With the empire mired in invasions and civil war, the new Avar khagan launches a grand campaign against the Romans to prove himself as a military leader and bolster his legitimacy.

Transcript

Hello and welcome to A history of Romania.

Season 2, Episode 6: Into the abyss

Last time, we saw the Romans attempt to combat Slavic communities north of the Danube, and how the disgruntled soldiers assigned to the region mutinied and put their own emperor on the throne. Their chosen man, Phokas, cruelly murdered the sitting emperor and his sons – and in so doing lost the support of the Roman people. Upon hearing of the coup, the Persian King of Kings, Khusrow II, took the opportunity to strike the empire in its moment of weakness, and so invaded its eastern provinces.

With Phokas unable to manage the crisis, the exarch of North Africa rebelled to put his son on the throne. His forces marched into Egypt, cut off Constantinople’s grain supply, and began making steady progress towards the capital. Eventually, the exarch’s son, Herakleios, was able to sail within sight of Constantinople, but he didn’t intend to take it by force; rather, he wanted to send a message to its inhabitants: if your emperor can’t stop me from getting here, then he’s unfit to rule, and I should lead you instead. Phokas tried to organize a defense of the city, but his cruel coup and brutal governing style had completely destroyed his legitimacy; no one wanted to fight for him, and his entourage betrayed him. In 610, Phokas was brought before Herakleios and executed. The empire thus received a new leader, but he inherited a disintegrating state.

You see, the Persians had continued to take more land in the East while the Romans were fighting amongst themselves. At the same time, Phokas had relocated troops from the Danubian frontier to bolster his forces, but this gave the Slavic tribes north of the Danube a perfect opportunity to invade. Slavic warriors crossed the river, bypassed understaffed forts, and headed south, reaching as far as Thessaly, Epirus, Achaea, and the islands. Chaos followed them wherever they went as they drove peasants from their homes, stole their goods, and killed anyone who resisted. These invaders couldn’t take fortified positions, so Roman cities like Corinth, Athens, and Argos continued to function; but as farmers and shepherds fled into forts and mountains to escape the violence, these cities lost their hinterlands, and the Slavs settled on the land which had been abandoned.

Indeed, these raiders didn’t want to simply pillage and return home; they wanted to settle inside the empire to be near its prosperous cities and to escape the yoke of the khagan. And so, as the 610s went on, the number of Slavic communities south of the Danube grew steadily, complementing those who had established themselves in mountainous enclaves at the end of the 6^th century. These communities remained as decentralized as they’d been north of the Danube; they governed themselves, rejected anyone else’s authority, and dealt with their neighbours as they saw fit. Some went to cities to trade with imperial subjects, others were openly hostile to the Romans, and others dreamed of owning more than mere abandoned farmland.

One such dreamer was a Slavic chieftain named Chatzon, who led a substantial number of armed men. In 616, he aimed his forces at the largest imperial city in the Balkans, Thessaloniki, hoping to capture it and settle his warriors and their families inside the city.

Thessaloniki’s residents were on their own, since the imperial troops remaining in the region were concentrated near Constantinople to defend the capital; everywhere else in the Balkans, Roman defenses had crumbled, and cities had to rely on their own militias with no hope of reinforcements.

As Chatzon’s army surrounded Thessaloniki, Roman refugees crowded into the city, and many joined its garrison. The Slavic chieftain told his warriors to build canoes to strike from the sea and construct ladders and rams to attack the walls. But a storm dashed many of the Slavic boats, and the city garrison withstood the assault on the walls, though many were killed in the fighting. After days of bloodshed, both sides realized that neither was strong enough to decisively defeat the other, so they agreed to negotiate. The leaders of Thessaloniki allowed Chazton to enter the city for talks, but the mothers of those who had been slain during the siege overwhelmed his guards and stoned him to death. The Slavs outside the walls were furious, but without their leader, they had no chance of taking the city, so they appealed to the khagan for help, promising him huge spoils if he took Thessaloniki.

The khagan, for his part, hadn’t been idle during these past few years. When Herakleios came to power in 610, he probably renewed the peace by increasing Avar subsidies to 160,000 soldi a year. I say “probably” because our sources for this period are extremely scarce, and we can’t reconstruct an exact chronology of events.

However, we have evidence that, a year later in 611, peaceful relations between the Avars and the Romans broke down. You see, Herakleios was dealing with a new khagan. This man – whose name we don’t know – had replaced his older brother a few years prior. He might’ve been happy to take Herakleios’ coin at first, but to truly secure his position as leader of the Avars, he needed more than wealth; he needed prestige. As the Slavs were devastating the empire’s Balkan provinces, this new khagan saw a perfect opportunity to prove himself as a military leader, gain glory, reward his followers, and get an even better treaty from the Romans – so, he ordered his troops to flood across the Danube.

The khagan’s riders were a terrifying sight, as they were expert warriors wielding the most advanced military gear of the age. The Avars had brought the iron stirrup to Europe, which offered a solid hold for handling both bows and lances. These were the typical weapons of an Avar warrior, and he could use a composite reflex bow just as well as a long lance depending on the battlefield situation. Warriors were also armoured, and the mounts of prominent men were covered with felt or iron. A charge from an Avar detachment would’ve been a dreadful sight for any foot soldier.

Yet the Avars didn’t seek out decisive battles. Their goal wasn’t to destroy enemy armies, but rather to disperse them so they could loot the riches which they defended. The Avars thus preferred executing ambushes, simulating retreats and then suddenly turning around, encircling their enemies, cutting off their supplies, and fighting at long range. Indeed, their three-edged arrows could fly for hundreds of meters, and each archer could shoot up to twenty arrows a minute – whether he was facing forwards or backwards on his horse.

The Romans tried to copy much of what they saw from the Avars. They soon adopted iron stirrups and trained their elite soldiers to use lances and bows on horseback while equipped with full armour, which was quite an innovation for the traditionally infantry-centered Roman army.

Yet the Avars also learned from the Romans. During their decades of raiding, they captured numerous imperial soldiers and put them to work building siege engines like rams, towers, and catapults. With such expertise, the Avars were able to seriously threaten cities, and when they conscripted their subject peoples as well, their combined army could deal with any force. You see, Avar riders rode incredibly fast and far – as much as sixty kilometers a day – and were able to easily wrest control of open plains. Their Slavic subjects, on the other hand, employed stealthy and surprise attacks in mountainous and marshy terrain. As such, Avar riders could disperse imperial armies in the open while Slavic bands plundered the countryside, after which the khagan could order his foot soldiers to set up a siege of a city. These were exactly the tactics which were employed when the Avars attacked the empire in the 610s. After an initial period of shock and awe which scattered imperial forces, the cities of the region were left isolated, and notable towns such as Serdica and Naissus were taken by Avar forces; their riches were plundered and many of their inhabitants were enslaved.

In 618, the khagan sent his riders and siege experts to Thessaloniki at the behest of Chatzon’s beleaguered army. Avar warriors rushed towards the city and surprised the inhabitants who were outside the walls. A few days later, the main force arrived accompanied by siege engines, which included ladders on wheels, catapults which could throw stones as heavy as thirty kilograms, and towers which were higher than the city walls and had rooms on their platforms for heavily armoured fighters.

But for all their armaments and skills, the greatest weapon which the Avars possessed was intimidation. You see, the khagan’s catapults could only do limited damage to Thessaloniki’s walls, and his siege towers weren’t always well built: one actually collapsed and buried its crew before it reached the fortifications. Plus, the khagan’s riders could do little in a siege; the best they could offer was a rain of arrows, but this proved ineffective against the garrison. Worst of all, the khagan’s army was critically vulnerable when it came to supplies.

Whenever they campaigned, the Avars brought more horses than they fought with, since they needed fresh mounts to cover large distances and have the edge in combat. These horses needed vast pastures to survive, which is why the Avars let their animals graze an extended territory and didn’t coalesce into a unified army until the day of battle. But during a siege, it was impossible not to come together; the Avars had to surround a city and stay nearby. So the khagan’s best hope was that the size of his army would convince the defenders that they had no chance of victory, leading the intimidated garrison to lose morale and lay down their weapons before his army ran out of supplies.

But it turns out the inhabitants of Thessaloniki were incredibly motivated. Though they had no hope of relief from any imperial forces, they stockpiled as much food as they could and resolved to resist until the last moment. Every few days, their soldiers repelled repeated attacks on their walls, and though they suffered continuous losses, the Romans were determined to fight on. After a month, the khagan was no closer to capturing the city than he’d been when he arrived, and his riders were running out of pasture while his Slavic subjects were running out of food. To avoid a humiliating retreat, the khagan initiated negotiations with the defenders and agreed to a deal; in return for a considerable sum of gold, he would withdraw his forces and let the residents of Thessaloniki ransom their captives from the Slavs. Though the khagan hadn’t achieved victory, he had saved himself from admitting defeat.

Soon afterwards, the khagan also concluded a wider deal with the emperor himself. You see, by 618, the Avars had been campaigning for the better part of a decade and, by now, they’d breached all the towns that could be easily overcome. The only cities in the Balkans that remained under imperial control were those along the Aegean coast and near Constantinople. Attacking them would entail difficult sieges which weren’t guaranteed to succeed – like in the case of Thessaloniki. So, the khagan contented himself with the plunder he’d already taken and made a deal with Herakleios; peace was secured in exchange for yet another increase in subsidies – this time to 180,000 soldi a year.

As the Avars retreated laden with riches and captives, provincials near fallen forts and breeched cities were left to rebuild their smouldering homes, while the inhabitants of the countryside had to fend for themselves; destitute townsfolk, dispossessed farmers, individuals fleeing slavery, and deserting soldiers did their best to eke out a living. Some formed bands of armed robbers, while others negotiated a working relationship with Slavic communities which had settled near them. In all cases, the people of the countryside felt abandoned by the empire; though the emperor had finally paid off the Avars, he’d failed to protect them, and they had little motivation to defend the imperial order or even to cooperate with his agents.

From Herakleios’ perspective, he couldn’t do much more for the citizens of the Balkans. While the Avars and Slavs had devastated his western provinces, the Persians had continuously taken land in the East, which comprised the most prosperous part of the empire; Herakleios had to stop their ravages, because the situation was dire.

In the early 610s, the Persian army had marched into Syria and even raided Anatolia, puncturing the empire’s defensive line and causing chaos in the interior. By 614, the invaders had captured the city of Jerusalem and even taken the True Cross on which Jesus had been crucified and which was a holy relic for the Romans. This huge moral blow was matched only by the magnitude of the strategic defeat; with the capture of Jerusalem, the empire was cleaved in two, with one half hiding behind the Taurus Mountains that contoured Anatolia, and the other half isolated on the other side of the Sinai Peninsula. Though imperial troops offered stiff resistance, they were deployed on multiple fronts and couldn’t concentrate their forces, so ever more cities were lost to the invaders every month. By 619, the Persians had captured all of Egypt, which alone provided three tenths of the empire’s revenue. Grain shipments to Constantinople ceased, leading to widespread hunger in the capital. The suffering was aggravated by an outbreak of plague around the same time, which was especially harsh for the capital’s weakened, famished citizens.

The advance of the Persian army was accompanied by regular pillaging and massacres. Refugees fled wherever they hoped to find safety, whether in monasteries, in the wilderness, or other provinces; those captured – which numbered in the hundreds of thousands – were deported East to Mesopotamia to work as farmers and artisans inside the Persian empire. Riches were also stolen and taken away to Persia in massive amounts; wealthy individuals were tortured to reveal the location of their stashes, and churches were emptied of all their valuables. The Persians were systematically dismantling the Roman empire, and Khusrow would not stop until it was destroyed.

After taking Egypt, Persian forces redirected their focus north and exerted more pressure on Anatolia. Their troops regularly crossed the Taurus Mountains to raid the interior, and in 622, they overcame and burned the city of Ankyra, which lay on the main road across the central plateau. Though they couldn’t yet garrison forts and cities in Anatolia, the Persians caused plenty of chaos by plundering goods, enslaving provincials, and destroying whatever could be of use to the Roman state.

Meanwhile in the Balkans, though the Avars had agreed to a peace, Slavic chieftains continued their raids, and some of them even commandeered boats to sail as pirates in the Aegean as far as Crete.

The empire was coming apart from all sides, and if Herakleios was to save it, he needed to take drastic action. Fortunately for the Romans, he was not a man to hunker down; no, he was going to strike back. Having appeased the Avars with subsidies, he could now gather all the forces at his disposal and concentrate them against the Persians.

Herakleios borrowed the silver and gold stored in the churches of Constantinople and Anatolia – which were the only imperial territories still under his control – and used these funds to raise and train a new army. Then, in 622, he saddled his horse and led this army personally beyond imperial borders in a daring campaign into Armenia and Persia. Though our sources are scarce, it seems that Herakleios defeated a Persian army that year and then returned to Constantinople. This first campaign helped build the cohesion of his new army and test its soldiers in the chaos of battle. Their victory showed the Persians that the Romans were not yet done – and more importantly, their bold attack showed their own people that they could still win.

But as Herakleios found success against the shah, the khagan was getting restless. With the bulk of the imperial forces dedicated to the eastern campaign, the empire’s western flank became an irresistible target for the Avars. At the same time, many Slavic chieftains had continued their raids and taken the initiative in the region. Though they were technically the khagan’s subjects, he couldn’t control their actions, and there was a danger that he might lose his reputation as a fearsome war leader; after all, he’d failed to take Thessaloniki when they’d asked for his help, and he had now signed a peace treaty with the emperor, so what did they even really need him for? The khagan had to show the Slavs that he was still worth following; otherwise, they might completely sever their ties with him. So, in the spring of 623, the Avar ruler broke his deal with the Romans and crossed the Danube, seeking to rally the Slavs around his banner and gain even more subsidies for himself.

Herakleios wasn’t about to fight the Avars on the field; he had just started to make progress against the Persians and he needed to stay focused on the East. That meant he needed to appease the khagan – whatever the cost. In June of 623, the emperor invited the Avar ruler to discuss a new treaty just outside the Long Walls of Thrace about sixty kilometres west of Constantinople. Herakleios arrived with all the regalia of his office, a diadem on his head, and with a large entourage of senators and clerics, musicians and the palace choir, plans for a horse race, as well as rich gifts for his guests – everything he could think of to impress the Avars. Rumours of the meeting between the two rulers soon spread, and many citizens travelled from neighbouring settlements to watch the event.

As the emperor approached the meeting site, his scouts informed him that Avar horsemen were hiding in the wooded areas by the Long Walls, poised to cut off his return route. The khagan clearly hoped to surround or capture the emperor, which would allow him to dictate terms. But Herakleios acted as soon as the threat was spotted; he changed from his imperial vestments to common clothing, hid the diadem under his arm, and galloped back the way he came. The Avar cavalry chased after him all the way to the Long Walls and even forced their way through the gates, but Herakleios and his retinue were able to escape back to Constantinople.

Having failed to capture the emperor, the khagan decided to pursue negotiations with a show of strength; his forces grabbed all the gifts which the Romans had brought to the meeting, plundered the surroundings of Constantinople, and took numerous captives back across the Danube. Herakleios was humiliated but he couldn’t afford to fight; he needed peace on his western borders. If he led his one army against the Avars, the Persians would be free to take the majority of his empire, and he wouldn’t be able to win it back; but if he got back the eastern provinces first, he could then much more easily regain the Balkans.

So, the emperor agreed to pay the khagan 200,000 soldi annually, in addition to giving him as hostages his nephew, a natural son, as well as a natural son of his magister militum. Herakleios knew that the treaty was fragile – after all, the Avars had broken treaties twice in the past decade. He probably expected the khagan to attack again in a few years to increase his subsidies once more. But those precious few years would give him an opportunity to hopefully turn the tide of the war against the Persians.

Herakleios immediately set to work. In the spring of 624, he surprised the Persians by marching an army up the Euphrates and then down the Araxes, breaching, plundering, and burning cities in the heartland of the Persian empire. No one had expected the emperor himself to risk his own life – and his only army – on such a deep strike. Yet Herakleios had one shot to save the empire from collapse, and he wasn’t looking back.

From the Araxes, the emperor and his army struck south towards Ganzak where Khusrow was residing, forcing the King of Kings to flee. The imperial army then captured the Zoroastrian temple complex of Azar Goshnasp, which was associated with the shah. The Romans extinguished the temple’s sacred fire and dumped corpses in its lake to avenge the loss of Jerusalem and the True Cross. The war had taken on a deep religious significance for both sides.

It took several months for the Persians to adequately respond to this incursion, but as the year drew to an end, the King of Kings finally redeployed three of his armies to converge on Herakleios. The Roman force needed to win every engagement, while a single loss would doom the empire as a whole. Over the winter of 624-625, the emperor and his generals miraculously outmanoeuvered and defeated all three Persian armies. When spring arrived, Herakleios decided that he’d done enough damage – and taken enough risks – and so retreated back to Anatolia. Though he had not fundamentally reversed the situation in the East by recapturing lost provinces, he had successfully gone on the offensive for two consecutive campaign seasons; there were good chances that next year would bring even more victories.

As you can imagine, the King of Kings was livid at this turn of events; his enemy had put himself in the jaws of his armies, and still somehow triumphed. Khusrow decided that enough was enough; he was going to root out Herakleios and destroy the Roman state once and for all by attacking the heart of the empire. In 625, the Persian King of Kings sent ambassadors to the Avar khagan with a proposal: strike Constantinople together and share the spoils of a dismembered Roman empire.

Next time, we’ll see Rome’s two biggest enemies converge on Constantinople and see the Romans fight for their very survival.