Basil
Basil went from being a stable hand and skilled horseman in the imperial stables at Constantinople to becoming a celebrated wrestler who was noticed by Emperor...
Author’s Note
A warm welcome to my new followers and subscribers and greetings to all. The poem that follows is part of a series dedicated to highlight queer love through the ages.
BACKGROUND
Constantinople, Byzantine Empire – circa 856 CE
Basil was born in 811 CE in the Byzantine province of Thrace-Macedonia to a family of peasants. In his youth, he went from being a stable hand and skilled horseman in the imperial stables at Constantinople to becoming a celebrated wrestler who was noticed by Emperor Michael III when he beat a Bulgarian champion in a wrestling match. Captivated by Basil’s physical strength, the 17-year-old emperor decided to appoint him to the important position of Guardian of the Bedchamber. As a result, Basil, who was in his mid-40s, became a close and trusted confidant of Michael and his personal companion and bodyguard.
Over time, Basil began wielding considerable influence over Michael, which led to Basil’s crowning as co-emperor in 866 CE. However, their relationship soured and tension arose when Michael began shifting his attention to another courtier, named Basiliskianos.
When Basil heard rumors that Michael intended to elevate Basiliskianos as another co-emperor, jealousy and fear drove him to orchestrate Michael’s murder. He led a group of his supporters and stabbed Michael to death in his bedchamber, following a drinking bout on the 24th of September of 867 CE. He then seized the throne and installed himself as sole ruler of the empire, becoming the first ruler of the Macedonian dynasty.
Basil
I was Michael III, just seventeen,
Emperor of an Empire
that watched you step into the ring,
wrestle the Bulgarian hero into silence,
and draw the crowds to a thundering roar.
You sparked a flame in me
that made me see you as a god,
and pluck you from the Hippodrome at once,
and bring you to my Court
as Guardian of the Bedchamber.
You barely spoke Greek,
nor could you read or write,
and yet, I felt your silence like a tether
binding us tighter than any oath of Rome.
We learned our rhythms
guided by our laughter and our tears,
the pathways to our souls.
Some say I crowned you out of folly,
though they had never laid beside you,
and trusted you with their own lives.
Then came him—Basiliskianos—
young, careless, and fresh with charm.
You sensed a hesitation in me,
though I did not betray you,
and let a shadow in
where your gaze once warmed.
Did it wound you
to see me smile at another?
Or was it fear
that the emperor's hand might unmake
what it had raised?
That night, the wine dulled my senses
but even as I lay half-spoken,
I believed you'd return,
and embrace me
with your familiar touch.
Instead,
came the cold blades
and your face among them.
You did not look away.
Tell me, Basil:
when you beheld the throne,
did our bedstead feel empty?
Did it still carry the shape
of the boy who once saw
a god and a guardian in you?
DCW
Thank you for the history and, of course, for the poem. Jealousy and fear of loss (love, power, position) can drive someone to such dreadful action, fulfilling the feared loss of love.
You're welcome, Ray. I suspect all those feelings played a big part in the tragic events that took place that fateful night.