Professional Documents
Culture Documents
James Howard-Johnston
ORIENT ET MÉDITERRANÉE (UMR 8167) / MONDE BYZANTIN
COLLÈGE DE FRANCE / INSTITUT D’ÉTUDES BYZANTINES
TRAVAUX ET MÉMOIRES
– publication annuelle paraissant en un ou deux fascicules –
Fondés par Paul Lemerle
Continués par Gilbert Dagron
Dirigés par Constantin Zuckerman
Comité de rédaction :
Jean-Claude Cheynet, Vincent Déroche,
Denis Feissel, Bernard Flusin
Comité scientifique :
Wolfram Brandes (Francfort) Peter Schreiner (Cologne – Munich)
Jean-Luc Fournet (Paris) Werner Seibt (Vienne)
Marlia Mango (Oxford) Jean-Pierre Sodini (Paris)
Brigitte Mondrain (Paris)
TRAVAUX ET MÉMOIRES
26
Mélanges
James Howard-Johnston
edited by
Phil Booth & Mary Whitby
Late antiquity 21
Afterword 777
relocation to Brighton, he was still each day to be found in Oxford’s Ioannou Centre, talking
to aspiring Byzantinists in the seating area, supervising Master’s essays in his tiny, book-strewn
office perched above the central courtyard, or throwing himself into some new postgraduate
language class in the basement (where lurked different groups for Ethiopic, Syriac, Arabic,
and Middle Persian—all of them driven by James’ presence). After the sudden and terrible
death of his pupil, friend, and successor Mark Whittow in a car accident in 2017, James even
emerged from his retirement to teach Byzantine History to that year’s large Master’s cohort,
inspiring another generation of devotees who would hang upon his every word during classes
and seminars.
James has never tired of meeting new interlocutors or hearing new ideas. In seminars he
takes and keeps assiduous notes; he never fails to ask a probing question (introduced, in his
later years, by the dramatic parting at the central bridge of the bespoke glasses which alternately
clamp the skull or hang around the neck). He approaches academic life with an infinite
curiosity and infectious enthusiasm, qualities which leap from the pages of his published
research. His work is marked with a rigorous command of sources and chronology, a rare
intellectual daring and imagination, and a deep appreciation of the material conditions of the
past. As the photographs in this volume attest (and also his popular volume, co-authored with
Nigel Ryan, The scholar and the gypsy), James is an assiduous and adventurous traveller,
believing that history cannot properly be understood without an intimate knowledge of the
landscape in which it was played out. His work unwaveringly demonstrates the same empathy
for human beings in the past that he shows to those who surround him in the present.
The contributors to this volume represent but a small selection of James’ many colleagues,
students, and admirers, each of whom has been touched in some way by his personal generosity,
and fired by his enormous input into teaching and research. The personal recollections which
accompany many of the papers speak for themselves. This volume is our small way of saying
thank you.
The editors regret that they have been unable to identify the photographer
of the portraits of James in Algeria and of James in California.
ABBREVIATIONS
by Christian C. Sahner
I. Introduction
The Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Jerusalem (BHG 1217) is a short Greek text that
describes the death of a group of Byzantine nobles during an ill-fated pilgrimage to the
Holy Land in ca. 724.1 It belongs to a larger group of Christian martyrdom narratives
produced in Palestine and neighbouring regions during the early centuries of Islamic rule.2
Both in terms of historical setting and likely date of composition, it is among the earliest
of these narratives, and therefore of great scholarly interest. Although the text has been
studied before, notably by George Huxley and Panayotis Yannopoulos, it has received
considerably less attention than other examples of the genre.3 Specifically, it has never
before been translated into a modern European language, and major questions about its
provenance and historical context remain to be answered.4
For my part, I did not discuss the Passion in detail in my recent book about the
Christian martyrs of the early Islamic period.5 My reason for this was that the text does
not fit neatly into one of the three categories of martyrdom narratives I did focus on and
which constitute the bulk of the surviving evidence: stories of Christians who converted
to Islam then returned to Christianity; of Muslims who converted to Christianity; and
of Christians who blasphemed the Prophet Muḥammad. Instead, the Passion belongs to
* I am grateful to Evgenios Iverites for his help in preparing this article and to the editors for their
useful feedback.
1. BHG, vol. 2, p. 101; Efthymiadis, The Sixty martyrs. See also Bibliotheca sanctorum. 6,
pp. 293–5; PmbZ 10231; Dumbarton Oaks hagiography database, pp. 90-1.
2. For an overview of these works, see Sahner, Christian martyrs.
3. Huxley, The Sixty martyrs; Yannopoulos, Légende. See also Gero, Byzantine iconoclasm,
pp. 47, 128, 176–81; Kaplony, Konstantinopel und Damaskus, pp. 353–9; Hoyland, Seeing Islam,
pp. 360–3; Flusin, Palestinian hagiography, pp. 216, 218.
4. There are earlier translations into Latin: Acta sanctorum. 9, pp. 360–2; and Russian: G. Destunis
in Papadopoulos-Kerameus, Мученичество (also containing the Greek text), for the Russian:
pp. 11–16.
5. Sahner, Christian martyrs, pp. 3, 18, 20, 226, 231.
what we might call a fourth category of narratives that do not revolve around apostasy or
blasphemy per se, but focus on violent confrontations between Muslims and large groups
of Christians, often in military settings. Along with the Passion of the Sixty martyrs of
Jerusalem, this category includes the Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Gaza (d. ca. late-630s),
the Passion of the Forty-two martyrs of Amorion (d. 842), and the Passion of the Twenty
martyrs of Mar Saba (d. 797, though not a military text).
At the outset, it is important to note that, in addition to BHG 1217, the subject of
this article, there is a later version of the Passion, BHG 1218, that also survives.6 Written
in Greek, probably in late-tenth or eleventh-century Palestine, it is much longer than
BHG 1217 and tells a substantially different story. Due to considerations of length, I will
not discuss it here other than to flag its existence and to note that it provides interesting
insights into the development of the martyrs’ cult in later periods.
The purpose of the following article is two-fold: first, to situate the Passion of the Sixty
martyrs in its literary and historical context in a manner that has not been done before, at
least to my satisfaction; and second, to provide the first English translation of the work.7
Although the Passion is a short text, it provides a fascinating window into a number
of important themes, including the history of Byzantine-Umayyad warfare (especially
memories of the Arab siege of Constantinople in 717–18), enduring sympathy for the
Byzantine Empire among Melkite Christians in the caliphate, and the phenomenon of
Syriac-to-Greek translation. For these and other reasons, I hope this article is a fitting way
to honour my colleague and former teacher, James Howard-Johnston, a devoted student
of both Byzantine and Islamic history.
d. 794). Coislin 303 is thus an important witness to the history of hagiographic writing
in Palestine as well as its dissemination in Byzantium during the post-conquest period.
André Binggeli has recently published a detailed study of the manuscript, arguing
that the codex was copied in Constantinople on the basis of an earlier model imported
from Palestine.10 This original codex may have been produced in or around Jerusalem
between the first half of the ninth c. and the beginning of the tenth. The circumstances
of the manuscript’s transfer to Byzantium are unclear, but we know there were many
Palestinian clergy who travelled to Constantinople during this period, as well as strong
contacts between the two Churches.11 Such exchanges provide as a plausible setting in
which the manuscript may have first made its way to Byzantium.
Binggeli identified two Constantinopolitan monasteries as likely places where
Coislin 303 was copied. The first is the Stoudios Monastery, a major centre of hagiographical
writing, where interest in a collection of saints’ Lives from Mar Saba or another prestigious
Palestinian foundation would have been high.12 The second is the Chora Monastery,
home to a number of prominent Palestinian émigrés, including the famous Michael
Synkellos, who was appointed hēgoumenos in the middle of the 9th c.13 Regardless of
where the manuscript was copied, however, it seems that its Palestinian contents were
supplemented with a group of texts added by the Constantinopolitan scribe, including
works by Maximus the Confessor, Ammonas, Peter the Monk, and Theodore Stoudios.14
Were it not for Coislin 303, we would know considerably less about the writing of
martyrdom narratives in early Islamic Palestine than we currently do. That being said,
the survival of the manuscript should not lead us to conclude that the Passions it contains
were particularly popular. Aside from a few references in liturgical calendars—and an
additional Georgian translation of the Passion of the Twenty martyrs of Mar Saba—the
new martyrs mentioned in the codex would be otherwise unknown to us.15 Indeed, it is
striking that the only surviving copies of two of the works, the Passion of the Sixty martyrs
of Jerusalem (BHG 1217) and the Passion of Elias of Helioupolis, come not from Syria-
Palestine, where the events took place, but from Byzantium.
That the texts survived at all is a testament to the close connection between the
Melkite community of Palestine and their co-religionists in Constantinople, but even
there, the martyrs cannot be said to have been widely known. Aside from Coislin 303,
it seems the martyrs were generally ignored in Byzantium. Binggeli attributes this to
the relatively low level of enthusiasm for Palestinian saints in Constantinople, possibly
because of Palestine’s increasingly peripheral status in the Byzantine cultural sphere as
well as the rise of Constantinople’s own saints in this period.16 As Binggeli and Stephanos
Efthymiadis have recently shown, a rare exception is the martyr Bacchus (d. 786–7), a
young Christian from Maiouma in coastal Palestine who converted to Islam and then
returned to Christianity and became a monk, for which he was martyred. He became
the subject of elaborate hagiographical traditions in Byzantium, where his cult became
popular in a way that did not happen for almost any other Palestinian martyr.17
Aside from the Passion itself, the only evidence we have for the cult of the Sixty martyrs
comes from outside Byzantium. The Palestinian-Georgian calendar—compiled by John
Zosime in the tenth century and containing the sanctoral of the church of Jerusalem at the
time—notes a feast of the Sixty martyrs on October 21st (a day before the commemoration
in BHG 1217).18 A number of Melkite Arabic synaxaria dating to between the eleventh
and fourteenth centuries also mention a feast of Sixty-three martyrs on October 22nd.19
Finally, outside Islamic lands, there is a canon to the Sixty-three martyrs on October 21st
in an Italo-Greek menologion of the thirteenth century, which is dependent on the version
of events in BHG 1218.20
17. Binggeli & Efthymiadis, Vie et Passion de Bacchos, pp. 45–101; Binggeli, La réception,
pp. 281–3; generally, Efthymiadis, The Life of Bacchus; Sahner, Christian martyrs, pp. 62–8.
18. Calendrier palestino-géorgien, ed. Garitte pp. 98, 363–4; cf. Passion of the Sixty martyrs of
Jerusalem (BHG 1217), p. 7.9–10. Here and below, see Sahner, Christian martyrs, pp. 226–7.
19. Sauget, Premières recherches, pp. 310–11. “Sixty-three” reflects the number of martyrs given
in BHG 1218, per n. 108 below.
20. Analecta hymnica graeca, vol. 2 pp. 428–9.
21. Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Jerusalem (BHG 1217), pp. 2.29, 2.31 (“of sacred memory”, per
the sentence above], 3.14–15).
22. Acts of the Second Council of Nicaea.
23. Yannopoulos, Légende, pp. 163–4, 175–6. For a more measured approach, see Gero,
Byzantine iconoclasm, p. 128.
THE PASSION OF THE SIXTY MARTYRS OF JERUSALEM (BHG 1217) 389
Leo, the text has nothing to say about images, whether negatively or positively. This is in
sharp contrast to the later version of the Passion, BHG 1218, which can be described as
“iconophile” both because it condemns Leo as a heretic and because it speaks favourably
about images.24 Taken as a whole, the internal evidence suggests that the text was written
sometime between Leo’s death in 741 and his denunciation in 787, though a later date
is entirely possible.
What of the text’s compiler? At the end of the work, this figure identifies himself as
“John […] a simple monk who sits in my humble cell and reads.”25 John provides no
further information about himself, even the name of his monastery. Despite this, it seems
safe to assume that John lived somewhere in or around Jerusalem, for he explains that he
visited the grave of the martyrs, located near the church of St Stephen just north of the
Old City.26 He also makes no indication that he came from far away, e.g., on pilgrimage
from Byzantium. Based on the text and the manuscript from which it comes, it is also safe
to assume that John was a Melkite, that is, an adherent of the Chalcedonian (Dyothelete)
Church that remained in communion with Constantinople after the Arab conquests, whose
stronghold in the Umayyad and early ʿAbbasid periods was the patriarchate of Jerusalem
and its surrounding monasteries.27 We also know that the Melkites were great producers of
Christian martyrdom narratives at the time, a tradition to which John clearly contributed.28
24. Passion of the Sixty-three martyrs of Jerusalem (BHG 1218), pp. 137–9.
25. Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Jerusalem (BHG 1217), p. 7, § 12; cf. PmbZ 3147.
26. Bieberstein & Bloedhorn, Jerusalem, vol. 2, pp. 231–6.
27. For an overview, see Griffith, The Church of Jerusalem, among many other articles by Griffith.
28. Sahner, Christian martyrs, pp. 225–39.
29. Papadopoulos-Kerameus, in Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Jerusalem (BHG 1217), p. 7.13–22.
30. On this translator see PmbZ 11283.
390 CHRISTIAN C. SAHNER
why John ordered the translation at all, and here we can only speculate. As we shall see,
there was an active translation culture among Melkite Christians during the early Islamic
period, most of it aimed at making works in different languages accessible to the polyglot
monastic communities of the Holy Land (who used a babel of tongues for prayer as well
as conversation, from Greek and Arabic to Syriac, Georgian, Armenian, etc.).31 What
is more, as Cyril Mango famously remarked, early Islamic Palestine was the single most
active centre of Greek literary production in the Mediterranean during the 8th c., and the
translation of the Passion into Greek may reflect this.32
The key word in the passage is συριστὶ, which I have translated rather neutrally as
“Syrian”, a term with a variety of meanings in the late antique and early medieval periods.33
John could be referring to Christian Palestinian Aramaic (CPA), a Western Aramaic dialect
that flourished among the predominantly Melkite population of Jerusalem, the Judean
desert, Transjordan, and the western Galilee between the fourth and eighth centuries.34
Although this fits the confessional, geographic, and chronological profile of the text rather
well, it is highly unlikely that the supposed Vorlage was in CPA. After all, in terms of
literature, CPA was mostly a language of translation from Greek, and exceptionally few
original works in CPA survive.35
It is much likelier that the text was originally written in Syriac, that is, the prestige
dialect of Eastern Aramaic first associated with the city of Edessa, which later became
widespread among Christians across the Near East, Central Asia, and beyond. Although
the Melkites of Palestine are usually linked with Greek and Arabic, there is ample
evidence of Syriac speakers and Syriac literary production within the community at
this time.36 St Catherine’s Monastery at Mt Sinai, for example, the great repository of
Melkite literature from the region, is home to a large collection of Syriac manuscripts,
including several from the early Islamic period.37 There is also the example of the famous
Arabophone bishop Theodore Abū Qurra (d. ca. 825), sometime resident of Mar Saba,
who in addition to his famous theological treatises in Arabic, claimed to have written
some thirty tracts against the Jacobites in Syriac (none of which survive).38 We also know
that two monks, Patricius and Abramius, translated the ascetical homilies of Isaac of
Nineveh (fl. post-650) from Syriac to Greek at Mar Saba in the late 8th c. These, in turn,
helped propel Isaac to fame in places such as Constantinople and Mt Athos.39 The other
31. For an overview, see Griffith, From Aramaic to Arabic; and more recently, Johnson,
Introduction, pp. 58-88.
32. Among others, see Mango, Greek culture.
33. Lampe, Patristic Greek lexicon, p. 1346. I would like to thank Scott Johnson and Jack Tannous
for answering my questions about CPA and Syriac.
34. For an introduction, see Brock, Christian Palestinian Aramaic.
35. Among the surviving works in CPA are a number of saints’ Lives originally written in Greek:
The Forty martyrs of the Sinai Desert.
36. Kaplony (Konstantinopel und Damaskus, p. 353) reflects the common misconception that
Melkites did not use Syriac when he assumes that the Syriac Vorlage must have been the work of a
Miaphysite—as if Syriac were a sectarian language in this period. For a correction, see Griffith, From
Aramaic to Arabic, p. 14.
37. Brock, Catalogue.
38. Theodore Abū Qurrah, p. 119.
39. Brock, Syriac into Greek.
THE PASSION OF THE SIXTY MARTYRS OF JERUSALEM (BHG 1217) 391
clear example of Syriac-to-Greek translation from the time is the Apocalypse of Pseudo-
Methodius, one of the most popular literary responses to the rise of Islam.40
This little-studied but significant world of Melkite Syriac and Syriac-to-Greek
translation offers a plausible context in which the Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Jerusalem
may have been written. Of course, the foregoing assumes that there was indeed a Syriac
Vorlage behind the Greek text. We cannot discount the possibility that John made up the
story of the translation in order to make the text look older than it actually was.41 There
are few obvious Syriacisms in the text,42 and if anything, the style is a fairly conventional
Greek resembling the later historical books of the Septuagint, such as the Book of
Maccabees.43 By the same token, this could also indicate that the translator was very
good at his job—adept at “Greeking” the now-lost Syriac original—but it could also be
evidence that no such version ever existed. Either way, like the other hypotheses outlined
above, this is impossible to prove.
40. Ubierna, The Apocalypse (Greek); cf. Greisiger, The Apocalypse (Syriac).
41. Gero (Byzantine iconoclasm, p. 178) also floated the idea that the story of the Syriac Vorlage
was made up.
42. One possible Semiticism is the rendering of the caliph’s name, Sulaymān ibn ʿAbd al-Malik,
as Σολομὼν ὁ τοῦ Ἀνακτοδούλου (Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Jerusalem [BHG 1217], p. 2.16]).
“Σολομὼν” is standard Greek, but his patronymic “ὁ τοῦ Ἀνακτοδούλου” is a direct translation of the
Arabic “Ibn ʿAbd al-Malik” (δοῦλος, ʿabd = slave + ἄναξ, malik = king), suggesting that the author
or translator may have understood Arabic and possibly Syriac, a closely-related language. I have been
unable to find this version of the name elsewhere.
43. I owe this observation to Evgenios Iverites.
44. Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Jerusalem (BHG 1217), p. 1. See Sahner, Old martyrs, pp. 94–7;
and now Métivier & Binggeli, Les nouveaux martyrs.
45. Gero, Byzantine iconoclasm, pp. 176–7 believed that sections 1–2 were not an original part of
the Syriac Vorlage because they are full of biblical quotations, whereas such quotations are completely
missing from later sections.
46. On Sulaymān, see Eisener, Sulaymān b. ʿAbd al-Malik; Id., Zwischen Faktum und Fiktion;
PmbZ 7159.
392 CHRISTIAN C. SAHNER
a skilled eunuch to negotiate a truce. In section 5, the emperor and the eunuch strike a
deal whereby the Arab army is permitted to go free in exchange for allowing merchants
from both sides to conduct their business unharmed. The truce also stipulates that
Christians from Byzantium may go on pilgrimage to the Holy Land without facing
harassment or danger. The truce is described as lasting for seven years.
Section 6 occurs almost exactly seven years after the truce and introduces the martyrs
to the narrative. They are described as seventy nobles (ἄρχοντες) leading a huge band
of soldiers, slaves, weapons, and money to Palestine with the goal of venerating the
holy places and distributing alms to the poor (“more like […] a small commando
expedition than […] harmless pilgrims with palm branches”, in the words of Stephen
Gero).47 Unfortunately, they do not realise that their pilgrimage coincides exactly with
the expiration of the truce, for just as they return to Jerusalem from several outlying
monasteries, they are apprehended by the Arabs (section 7). The Arabs, in turn, imprison
the pilgrims in Caesarea, which is portrayed as the seat of an unnamed Umayyad governor
(the newly-founded city of al-Ramla was the actual capital of Palestine in this period).48
This governor, in turn, writes to an unnamed caliph asking for advice about how to deal
with them. The caliph advises the governor to invite the Christians to convert to Islam.
If they accept, he should take their weapons but allow them to keep their belongings. If
they refuse, he should have them tortured, crucified, and killed.
In section 8, the governor offers the Byzantines the chance to convert. The martyrs
refuse, proclaiming their belief in Christianity instead. The governor then tries to cajole
them with flattery, but failing in this, resorts to threats. When this does not work either,
he orders them to be killed. In section 9, three of the martyrs—George, John, and Julian,
the only ones identified by name—petition the governor not to kill them in Caesarea,
but in Jerusalem, presumably because of the honour this would bestow. In exchange,
the martyrs agree to hand over their possessions. They also pay fifteen nomismata to the
aforementioned John of Caesarea, whom they entrust with purchasing a plot of land in
which to bury them.
In section 10, the martyrs are brought to Jerusalem. Three of them die along the way
and a further seven succumb to cowardice and apostatise. Mirroring the fate of other
infidels in Christian texts across the centuries, the men are portrayed as succumbing to
extreme illness—in this case, dysentery—as a punishment for their unbelief, and this
eventually kills them over the coming days.49 The remaining sixty are crucified, shot with
arrows, and eventually die. In section 11, John of Caesarea purchases the plot of land for
the martyrs near the church of St Stephen—the first martyr in Christian history—thus a
fitting place for a new group of saints to be buried. The text also notes the institution of
an annual feast of the martyrs on October 22nd. Section 12, the last and final, contains
the first-person testimony of the monk John, who says he commissioned the translation
of the account from Syriac to Greek. John also reports having visited the cemetery where
the saints were buried and having met people who were healed by their relics.
50. Here, I concur with the chronology laid out in Yannopoulos, Légende, p. 166.
51. Gabrieli, Hishām.
52. Huxley, The Sixty martyrs, pp. 371–2.
53. Kaplony, Konstantinopel und Damaskus, pp. 353-9; Yannopoulos, Légende, pp. 176–85.
54. For recent bibliography, see Christides, The second Arab siege; Imbert, Graffiti arabes.
55. Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Jerusalem (BHG 1217), p. 2, § 3.
394 CHRISTIAN C. SAHNER
56. Kaplony, Konstantinopel und Damaskus, pp. 354–5 also entertains this possibility.
57. Canard, Les expéditions des Arabes.
58. A similar point is made by Gero, Byzantine iconoclasm, p. 177.
59. Palombo, The correspondence of Leo III.
60. Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Jerusalem (BHG 1217), p. 3.18–22.
61. Talbot, Byzantine pilgrimage, p. 100 (on the Sixty martyrs); Durak, Commerce.
62. Huxley, The Sixty martyrs, pp. 372–4.
THE PASSION OF THE SIXTY MARTYRS OF JERUSALEM (BHG 1217) 395
surviving only in Latin translation, tells the story of a Byzantine garrison captured by
the Arabs during the conquest of Palestine in the late 630s.63 After refusing to convert to
Islam, ten of the Byzantine soldiers were martyred in Jerusalem, followed by an additional
fifty in Eleutheropolis. The famous patriarch of Jerusalem, Sophronius (d. 638), takes
an active role in the story, exhorting the martyrs not to abandon their Christian faith.
There are obvious parallels between the two works, starting with the basic number of the
martyrs, the mise-en-scène of Byzantine-Arab warfare, the occurrence of the executions
in Palestine, and the location of the burials (at least for a portion of the Gaza martyrs)
at the Church of St Stephen.
Upon closer inspection, however, I would argue that the differences between the texts
may outstrip their similarities. The Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Gaza is set during the
conquest era in Palestine while the Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Jerusalem is set during
a period of Byzantine-Umayyad warfare in Anatolia and Constantinople. The former
accords a large role to Sophronius, while there is no similar character in the latter (save,
perhaps, for John of Caesarea, the man who secures a cemetery for the martyrs and who
is described as archbishop in BHG 1218). The former mentions wives and children of the
saints, while the latter mentions only their military retinue. The former moves back and
forth between Gaza, Jerusalem, and Eleutheropolis, while the latter between Anatolia,
Jerusalem, and Caesarea. The former states that the martyrs were beheaded, while the
latter specifies that they were shot with arrows and crucified. The former identifies all
the saints by name, while the latter, as we have seen, names only three of them. Finally,
the former has none of the Biblical quotations of the latter, indeed, it lacks comparable
hagiographical flourishes altogether.
It is undeniable that the two texts belong to the same genre and probably originate
in the same Palestinian Christian milieu (though the date of the Passion of the Sixty
martyrs of Gaza is hard to pin down, owing to the fact that it survives only in a later Latin
translation, the earliest copy of which is in an 11th-c. manuscript). That being said, I
would not go so far as Huxley to argue that the Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Jerusalem is
a reworking of the Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Gaza. Such a hypothesis is impossible to
prove, and if anything, a close reading of the two texts suggests that it may not be the case.
Rather, I would see the two texts as attempts to adapt the genre of the collective military
martyrdom—made famous by earlier works such as the Passion of the Forty martyrs of
Sebaste (d. 320)—to the new circumstances created by the Arab conquests.64 In this, the
Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Jerusalem strikes me as a fully original work that at the same
time is indebted to those that came before it, like the vast majority of hagiographical texts.
Yannopoulos says something similar by leaving open the possibility that the author of
the Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Jerusalem was inspired by the Passion of the Sixty martyrs
of Gaza without slavishly reproducing it—a hypothesis that also seems plausible to me.65
63. There are two versions of the story, the first an account of the martyrdom of the whole group
and the second an account focusing on a character named Florianus (to be identified with Sophronius?)
and his companions. See Passio sanctorum sexaginta martyrum. For overview with further bibliography,
see Woods, The Passion.
64. Sebaste, the Forty martyrs of, in The Oxford dictionary of the Christian Church, p. 1487.
65. Yannopoulos, Légende, pp. 185–6.
396 CHRISTIAN C. SAHNER
66. I deal with this question for the larger corpus of martyrdom narratives in Sahner, Christian
martyrs, pp. 199–240.
67. Huxley, The Sixty martyrs, pp. 373-4; cf. Gero, Byzantine iconoclasm, p. 47.
68. Huxley, The Sixty martyrs, p. 374.
69. Sahner, Christian martyrs, pp. 105–13, with further bibliography.
THE PASSION OF THE SIXTY MARTYRS OF JERUSALEM (BHG 1217) 397
Yet there may be a more specific message here, too, about the mounting military
tensions between Byzantium and the caliphate in the early eighth century, occasioned by
the siege of Constantinople and other less-spectacular battles along the frontier occurring
nearly every year.70 Christian communities in Palestine were relative bystanders to these
events, but texts such as the Passion of the Sixty martyrs may have served an important
role in making them feel like players in this military struggle between the two empires.
That these conflicts occurred at the precise time when confessional boundaries between
Christianity and Islam were becoming sharper may also be significant. Thus, the Passion of
the Sixty martyrs is a hagiographic monument to an especially intensive era of Byzantine–
Umayyad warfare. But it is also a product of a world in which Christians and Muslims
increasingly related to each other as competitors, no longer as wary compatriots of a
shared monotheistic community, as Fred Donner has argued was true for much of the
7th c.71 In such a world, the audience of the Passion may have found this tale of conflict,
of crisply-drawn lines between two religions, two communities, and two empires very
appealing, indeed, resonant with their experience on the ground.
The martyrdom of the sixty holy new martyrs72 who were martyred p. 1
in the holy city of Christ our God during the tyranny of the Arabs
1.73 Beloved, those who have soberly meditated upon the law of our Lord God day
and night and kept it unwaveringly shall be guided towards the straight path of Christ
our God and walk in his truth. For they listen to the divinely-inspired David sing,
“I have run the way of your commandments, when you did enlarge my heart”;74 and the
Lord of knowledge say, “Examine the scriptures and you shall find rest for your souls.”75
Moreover, “Ask and it shall be given to you. Seek and you shall find. Knock and it shall
be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and [everyone] who seeks finds, and
it shall be opened to whomever knocks.”76 Furthermore, “Whomever comes to me I shall
not cast out.”77
70. Haldon & Kennedy, The Arab-Byzantine frontier; generally, see now Eger, The Islamic-
Byzantine frontier.
71. Donner, Muhammad, pp. 194–224; also Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East.
72. τῶν ἁγίων ἑξήκοντα νέων μαρτύρων: On this terminology, see above, n. 44.
73. On whether sections 1–2 may have been added later, see above, n. 45.
74. Psalm 119:32. As Gero notes (Byzantine iconoclasm, p. 176), despite the claim that the Passion
was translated from Syriac, all of the biblical quotations come from the standard Greek text and are
not obviously translated from the Pshīṭtā or another Syriac version.
75. Cf. John 5:39, Matthew 11:29.
76. Matthew 7:7–8.
77. John 6:37.
398 CHRISTIAN C. SAHNER
78. ὡς ἐξ ἀρχοντικοῦ αἵματος καταγόμενοι: This echoes the description of the martyrs as “nobles”
(ἄρχοντες) in section 6 below.
79. Psalm 27:1.
80. Psalm 23:4.
81. Romans 8:18.
82. Cf. Philippians 2:15.
83. Matthew 5:16.
84. Cf. 2 Timothy 4:8.
85. καὶ διὰ τοῦτο ταῖς τούτων ἱεραῖς μνήμαις καὶ ἐτησίοις ἑορταῖς: Anticipating information
below about the martyrs’ feast in section 11.
86. Σολομὼν ὁ τοῦ Ἀνακτοδούλου: On this figure and the spelling of his name, possibility a
Semiticism, see nn. 42, 46.
87. The version of the story in BHG 1218 does not mention a battle or a truce. Instead it substitutes
an account of the origins of iconoclasm and the deposition of the patriarch Germanus; see Passion
of the Sixty-three martyrs of Jerusalem (BHG 1218), pp. 138–9; Gero, Byzantine iconoclasm, p. 177.
88. μονομάχους: See Lampe, Patristic Greek lexicon, p. 882.
THE PASSION OF THE SIXTY MARTYRS OF JERUSALEM (BHG 1217) 399
happening, news about him was reported to the emperor of the Romans, who is crowned
by God,89 and what things were being attempted.
4. Learning of this, Leo of sacred memory90 ordered [his troops] to blockade the
wretch from all sides with a huge amount of water [which they released] by pouring the p. 3
waters of the springs flowing nearby and far away.91 When this was accomplished with
great speed and when he was about to be in great danger of total catastrophe befalling
him, the pernicious and lawless tyrant was at a loss for what to do. Therefore, a certain
eunuch—who was the most intelligent and cunning of Sulaymān’s guards and devoted
servants92—seeing him consumed by perplexity and distress, asked for him to be ordered
to go before the emperor. [His plan was] that, by cleverness and crafty means, he would
set him free from the crushing agony and deliver him from the watery surroundings and
the blockade of moats. Knowing the eunuch’s intelligence by experience and becoming
exceedingly glad, [the caliph] dispatched him, commanding him to propose agreeable
terms to the emperor and to carry out all that he demanded.
5. The aforementioned envoy went before the most beloved-of-God and pious
emperor.93 With many supplications, the ambassador, being most resourceful and most
cunning, persuaded the most kindly and compassionate emperor and arranged a peace
treaty lasting for seven years. [The agreement stipulated] that he would release the tyrant
unharmed and that merchants would circulate in the jurisdictions and provinces of both
sides undisturbed and unhindered.94 [It also stipulated that] whoever wished to venerate
the sites that had been trodden by Christ our God would be unmolested and unharmed.95
Having fixed [the terms of the agreement] with oaths and confirmed one another with
steadfast agreements regarding these matters, they parted ways.
Then, having held back the waters from all sides, they released the tyrant from Roman
territory without any harassing attack or damaging operation. Naturally, considering an
amnesty such as this to be a godsend, merchants came from both sides and did business,
with no one hindering them at all. And many [Romans] came with right intentions to
venerate the Holy Land—by which I mean the revered sites of Christ our God—like
deer running swiftly to springs of water.96
89. τῷ θεοστέπτῳ: On this and other flattering epithets of Leo III, see above n. 21. In BHG 1218,
by contrast, Leo is routinely described as (most) impious, sacrilegious (ἀσεβῶς, ἀσεβέστατος), see
Passion of the Sixty-three martyrs of Jerusalem (BHG 1218), pp. 137.14–15, 138.19, etc.
90. ὁ τῆς ὁσίας μνήμης: Suggesting that the text was written sometime after Leo had died. See
above, n. 21.
91. I think what is envisioned here is that the Byzantines damned nearby streams to divert water
towards the Arab army.
92. τῶν ὑπασπιστῶν αὐτοῦ καὶ γνησίων παίδων.
93. τὸν θεοφιλέστατον καὶ εὐσεβέστατον βασιλέα: See above, n. 21.
94. ὅπως συναναστραφῶσιν οἱ ἔμποροι ταῖς ἀμφοτέρων ἐξουσίαις τε καὶ ἐπαρχίαις ἀνενόχλητοι
καὶ ἀπερίσπαστοι: On commerce along the Arab-Byzantine frontier in this period, see n. 61.
95. On Byzantine pilgrimage to Palestine in this period, see n. 61.
96. Cf. Psalm 42:1–2.
400 CHRISTIAN C. SAHNER
p. 4 6. In the seventh year of the agreed period, seventy [Roman] lords97 readied themselves,
aiming to venerate those sites which are worthy of love.98 Setting off with horse-drawn
chariots, various weapons, appropriate slave escorts, and a great deal of money, they
accomplished their journey safely and arrived at Jerusalem. Once they had venerated the
holy sites and consecrated offerings at them, they donated to the poor most of the supplies
that they carried with them.99 They then made the round of all the sacred monasteries
of the desert, having laid out the requisite charitable meals.100 And having received the
heaven-traversing prayers of the holy fathers as supplies for the journey, they endeavoured
to return to their homeland, to their kinsmen, and friends. But not realising that the
determined period of seven years had come to an end, they went down to the spring of
Koloneia, located three miles from the holy city of Christ our God.101
7. The Arabs, meanwhile, who were in the Holy City, compelled by envy which arises
from every intrusion of the Adversary [i.e., Satan]—since he always raises war against us,
admitting no truce—they turned to counting the determined period. Realising that the
end of the truce had come, they chased after the saints all together. Laying hold of them,
they said that the period of respite [upon which they had agreed] was completed.102 Turning
the saints back to Jerusalem, they threw them into prison while writing about them to
the governor in Caesarea, who was master of all of Palestine at that time103 and who held
authority over it. They sent him a message, explaining that the determined time that had
been promised was completed. He wrote back, ordering the saints to be sent along to him.
97. ἄρχοντες: See Lampe, Patristic Greek lexicon, pp. 241–2; cf. above n. 78.
98. BHG 1218 claims that the martyrs hailed from Ikonion (modern Konya) in southern Anatolia
and that they embarked on their pilgrimage in order to escape Leo’s iconoclasm. Neither detail is reflected
in BHG 1217: Passion of the Sixty-three martyrs of Jerusalem (BHG 1218), pp. 137.26, 138.16–17.
99. BHG 1218 lists the sites the martyrs visited during their pilgrimage: Passion of the Sixty-three
martyrs of Jerusalem (BHG 1218), pp. 140–1.
100. καὶ τὰς πρεπώδεις ἀγάπας τελέσαντες: Lit: “having laid out the requisite love-feasts”.
101. On the location of this site to the west of the Old City of Jerusalem, see Finkelstein &
Gadot, Mozah, pp. 227–9.
102. The text is laconic on this point, but is it possible that the Arabs regarded the Byzantine
pilgrims as spies? Gero, Byzantine iconoclasm, p. 178, thought so; this would match a trope in other
martyrdom narratives of the period, where Christians are frequently accused of conducting espionage
for the Byzantines: Sahner, Christian martyrs, pp. 231–2.
103. γράψωσι περὶ αὐτῶν τῷ Καισαρείας συμβούλῳ, πάσης Παλαιστίνης τὸ τηνικάδε κυριεύοντι:
This detail has a whiff of unreality to it. As discussed above (n. 48), the capital of Palestine in this period
was not Caesarea, but al-Ramla, located 45 miles to the south and further inland.
BHG 1217 does not identify the governor by name, though BHG 1218 calls him “Solomon,
surnamed Milchēn (Μιλχὴν)” (Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Jerusalem [BHG 1218], p. 143.28–9];
cf. PmbZ 7161). This is a strange detail, probably a corruption of the name of the caliph given in
BHG 1217, Sulaymān ibn ʿAbd al-Malik (see above, nn. 42 and 46), but transposed onto the governor.
I have not been able to securely identify an Umayyad governor of Palestine during the early- to
mid-720s. The closest is a governor who was active during the reign of ʿUmar ibn ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz
(99–101/717–20)—Naḍr ibn Yarīm ibn Maʿdikarib ibn Abraha ibn al-Ṣabbāḥ—though it is not
clear whether this Naḍr was still in his post by the time the martyrs reached Palestine. See Khalīfa ibn
Khayyāṭ, Tārīkh, ed. al-ʿUmarī p. 323; transl. Wurtzel & Hoyland p. 201; also Crone, Slaves on horses,
pp. 94–5, 127.
THE PASSION OF THE SIXTY MARTYRS OF JERUSALEM (BHG 1217) 401
When they had reached the metropolis of the Caesareans, he shut them up in the
public prison. Straightaway, he wrote in detail about them to the caliph,104 who wrote
the following message in reply, “Offer [for them] to apostatise from the religion of the
Christians.105 If they obey, we shall give orders to take their weapons along with their
horses, but allow them to keep their possessions, meaning their slaves, mules, and other
goods. But if they prove disobedient and persist in their own religion, we order you to p. 5
torture, kill, and finally crucify them.”
8. The governor of Caesarea, having received the foregoing instructions, led them
out of the prison and read aloud the tyrant’s command to the servants of God. Having
heard this, they simultaneously replied and cried aloud in a single voice, as if from one
mouth, “We are Christians and we shall by no means repudiate the orthodox faith of
our fathers! That is to say, we believe in worshipping the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit;
we revere the Trinity, made of the same substance,106 the single divinity in these three
individual properties, in which we were baptised for the remission of sins. We also look
forward to the resurrection from the dead, eternal life to come, and recompense for our
deeds. This is the true confession, and aside from this faith there is no truth. Behold,
today we are before you, and so are our goods. Do to our bodies whatever you have been
commanded. But as for our souls, over which you have no power, we entrust them to
the hands of God!”
Having heard these things, the exarch of Caesarea used flattery, adulation, and various
clever tricks and attempted to frighten them with threats. But not being able to persuade
the saints to apostatise from believing in Christ, he ordered them to be tortured, to die
by the sword, and [finally] to be crucified.107
9. Three of the saints then came to him, the famous George, John, and Julian,108 saying,
“As for all the visible things we possessed, they are yours, as being under your control.
But we also have things that lie hidden away which—since we shall not disclose [where
they are]—you shall not control. Therefore, if you yield to our demands, we shall disclose
[these] to you and they shall all belong to you without liability.”
Answering, the governor said in reply, “And what are your demands?” The saints
George, John, and Julian answered him, saying, “We request you to bring us back to
104. πρωτοσύμβουλον: A standard early term for “caliph” in Greek, including in early papyri and
literary sources; cf. Lampe, Patristic Greek lexicon, p. 1201. On the possible identity of this caliph, see
above, n. 46.
105. As is well known, there are very few instances of forced conversion of Jews, Christians, and
Zoroastrians (the so-called “dhimmī communities”) in the early Islamic period, though there was debate
about the permissibility of forcibly converting prisoners of war: Friedmann, Tolerance, pp. 115–20.
106. τὴν ὁμοoύσιον τριάδα: The key Trinitarian formulation of the Council of Nicaea (325).
107. Crucifixion was a characteristic form of punishment in the Umayyad period, see Anthony,
Crucifixion; Sahner, Christian martyrs, pp. 170–5.
108. Note the disparity with the names of the three leaders given in BHG 1218: Passion of the Sixty-
three martyrs of Jerusalem (BHG 1218), p. 146.22, Theodoulus, Eusebius, and David; and p. 169, § 29,
which gives the names of all sixty-three martyrs. They are probably referred to as “famous” (ἀοίδιμοι)
here because they may have been the leaders of the group.
402 CHRISTIAN C. SAHNER
Jerusalem and to fulfill the commands given to you by your king [i.e., to martyr us] before
p. 6 the gate where the tower of the prophet David was established.”109
The governor nodded his assent to their request. They then handed over their
possessions to him, both the visible and the hidden, except for fifteen nomismata, which
they gave to John, a pious man from Caesarea who seemed suitable to carry out their
desire. They said to him, “Brother John, by the mercy of divine succour, we hoped that,
in going up to Jerusalem according to the command of the ethnarch,110 there would be
granted to us firm resolve in the face of tortures and we would be deemed worthy of
martyrs’ crowns there. You, therefore, take this ministry upon yourself and purchase a
plot just for us in which our remains may be placed until the time when the one who has
fashioned us commands, the general resurrection takes place, as well as the recompense for
the deeds of each person. By the mercies of the God who loves men, we have confidence
that you will enjoy your wages.”
10. Therefore, the saints were then carried off from Caesarea to Jerusalem by the
command of the governor, according to their desire. But as the saints were being brought
up to Jerusalem, three of them died along the way. When the time came for them to be
crucified alive, cowardice set upon seven pitiable and foolish [men] among them. Having
apostatised, they fell ill with dysentery on the same day. Within a few days, they died,
the wretched having lost out in both the present age and the one to come.111
Meanwhile, the holy martyrs of Christ were crucified alive with the greatest and [most]
unimaginable torments. They were also wounded severely by arrows [fired] by soldiers
from every direction, until not a single spot on their bodies was left unharmed. Thus, they
gave their souls into the hands of God while rejoicing. [In this] they were imitating the
saints and heads of the apostles, Peter and Paul, as well as those who poured forth their
precious blood on behalf of our Lord, Jesus Christ, who is our true God, and on behalf of
the noble profession [of faith]. They gave thanks to Christ [our] God—who deemed them
worthy to drink the cup which he himself drank voluntarily on our behalf112—to him
p. 7 who showed forth his own resurrection from the dead for our salvation and regeneration.
11. John, the most beloved of God, then went up from Caesarea to Jerusalem and
purchased a plot in the area outside the gates near the Church of St Stephen,113 of which
the saints had desired to be neighbours. After a few days, he asked for the bodies of the
sixty holy martyrs to be taken down. He laid them in the aforementioned plot for their
glorification and for [the purposes of ] an annual feast, which was celebrated by the people
of Jerusalem, guarded by God, on the twenty-first of October114 for the good pleasure of
God, to whom be glory and power for ages unto ages. Amen!
109. Located on the west side of the city and today also known as the Jaffa Gate.
110. ἐθνάρχου: Referring to the ruler of a specific ἔθνος, “nation, people”, clearly the Arabs in this
context (Lampe, Patristic Greek lexicon, p. 407).
111. On this scene, see n. 49.
112. Cf. Matthew 26:39, Mark 10:38–9, Luke 22:42, John 18:11, etc.
113. On the location of this site, located a few hundred yards north of the Old City of Jerusalem,
see n. 26; a subset of the Sixty martyrs of Gaza was also buried near the church: Passio sanctorum
sexaginta martyrum, p. 302.
114. On the different days given for the feast of the martyrs, see nn. 18–19.
THE PASSION OF THE SIXTY MARTYRS OF JERUSALEM (BHG 1217) 403
12. I, John, am a simple monk who sits in my humble cell and reads.115 I originally
read these accounts of the sixty holy martyrs in the Syrian language, along with other
martyrs’ accounts. After some time, upon entering Jerusalem to venerate the holy sites,
I asked about the cemetery of the saints. I then came down to the plot [where they were
buried] and embraced the holy relics of the saints with reverence, believing that cures
are performed through them, as it was said to me by those who had benefited [from
their intercession]. In my humility, it seemed [fitting] to urge someone to translate this
account into Greek. Having translated as best he could, the one who was thus urged
now begs along with me for the help of the sixty holy martyrs, as well as the wages for
the compunction aroused in those who hear these accounts, from God through their
intercessions. And with them may the Lord and the all-merciful God grant us a portion
and an inheritance on the day of judgement. May it be so, amen.
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ABSTRACTS/RÉSUMÉS
Walter Beers, A Miaphysite subalternity? John of Ephesus, the Jafnids, and the villages
of the Ḥawrān pp. 23–44
This paper presents a case, informed by the historiography of subaltern studies, for the interrelated
socioeconomic significance of the Jafnid family of Arab phylarchs and of the sixth-century Miaphysite
church for the largely rural region of southern Syria/northern Jordan known as the Ḥawrān. It begins
with a close reading of John of Ephesus’ “Life of Thomas the Armenian”, exploring its relevance
for understanding the effects of Justinianic policy in the eastern border provinces. It then presents
three strands of evidence for the situation in the Ḥawrān: 1) the information provided by John of
Ephesus about the phylarch al-Mundhir b. al-Ḥārith; 2) the 137 subscriptions to the 569/70 “Letter
from the abbots of Arabia” surviving in the so-called anti-tritheist dossier; 3) archaeological evidence
for village life in the Ḥawrān. It is argued that the presence of large numbers of Miaphysite monks
and minor clergy in the region, and the patronage offered to the struggling Miaphysite church by
the Jafnid family, may have provided the peasantry of the Ḥawrān with a means of defence against
the encroachments of aggressively acquisitive urban elites. A conjunction of mutually beneficial
self-interest would thus have offered the Jafnids a weapon against regional rivals; the Miaphysite
clergy a committed constituency and sources of economic support in the region’s village churches;
and the independent peasants of the Ḥawrān a discursive expression of resistance to aristocratic
accumulation.
Phil Booth, Egypt under the Sasanians (619–29): “stability, continuity, and tolerance”?
pp. 233–58
In the past two decades revisionist scholarship on the Sasanian occupation of the Roman Near
East (603–29) has undermined previous constructions of the period, replacing a model of destruction
and decline with one of broad continuity and even vitality. Arguing from the perspective of Egyptian
evidence—and in particular its rich papyrological record, which includes documents composed
by the conquerors in their own language, Pahlavi—this paper revisits this more recent model.
It first points to significant complications around the dominant understanding of the course of
the invasion in 618–20, including the contention that violence was restricted to the conquest. In
the central sections it explores the nature of the Sasanian occupation and its fiscal and economic
impact, highlighting significant gaps in our understanding, and the probable variation of that
impact upon the conquered according to a range of contextual factors. As a conclusion, it takes
aim at the notion that Persian rule was “tolerant” of existing Christian communities, and points to
scattered evidence for the interference of the conquerors in patriarchal and episcopal life, as well as
for popular resistance to their rule.
Sebastian Brock, The emperor Maurice through East Syriac eyes pp. 259–69
A Syriac Narrative concerning the death of the emperor Maurice was published in 1910 by
François Nau. Of East Syriac provenance, this shares certain features with the legends surrounding
Maurice’s death that are first found in Theophylact Simocatta and Ps.-John of Antioch. After a
brief introduction, the Syriac Narrative is provided with a translation, followed by discussion of its
relationship to other sources and of its probable dating. An appendix gives a translation of the section
on Maurice to be found in the Syriac Life of Sabrishoʿ, catholicos of the Church of the East (596–604).
Jeffrey Michael Featherstone & Juan Signes Codoñer, Tales from the Palace?
Ten episodes in the Ps-Symeon and their possible connexion with Basil Lecapenus
and the historiographical atelier of Constantine VII pp. 633–52
We discuss here ten episodes transmitted by the so-called Chronicle of the Pseudo-Symeon which,
on account of textual similarities, appear to come from a common source within the Palace. The
first two, also transmitted in Book VI of Theophanes Continuatus, are examined in more detail.
We consider the possibility that Basil Lecapenus was involved in the collection of these episodes,
for, as the natural son of Romanus I and later parakoimomenos under Constantine VII, he took an
active part in the latter’s historiographical projects. The interspersion of these rather lengthy passages
in Ps-Symeon’s rigid summary of the historical events presented in the Logothete Chronicle A may
appear incongruous at first sight, but this can be explained if we consider that Ps-Symeon, or at
least its final part, is not a finished product but a preparatory draft for a more ambitious reworking
of Logothete A undertaken by a team of scholars in the Palace.
Geoffrey Greatrex, Procopius, the Nika riot, and the composition of the Persian Wars pp. 45–57
This article discusses two issues relating to Procopius’ Persian Wars. The first part focuses on his
depiction of the Nika riot of January 532 and argues, contrary to the standard view, that it may be
designed as a display piece to highlight the role of both Justinian and Theodora in the suppression of
this insurrection. Each of the imperial couple, it argues, are active participants in the events, placing
them centre-stage, unlike in the rest of the Wars as a whole. Given the historian’s disapproval of the
circus factions in general, the violence Procopius describes in the quelling of the riot was doubtless
acceptable in his view. The second part considers his account of Belisarius’ expedition into Persian
ABSTRACTS/RÉSUMÉS 783
Assyria in 541, arguing that we can detect two layers of narrative here. An initial positive portrayal of
the campaign seems to have been inadequate in the historian’s view, and so he embarked on a second
account, overlapping with the first, in which he could meet some of the accusations raised against
Belisarius, of which traces may be found in the Anecdota. The article concludes by warning against
giving priority to the Anecdota in our assessment of Justinian’s reign and underlines the constantly
evolving nature of Procopius’ attitudes towards various prominent figures.
Tim Greenwood, Adontz, Armenia and Iran in late antiquity pp. 59–81
Having considered the title, content and context of Adontz’s magisterial Арменія в эпоху
Юстиніана, this study explores the challenges of approaching Armenia in the sixth century from
the perspectives of Western or Roman Armenia and Eastern or Persian Armenia. Noting the dearth
of material from the former, the study focuses instead on four extant contemporary sources in
Armenian from the latter: documents from the First and Second Councils of Duin (505/6 ce and
554/5 ce respectively), the History of Ełišē and the History attributed to Sebēos. Although it is never
going to be possible to make up the narrative gap, collectively these materials reveal a surprising
amount about contemporary social and cultural conditions. Armenians are depicted connecting to
religious and political hierarchies in Sasanian Iran, adopting Iranian social practices and engaging in
commercial and cultural exchanges. Not all Armenians responded in the same way, however. Ełišē’s
History seeks to distinguish and separate Armenians from their hegemonic Iranian oppressors; the
stress is on difference and incompatibility. The History attributed to Sebēos, on the other hand, records
the participation of members of the Armenian lay elite in Iranian political culture and both the high
risks and generous rewards to be gained from serving the šahanšah. Collectively these materials attest
the complex and evolving relationships between Armenia and Iran in the sixth century.
Fiona K. Haarer, Zeno’s frontier policy: tactics and diplomacy pp. 83–104
This paper seeks to consider the foreign policy of the emperor Zeno (474–91), examining how
he managed relations with neighbouring powers and the measures he took to ensure the safety of the
empire. He inherited an empire in a poor financial position following the unsuccessful expedition
against the Vandals in 468, and his own reign was continually threatened by coups and conspiracies,
784 ABSTRACTS/RÉSUMÉS
including the usurpation of Basiliscus (475–6), the insurrection of Marcian (479), and the civil
war orchestrated by Illus (484–8). Nevertheless, against this unsettled background, he found time
to negotiate with the Vandal kings: he agreed an “endless peace” with Gaiseric and despite some
ongoing persecution of the Nicene Christians by the Arian Vandals, his envoys persuaded Hilderic to
return the Church of Carthage to the Nicene clergy. Closer to home, Zeno was forced to negotiate
with and threaten in turn the two Gothic leaders, Theoderic Strabo and Theoderic the Amal, who
both pursued their own ambitions—and even threatened the imperial capital itself—until he was
eventually able to send off Theoderic the Amal to replace Odoacer in Italy. As for matters on the
eastern frontier, he was able to exploit the weakness of the Persian kings, refusing financial help,
promoting Roman interests more aggressively in Armenia, and intervening more heavily in the
doctrinal issues affecting foreign policy. Taken together, these actions show how Zeno, despite his
domestic troubles, sought to use tactics and diplomacy to manage foreign affairs.
Peter Heather, Malchus of Philadelphia & a Byzantine diplomatic archive pp. 105–24
This paper focuses on the surviving fragments of the fifth-century historian Malchus of
Philadelphia, dealing with the period 473–80 and providing extensive coverage, in particular of
a three-way relationship between the imperial court at Constantinople and two separate Gothic
groups established in these years in the East Roman Balkans. Reflecting work done with James
Howard-Johnston during the author’s doctoral studies, this paper argues that the evident quality
of the information provided by Malchus has its origins in the fact that he drew directly upon the
formal treaties, diplomatic correspondence, and written military reports generated as this relationship
developed in the reigns of Leo and Zeno. Malchus wrote his history after the accession of Anastasius
(491), and the paper goes on to conclude that the historian probably gained access to these records
via one or more formal archives, in which they had been stored in the meantime.
Marek Jankowiak, P.Lond. I 113.10, the exile of Patriarch Kyros of Alexandria, and the Arab
conquest of Egypt pp. 287–314
The chronology of the patriarchate of Kyros of Alexandria, a key actor in the transition of Egypt
from Roman to Arabic rule, has long been controversial. The difficulty consists in reconciling sources
speaking of a long exile of around four years, in 637–41, with two documents that seem to suggest
Kyros’ presence in Alexandria during this period. The first, a letter of Kyros to Patriarch Sergios of
Constantinople accepting the Ekthesis, displays some unusual characteristics that suggest that Kyros
was in reality in exile already by autumn 638. The second, the papyrus P.Lond. I 113.10, can be
read as the sole surviving documentary trace of the tribute paid at the initiative of Kyros to stave off
the Arab invasion of Egypt. The mention of Kyros as the initiator of these payments in the papyrus
ABSTRACTS/RÉSUMÉS 785
does not imply, therefore, his presence in Egypt in 639/40. The long exile of Kyros concords with
the testimony of narrative sources, in the first place the Short history of Nikephoros, and suggests,
in turn, that this text is better informed of the affairs of Egypt than has been thought since the
time of Alfred Butler’s monograph on the Arab conquest of Egypt. Nikephoros’ account of several
Roman campaigns to defend this province in the years preceding the invasion of ʿAmr b. al-ʿAs in
640 relocates the most detailed narrative of the Muslim conquest of Egypt, the Chronicle of John
of Nikiu, in its context: that of the aftermath of the defeat of a major Roman army sent to Egypt in
639. This reconstruction of the events sheds some new light on the formation of Islamic traditions
on the conquest of Egypt and the supposed Roman reoccupation of Alexandria several years later.
Neil McLynn, Ammianus Marcellinus and the making of Persian strategy pp. 125–42
This paper explores Shapur II’s invasion of Roman territory in 359 as a case study of Roman
attempts to understand Persian military strategy. The prime evidence here is provided by the historian
Ammianus Marcellinus, who presents the deserter Antoninus as a key figure advising the Persians to
aim directly for Antioch rather than besieging the Mesopotamian frontier forts, and subsequently
suggesting a change of direction that brings the invaders to the city of Amida. It is argued that the
influence attributed to Antoninus is entirely Ammianus’ own invention, and that he uses the deserter
to project his own ideas about Roman vulnerability to Persian invasion, and his own explanation of
why the enemy appeared unexpectedly at Amida in 359. By close examination of the specific passages
where Antoninus is featured, a revised picture is offered of some key aspects of the 359 campaign,
including the coded letter sent by Roman envoys at Ctesiphon to the Roman commander, and the
ambush near Amida which led to Ammianus’ involvement in the siege of that city.
Andrew Marsham, Bede, Ibn Isḥāq, and the idols: narratives of conversion at late antique edges
pp. 315–39
This article compares two narrations about idol destruction at formerly pagan shrines in late
antiquity: the destruction of the shrine at Goodmanham, near York, in 627 ce, by the former high
priest, Coifi, and the destruction by the Prophet Muḥammad of the 360 idols around the Kaʿba, in
Mecca, in 628 or 630 ce. These stories are found in, respectively, Bede’s (d. 735) Historia ecclesiastica
(Ecclesiastical history) and in a report by Ibn Isḥāq (d. 767) as preserved by al-Khuzāʿī (d. after 961).
Bede’s account is unique to his History, whereas there are numerous parallels and related materials
about Mecca in the wider Arabic tradition. A shared sequence of motifs in the two passages shows
that biblical and hagiographic precedents have contributed to the telling of similar stories in early
medieval Northumbria and Iraq. 2 Kings 23 and many late antique saints’ lives are important
precedents. Notable parallels include a military context, the coming of a local holy man to a shrine,
his purification of the site in the name of the true God, his use of a staff or spear, and the burning of
pagan materials. Juxtaposing the two texts illustrates aspects of the character and reach of a shared
cultural heritage in Eurasia in the middle of the 8th century. Both narrations have been profoundly
shaped by late antique literary forms and are illustrative of the symbolic importance and anxieties
attached to the memory of the conversion of sacred spaces.
Rosemary Morris, From promulgation to practice: the evidence for the application
of tenth-century legislation in the Athonite archives pp. 695–710
The study of the so-called “land legislation” of the Macedonian emperors—the series of imperial
Novels and other acts concerned with the functioning of the fiscal communes of the Byzantine
countryside, the protection of the “military estates” and the curbing of the activities of the dynatoi
(powerful) at the expense of the penetes/ptochoi (poor)—has long been a central area of interest to
Byzantinists. The problem of relating the rhetorical language of the legislation to agrarian realities in
786 ABSTRACTS/RÉSUMÉS
the provinces is a very real one, but this paper argues that there is evidence to be found in the surviving
archives of the Athonite monasteries for the processes by which the legislation was formulated
and issued, and for the relationship of contemporary concerns in the Athonite region with the
preoccupations of the laws. It discusses the practical processes of the dissemination of the legislation
from Constantinople and the earliest appearance of issues within it in Athonite documents. This
evidence can, conversely, also be shown to indicate local concerns about matters which were afterwards
the subject of imperial legislation. The provincial officials whose activities can be observed in these
documents were clearly aware of the legislation, even though they never specifically mentioned it.
As in late antiquity, a symbiotic relationship existed in the 10th c. between specific situations in the
provinces and the issuing of laws with general application. The Athonite archives provide evidence of
how the concerns of the real world and subsequent legal promulgations were intimately connected.
Arietta Papaconstantinou, Witnessing a world crisis from below: the view from rural Egypt
pp. 341–52
Although papyri have been used with much success to expand and refine our knowledge of the
early Islamic administration and its regional adaptations, texts documenting the local effect of the
regime change on villages have not been used to their full potential. This chapter offers an overview
of the different ways in which villages responded to the increased extractive pressure. It concentrates
on their strategies to mitigate the demand for men, which could be catastrophic for the economies
of rural communities.
Vivien Prigent, L’usurpation du patrice « Flavius Grégoire » : rana in fabula ? pp. 353–84
The usurpation of “Flavius Gregorius”, exarch of Africa, against his relative Constans II whose
Monothelite policy he staunchly opposed as a champion of orthodoxy is a staple of 7th-century
historiography. This figure embodies the religious conflicts that allegedly caused the collapse of
Byzantine imperial power in North Africa and the Islamic conquest of Maghrib. However, close
examination of the available sources leads to a drastic reevaluation of Gregory’s historical importance.
Not only must any blood-tie with the Heraclian dynasty be discarded but there is no evidence that
he ever was exarch of Africa, an office whose very existence must be questioned. Furthermore,
numismatic evidence undermines the very reality of his usurpation since coins were struck in
Carthage in the name of Constans II during the period attributed to Gregory’s revolt. Analysis of the
transmission of the various historiographical traditions mentioning Gregory leads to the hypothesis
that the idea of an actual usurpation was conceived by early Egyptian Muslim historians confronted
with the globular solidi struck in Carthage since the reign of the emperor Maurice.
ABSTRACTS/RÉSUMÉS 787
Christian C. Sahner, The Passion of the Sixty martyrs of Jerusalem (d. ca. 724) [BHG 1217]:
study and translation pp. 385–406
This article studies and provides the first English translation of the Passion of the Sixty martyrs
of Jerusalem (BHG 1217), a short Greek text describing the death of a group of Byzantine nobles
during an ill-fated pilgrimage to the Holy Land in ca. 724. Written in Palestine during the eighth
century, possibly based on a now-lost Syriac Vorlage, it provides a neglected window into the history
of Umayyad–Byzantine warfare and the response of Melkite Christians during this era of heightened
tension between the empires. The article considers the manuscript tradition of the Passion; the date
and author of the work; the possible translation of the text from Syriac to Greek; the historical
context (especially the Arab siege of Constantinople in 717–18); and the purpose and audience of
the work. The Passion belongs to a larger corpus of Christian martyrdom narratives from the early
Islamic period. Both in terms of historical setting and likely date of composition, it is among the
earliest of these, and therefore of great potential interest to Byzantinists and Islamicists alike.
Alexander Sarantis, Two worlds in crisis: warfare, political change, and economic recession
in Anatolia and the Balkans, ca. 565–750 pp. 163–90
Archaeological evidence for economic trends and historical sources for political and military
events during the later 6th to 8th c. are rarely compared across Anatolia and the Balkans. By doing
so, this paper challenges the idea that economic recession in these regions can be linked directly to
the impact of raiding warfare. It demonstrates that patterns of raiding do not correspond to patterns
of economic boom, stagnation, and collapse. While some regions targeted regularly by raiders
witnessed economic continuity and sometimes an upswing, others which were rarely affected by
large-scale military invasions nevertheless experienced economic recession. The paper explains these
discrepancies by arguing that medium- to long-term economic developments tell us more about levels
of imperial and elite investment and, at the same time, the resilience of regions targeted by enemy
invasions than about the direct short-term effects of the attacks. Interestingly, central and eastern
Anatolia remained part of the empire despite being heavily raided and experiencing an economic
downturn similar to the central and northern Balkans, regions which fell out of imperial control.
The continued loyalty to the empire of Anatolian populations distant from centres of imperial
power in these difficult circumstances presumably owed something to the peace and cultural and
political stability of the Anatolian provinces during late antiquity. The rapid collapse of imperial
control over, and cultural changes in, interior Balkan regions, by contrast, cast light on their more
tumultuous late antique historical background and the greater reliance of elites on financial support
from Constantinople.
Peter Sarris, At the origins of the “persecuting society”? Defining the “orthodox republic”
in the age of Justinian pp. 407–22
This essay draws upon sixth-century legislation to argue that the reign of the emperor Justinian
witnessed a concerted effort to re-cast the East Roman Empire and turn it into what historians
of early modern Europe would recognise as a “confessional state”, in which the legal rights of the
emperor’s subjects increasingly depended upon their officially reckoned degree of religious orthodoxy.
In particular, Justinian sought to extend the struggle against religious non-conformity to the domestic
sphere, targeting the inheritance rights of religious dissidents, and engaging in active persecution of
those whose activities or beliefs were deemed to be injurious to what Justinian conceived of as the
“orthodox republic”. Imperial legislation at this time can be seen to have adopted an increasingly
religious and biblical tone, and the emperor’s moral agenda had a significant impact on the lives
of his subjects, disadvantaging religious non-conformists and sexual minorities whilst advantaging
many others. The re-casting of imperial ideology at this time would be crucial to the subsequent
788 ABSTRACTS/RÉSUMÉS
evolution of Byzantine political culture, and would also make an important contribution to the
ideological and religious development of both the early Islamic Near East and the medieval West. In
the latter, it is argued, the Justinianic legal texts would provide the conceptual basis for the creation of
what has been described as the “persecuting society” of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, in which
clerical and political elites engaged in the concerted targeting of religious and moral “outsiders” so
as to enhance their own authority and power.
Jonathan Shepard, Missions, emissions and empire: the curious case of Cherson pp. 711–41
This paper argues that Cherson was both outpost and outlier of the Byzantine Empire. It
accommodated imperial officeholders yet harboured a certain esprit de corps under its elite families.
This did not translate into strong or sustained separatist drives, yet truculence could flare up lethally.
The Chersonites’ entrepreneurship and itinerancy sprang from their need to trade with a variety of
peoples, and required both languages and cultural awareness—and a certain dexterity. The Middle
Byzantine authorities seem to have taken such Janus-facedness as read, a corollary of the prosperity
which Chersonites could generate. The De administrando imperio tacitly acknowledges the limits
of empire in the northern Black Sea zone, as elsewhere. The emissions from Cherson could take
material or cultural form, and although the Chersonites’ ventures tended to be self-serving and
mainly for profit, they sometimes went with imperial service, or pilgrimage. In the case of the Rus,
their longstanding dealings with the Chersonites and a particular turn of events in the late tenth
century proved to the advantage of the empire in the longer term. The quite rapid diffusion of
Eastern Christianity under Prince Vladimir’s aegis in the generation following his baptism probably
owed much to the versatility and experience of “the Chersonite priests” who arrived in his train.
David G. K. Taylor, The Syriac version of Strategios’ History of the Persian conquest
of Jerusalem pp. 445–66
An important source for the Persian siege and conquest of Jerusalem in 614 ce, and of their
subsequent taking into captivity of the Cross, the patriarch Zachariah, and many other Christians, is
a composite work attributed to an apparent eyewitness, Strategios: The History of the Persian conquest
of Jerusalem (or Expugnatio Hierosolymae) [CPG 7846]. It was presumably composed in Greek, or
ABSTRACTS/RÉSUMÉS 789
compiled from Greek sources, but until the present it was known to survive only in six Arabic
manuscripts (each preserving a different recension), and three Georgian manuscripts (preserving a
single recension). This article presents a previously unrecorded Syriac version of the History, found
in manuscript Sinai Syriac 82 of St Catherine’s Monastery. This Syriac version was translated from
Arabic by “Basil the tailor of Edessa”, otherwise unknown, perhaps in the early decades of the
12th century. The manuscript was copied by a Syrian Orthodox scribe, Barsauma, in Jerusalem itself,
in 1143 ce. The Syriac version differs significantly from the other Arabic versions, especially in its
extensive use of direct speech and dialogue, which appear to be the work of the translator, but its
lists of fatalities are similar to those of Arabic manuscript C. Included with the main text are two
shorter texts, the first a legendary account of the empress Helena’s origins in the former royal house
of King Abgar in Edessa, and the second a summary, building on Josephus, which lists the various
conquests of Jerusalem, and is warm in its praise for the crusaders.
Bryan Ward-Perkins, From soldier martyr to warrior saint: the evidence to AD 700 pp. 491–516
This article explores the early evidence (up to ad 700) for soldier martyrs becoming warrior
saints, which was produced by the ERC “Cult of Saints in Late Antiquity” project. Soldiers who died
as martyrs were always represented as soldiers in art—in mosaics and icons in the dress-uniform of
the chlamys, but, in less elevated mediums, already in armour and with weapons, as they would be
shown consistently from the 9th century onwards. In miracle stories too, they appear as soldiers and
often do very soldierly things. However, the evidence that soldier martyrs particularly appealed to
the military and were expected to intervene in warfare in particular is limited. We do find them in
these roles, as protectors of military installations and as defenders of cities and armies; but we also
find that they acted primarily as generalist miracle-workers, often serving village communities far
from the frontiers, and carrying out the full range of miraculous interventions (healing, offering
personal protection, etc.). Furthermore, intervention in battle was not a prerogative of the soldier
martyrs: the Virgin Mary and Thekla of Seleucia were quite capable of fiercely defending cities
under their protection, and relics of highly unbellicose saints, like Symeon the Stylite, accompanied
armies on campaign.
790 ABSTRACTS/RÉSUMÉS
Mary Whitby, George of Pisidia’s poem On the Avar War (Bellum avaricum):
introduction and translation pp. 517–44
This paper provides a first English translation of George of Pisidia’s poem On the Avar War
(Bellum avaricum), which was composed soon after the repulse of a combined Avar and Persian
siege of Constantinople in summer 626. An introductory section contextualizes the poem, provides
a synopsis and offers some preliminary comments on structure and themes. The accompanying
notes seek to elucidate difficult passages and in particular to indicate parallels with the two other
contemporary accounts of these events in the Chronicon paschale and in a celebratory sermon
delivered by Theodore Syncellus soon after the siege. Comparison and contrast with these texts
highlights distinctive features of George’s approach, thus providing a basis for future evaluation of
George’s other major narrative poems on Heraclius’ Persian campaigns.
Michael Whitby, The year 629 and the Chronicon paschale pp. 545–64
The end of the Chronicon paschale in the Vatican manuscript is damaged, with the result that
there have been various proposals about the transposition of material. In 2001 Holger Klein argued
that two notices relating to the arrival in Constantinople of minor relics associated with the Passion
that are located in 614 properly belong in 629. This switched the ceremonies to welcome the relics
from the aftermath of the Persian capture of Jerusalem and the removal to Babylonia of the True
Cross to the context of Heraclius’ recovery of the Cross after the overthrow of Khusro II. This chapter
demonstrates that the arguments advanced by Klein in terms of liturgy, the condition of the Vatican
manuscript and historical context are not robust, so that there is no basis for the transposition. As
a result, the celebration of the relics should be seen as part of imperial efforts to rebuild morale that
had been shattered by the devastating losses of early 614.
Miranda E. Williams, East Roman client management during the reign of Justinian I:
a comparison of strategies on the Eastern and African frontiers pp. 209–30
Following its rapid overthrow of the Vandal Kingdom in Africa in 533, the Eastern Roman
Empire struggled to consolidate its territorial hold and authority in the region. Explanation for this
apparent “failure” has frequently been sought in the Roman leaders’ poor understanding of, and
ABSTRACTS/RÉSUMÉS 791
consequent poor strategy for, dealing with the Berbers, the indigenous tribal groups living within
and without the newly established African provinces, who had begun, in the last quarter of the
5th century, to establish themselves as semi-autonomous polities. This paper makes an assessment
of initial Roman strategy in Africa, focusing on the period between 533 and 535, and of strategic
intelligence concerning the Berbers, neither of which has been adequately assessed. Given the prior
experience of the imperial administration, and of the Roman military commanders in Africa, on the
eastern frontier in the years immediately preceding 533, it argues that Roman strategy in relation to
the Berbers should be contextualised in the development of client management strategy in the East,
and, in particular, in relation to the Jafnids, the empire’s principal Arab clients. The Eastern Roman
Empire’s strategy in relation to the Berbers was clearly shaped by its experiences in the East. This
strategy was ultimately unsuccessful in Africa, but less because of the unsuitability of the strategy
than because of weaknesses within the Roman African administration resulting in insufficient time
to cultivate relationships with individual tribes.
the final part of chapter 53 (ll. 493–535) cannot be any earlier than the late 1020s, the probable
(and the earliest possible) date of the creation of the theme. The mention of a strategos at Cherson
and some related evidence impose the early 1060s as the terminus ante quem for the redaction of the
notes. If the notes dealing with a rebellion in Crimea relate, as this study argues, to the uprising by
George Tzoulas, the strategos of the Cimmerian Bosporus ca. 1015, an early date, in the late 1020s
or the 1030s, is the most plausible, thus excluding the authorship of Caesar John Doukas, at whose
behest the preserved copy of DAI was executed in the 1070–80s.