Sunday Book Suggestion: The Immortal Emperor

On May 29, 1453, after a 53-day siege, Byzantine Emperor Constantine XI Dragases Palaiologos, watched from the city’s walls as the last refuge of the Roman Empire was overrun by Ottoman soldiers. 1500 years of history ended before his eyes. Unbeknownst to him, hundreds of years later, the consequences of the fall of Constantinople would still be felt.

Who was this man that inherited the deathbed of Byzantium? Donald M. Nicol’s does his best to give you the deepest possible story of Constantine XI. From his birth to his regency as Despot of Morea (the last external Byzantine territory) to his eventual succession to Emperor, nearly every page has footnotes. Every than can be attriubuted and citied has been. This book means to give you the most accurate look into a man who has been cloaked in myth and legend.

Constantinople was the core of Eastern Christianity for over a thousand years. While Rome dealt with barbarians, civil wars and countless other Dark Age sufferings, the Greek East and its empire flourished. Great thinkers of faith emerged from the East, as well as one of the world’s most beautiful churches, the Haiga Sofia. As the empire fell under countless attacks by both Latin and Muslim enemies, the city suffered, but held on, even after being occupied by Crusaders for 60 years.

Constantine XI holds a special place in the hearts of some Orthodox Christians, and in mine, for his unwavering defense of Constantinople against obviously unwinnable circumstances. As royalty, he could have escaped to safe territory, been welcomed by the Christian West or even bowed to the Turks. During the siege, the Ottoman Sultan offered him rule over Morea and safe passage for him and any other resident of the city. Constantine XI responded thus:

Τὸ δὲ τὴν πόλιν σοῖ δοῦναι οὔτ’ ἐμὸν ἐστίν οὔτ’ ἄλλου τῶν κατοικούντων ἐν ταύτῃ• κοινῇ γὰρ γνώμῃ πάντες αὐτοπροαιρέτως ἀποθανοῦμεν καὶ οὐ φεισόμεθα τῆς ζωῆς ἡμῶν.

Giving you though the city depends neither on me nor on anyone else among its inhabitants; as we have all decided to die with our own free will and we shall not consider our lives

As he watched the enemies of his people finally lay waste to his city on that May day, Constantine XI tossed away his regal ornaments, leaving him looking like any other soldier, and charged with his men into the invading Turkish lines. His body was never found.

From this last act, legends have risen. Nicols goes into detail about these, as well as claimants to the Byzantine throne, in the second half of the book. The most prominent legend being that an angel saved the Emperor and turned him into a stone statue and buried him under one of the city’s gates to await the day he will lead the liberation of the great capital. The book’s title takes its name from this and other legends of Constantine XI’s hopeful return.

Byzantine history is not taught at all in school (as far as I was taught European history) and the great accomplishments of the Eastern Empire tend to be overshadowed by the West, despite the East being the wall against the hordes of Imperial Islam for a thousand years. If you’re a fan of history or you enjoy reading about real-life heroes, this book is not one to skip over.

Sunday Book Suggestion: Gates of Fire

I may make this a weekly thing. I may not. Depends on if I remember to do it.

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I picked up this book after my confused, but strong obsession with the Spartans began. I had seen 300. I looked up all I could on Wikipedia and history sites. I wanted all the information I could find on these men of men. In a Santa Monica Barnes and Noble, I found Gates of Fire, a fictional account of the battle that made the Spartans famous. I immediately bought it.

I expected chapters of war and violence and honor. What I did not expect was a deeply layered and emotionally driven story of loss and love, of purpose and maturity, and what it is to be a man.

The main character of the book is not a Spartan at all, but a foreigner named Xeones. Xeones was just a boy when his parents and his city were erased from existence by a treacherous ally. He fled with his older female cousin, Diomache, and his family’s near-blind slave, Bruxieus, into the nearby mountains.

One day, while attempting to steal some fowl, Xeo is captured and crucified by the bird’s owners. Despite Bruxieus medical knowledge, the boy’s hands are disabled. He laments that he can not be a warrior anymore, exacting revenge on his parents’ murderers. During the winter, during an attempt at suicide by exposure, Xeo is visited by a figure who inspires him to take up the bow and arrow. His self-confidence renewed, he aborts his attempt.

Years later, Bruxieus dies, and the hardened wild children must find a city to settle in, as the old slave wished. Diomache begs Xeo to come to Athens, but the boy, scared by his experiences and determined to be something more than just a oarsman or tradesman, leaves his cousin and heads to Sparta.

It is from here the book explodes in detail about Sparta, the Spartans and how they may have lived, worked and thought. It tracks over years. From training to battle to marriages, travel to other cities, and a myriad of small adventures. Lessons on discipline, leadership, fear and brotherhood mark every page.

I will not spoil the book, but there is one scene that has burned into my memory ever since I first read it:

King Leonidas took Sparta to war, to a city who was on the verge of capitulating to the coin and the intimidation of the Persian Empire. Across a shallow river, the enemy had set their troops, hoping to force the Spartans to cross and slaughter them in the water. Alas, the enemy troops started to bellow and work themselves up. A frenzy of fear masked as courage. The enemy commanders couldn’t hold their men back, and the enemy advanced first.

As they advanced, Leonidas was committing a sacrifice to the Gods, praying to the heavens as the opposing force marched towards him. No Spartan moved. The enemy got closer, louder, with bloodlust in their eyes, and still no Spartan flinched. When the King had finished his prayers, he screamed his nation’s name. With the ritual done, the perfectly disciplined advance started and the King fell into the front line, vanishing into the phalanx as it reached him, only the crest on his helmet standing out.

Nothing says leader more than that.

I highly recommend this book. There are no one-dimensional characters. No hollow plots. There is just humanity, bravery, honor, war and victory; a view into one of the greatest societies Greece ever produced.