A Storm of the West: Demetrios the Prince
For all the various rumblings and mutterings, the Roman Empire in the late 1640s and early 50s remained relatively quiet, certainly nothing like the turmoil that wracked central Europe. The weather continued to be more erratic than usual, damaging harvests, but the shortages were small-scale. They inflicted immense harm on those in those local areas, even with efforts to distribute aid to stricken regions, but these were blows Roman state and society could absorb.
As the world turned, a certain boy gradually grew toward manhood. Demetrios Sideros the Younger was the youngest son of Odysseus and Maria, and he turned 14 years old in 1653. In his autobiography, Demetrios described that as “the year in which I became interesting”. Some of his tutors probably would’ve questioned that assertion. Demetrios the Younger was many things.
Normal was not one of them.
The word used to describe him, frequently to the point of abuse by his biographers, is intense. Even as a child, whatever he put his mind to, Demetrios utterly committed himself. He loved to hunt and ride, and on days dedicated to those activities, he threw himself into the fray. He rode furiously across the landscape, shooting birds with his bow and lancing boars with his spear. Weather and terrain did not matter. This was a hunting day, and so a hunting day it would be.
But distinctly unlike his brother, Demetrios was a voracious reader, to a point that even a jaded and bibliophile people like Romans were impressed. If it was a reading day, then he would devour volumes. His interests could vary, from works of natural history to human history to adventures, but whatever his interest, he stalked and pursued it until his quarry was brought to bear, slain, and butchered. He listened to tales from foreign ambassadors to learn of distant lands, and he is said to have read all the published works of his grandfather by his thirteenth birthday.
Although tending towards chubbiness as a child, due to an excellent talent for wheedling sweets from the palace kitchen staff, as a teenager he had a lithe slim figure. (One reason for his vigorous exercise routines on allotted days was so that he could continue to enjoy said sweets without the chubbiness.) Not as short as his father, he was still below average in his height, and while no powerlifter was much stronger than one would expect from his small frame. In his capability of producing facial and body hair, he closely resembled his grandfather and far outmatched his elder brother, much to Herakleios’ humiliation. In his dusky skin and dark brown hair he too more closely resembled his father, in contrast to his fairer skinned and haired brother, another source of irritation.
Yet what contemporaries universally noted about him, whether that be a court tutor, a palace bureaucrat, a foreign ambassador, or a young palace maid, were the eyes, those intense eyes. One of those maids described them as “deep pools, simultaneously exciting and frightening”. From a young age, Demetrios enjoyed and pursued the attention of the ladies, usually with success. One day in summer 1653, a horse that had the daughter of the Eparch of Constantinople, Helena, riding it bolted in terror. Demetrios on his own mount caught up with the horse and managed to bring it under control. When Helena asked how she could thank him, he requested that she, who was one of the beauties of the court and five years his senior, give him a kiss which she did.
That episode is known from other accounts. That evening in his journal Demetrios instead records his loathing for people who interrupt him while reading to engage in ‘trivial chattering’.
While a frequent writer like his grandfather (much of Demetrios’ life is known from his surprisingly candid autobiography, although the writing style shows significant grandfatherly influence), unlike Demetrios III, Demetrios the Younger engaged in poetry. One is as follows:
The night before last, I dreamed I was a star,
Shining over the snows on Mount Olympus
And then I awoke, and remembered I was Demetrios.
Last night, I dreamed I was a flower,
Turning toward the sun on the Thessalian plain
And then I awoke, and remembered I was Demetrios.
But is that so?
Am I Demetrios, dreaming I was a star and then a flower?
Am I a star, dreaming I was Demetrios and then a flower?
Or am I a flower, dreaming I was a star and then Demetrios?
Or something else entirely, dreaming of a Demetrios, a star, and a flower?
Probably the last, and likely it’s an elephant that’s the dreamer of it all.
Demetrios’ relations with the rest of his family seem to have been rather distant. He was closest to his cousin Sophia, but he mostly bonded with palace attendants and servants and those responsible for his care while growing up. His writings indicate he respected his Aunt Athena, but there is little sign of affection in either direction.
There is certainly no sign of respect or affection in either direction when one turns to the relationship between Demetrios and his elder brother Herakleios. With a seven-year gap, it is unsurprising they were not close growing up. Herakleios viewed his little brother mostly with annoyance at first, but as Demetrios grew older, and particularly after entering his teenage years, that annoyance grew to dislike and then to hatred.
Herakleios resented how his younger brother seemed to be more popular and admired, especially as there seemed to be a double standard. Demetrios could crow about his hunting exploits and be applauded. Now if Herakleios did the same, he would still be applauded, but that seemed not to be genuine, done simply because of Herakleios’ rank.
(Michael Pirikolos said that the difference was because of the nature of the crowing. Demetrios would grant honors and praise to others in the hunting party, and showed a willingness to poke fun at himself. But when Herakleios went hunting, all kills belonged to him and him alone, and no dirt could land on him. Another difference was that Demetrios could talk about other topics than hunting, while Michael caustically stated that Herakleios had the mental horizon of a not-especially-bright English aristocrat.)
The annoyance and resentment did not manifest itself into hatred though until an incident in spring of 1654. Demetrios and some of his attendants were promenading in the White Palace gardens when they came upon Anastasia Laskarina, Herakleios’ mistress, and several of her attendants going the other way. In this area, the footpath was narrow and there was not enough room for both parties. One would have to step off the path to make way for the other.
Anastasia requested that Demetrios make way for her. He replied that he would make way for an elephant, but not ‘any old cow’. Anastasia was understandably furious and refused to budge when Demetrios then demanded that she make way for him. Impasse.
Neither was willing to either move or turn around, but it turns out that Demetrios was better prepared. After a few minutes, he and his attendants pulled out some cold sausages, cheese, and a jug of wine they had on them (why has never been explained) and while still standing on the path, calmly and loudly proceeded to slowly eat their repast. Finally, Anastasia gave way and moved off the path, letting Demetrios proceed.
Herakleios was absolutely enraged when he heard of this; there are some accounts that state he wished to have his brother beheaded for the impertinence. Athena, who had no liking for Anastasia, found the whole affair amusing but did not want any brotherly stabbing to splatter the walls of the White Palace. Thus, to placate Herakleios, who at this stage was more than old enough to take the reins of power but showed no signs of seriously trying to take them from his aunt, a compromise was reached.
It was effectively exile. Demetrios was granted some large tracts of land, with it being made very clear he was to leave the White Palace and go live on those holdings. The estate was in the Kephalate of Iberia in northeast Anatolia, inland from Trebizond. With its capital of Theodosiopolis, the southern part of the district included the field of Manzikert. Demetrios’ property was near Chauzizion on the Upper Araxes River, a town that far more resembled Tbilisi or Tabriz than it did Constantinople or Nicaea.
This was in the heart of the rugged rough east, where knowledge of Armenian and Georgian and Kurdish was more useful on the ground and where the spoken Greek was decidedly strange by capital standards. In terms of travel time (although not in straight-line distance), it was almost as far as one could go from Constantinople while still remaining in the Imperial heartland.
Demetrios seems to have accepted this with good grace. The teenager was restless, a pointless second son with nothing to do. Given his older brother’s feelings, prospects of advancement in Roman service seemed rather slim, and he was too proud to beg forgiveness. He made his own feelings for his elder brother quite clear as he made his way east out of the White Palace in late spring 1654.
Definitely without permission, in his baggage Demetrios Sideros took the Sword of Timur, the blade their grandfather had acquired in Persia, and the blade their father had worn through his long march east. As far as Demetrios was concerned, that steel belonged to him.
