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In 866 CE, the imperial palace at Constantinople hosted an unusual ceremony. Certainly, crowning an emperor was nothing new in the Byzantine Empire which was by then five centuries old – but empowering a co-emperor was a different matter entirely. Emperor Michael III crowned his devoted friend Basil “the Macedonian” as Basil I in the astonishing ceremony. But what made the occasion all the stranger were the whispers which surrounded the imperial pair: that they were not only devoted friends, but also lovers.
But if they were, that romance would be short-lived indeed. The following year, Emperor Michael III would be brutally murdered in his own bedchamber. His vanquisher was none other than the man he elevated to the purple only months before, turned on his former ally and ready to take the Byzantine crown solely for himself.
“Sordid” is the gentlest description of this wild tale, but how much of it (the violent facts aside) is actually true? Historians continue to debate the extent of the relationship between Michael and Basil, and how it may have influenced the latter’s choice to destroy his former benefactor. The resulting narrative is a fascinating, if grim, lens into an especially salacious episode in queer history.
Horse Play
The previous entry in this blog series briefly discussed the religious and cultural foundations of the Byzantine Empire, as well as the prevailing views of the political establishment toward homosexuality and love specifically among men. While those views were decidedly negative, the wider situation (especially within Constantinople) was more complex. Indeed, some established and accepted institutions, such as that of “brother-making”, may have served as palatable avenues for romance and even physical intimacies among male elites.
By the time that Basil the Macedonian (likely in his early to mid-30s) arrived in Constantinople, Emperor Michael III had already developed a big reputation. After wresting his own power back from his domineering mother, Empress Theodora, and forcing her retirement, Michael III was determined to rule the empire as an independent monarch. But Michael was not only greedy for power – he adored strong drinks and hard living, even scandalizing his subjects with his appearances in fierce and dangerous chariot races in the city’s hippodrome.[1] Despite Michael’s supposed sins, during his rule the empire was nearing a zenith with stability in and around the empire’s borders. The imperial city itself enjoyed prosperity at its high-water mark of religious and cultural influence in Eurasia.
Basil had arrived in Constantinople sometime around 854, a bright-eyed and ambitious young man of vaguely noble origins. Rumors of homosexuality would apparently surround Basil throughout his time in the city, supported by the “brother-making” ceremony that tied him to a monk named Nicholas as practically his first act upon arrival (explored more fully in Part I). Other “brother-makings” in different circumstances would follow in the next months and years, but none of these (not even his first) would have the same impact as his relationship to the emperor. It would be a shared devotion to horsemanship that ultimately brought the pair together.
Basil’s original “brother”, Nicholas, provided the social connections to bring the athletic young equestrian to the attention of Theophilitzes, a relative of the emperor and key figure among his courtiers.[2] Basil became part of the latter’s hetaireia or male retinue, where he shone for his considerable physical abilities in the saddle and out.
It was likely in this capacity that he finally met Michael in or around 856 CE, shortly after Michael had thrown his mother out of the court and began a semblance of independent rule.[3] The historical record varies on exactly when and how; one narrative suggests that Basil’s destiny commenced on a fateful royal hunting trip.[4] Though Michael himself was an expert rider, this version contends that an especially volatile steed broke free from his hand during the hunt. Basil, sensing an opportunity to showcase his equestrian skills, pursued the runaway animal on his own mount at a furious pace and successfully retrieved it back to the hunting party. The emperor, impressed by both Basil’s dexterity in the saddle and his obvious intelligence, soon elevated him to a role at court: strator, or manager of the royal stables. It was the beginning of what would be a meteoric rise for the impressive, but otherwise unassuming, young man.
A biography of Basil from this time period notes that, as a result of this incident of horse play, “[w]hen the emperor had seen [the feat], and conceived a love for Basil’s handsome body/excellent disposition endowed with manliness and his intelligence…He was obsessed with and loved him, seeing his quality of surpassing by much all the other men in every way.”[5]
Parakoimomenos
Over the next decade, Basil grew ever closer to his royal benefactor. Byzantine sources (which, as noted in the previous post in this series, have a significant bias against Michael III) imply that Basil provided a thoughtful and steady hand to counter Michael’s deepening excesses. As events unfolded, however, it might also be argued that Basil’s influence was less mutually beneficial and more self-interested.
But that was hardly how matters looked in the late 850s, when the emperor was entering his early 20s and Basil probably about 30 years old. Indeed, the match appeared to have been made in heaven, at least from the emperor’s perspective. In a court replete with infighting and intrigues, Basil – with his honest, humble background and straightforward approach to running his affairs – was a perfect foil to Michael’s other less reliable advisors.
Prominent in the latter category was Michael’s uncle Bardas – who had a “desire to be first in everything.”[6] Bardas was a talented politician and among those credited with key achievements of his nephew’s reign. For years, Bardas had enjoyed a close working relationship with his nephew long after his sister, Empress Theodora, had been vanquished from the palace. He was also cruel and calculated with a salacious personal life (including reportedly abandoning his wife in favor of his own daughter-in-law).[7]
It was perhaps inevitable that the rising favorite, Basil, would conflict with Bardas. For years the men co-existed in the imperial orbit while Bardas was at the top of palace leadership and Basil managed the stables. In 865 CE, however, Bardas launched the sequence of events that would result in his own destruction.
Bardas, who at that time held the rank of caesar, was closely allied with the parakoimomenos named Damianos. The position of parakoimomenos was a powerful one: it translated to “sleeping at the side [of the emperor]” and was reserved for eunuchs as the highest political rank available to their class.[8] As the translation implies, this individual managed the emperor’s bedchamber and likely slept near or beside him in bed. Importantly, these facts alone are not proof of homosexual exploration in the royal bedchamber; throughout history, monarchs have slept with or alongside members of their own sex for protection and company.
Bardas and Damianos grew to despise one another over various internal political disputes and ultimately clashed over Bardas’ social climbing to levels which Damianos had once coveted.[9] In the end, Bardas had his friend-turned-enemy captured and tortured. With Damianos out of the picture, the role of parakoimomenos was officially vacant and factions at court (including that led by Bardas) offered their own candidates. But the emperor chose none of the usual eunuch possibilities; instead, he offered this top job to his now steadfast friend and favorite, Basil.
What, then, was the nature of Michael III and Basil’s relationship? Certainly, the already close connection grew more intimate as the pair became literal bedmates. But this fact alone did not translate to a romantic, let alone a sexual, affair. Is there evidence in the sources that either was going on between them?
For scholars who argue for this level of intimacy and devotion, 865 CE is usually cited as the year when such an affair would have begun.[10] Indeed, in elevating Basil to his new role, contemporary sources quote Emperor Michael as justifying his choice: “I wish Basil to be parakoimomenos because he has great desire for me.”[11] Another source, the Chronogrophia, describes the emperor’s “overflowing love” for Basil around this same time. Similar statements are mirrored across sources of the time period, but could still be charitably interpreted as reflecting platonic or fraternal love rather than romantic.
Shaun Fitzroy Tougher, in his book chapter “Michael III and Basil the Macedonian: just good friends?” appears to take a different view. He suggests that sources from the period differ on the issue, but that, at a minimum, Michael III is implicated as enjoying sexual affairs with men while other sources implicate both men as indulging in homosexual love (including with each other).[12] Perhaps unsurprisingly, others at court took notice of Michael’s intensifying devotion to Basil – specifically, his avaricious uncle Bardas who saw that the “love of the emperor for Basil was growing every day”, leaving Bardas “bitten with jealousy and fearing what was to come.”[13]
Importantly, as Masterson notes, the phrasing used for “love” in this instance was the same as that which the source in question applies to Eudokia Ingerina, the emperor’s acknowledged mistress and lover. The application of the same verbiage to Basil (especially in combination with the other sources emphasizing the emperor’s devotion) is a reasonable indication, affirming Tougher’s view, that the pair were indeed “more than friends.”
Wedding and Funeral Bells
Another factor in this complicated dynamic is how closely the two men intertwined other aspects of their romantic and sexual lives – namely, with women. Years earlier, Michael’s beautiful mistress, Eudokia, was forbidden from marrying the emperor by his formidable mother. Michael, however, was determined to keep his girlfriend around his court. Every source agrees that theirs was a passionate sexual affair, so much so that Eudokia may have been already pregnant with his child when Michael married her to his friend Basil in 865 CE.[14] Indeed, there remains considerable debate on who sired that baby boy – the future Emperor Leo VI – as Eudokia was wed to Basil but remained involved with Michael simultaneously.
What was Michael’s motivation in marrying his lover to Basil? Multiple motivations are possible; most obviously, marrying Basil to Eudokia would keep the two closest people in Michael’s life attached to each other and, by extension, attached to him. This trio would be particularly sensible for everyone involved if Michael and Basil were also intimately engaged with one another. In that circumstance, Eudokia would be a convenient deflection from the men’s relationship. At a minimum, their mutual affair with her resembles a “throuple” and confirms that Basil was profoundly close to Michael, supporting and advising him on the most personal of subjects. Basil (who had to divorce a woman himself to marry Eudokia) may have instigated the match for his own reasons.
More practically, Eudokia could bear the emperor’s illegitimate child in a semi-legitimate fashion (if the future Leo was indeed his own). The child could then be raised by a man who Michael implicitly trusted. Marriage to Eudokia also enhanced Basil’s status, polishing his own nobility and perhaps better qualifying him for the advancements that were yet to come. Michael may have already been thinking ahead to his highest hopes for Basil – hopes which would mandate the fall of another key figure at the palace before they could materialize.
The emperor’s uncle, Bardas, realized that his own star was fading fast with the meteoric rise of Basil to the confidante role he had once occupied. The feeling was mutual, as both “undermined each other at the emperor and searched for an opportunity to kill each other.”[15] Basil, revealing the cunning that he would ultimately turn against his friend/lover, convinced Bardas’s son-in-law to join him in influencing the emperor’s mind against his uncle.
These efforts bore fruit: in April 866 CE, Bardas was violently stabbed to death while the emperor was on a military campaign to retake Crete. Basil was almost certainly foundational to this operation, and may have persuaded the emperor to either tacitly support Bardas’ public destruction or do nothing to prevent it. In either case, Basil’s conspirators were wildly successful in securing his rival’s annihilation. As Pinakoulias notes, this same group of conspirators would meet again for similar purposes in the near future.[16] By these late years of Michael’s reign, Basil appeared all but unstoppable.
“Who is faithful to me…”
The stage was set for the culmination of Micheal’s, Basil’s or (more accurately) their shared hopes: that Basil would be elevated to the purple.
Just weeks after Bardas’ murder, crowds of Byzantines gathered at the Hagia Sophia on May 26th, 866 CE. But one contemporary source suggests that Michael chose an especially unusual ritual to mark his elevation of the closest man in his life. The chronicle of Genesios records that, the night before, Michael had brought Basil into his own imperial bedchamber and ordered him to strip naked.[17] What follows is a “ritual sourging” or whipping, conducted by the emperor himself. Basil was scourged with a double whip thirty times, apparently “to provide him with an engraved memory of loving goodwill toward him.” How Basil would have taken this “loving goodwill” is unclear. Given the wider context of their relationship, one wonders if perhaps Michael had more in mind than simply imparting “goodwill” on the man he was preparing to crown – and what happened afterward in the imperial bedchamber which they shared.
Whether or not this incident occurred, all sources agree that the subsequent morning saw the emperor and his parakoimomenos proceed into the church together. There, Michael declared that Basil had recently saved his life from the perfidious Bardas. He declared: “Now I want Basil…who is faithful to me and who guards my imperial power and who has saved me from my enemy and who loves me dearly, to be the guardian of my power and take care of me, I want him to be universally hailed as emperor.”[18]
Moments later, Basil’s new crown was prayed over and then placed upon his head by the man who trusted him most in the world. It was an astonishing rise for a nameless youth from Macedonia, ascended to arguably the highest fount of power in the entire 9th century world. Events would prove it was not enough.
Trouble in Paradise
Since the pair had been in partnership for at least a decade by this point, their mutual courtiers might have expected a long and durable co-rulership. In actuality, Michael III and Basil I would rule together for just over a year. So what went wrong?
Ultimately, Basil would make the final, lethal move against the emperor, but the sources point to ripples of trouble in paradise well before the fateful September of 867 CE. Among the theories, proffered by those chroniclers hostile to Michael, was that Basil attempted to push his regal brother back toward sober and faithful living – offering him guidance and stability much in the same manner as Empress Theodora and Bardas once had. Michael did not appreciate the effort, and so his attitude toward Basil cooled quickly.
Other perspectives argue that Basil himself quickly proved as stubborn, self-interested and rapacious as had Bardas. Basil, as this argument goes, had made his own list of enemies in his rapid ascension and continued to add to their number as he leveraged his full imperial power to his own benefit. These newly obvious qualities of Basil’s character irritated Michael to the point that he grew to be suspicious of his friend – the same friend who had helped oust his uncle but now seemed to mimic his behavior. Courtly life being what it was, it took little time for each man’s friends and counselors to pour more poison into the mix and entice each against the other.
Nevertheless, “Byzantine writers do not explain how Michael’s love for Basil turned to hatred.”[19] What does seem clear is that the rise of a new favorite in Michael’s eyes deepened the cleavage with Basil to the point of no return.
The chronologies agree that the arrival of Basiliskinos in the center of the court’s intrigues was the proverbial beginning of the end. Masterson notes that Basiliskinos was markedly similar to Basil: he was handsome, athletic, of modest origins and even a former oarsman for the imperial ships.[20] It is how he apparently differs from Basil that showcases his regal appeal: he encourages and admires the emperor’s horse-racing, even participating himself, and provokes the emperor’s spirit rather than attempting to admonish or restrain him.
An imperial banquet in September 867 CE provided the backdrop for the lynchpin moment. The two emperors and courtiers (including Basiliskinos) gathered to celebrate the emperor’s racing victories earlier in the day. When Basiliskinos gamely congratulated Michael, the latter made a dangerous suggestion: that Basiliskinos try on his imperial robe and shoes.[21] One can imagine the hush which descended over the table – especially among the seats of Basil and his family. After understandable hesitation, Basiliskinos gingerly took the garments from Michael, who made his next intentions quite clear. He turned to Basil, and provocatively mused aloud that “[t]hey suit him better than they suit you.” He then declared that he could “make another man emperor if I will.”
Eudokia, perhaps sensing that the two most important men in her life were approaching a cliff’s edge, intervened with flattery and attempted to soothe Michael’s anger. Michael refused to withdraw his jest, and assured the onlookers that he was in fact serious about his proposed elevation for Basilikinos. Thereafter, Basil was “greatly angered and distressed” at being blatantly supplanted by a new favorite in the emperor’s heart, and perhaps also his bed.
Indeed, Michael next went as far as fawningly presenting Basilikinos to the Senate, saying “how much more beautiful a thing it is that I make him emperor rather than Basil!”[22] Masterson argues that this scene in particular is charged with erotic language as Michael extols Basiliskinos’ beauty and physical attributes high above those of Basil. Again, it bears emphasis that these especially salubrious narratives, which hardly portray Michael in a gratifying light, could have been imagined or embellished by his detractors. Either way, Michael clearly underestimated his co-ruler’s determination and vision, for he would perish only three weeks later.
Murder in the Palace
Multiple versions of what happened the night of September 23, 867 CE exist, most of which attempt to push Basil as far from the direct action as possible. Given Basil’s history, however, it seems likelier he was a direct participant in the affairs which followed.
Michel invited Basil and his wife Eudokia to dine with him and his associates that evening, ahead of a planned dinner with his mother the following day.[23] Perhaps this gesture was Michael’s attempt to pour oil over troubled waters. But far from presenting an opportunity at reconciliation, it provided the opportunity for Basil to wrest power unto himself once and for all.
Basiliskinos was in the venue at the same time, but did not dine with the emperors. At some point during the meal, Basil left the banquet and proceeded to Michael’s bedchamber. His purpose, as became clear soon afterwards, was to break the entry key so that Michael’s door could not be properly secured. When Basil accompanied the (supposedly drunk) emperor to his private rooms that night, he left him with a waiting Basiliskinos who was due to share the emperor’s bed – much in the same way which Basil had once done. Basil’s simmering anger, possibly fueled by jealousy, might have spurred him to accomplish what he already had in mind.
One of Michael’s servants then attempted to lock the emperor’s door as Basil made a graceful retreat, only to soon realize the door had been purposefully damaged. Within moments, Basil returned surrounded by several of his close associates – nearly all of whom had been among the party which engineered the murder of Bardas. No one in the room had either the will or ability to protect the emperor, who was too intoxicated to even attempt self-defense.[24] One of the assailants – reportedly not Basil – then sliced off Michael’s hands. Another ran Basiliskinos through on a sword, killing him instantly.
The emperor had longer to suffer; mutilated, the distraught man threw himself on a couch and begged for his life while Basil and his fellow assailants convened on whether or not to kill him. This fact alone, as noted by Pinakoulias, suggests that Basil viewed Michael with a profound hatred by letting him endure such agony before his actual execution. In the end, Michael was stabbed to death – ending his dynasty, and enshrining Basil the Macedonian into history.
Lovers Quarrels?
Basil would reign for nineteen more years as a sole emperor, and ultimately pass a still robust and prosperous empire on to his “son” (perhaps his vanquished lover’s son) Leo VI.[25] After the tumultuous years surrounding his rise to the skies, his dramatic falling out with the man who gave him everything, and then a brutal murder in the night, perhaps Basil enjoyed the subsequent calm and stability and fought hard to retain it throughout his rule.
One cannot help but wonder, however, if or how often Basil thought of his old friend, ally and purported romantic partner. As the adage goes, heavy lies the head which wears the crown. Perhaps Michael meant nothing to him, never had, and so Basil easily pushed him far from his own sober thoughts. Or perhaps Basil remembered it – remembered him – all too well, and could only push the ghost of the former Byzantine ruler so far away. The visage of his eventual heir, Leo VI, or even that of his own wife Eudokia, must have produced continuous and painful reminders of what once was.
It is impossible to know for certain how far Michael III and Basil I’s relationship progressed and if it ever reached a level of physical intimacy which would constitute a sexual affair. It can be fairly deduced, however, that for at least a time both men were “in love” with each other in some form or another. Certainly, this seems to have been true of Michael even if the extent of Basil’s reciprocation (rather, its sincerity) is up for debate. In this instance, therefore, “queer” is in the eye of the beholder. The relationship between these two men, briefly the most powerful men in the world, could be interpreted as queer through many different lenses and proof of consummation hardly seals the argument either way.
If anything, this salacious story affirms what historians of queer people and identity know very well: that to be queer is to be human, in all its violent passions, its messy intrigues and painful conflicts. Queer liaisons, like their counterparts, can be dangerous ones, too.
[1] Ilias Pinakoulias, “Michael III: a misinterpreted emperor,” (Thesis, University of Ioannina), 2022, https://www.didaktorika.gr/eadd/handle/10442/50988?locale=en
[2] Mark Masterson, Between Byzantine Men Desire, Homosociality, and Brotherhood in The Medieval Empire, (Routledge Taylor and Francis Group, 2022), pg. 71.
[3] Pinakoulias, pg. 115.
[4] Frank Tucker, “Basil the Macedonian,” EBSCO, 2022, https://www.ebsco.com/research-starters/biography/basil-macedonian.
[5] Masterson, pg. 78.
[6] Katerina Nikolaou and Irene Chrestou. “LOVE, HATRED AND VIOLENCE IN THE ‘SACRED PALACE’: THE STORY AND HISTORY OF THE AMORIAN DYNASTY.” Byzantion 78 (2008): 87–102. http://www.jstor.org/stable/44173068.
[7] Ibid, pg. 97.
[8] Oxford University Press, “Parakoimomenos,” https://www.oxfordreference.com/display/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803100305290?p=emailAQY0t3lKSbVq6&d=/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803100305290.
[9] Pinakoulias, pg. 118.
[10] Ibid, pg. 129.
[11] Masterson, pg. 73.
[12] Shaun Fitzroy Tougher, “Michael III and Basil the Macedonian: just good friends?” In Desire and Denial in Byzantium, ed. Liz James, (Routledge; University of Sussex), pgs. 149 – 158, https://orca.cardiff.ac.uk/id/eprint/24531/.
[13] Masterson, pg. 74.
[14] Pinakoulias, pg. 121.
[15] Ibid.
[16] Ibid, pg. 123.
[17] Masterson, pg. 84.
[18] Pinakoulias, pg. 125.
[19] Nikolaou and Chrestou, pg. 98.
[20] Masterson, pg. 85.
[21] Pinakoulias, pgs. 128 – 129.
[22] Masterson, pg. 88.
[23] Pinakoulias, pg. 132.
[24] Ibid, pg. 132.
[25] Frank Tucker, “Basil the Macedonian,” EBSCO, 2022, https://www.ebsco.com/research-starters/biography/basil-macedonian.