IV in military garb, dN CONST ANUS P. Reverse: cross on steps, between Heraclius on left and Tiberius on right, each holding cross on globe, VICTOA AVGU**Q*, CONOB.

JUSTINIAN II (first reign 685–695): gold solidus, issued between 687 and 692 from Constantinople mint. Obverse: bust facing of Justinian with short beard, wearing chlamys and crown, holding cross on globe, D IUSTINIA NUS PE AV. Reverse: cross on steps, VICTORIA AVGU H CONOB Γ.

JUSTINIAN II (first reign 685–695): gold solidus, issued between 687 and 692 from Constantinople mint. Obverse: bust facing of Justinian with short beard, wearing chlamys and crown, holding cross on globe, IUSTINIA NUS PE AV. Reverse: cross potent on three steps, around VICTORIA AVGUI CONOB.

LEONTIOS: gold solidus, issued between 695 and 698 from Constantinople mint. Obverse: bust facing of Leontios, bearded, wearing crown and loros, holding akakia and cross on globe, D LEON PE AV. Reverse: cross on steps, VICTORIA AVGUS, CONOB.

TIBERIUS III: gold solidus, issued between 698 and 705 from Constantinople mint. Obverse: cuirassed bust of Tiberius facing with short beard, wearing crown and holding spear, d TIbERI US PE AU. Reverse: cross on steps, VICTORIA AUGU CONOB.

JUSTINIAN II (second reign, 705–711): gold solidus, issued in 705 from Constantinople mint. Obverse: facing bust of Christ, with cross behind head, curly hair and close beard, wears pallium and colobium, raising hand in benediction, dN IhS ChS REX REGNANTIUM. Reverse: crowned facing bust of Justinian, wearing loros and holding crosses, DN IUSTINIA NUS MULTUS A, PAX. (Courtesy of Classical Numismatic Group, Inc. http://www.cngcoins.com)

JUSTINIAN II AND TIBERIUS: gold solidus, issued between 705 and 711 from Constantinople mint. Obverse: facing bust of Christ, with cross behind head, curly hair and close beard, wears pallium and colobium, raising hand in benediction, dN IhS ChS REX REGNANTIUM. Reverse: facing and crowned busts of Justinian on left and Tiberius, cross between them, [D N IUSTINIA]NUS ET TIbERIUS P P A.

PHILIPPIKOS BARDANES: gold solidus, issued between 711 and 713 from Constantinople mint. Obverse: facing and crowned bust of Philippikos, DN FILIPICUS MUL TUS [AN], facing bust, wearing crown and loros, holding cross globe and eagle-tipped sceptre. Reverse: cross on steps, VICTORIA AVGU Z/CONOB. (Courtesy of Classical Numismatic Group, Inc. http://www.cngcoins.com)

ABD AL-MALIK: AE fals, issued between 685 and 693 from Hims/Emesa mint. Obverse: crowned facing imperial bust, holding crossed globe, KA**L* ON (= ‘good’). Reverse: large M, star between annulets above, EMI-CHC, below ‘tayyib’ (= ‘good’).

ABD AL-MALIK: AE fals, issued in early 690s from Halab/Aleppo mint. Obverse: caliph standing facing, hand on hilt of sword. Reverse: transformed cross, ‘waf ’ to left, ‘bi-halab’ to right.

ABD AL-MALIK: gold aniconic dinar, issued in 699–700 from Damascus mint.

Al-WALID I: gold aniconic dinar, issued in 713 from Damascus mint.

Pictures

All in the public domain, unless stated otherwise

Kubrat and his Sons, Dimitar Gyudjenov (1926)

Imperial family, Sant’Apollinare in Classe, reproduced with permission from Dr Marlena Whiting

Justinian II, Sant’Apollinare in Classe, reproduced with permission from Dr Marlena Whiting

‘Carmagnola’, St Mark’s Square, Venice

Sixth Ecumenical Council, Constantine Manasses, Chronicle miniature 45

Justinian II’s Monogram, drawn by Faye Beedle

St Demetrius’ Church, Thessalonica

St Demetrius, Church of Protaton, Mount Athos

Fresco of Justinian II’s entry into Thessalonica (?), St Demetrius’ Church, Thessalonica

Crucifixion from Santa Maria Antiqua, Rome

‘Standing Caliph’ coin of Abd al-Malik, modestly dressed and holding sword, surrounded by the Islamic profession of faith, the shahahdah

Patriarch Kallinikos

Pope Sergius I

The Rebellion of Leontius, 695. Emperor Justinian is cut off his nose, and his servants are dragged to death. Matthäus Merian the Elder (1630)

The Mutilation of the Byzantine Emperors Justinian II and Phillipicus, workshop of the Boucicaut Master in Paris, c.1413–1415

Christ as a Soldier, standing on an asp and lion, St Andrew’s Chapel, Ravenna (author’s collection)

Tervel and Justinian II © Astromentum 2018 Tervel the Bulgar as St Trivelius

Tervel’s Monogram, drawn by Faye Beedle

Madara Rider, Bulgaria

Pope John VI, Chevalier Artaud de Montor, The Lives and Times of the Popes, New York (1911)

Pope John VII, mosaic in St Peter’s, Rome

Pope Sisinnius, Luigi Tripepi, Ritratti e biografie dei romani pontefici: da S. Pietro a Leone 13. Rome (1879)

Pope Constantine, Nuremburg Chronicle, 1493

Pope Gregory II, Nuremburg Chronicle, 1493

Murder of Tiberios, son of Justinian II, under the orders of emperor Philippikos, Constantine Manasses, Chronicle miniature 46

List of Emperors, Caliphs, Popes and Patriarchs

List of Emperors

List of Umayyad Caliphs

List of Popes

List of Patriarchs of Constantinople

Heraclian Stemma

Umayyad Stemma

Chapter 1

The Roman Empire of AD 668

‘The popes in Old Rome on the far western fringe of the Empire, the kings of the barbarian West, monks in cloisters as far away as Britain – all dated important events by the reigns of the emperors in Constantinople. Diminished though its territorial sway might be, Constantinople was still center of the world in the mind of the Early Middle Ages.’

Head (1972), 6

A Century is a Long Time in Geopolitics…

The seventh century

AD

had not been kind to the Roman Empire.¹ At its outset, things had looked rather rosy. The reconquests under Justinian I (527–565) in Africa, Italy and Spain had made it to the end of the sixth century largely intact. The emperor Mauricius (582–602) was in the midst of what looked like a successful campaign to restore large sections of the Danube frontier, and the Romans held a dominant position in the East due to the Sassanid Persian ‘King of Kings’ only being on his throne through Roman intervention. Indeed, a quick glance at a map of the Roman Empire of 600 would seem to present a strong, powerful state, capable of dealing with whatever challenges its opponents could muster.

But such a map hides numerous significant problems. The combination of those Justinianic reconquests and a devastating outbreak of plague had overstretched the capabilities of the empire. In the West, Italy was under pressure from the Lombards and the reconquered Spanish province was in the process of being ground out of existence by the Visigoths. Despite Mauricius’ efforts, the Danube was much less secure than the position of the official frontier would suggest. Furthermore, the circumstances of Mauricius’ murder combined to bring about significant instability and played a major role in instigating the first of two earth-shattering conflicts to rock the Roman Empire in the seventh century. By 602, Mauricius’ Balkan campaign looked to be nearing total victory as the Avar Khaganate began to lose control of its Slavic and German underlings in the face of repeated Roman offensives; however, the emperor had pushed his forces hard to achieve that success, all the while reducing