9789004425613

Migration Histories of the Medieval Afroeurasian Transition Zone
Studies in Global Social History
volume 39
Studies in Global Migration History
Editor
Dirk Hoerder (University of Arizona, Phoenix, ar, usa)
Editorial Board
Bridget Anderson (University of Oxford)

Adam Hanieh (soas, University of London)
Immanuel Ness (City University of New York)
Jose Moya (Barnard College, Columbia University)
Brenda Yeoh (National University of Singapore)
Vazira Fazila-Yacoobaliis Zamindar (Brown University)
Min Zhou (Nanyang Technological University, Singapore)
volume 13
The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/sgmh

Migration Histories of the
Medieval Afroeurasian
Transition Zone
Aspects of Mobility between Africa, Asia and
Europe, 300–1500 c.e.
Edited by
Johannes Preiser-Kapeller
Lucian Reinfandt
Yannis Stouraitis
leiden | boston
This is an open access title distributed under the terms of the CC-BY-NC 4.0 license,
which permits any non-commercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium,
provided the original author(s) and source are credited. Further information and the
complete license text can be found at https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-
nc/4.0/
The terms of the CC license apply only to the original material. The use of material from other sources
(indicated by a reference) such as diagrams, illustrations, photos and text samples may require further
permission from the respective copyright holder.
The (open access) publication of this volume was financed within the framework of the project “Moving
Byzantium: Mobility, Microstructures and Personal Agency”, directed by Prof. Claudia Rapp (Vienna) and
funded by the FWF Austrian Science Fund (Project Z 288 Wittgenstein-Preis). For more information on this
project, see: https://rapp.univie.ac.at/.
Cover illustration: Tabula Rogeriana, Latin version of the Arab world map created by al-Idrīsī on Sicily in ca. 1154 A.D.
(source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:TabulaRogeriana.jpg; public domain)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Preiser-Kapeller, Johannes, editor. | Reinfandt, Lucian, editor. | Stouraitis, Yannis, editor.
Title: Migration histories of the medieval Afroeurasian transition zone : aspects of mobility between Africa,
Asia and Europe, 300-1500 C.E. / edited by Johannes Preiser-Kapeller, Lucian Reinfandt, Yannis Stouraitis.
Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, 2020. | Series: Studies in global migration history ; volume 13 | Includes
bibliographical references and index. | Summary: “The transition zone between Africa, Asia and Europe was the most
important intersection of human mobility in the medieval period. The present volume for the first time systematically
covers migration histories of the regions between the Mediterranean and Central Asia and between Eastern Europe and
the Indian Ocean in the centuries from Late Antiquity up to the early modern era. Within this framework, specialists from
Byzantine, Islamic, Medieval and African history provide detailed analyses of specific regions and groups of migrants,
both elites and non-elites as well as voluntary and involuntary. Thereby, also current debates of migration studies are
enriched with a new dimension of deep historical time. Contributors are: Alexander Beihammer, Lutz Berger, Florin
Curta, Charalampos Gasparis, George Hatke, Dirk Hoerder, Johannes Koder, Johannes Preiser-Kapeller, Lucian
Reinfandt, Youval Rotman, Yannis Stouraitis, Panayiotis Theodoropoulos, and Myriam Wissa”-- Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019059351 (print) | LCCN 2019059352 (ebook) | ISBN 9789004382497 (hardback) |
ISBN 9789004425613 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Human beings--Migrations--History--to 1500. | Africans--Migrations--
History--to 1500. | Europeans--Migrations--History--to 1500. | Asians--Migrations--History--to 1500. Classification: LCC
GN370 .M534 2020 (print) | LCC GN370 (ebook) | DDC 304.809--dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019059351
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019059352
Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface.
ISSN 1874-6705
ISBN 978-90-04-38249-7 (hardback)
ISBN 978-90-04-42561-3 (e-book)
Copyright 2020 by the Authors. Published by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands.
Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi,
Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written
permission from the publisher.
Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the
appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923,
USA. Fees are subject to change.
This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.
Contents
List of Illustrations ix
Notes on Contributors xi
1 Migration History of the Afro-Eurasian Transition Zone, c. 300–1500: An

Introduction (with a Chronological Table of Selected Events of Political
and Migration History) 1
Johannes Preiser-Kapeller, Lucian Reinfandt and Yannis Stouraitis
2 Introductory Essay: Migration—Travel—Commerce—Cultural Transfer.

The Complex Connections Byzantium-Kiev-Novgorod-Varangian Lands,
6–14th Century 50
Dirk Hoerder
Part 1
Migration in Eastern and Southeastern Europe, 6th–10th Century
3 On the Slavic Immigration in the Byzantine Balkans 81

Johannes Koder
4 Migrations in the Archaeology of Eastern and Southeastern Europe

in the Early Middle Ages (Some Comments on the Current State of
Research) 101
Florin Curta
Part 2
Migrations and Mobility into and within the Byzantine World
5 Migrating in the Medieval East Roman World, ca. 600–1204 141

Yannis Stouraitis
6 Patterns of Turkish Migration and Expansion in Byzantine Asia Minor in

the 11th and 12th Centuries 166
Alexander Beihammer
vi Contents
7 Migration and Ethnicity in the Venetian Territories of the Eastern

Mediterranean (13th to 15th Century) 193
Charalambos Gasparis
Part 3
Migration in Early Islamic Societies
8 Iranians in 9th Century Egypt 225

Lucian Reinfandt
9 The Last Revolt of Bashmūr (831 A.D.) in Coptic and Syriac

Historiography 247
Myriam Wissa
10 The Migration of Syrian and Palestinian Populations in the 7th Century:

Movement of Individuals and Groups in the Mediterranean 261
Panagiotis Theodoropoulos
Part 4
Diasporas and Migrations across the Medieval Afroeurasian
Transition Zone
11 The Aksumites in South Arabia: An African Diaspora of Late

Antiquity 291
George Hatke
12 Aristocrats, Mercenaries, Clergymen and Refugees: Deliberate and

Forced Mobility of Armenians in the Early Medieval Mediterranean
(6th to 11th century A.D.) 327
Part 5
Forced Mobility and Slavery
13 Migration and Enslavement: A Medieval Model 387

Youval Rotman
Contents vii
14 Mamluks in Abbasid Society 413

Lutz Berger
General Maps 431
Select Bibliography on the Medieval Migration History of the

Afro-Eurasian Transition Zone 440
Indices
Index of Persons and Names 449
Index of Subjects 457
Geographical Index 461
List of Places Displayed on Map 15.1. and their Geographical
Coordinates 469
Illustrations
Maps
3.1 Number of Slavic settlement names per ca. 1000 km2 in central and southern
Greece (map created by J. Koder, 2001) 87
3.2 Relation in % of the Slavic and the total of modern settlement names in
central and southern Greece (map created by J. Koder, 2001) 88
3.3 Toponyms in Dropulli (map created by J. Koder, 2001) 90
12.1 The Roman-Persian border in Armenia and Northern Mesopotamia, 387 and
591 A.D. (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Roman-Persian_Frontier_
in_Late_Antiquity.svg, author: Cplakidas; Creative Commons Attribution-Share
Alike 3.0 Unported license) 368
12.2 The itineraries of Artabanes Arsakides and the three brothers Narses, Aratios
and Isaak in the military service of Emperor Justinian (and beyond), 530–554
A.D. (map created by J. Preiser-Kapeller, 2018) 369
12.3 Connections between localities through the mobility of individuals
documented in the texts of Anania of Širak, 7th cent. A.D. (map created by
J. Preiser-Kapeller, 2018) 370
15.1 Places mentioned in the papers of the volume (for the numbers see the list of
places displayed on map 15.1.; map: J. Preiser-Kapeller, 2019) 431
15.2 Overview of the cities (circles) and archaeological sites (diamonds) mentioned
in the papers of the volume (map: J. Preiser-Kapeller, 2019) 432
15.3 Eastern Europe: cities (circles) and archaeological sites (diamonds) mentioned
in the papers of the volume (map: J. Preiser-Kapeller, 2019) 433
15.4 Central Asia and Iran: cities (circles) and archaeological sites (diamonds)
mentioned in the papers of the volume (map: J. Preiser-Kapeller, 2019) 434
15.5 East Africa and Arabia: cities (circles) and archaeological sites (diamonds)
15.6 Western Mediterranean and Western Europe: cities (circles) and archaeological
sites (diamonds) mentioned in the papers of the volume (map: J. Preiser-
Kapeller, 2019) 436
15.7 Southeastern Europe and Asia Minor: cities (circles) and archaeological sites
(diamonds) mentioned in the papers of the volume (map: J. Preiser-Kapeller,
2019) 437
15.8 Caucasus, Western Iran, Mesopotamia and Syria: cities (circles) and
archaeological sites (diamonds) mentioned in the papers of the volume
(map: J. Preiser-Kapeller, 2019) 438
x Illustrations
15.9 Egypt and Levant: cities (circles) and archaeological sites (diamonds)
Figures
5.1 Categorisation of the types of migration and their causes discussed in Byzan-
tine sources 143
12.1 The social networks of Artabanes Arsakides as documented in Procopius
(red nodes: Armenians, blue nodes: Roman, green nodes: Germanic origin,
orange: Persians, grey nodes: localities; red links: kinship, green links: allegiance
and patronage, blue links: joint military service, purple links: conflicts, yellow
links: conspiracies, grey links: temporary presence at locality; graph created by
J. Preiser-Kapeller, 2018) 371
12.2 The social networks of Artabanes Arsakides as documented in Procopius
(red nodes: Armenians, blue nodes: Roman, green nodes: Germanic origin,
orange: Persians, grey nodes: localities; red links: kinship, yellow links:
conspiracies; graph created by J. Preiser-Kapeller, 2018) 371
12.3 The connections between individuals (red) and localities (green) as
documented in the biographical narratives of Ananias of Širak, 7th cent.
(graph created by J. Preiser-Kapeller, 2018) 372
12.4 The social network emerging from a charter in Bari (Southern Italy), 990 (red
links: kinship, green links: commercial interaction, blue links: juridical interac-
tion) (graph created by J. Preiser-Kapeller, 2018) 372
Table
1.1 Chronological table of selected events of political and migration history 21

Notes on Contributors
Alexander Daniel Beihammer

is Professor of Byzantine History at the University of Notre Dame (USA). He has
published widely on Byzantine official documents, diplomacy, and cross-
cultural communication between Byzantium and the Muslim world, as well as
on Byzantine-Latin contacts and mutual perception in the crusader states and
the Eastern Mediterranean. His recent publications include Byzantium and the
Emergence of Muslim-Turkish Anatolia, ca. 1040–1130 (London/New York, 2017)
and (as co-editor) Union in Separation: Diasporic Groups and Identities in the
Eastern Mediterranean (1100–1800) (Rome, 2015).
Lutz Berger
is Professor at the Institute of Oriental Studies, University of Kiel (Germany).
His publications cover various subjects of pre-modern and modern Middle
Eastern History and include the monograph Die Entstehung des Islams. Die er-
sten hundert Jahre (Munich, 2016).
Florin Curta
is Professor of Medieval History and Archaeology at the University of Florida.
He specializes in Eastern Europe between ca. 500 and ca. 1250. His recent pub-
lications include The Velestino Hoard: Casting Light on the Byzantine “Dark
Ages” (Cham, 2019, together with Bartłomiej Szymon Szmoniewski) and East-
ern Europe in the Middle Ages (500–1300) (Leiden/Boston, 2019).
is Research Director at the Institute of Historical Research, National Hellenic
Research Foundation, Athens, Greece. He specializes in the history of the Ve-
netian possessions in the Greek territories during the Late Middle Ages, and
his numerous publications and text editions include “Catastici Feudorum Crete.
Catasticum Chanee. 1314–1396” (Athens, 2008).
George Hatke
is Senior Lecturer at the Department of Oriental Studies at the University of
Vienna. He specialises in the history and languages of Ancient South Arabia
and of Ancient and Medieval Ethiopia. His recent publications include Aksum
and Nubia: Warfare, Commerce, and Political Fictions in Ancient Northeast
Africa (New York, 2013).
xii Notes on Contributors
Dirk Hoerder
is Professor emeritus of global migration at Arizona State University and is
considered one of the pioneers and leading figures in global migration history.
He is a member of the German “Council of migration”. His publications include
Cultures in Contact: World Migrations in the Second Millennium (Durham/
London, 2002) and Geschichte der deutschen Migration vom Mittelalter bis heute
(Munich 2010).
Johannes Koder
is emeritus Professor of Byzantine Studies at the University of Vienna and at
the Austrian Academy of Sciences. He has published widely on Byzantine
history, language and literature as well as on the historical geography of the
medieval Mediterranean. His most recent monograph is Die Byzantiner. Kultur
und Alltag im Mittelalter (Vienna, 2016).
is Senior Researcher at the Institute for Medieval Research/Division for Byzan-
tine Research, Austrian Academy of Sciences. His research focuses on the his-
tory of Byzantium, the medieval Mediterranean and the Caucasus in a global
perspective as well as on historical network analysis, complexity studies and
environmental history. His recent publications include the monograph Jenseits
von Rom und Karl dem Großen (Vienna, 2018).
Lucian Reinfandt
is Senior Researcher at the Department of Papyri/Austrian National Library.
His research focuses on the formation of bureaucracy in the early caliphal em-
pire. Recent publications include Strong Letters at the Mamluk Court (Leiden,
2019) and Les archives fiscales de Mīnā, fils de Damarqūra, un contribuable copte
du IXe siècle (Paris, 2016).
Youval Rotman
is professor of history at Tel Aviv University and a social and anthropological
historian of the Byzantine Mediterranean world. Within this framework, he
has worked on slavery, prisoners of war, captives, ransoming of captives, cul-
tural and social relationships between religious communities of different faith,
forms of sanctity and insanity, psychological processes of transformation and
religious conversion. He is the author of Byzantine Slavery and the Mediterra-
nean World (Harvard, 2009), published first in French (2004), and of Insanity
and Sanctity in Byzantium: the Ambiguity of Religious Experience (Harvard,
2016).
Notes on Contributors xiii
Yannis Stouraitis
is Lecturer in Byzantine history at the University of Edinburgh. He specializes
on the social aspects of warfare as well as on the content and social function of
identities and ideologies in the Byzantine world. His publications include the
monograph Krieg und Frieden in der politischen und ideologischen Wahrnehm-
ung in Byzanz (7.–11. Jahrhundert) (Vienna, 2009).
is Postdoctoral Research Fellow at the Seeger Center for Hellenic Studies at
Princeton University. His research is focused on the 7th and 8th centuries, con-
centrating mainly on the Papacy and Italian society. His academic interests
include population movements in the Mediterranean in the 7th century as
well as administrative changes and social developments in the same period.
Myriam Wissa
is Research Fellow at the Institute of Historical Research (University of
London). She is a social historian of Late Antiquity and Medieval Islam. Her
recent books include Scribal Practices and the Social Construction of Knowledge
in Antiquity, Late Antiquity and Medieval Islam (Leuven, 2017).
Chapter 1
Migration History of the Afro-Eurasian Transition

Zone, c. 300–1500: An Introduction (with a
Chronological Table of Selected Events of Political
and Migration History)
Johannes Preiser-Kapeller, Lucian Reinfandt and Yannis Stouraitis
When the process of compilation of this volume started in 2014, migration was
without doubt already a “hot” topic. Yet, it were only the events of 2015,1 which
put migration on top of the discussion about the Euro and the economic crisis
in the agenda of politicians, the wider public and the media. In this heated
debate, the events of past migrations have been employed in a biased manner
as arguments against a new “Völkerwanderung” destined to disintegrate Eu-
rope as it did with the (Western) Roman Empire. Thus, the present volume
could be seen, among other things, also as an effort to provide a corrective to
such oversimplifying recourses to the ancient and medieval period.2 It should
be noted, however, that it was planned and drafted before the events.
The volume emerged from a series of papers given at the European Social
Science History Conference in Vienna in April 2014 in two sessions on “Early
Medieval Migrations” organized by Professors Dirk Hoerder and Johannes
Koder. Their aim was to integrate the migration history of the medieval period
into the wider discourse of migration studies and to include recent research.
The three editors have added contributions by specialists for other periods and
regions in order to cover as wide an area and a spectrum of forms of migration
as possible. Still, it was not possible to cover all regions, periods and migra-
tion movements with the same weight; as one of the anonymous reviewers
properly pointed out, the “work’s centre of gravity is (…) between the Eastern
Mediterranean region and the Tigris/Euphrates”, with Africa not included in
a similar way as Asia or Europe. Therefore, the following sections of the in-
troduction aim first to provide some methodological considerations and then
1 Now even on Wikipedia called the “European migrant crisis”, cf. https://en.wikipedia.org/
wiki/European_migrant_crisis. For a short overview, see Luft, Die Flüchtlingskrise.
2 Cf. also Pohl, Die Völkerwanderung.
© Preiser-Kapeller et al., �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_002

This is an open access chapter distributed under the terms of the CC BY-NC 4.0 License.
2 Preiser-Kapeller, Reinfandt and Stouraitis
to contextualise the individual chapters within an overview on the wider mi-

gration history of the “Afro-Eurasian Transition Zone” during the centuries
between 300 and 1500 a.d., in Western European historiographical tradition
called the “medieval” ones.3
1 Medieval Migration History and its Study
Migration can been defined as permanent or long-term dislocation of the

place of residence, both by individuals and by groups of any size.4 Earlier
research on the medieval period focused on the upper end of this scale, such as
the assumed mass migration of peoples during the “Völkerwanderung” of the
4th–6th centuries a.d. and its impact on the Late Roman Empire and its terri-
torial and “cultural” integrity.5 This approach found its basis in the Latin and
Greek historiography of late antiquity, which actually described a “landslide”
of “barbarians” affecting the Imperium Romanum, especially starting with the
“arrival” of the Huns in 375.6 This culminated in a first shocking defeat of the
Roman imperial army at Adrianople (modern-day Edirne in Turkey) in 378.7
However, scholars of the 18th–20th centuries were equally interested in these
migrating peoples as potential founding fathers of various “modern” nation-
states such as France or Germany. These efforts in historiographical “nation-
building” spread from Western Europe into Eastern Europe and beyond, creat-
ing similar discourses onto other early medieval migrations such as the one of
the Slavs (in the 6th–9th centuries) or of the Magyars/Hungarians (in the 9th–
10th centuries).8 Written evidence was increasingly enriched with archaeologi-
cal findings, which, however, were also primarily interpreted within the frame-
work of ancient and medieval historiography, trying to identify ethnic groups
named in the sources with specific material cultures. Thereby, it was attempted
to trace migration routes back beyond the horizon of the Latin and Greek
sources to Scandinavia, Eastern Europe, Central Asia or – in the case of the
Huns – even to East Asia, where connections were sought with ethnic labels
3 On the issue of periodization, see now Le Goff, Faut-il vraiment découper l’histoire en tranches?
4 Harzig/Hoerder, Migration History.
5 Demandt, Der Fall Roms, pp. 467–490; Halsall, Barbarian Migrations, pp. 10–25; Aberth, Con-
testing the Middle Ages, pp. 1–34.
6 Cited after Stickler, Hunnen, p. 47.
7 Stickler, Die Hunnen, p. 49.
8 Curta, Southeastern Europe in the Middle Ages, pp. 28–38.
Migration History of the Afro-Eurasian Transition Zone 3
from Chinese sources (such as the “Xiongnu”, for the first time by Joseph de
Guignes in 1756).9
These attempts at grand linear narratives, aiming at “histories of origin” of
modern-day peoples and their entitlements to “nation-hood” within specific
geographical borders, obscured the actual complexity of archaeological and
written evidence and its inconsistencies and obstreperousness against simple
interpretations. When the massacres of World War ii at least partly de-legitimised
the nationalist history writing of the previous decades, more nuanced inter-
pretative models gained currency. It became evident that there is almost never
a one-to-one equivalence of archaeological findings and historiography, and
that the latter implied a high flexibility of ethnic identities. Ethnic labels as
well as individuals and groups could move from one social formation to an-
other, and some groups not only became visible for the first time in Roman,
Persian or Chinese historiography but they actually took shape on the frontiers
of these imperial spheres or even on their soil. Assumptions on a fixed com-
position and ethnicity of these “peoples” over centuries, symbolised through
colourful balls or arrows moving across maps in historical atlases, were thus
rejected. Migration as such was identified as decisive for group and identity
formation. Furthermore, the settlement of these groups on new territories and
their interaction with long-established populations and elites were now inter-
preted less as the results of conquest and subjugation but of negotiations and
processes of accommodation and assimilation. As Walter Pohl has summed
up: “Unfortunately, we do not know much about the ethnic identities beyond
the borders of the empire. (…) It is not a people (…) who wandered, but vari-
ous groups that re-formed themselves after multiple breaks, and which in do-
ing so attached themselves to (ethnic) traditions. (…) The struggles for power
in the Empire required large groups whose success strengthened their ethnic
cohesion”.10 Similar models have then been adopted from the Late Roman case
for other migration processes of the period, from 4th–7th century China to the
Arab conquest of the 7th–8th centuries or the Seljuq invasion into Byzantine
Anatolia in the 11th century.11
The earlier research focus on early medieval phenomena of mass migration
has been complemented with an attention on the mobility of smaller groups
or even individuals and its potential impact on cultural change.12 Migrations
9 Kim, The Huns; Halsall, Barbarian Migrations, pp. 10–15; Curta, Southeastern Europe in the
Middle Ages, pp. 21–28.
10 Pohl, Die Völkerwanderung, pp. 20–39; Halsall, Barbarian Migrations, pp. 15–19.
11 Lewis, China between Empires; Tannous, The Making of the Medieval Middle East; Beiham-
mer, Byzantium and the Emergence of Muslim-Turkish Anatolia.
12 Borgolte, “Einführung”, pp. 17–18.
could be seasonal or circular and across smaller ranges, both in “sedentary”

and in “nomadic” societies, such as cases of transhumance or recurrent labour
migration. “Trade diasporas” have become a special field of research. These
refer to “communities of merchants living in interconnected networks among
strangers”, such as the Sogdians between Iran and China in the 4th–9th cen-
turies, and diasporas in general, such as Jewish or Armenian communities or
other ethnic/religious minorities.13 The impact of individual travellers such
as missionaries (as in the prominent cases of Christian Irish monks migrat-
ing to mainland Europe in the 6th to 8th centuries) or members of elites
(cases of marriages to foreign courts, for instance) equally has to be taken into
consideration.14
Already in the 1880s, E.G. Ravenstein classified mobile individuals by dis-
tance and time into local migrants, short-journey migrants, long-journey mi-
grants, migrants by stages and temporary migrants. His “Laws of Migration”
identified economic factors as main causes of migration within a framework of
“push and pull”, where socio-economic or political conditions in the place of
origin motivate mobility while the character of these conditions in the place
of destination attracts mobility. Of course, this framework underwent several
modifications since then, but core concepts are still applied today, especially
within economic theories of mobility.15
A “global perspective” on mobility was developed based on the “World-System
Theory” as established by Immanuel Wallerstein and as adapted by Janet Abu-
Lughod for the “late medieval World System”. A “world system” is characterised
by a differentiation between highly developed core areas, less developed pe-
ripheries and semi-peripheries in between, connected via “labour supply sys-
tems”, within which mobility takes place. Especially for “core centres” such as
Venice, attracting work force from nearby and far away “peripheries” across the
Eastern Mediterranean, the value of such an approach can be illustrated for the
late medieval period (see especially the chapter of Charalampos Gasparis).16
Such a macro-perspective, however, pays little attention to the agency of
individuals, while recent research on migration has very much focused on the
13 Cohen, Global Diasporas.

14 Padberg, Christianisierung im Mittelalter; Hoerder, Cultures in Contact, pp. 59–91.
15 Cf. Hahn, Historische Migrationsforschung, pp. 27, 30–32, and Schwenken, Globale Migra-
tion, pp. 70–73, with further references.
16 Abu-Lughod, Before European Hegemony; Hoerder, Cultures in Contact, pp. 28–30; Schwen-
ken, Globale Migration, pp. 82–97. For a world-system approach to earlier periods, see
Beaujard, Les mondes de l’ocean indien.
interplay between “structure” and individual “agency”. These concepts have

been described by Robert A. McLeman as follows: “The terms structure and
agency are inherently linked, but their precise definitions can vary according
to the context in which they are used. In simplest terms, agency refers to the
degree of freedom an individual has in choosing his or her actions, while struc-
ture refers to the societal norms, obligations, and institutions that shape and
set limits on the individual’s actions”.17 Structure and agency are also core con-
cepts within the “systems approach” towards migration phenomena as devel-
oped recently.18 It focuses on the interplay between socio-economic, political
and spatial structures both in the “society of departure”19 and in the “receiving
societies”,20 which very much defined the scope of action and the actual agency
of individuals and groups. Equally, it highlights the significance of social net-
works established and/or used by individuals to effect mobility as well as inte-
gration within the socio-economic framework in the places of destination (for
such an approach see the chapter of Johannes Preiser-Kapeller).21 Moreover,
Charles Tilly analysed the relevance of “solidarity networks” which “provide a
setting for life at the destination, a basis for solidarity and mutual aid as well
as for division and conflict” for the mobility of individuals. He emphasised,
however, the potentially constraining effects of such networks through which
“members of immigrant groups often exploited one another as they would not
have dared to exploit the native-born”; he also made clear that “every inclusion
also constitutes an exclusion”.22 On the whole, migration systems have been
defined as “a set of delicately balanced social and economic processes that
emerged gradually over many years” in order to allow for “population move-
ments” that had a “characteristic form, and over time (…) acquired relatively
stable structure and a well-defined geographic organization” following “predict-
able paths”.23 Among the examples discussed in the present volume, especially
the various imperial formations (Roman/Byzantine, Sasanian, Arab, Mongol,
Venetian, etc.) could be identified as migration systems. For their expansion
and maintenance of imperial rule across Afro-Eurasia, they depended on the
17 McLeman, Climate and Human Migration, p. 27.

18 Harzig/Hoerder, Migration History, pp. 78–114; Hoerder, Cultures in Contact, pp. 15–21;
Hahn, Historische Migrationsforschung, pp. 21–36; Schwenken, Globale Migration,
pp. 87–91.
19 Harzig/Hoerder, Migration History, pp. 92–98.
22 Tilly, “Transplanted Networks”, pp. 90 and 92; Hahn, Historische Migrationsforschung,
p. 29.
23 Cited after Schwenken, Globale Migration, p. 89.
“occupational” mobility and migration of elites, troops and other populations

at large, established enduring axes of mobility within their sphere of influence
and thus have been described as “regimes of entanglements”.24
To what extent such theoretical approaches in general can be applied on the
periods and regions under consideration in the present volume of course de-
pends on the amount and character of source evidence.25 Across all centuries,
we have to deal with “the disadvantages of scanty information and virtual non-
existence of worthwhile statistics”, as one of the anonymous reviewers pointed
out. We are of course informed best on individuals of an elite background,
“cosmopolitan nobles and their households”, as Dirk Hoerder has called them,
but sometimes we also encounter “itinerant administrators” and other office
holders or military commanders in the service of one of the empires or polities
dealt with in the following pages. The same is true for “pilgrims and clerics”, not
least because of the often close connection of religious function and “written-
ness”. The later was also relevant for “merchants and traders” who were mobile
as “economically informed actors”, although with some exceptions – such as
the Cairo Genizah documents starting already in the late 9th century – the
bulk of our evidence in this regard comes from the 13th–15th centuries. During
this period, we sometimes encounter individual representatives (and individ-
ual agency) of the “rural people, labourers and servants”, while before that time
they are often aggregated under ethnic or socio-economic umbrella terms in
the sources, and their mobility is frequently described as coerced by the state
or forced due to warfare or other catastrophes. The extreme form of forced
mobility is of course slavery, which will also feature prominently in some of
the chapters of the present volume. Nevertheless, Dirk Hoerder has suggested
keeping at least at the back of one’s mind the probably often-considerable de-
gree of “agency” of individuals within non-elite strata of societies also in those
cases when it does not become visible in our sources.26 The longitudinal
perspective on more than a millennium of migration history in the present
volume should therefore also help to explore possibilities for individual agen-
cies when comparing different periods and regions within the so-called “Mid-
dle Ages”.
24 Schuppert, Verflochtene Staatlichkeit.

25 On this issue, see also Baker/Takeyuki, Migration and Disruptions.
26 Hoerder, Cultures in Contact, pp. 59–91.
2 An Overview of Migration History in the Afro-Eurasian Transition

Zone (4th–15th Century)
Already the original selection of papers had focused on what we called “Afro-
Eurasian Transition Zone”, the vast area between the Arctic Sea and the Indian
Ocean, and the Mediterranean and Central Asia, where the three continents of
the “Old World” meet. The high density of overlapping routes (of commerce,
pilgrimage or other forms of mobility), of imperial as well as religious and cul-
tural spheres, made it a most promising area for the exploration of past migra-
tion.27 In what follows, we will present a short chronological overview of the
history of these migration processes from the 4th to the 15th century a.d.,
addressed to non-specialist readers in particular.28 Such a macro-perspective
of necessity prioritises larger-scale migration movements and often resorts to
the (especially ethnic) “umbrella terms”, which often hide the actual complex-
ity of the emergence, composition and cohesion of these groups, as discussed
above. Nevertheless, the following pages allow for a glimpse at the multiplicity
of mobilities across various spatial ranges within the selected period and area
and provide a historical embedding of the chapters in this volume.
The two centuries after the year 375 a.d. (the “arrival” of the Huns in Eastern
Europe) have been identified as the period of “Barbarian invasions” into the
Roman sphere. It transformed the Western Roman Empire into a mosaic of
“Germanic” kingdoms from Anglo-Saxon England via the Frankish Merovin-
gian realms and the Visigoths in Spain to the Ostrogoths in Italy and the Van-
dals in North Africa.29 The latter two polities, however, were “re-conquered” in
the 530s to 550s by the Eastern Roman Empire, which continued the imperial
tradition from Constantinople, the “New Rome”. Yet, large parts of Italy were
again lost after 568 to the invasion of the Lombards, which was interpreted as
the “last” of the Germanic migrations of Late Antiquity.30 Around the same
time (and originally as allies of the Lombards), the Avars established them-
selves as heirs of the 5th century Steppe Empire of the Huns in the Carpathian
Basin. Their arrival in the steppes to the north of the Black Sea in 557, however,
indicates more far-reaching political upheavals beyond Europe. Most probably
(although this identification is still contested), a core element of the people
27 See also Hoerder, Cultures in Contact; Kulke, Das europäische Mittelalter.

28 For a systematic survey, see also Borgolte, Migrationen im Mittelalter. Very useful (with
many illustrative maps) are equally Cunliffe, By Steppe, Desert, and Ocean, and Cunliffe,
On the Ocean.
29 Pohl, Die Völkerwanderung.
30 Christie, The Lombards.
now emerging as the Avars was constituted by groups of the Rouran, whose
empire in the steppes north of China had been crashed in 552 by a new alliance
of tribes under the leadership of the Gök-Turks.31 The Turks in turn achieved
dominance in the vast areas between China and the Caspian Sea, allying them-
selves with the Persian Empire of the Sasanians in 560 in order to conquer the
realms of the Hephthalites, the last empire of the so-called “Iranian Huns”.
These various groups had migrated into the regions between Iran, Central Asia
and India since the mid-4th century and had troubled the neighbouring Sasa-
nians and the Gupta Empire in Northern India, whose collapse around 500 was
accelerated by invasions of the “Hunas”.32
In the west, the Sasanian Empire was competing with the Roman Empire
across the Afro-Eurasian transition zone from the Caucasus via the Middle
East to South Arabia and East Africa, also through proxy wars between regional
powers allied with the one or the other imperial centre. One of these conflict
zones emerged between the Kingdom of Aksum in modern-day Ethiopia and
Eritrea and the Kingdom of Himyar in modern-day Yemen, especially after the
former became Christianised and therefore got into closer contact with Con-
stantinople from the 330s onwards. As George Hatke, however, demonstrates
in his chapter, already the previous centuries had been characterised by inten-
sive mobility across the Red Sea, in particular with groups from Aksum migrat-
ing to Southwest Arabia and intervening into the wars between the competing
polities of the region before Himyar achieved hegemony. Warfare and migra-
tion got especially intensive again in the 6th century, with Himyar becoming a
client state of Aksum for some time before Sasanian Persia intervened with an
army around 570 – an intervention which led to the settlement of Iranian
troops and workers in that area.33
The two predominant empires of Western Afro-Eurasia, (Eastern) Rome
and (Sasanian) Persia mutually undermined their power with long and devas-
tating wars (especially in the years 571–590 and 602–628) before they were
shattered by the newly emerged community (“umma”) of Islam. Under its ban-
ner, the now unified Arab tribes occupied the richest Roman provinces in Syr-
ia, Palestine and Egypt between 632 and 642 and conquered the Persian Em-
pire up to Central Asia in its entirety by 652. These campaigns included also
large-scale movements of people into the new territories (see below).
31 Pohl, The Avars; Pohl, Die Völkerwanderung.

32 Ferrier, LÍnde des Gupta, pp. 180–206; Kulke/Rothermund, Geschichte Indiens, pp. 120–122;
Baumer, The Age of the Silk Road, pp. 94–96; Alram, Das Antlitz des Fremden, pp. 89–96;
Rezakhani, ReOrienting the Sasanians, pp. 97–99, 104–124; Schmiedchen, “Indien”,
pp. 67–69.
33 See also Hatke, Aksum and Nubia; Avanzini, By Land and by Sea; Power, The Red Sea from
Byzantium to the Caliphate; Beaujard, Les mondes de l’ocean indien i, pp. 506–524.
Moreover, in the European provinces of Eastern Rome, since the 6th centu-
ry, groups of Slavs had migrated across the entire Balkans as well as into east-
ern Central Europe. This process intensified with the establishment of Avar
power in the Carpathian Basin after 568 (see above), which additionally weak-
ened Constantinople’s control over the Danube frontier.34 Johannes Koder dis-
cusses in his chapter the Slavic immigration in the Balkans as “the most rele-
vant population movement for the present ethnic composition of south
eastern Europe”, extending to the southernmost parts of the Peloponnesian
peninsula. Koder mostly follows a “traditional” approach based on written and
onomastic evidence, which has been used to favour an interpretation of large-
scale Slavic migration into the Balkans since the second half of the 6th century.
In contrast, Florin Curta provides a more critical analysis of the current state of
debate of migrations in the archaeology of Eastern and Southeastern Europe
during the Early Middle Ages, which casts doubt on the thesis that Slavic mi-
grations across the Danube took place at large already in the 6th century.35
Most problematic in his view is the relation between written and archaeologi-
cal sources and their attempted combination in unsuitable models.36 This also
extends to a field, which has become even more prominent in the last years:
the use of ancient dna and other natural scientific indicators.37 Therefore, the
chapters of Koder and Curta can be read as illustrative case studies for these
possible tensions between historiography and archaeology.
The situation on the Balkans was further complicated for Byzantium with
the establishment of the polity of the Bulgars. Some of the steppe formations
under this name making up a (short-living) empire north of the Black Sea from
ca. 680 onwards occupied territories at both banks of the Lower Danube to the
north of the Balkan Mountains, integrating Slavic groups into their realm.38
Since the 660s (after the collapse of the Western Turkic Khanate), the steppes
to the north of the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea were dominated by a federa-
tion of various ethnic groups under the hegemony of the Khazars, whose
political centre was first located to the northeast of the Caucasus in m
odern-day
34 Pohl, The Avars; Kardaras, Byzantium and the Avars; Gandila, Cultural Encounters; Hardt,
“Slawen”, pp. 171–180.
35 Cf. also Curta, The Making of the Slavs.
36 On this issue, see also Härke, “Archaeologists and Migrations”; Burmeister, “Archaeology
and Migration”.
37 See also Bösl, Doing Ancient dna; Feuchter, “Über die Herausforderung der Geschich-
tswissenschaft durch die Genetik”; Pohl, The Genetic Challenge to Medieval History and
Archaeology. For a popular introduction into this research see now Krause, Die Reise
unserer Gene.
38 Ziemann, Vom Wandervolk zur Großmacht.
Dagestan and since the 730s at the lower Volga river (with the until today un-
located capital of Itil).39
One factor intensifying these various crises in the late 6th and 7th century
may have been climate change. The “Late Antique Little Ice Age” between 536
and 660 brought about significantly cooler and more adverse climatic condi-
tions across Afro-Eurasia. These also promoted the outbreak and diffusion of a
major global plague epidemic that returned in waves between 542 and 750 es-
pecially in the west of Afro-Eurasia and possibly led to demographic depres-
sion in various areas.40 Around the time when the plague disappeared, an Arab
army and Chinese troops of the Tang dynasty clashed in the Battle of Talas (in
modern-day Kyrgyzstan) in July 751, thus also symbolising the new geopolitical
framework of Afro-Eurasia of the 8th–9th centuries.41
The expansion and maintenance of imperial rule across Afro-Eurasia in-
cluded the “occupational” mobility and migration of elites at large.42 The rapid
expansion of the caliphate from the Mediterranean to North Africa and Spain
as well as to Iran, Central Asia and the borders of India in the 7th and 8th cen-
turies, for instance, was accompanied by large migrations of elites and their
followers from the Arabian Peninsula to these areas, which also allowed for the
spatial diffusion of Islam. The new arrivals did not represent a homogeneous
mass, but consisted of different, even competing groups, mostly linked by trib-
al loyalties, who by no means always acted according to central planning.43
The Islamic expansion set also other ethnic groups in motion, such as the Ber-
bers from North Africa who played a decisive role in the conquest of the Ibe-
rian Peninsula in 711 where they settled alongside the Arabs.44 The new Abba-
sid dynasty in the mid-8th century found supporters among regional elites in
Eastern Iran and Central Asia. In the following century, several members of
these groups migrated in waves as retinues of the Abbasids to Iraq and their
newly founded capital of Baghdad in 762 as well as into other regions of the
Caliphate.45 For the case of Iranians in 9th century Egypt, Lucian Reinfandt
39 Golden/Ben-Shammai/Róna-Tas, The World of the Khazars; Zhivkov, Khazaria.

40 Büntgen et al., “Cooling and societal change during the Late Antique Little Ice Age”;
McCormick et al., “Climate Change during and after the Roman Empire”.
41 See also Preiser-Kapeller, Jenseits von Rom und Karl dem Großen, pp. 38–62.
42 See also Schuppert, Verflochtene Staatlichkeit.
43 Orthmann, Stamm und Macht; Preiser-Kapeller, “Complex Processes of Migration”; Berg-
er, “Muslimische Welt”, pp. 131–135.
44 Marboe, Von Burgos nach Cuzco, pp. 57–70; Wickham, The Inheritance of Rome, pp. 338–
341; Sénac, Charlemagne et Mahomet, pp. 113–127; di Branco/Wolf, “Berber und Araber im
Maghreb und Europa”, pp. 149–159.
45 Preiser-Kapeller, “Complex Processes of Migration”; Preiser-Kapeller, Jenseits von Rom und
Karl dem Großen. For the westernmost extent of this migration, see now Dold-Ghadar,
Pers-Andalus.
demonstrates how even the migration of smaller groups of administrative

elites could affect local conditions and “adjacent social milieus” in the area of
destination. In addition, Myriam Wissa deals with Islamic Egypt, using the
Christian-Egyptian’s revolt of 831/832 as case study for the interaction between
“indigenous” population and “newcomers” after the Arab conquest. These mi-
grations from Central Asia, however, also had an involuntary aspect. Lutz Berg-
er surveys the case of military slavery in the medieval Islamic world up to the
13th century. He demonstrates that “far from being an extraordinary institu-
tion”, it was “just one instance of military work being left to people from the
margin (socially or geographically) of a society”; during the period under con-
sideration, especially the northern peripheries of the Islamic World from Cen-
tral Asia to Caucasia served as sources of “mamlūks”.46
Yet, besides the military sector, slave trade mobilized at large individuals
and communities across western Afro-Eurasia. Slavic-speaking groups from
Eastern and Southeastern Europe now became an important “source” of unfree
labour from the 7th century onwards. Latin texts called these groups “slavi”,
Greek ones “sklaviniai” and Arabic authors “saqaliba”. The modern word “slave”
derives most likely from these terms. The Slavs became the victims of military
campaigns and slave hunts by the Frankish kingdom, the Italian maritime cit-
ies, the Bulgarian Empire, Byzantium, the Vikings, and the Khazars, as well as
by competing Slavic neighbours who sold prisoners to traders from these
realms. Trade routes ran in the west from the Frankish Kingdom and Italy to
Spain and North Africa, in the eastern Mediterranean from the Balkans to
Egypt and Syria, in the Caucasus from the Khazar Empire to Armenia and Mes-
opotamia and across Central Asia from Eastern Europe to eastern Iran and to
Iraq. This trade over the centuries probably “mobilized” tens of thousands of
people against their will over long distances, given the number of Arab silver
coins partly traded in return for slaves to Eastern and Northern Europe.47 An-
other main source of slaves was (East) Africa, whose coastal cities since the 9th
century in general became focal points of mercantile and missionary activity
from the Islamic world, leading to the emergence of the later so-called “Swahili”.
In a similar way, Islamic mobility also affected the kingdoms of West Africa
to the south of the Sahara.48 The slaves becoming one of the commodities
46 See also Gordon, The Breaking of a Thousand Swords.

47 Rotman, Byzantine Slavery, pp. 59–76; McCormick, “New Light on the Dark Ages”; Lom-
bard, Blütezeit des Islam, pp. 198–202; Hardt, “Slawen”, pp. 177–180; Schiel, “Sklaven”,
pp. 255–256; Hoerder, Cultures in Contact, pp. 40–42.
48 Middleton, World of Swahili; Horton/Middleton, The Swahili; Hawkes/Wynne-Jones, “In-
dia in Africa”; Beaujard, Les mondes de l’ocean indien i, pp. 101–126. On medieval Muslim
merchant communities across the Indian Ocean, see also now Beaujard, Les mondes de
l’ocean indien ii, pp. 48–71; Prange, Monsoon Islam, and Chaffee, The Muslim merchants of
e xchanged in these newly emerging networks were called “Zanj” in the Arabic
sources (the origin of the term is unclear). In various texts, they are described
as esteemed workers, especially in agriculture, but also characterized with
“racist” prejudice.49 The growing number of Zanj can be derived from their
mobilization in the context of various uprisings from the later 7th century on-
wards. In the 9th century, many slaves from Africa worked in southern Iraq and
neighbouring Khuzestan (now southwest Iran) in agriculture, especially on
sugar cane plantations, or in the drainage of larger wetlands. These swamps
also served as a refuge for rebels, robbers and religious deviants, and from this
combination emerged a major uprising of the Zanj, who even established their
own state in the years 869 to 883, contributing to the further destabilization of
Abbasid rule and thus the transformation of the geo-political world order of
the 7th–9th centuries.50
Youval Rotman in his chapter examines how the Byzantines resorted to
“forced migration and slavery”, which “were (…) two sides of the same coin”. He
equally demonstrates how shifting religious borders became decisive for the
(re)location of areas of provenance of slaves. The Byzantine Empire, in turn,
attracted the movement of Syrian and Palestinian populations from these re-
gions after the Arab conquest of the 630s–640s, as Panagiotis Theodoropoulos
surveys in his chapter in comparison with other migrations within the Caliph-
ate.51 A similar pattern of migration can be equally observed for the Arme-
nians, who had contributed especially to the military work force of the Eastern
Roman Empire already before the Arab conquest, as Johannes Preiser-Kapeller
explores in his chapter. Besides elite and military mobility, also (deliberate,
coerced and forced) migrations of Armenians at large as well as commercial,
occupational and religious mobility can be observed between the 5th and the
11th century.52 For the same period, Yannis Stouraitis establishes in his chapter
Premodern China. For Muslim migrations across the Sahara, cf. Bechhaus-Gerst, “Afrika”;
Fauvelle, Das Goldene Rhinozeros, pp. 60–90; Fauvelle, L’Afrique ancienne; Gomez, African
Dominion.
49 Popovic, The Revolt of African Slaves in Iraq, pp. 14–22; Power, The Red Sea, pp. 92–95,
141–143; Heers, Les négriers en terres díslam, pp. 27–33; Lombard, Blütezeit des Islam,
pp. 202–204; Schiel, “Sklaven”, pp. 253–255.
50 Popovic, The Revolt of African Slaves, pp. 22–23, 33–43; Heers, Les négriers en terres díslam,
pp. 231–240; Lombard, Blütezeit des Islam, pp. 33–34, 160–162.
51 Cf. also now Tannous, The Making of the Medieval Middle East.
52 The chapter also discusses the problem of earlier research identifying individuals as
“Armenian” even generations after the migration of their forefathers and –mothers de-
spite clear indications of their assimilation into the Byzantine elite, a phenomenon
recently called by Anthony Kaldellis “The Armenian fallacy”, cf. Kaldellis, Romanland,
pp. 155–195.
a typology of forced migration of groups in the geopolitical sphere of the East

Roman Empire, which was mainly a consequence of war or state coercion, and
he seeks to scrutinize the conditions and realities of such movements for their
participants.53
With the Varangians, a new group of migrants arrived in Byzantium in vari-
ous capacities (merchants, mercenaries, but also looters) from the early 9th
century onwards. They came from Scandinavia via the rivers of Eastern Europe
and the Black Sea to the Bosporus. Together with Slavic groups, they founded
the princedom(s) of the “Rus” in Eastern Europe that were Christianised from
Constantinople after 988.54 Alongside new steppe groups, emerging in the
sources as “Magyars” (in Byzantine Greek texts actually first called “Tourkoi”)
and as “Pechenegs” (in Byzantine Greek “Patzinakitai”) and migrating along
the north of the Black Sea from East to West, the Varangians contributed to a
de-stabilisation of the Khazar Empire as well (whose elite in the early 9th cen-
tury converted to Judaism, probably under the influence of itinerant Jewish
merchants as described in Arab sources under the term ar-Rādhāniyya). The
Khazar Empire eventually collapsed due to attacks by the Rus in the 960s. By
that time, the Magyars had established themselves in the Carpathian Basin
(since the 890s) and the Pechenegs to the north of the Black Sea.55 In his intro-
ductory essay, Dirk Hoerder discusses various facets and motives of mobility
between Scandinavia, Eastern Europe and Byzantium from the 9th to the 15th
century such as “migration”, “travel”, “commerce”, or “cultural transfer”. His
methodological considerations on the enduring effects of human mobility in
the long term as well as on the short-term dynamics of the networks and spa-
tial axes of migration set the tone for the entire volume.
After the crisis of the 7th–8th century, the Byzantine Empire recovered eco-
nomically, demographically and finally also territorially in the 9th–11th centu-
ry. This process attracted also merchants from the growing Italian cities of
Amalfi, Venice, Genoa and Pisa in increasing numbers56 as well as migrants of
Syrian and Armenian backgrounds. On the other hand, Syriac- and Armenian-
speaking population became subjects of Constantinople with the expansion in
53 On populations transfers in the Byzantine Empire, see also Ditten, Ethnische Ver-
schiebungen.
54 Scheel, Skandinavien und Byzanz; Raffensperger, Reimagining Europe.
55 Zhivkov, Khazaria; Bowlus, The Battle of Lechfeld; Pálóczi-Horváth, Pechenegs, Cumans,
Iasians; Róna-Tas, Hungarians and Europe; Spinei, The Romanians and the Turkic Nomads;
Gil, “The Radhanite Merchants”.
56 See for instance Skinner, Medieval Amalfi; Lilie, Handel und Politik.
the East from the 960s to the 1060s, as did Slavic-speaking people after the
conquest of the Bulgarian Empire in the Balkans between the 970s and 1020s.57
The enlarged Byzantine Empire of the 11th century became more exposed to
new large-scale migration movements, which turned into invasions of Byzan-
tine territories.58 The remaining provinces in Southern Italy were lost to the
Normans by 1071. These had originally moved as mercenaries from Normandy
to the region and between 1061 and 1091, they conquered Arab-ruled Sicily
which had become the target of migration from the Islamic world since the 9th
century. The emerging Norman Kingdom remained a threat for Byzantine ter-
ritories to the east of the Adriatic until the late 12th century.59 North of the
Black Sea, the nomadic confederacy of the Pechenegs disintegrated due to the
advance of the Oghuz and then Cumans (or Kipchaks) which in turn mobilised
Pecheneg groups against the Byzantine Danube frontier. Some of these came
to an agreement with Constantinople and were settled on imperial soil (or did
the same in the Kingdom of Hungary).60 The greatest threat for the Byzantine
core provinces in Asia Minor, however, emerged from the East with the migra-
tion of new Turkish groups. They, partly under the leadership of the Seljuq
dynasty, had been able to take over control over the former provinces of the
Abbasid Caliphate in Central Asia and Eastern Iran since 1040 before capturing
Baghdad itself in 1055.61 The decisive moment for their advance into Anatolia
is traditionally connected with the defeat of the Byzantine army at Manzikert
in summer 1071. As Alexander Beihammer demonstrates in his chapter, how-
ever, the Byzantine frontier organisation had already been weakened long be-
fore that, whereas conflicts within the Byzantine elite after 1071 allowed for the
establishment of various not only Turkish, but also Norman and Armenian
power structures. In any case, Beihammer’s critical review of the sources high-
lights the actual complex dynamics of the “loss of Anatolia”, which cannot be
described as one coherent process of Turkish “Landnahme”.62 The resulting
vulnerable situation of Byzantium contributed to the mobilisation of thou-
sands of warriors and other migrants in Western Europe in the context of the
57 Stephenson, Byzantium’s Balkan Frontier; Preiser-Kapeller, “Byzantinische Geschichte,

1025–1204”.
58 Kaldellis, Streams of Gold, Rivers of Blood.
59 Theotokis, The Norman Campaigns.
60 Meško, “Pecheneg groups in the Balkans”, with further literature; Pálóczi-Horváth, Pech-
enegs, Cumans, Iasians; Spinei, The Romanians and the Turkic Nomads.
61 Peacock, The Great Seljuk Empire. For possible climatic factors in these migrations from
the steppe cf. Ellenblum, The Collapse of the Eastern Mediterranean, and (for a more criti-
cal view) Preiser-Kapeller, “A Collapse of the Eastern Mediterranean?”.
62 See also Beihammer, Byzantium and the Emergence of Muslim-Turkish Anatolia.
Crusading movement, initiated by the Papacy in 1095. From the beginning,

Constantinople viewed the arrivals from the West as potential allies but also as
a threat, especially due to the participation of the Normans from Southern Ita-
ly in the First Crusade. This first “armed pilgrimage” was conducive for the
Byzantine recovery of territories in the western and southern coastline of Asia
Minor, but the breach of agreement between the Byzantine emperor and the
Crusaders resulted in the latter establishing a series of independent prince-
doms along the Levantine coast after the conquest of Jerusalem in 1099. The
so-called Crusader States attracted the merchants of the Italian cities and set-
tlers from Western Europe. They followed a similar pattern of “conquest and
colonisation”, as Robert Bartlett has called it, along the fringes of “Latin Eu-
rope” from the Iberian Peninsula to the Elbe (including the “German” settle-
ment in Central and Eastern Europe) and from Ireland to Sicily between the
11th and 13th century. In contrast, Muslim populations from these regions were
forced to abandon them and migrate to other parts of the Islamic world.63
Overall, the 12th century was characterised by a significant increase of “Latin”
presence in former and current Byzantine territories and the Eastern Mediter-
ranean. Domestic political turmoil, alongside a series of military campaigns
which either caused damage to Byzantine territories (for instance the Third
Crusade, 1189/1190) or were aimed at conquering them (for instance the Nor-
man conquest of Thessaloniki, 1185), resulted in “anti-Latin” assaults especially
in Constantinople in 1170 and 1182. Against this background, inner-dynastic
conflicts in 1203 caused the diversion of the Fourth Crusade towards Constan-
tinople, which ended with the conquest and looting of the city by the Vene-
tians and the Crusaders in April 1204.64
The year 1204 (despite the Byzantine “re-conquest” of Constantinople in
1261) marked the end of the politically united and centralized East Roman
world. The same period saw the end of the (competing) Islamic Caliphates of
the Abbasids (with the Mongol conquest of Baghdad in 1258) and the Fatimids
in Egypt and Syria (with the downfall of the dynasty in Cairo in 1171). Instead,
the Mongol expansion during the 13th century resulted in the establishment of
the new large-scale imperial formations of the Golden Horde in Eastern Eu-
rope and Central Asia, and the Ilkhanids in Iran, Iraq and Anatolia. The com-
plete conquest of all core regions of the Eastern Islamic World by the Ilkhanids
was prevented by the Mamlūk Sultanate. The latter was a regime of warrior-
slaves mostly stemming from the Black Sea and the Caucasus regions, who
63 Bartlett, The Making of Europe; Ellenblum, Frankish Rural Settlement; Hillenbrand, The
Crusades: Islamic Perspectives; Hoerder, Cultures in Contact, pp. 45–48.
64 Preiser-Kapeller, “Byzantinische Geschichte, 1025–1204”.
took over power in Egypt and Syria in 1250/1252. The increased influx of these
slaves into Egypt in the decades before Ayyubid rule was partly caused by the
turmoil created in their regions of origins (especially the areas of the Kipchaks)
due to the Mongol invasions. Cuman/Kipchak groups also settled in Hungary
as well as in the Balkans and in (at that time still Byzantine) Western Asia Mi-
nor after agreements with the rulers of these areas in the 1230s and 1240s. Some
of them, as other speakers of Turkish languages before and after, were even
integrated into the Byzantine elite through baptism.65
Thus, even before their more permanent conquests in the Middle East and
Eastern Europe, the campaigns of Genghis Khan and his successors provoked
large-scale movements of displaced populations and troops within these ar-
eas. A telling example is the last Shāh of the Khwārazm-Empire in Eastern Iran
and Central Asia, Jalāl al-Dīn, who after his defeat against the Mongols in 1221
plagued the Middle East and Caucasia with the remains of his original retinue
and new followers in the search for a new realm until his death in 1231. The
Ayyubid Sultan of Egypt, who used them to reconquer Jerusalem from the Cru-
saders in 1244, later hired parts of his troops. Around that time, the Mongols
had already conquered larger parts of Eastern Europe and advanced into the
core provinces of the former Abbasid Caliphate, where they captured Baghdad
in 1258.66 Besides the displacements caused by their wars, the Mongols like
other empires before them resorted to the relocation of troops recruited in the
conquered areas and the resettlement of population at large, which acquired a
new “trans-Eurasian” dimension due the immense extent of their realm. Thou-
sands of soldiers from Russia and the Alans, who had lived north of the Cauca-
sus and of the Black Sea, took part in the Mongol conquest of China and served
in the armies of the Yuan dynasty there until the end of Mongol rule in 1368. In
addition, Russian peasants and skilled workers from Eastern Europe (including
German miners from Transylvania, for instance) were transferred into the
Steppes of Central Asia.67 In the other direction, thousands of Oirats warriors
with the families from the upper Yenissei region (together with Chinese artil-
lerymen) took part in the Mongol conquest of Persia and Iraq and settled their.
In 1296, reportedly 10,000 of them defected to the Mamlūks in the aftermath of
domestic struggles in the Ilkhanate. They were settled as a welcome reinforce-
ment at the Mediterranean coast of the Palestinian province. As Thomas T.
Allsen summed up, the Mongol rulers as “herders of human beings” brought
65 Korobeinikov, “A broken mirror”; Halperin, “The Kipchak connection”; Loiseau, Les Mam-
elouks; Vásáry, Cumans and Tatars; Shukurov, The Byzantine Turks.
66 Jackson, The Mongols and the Islamic World; Amitai-Preiss, Mongols and Mamluks.
67 Reichert, Begegnungen mit China.
“East Asian colonists to the west to repair the damage caused by their own
military operations, while European and Muslim colonists were taken east as
human booty to produce specialty industrial and agricultural goods”, thus ini-
tiating a new “Völkerwanderung” of the 13th–14th centuries.68
At the fringes of the Mongol empires, however, large areas of Eastern Eu-
rope, Asia Minor and the Balkans were characterised by political fragmenta-
tion. At the same time, especially the Venetians and Genoese integrated the
cities of the Eastern Mediterranean as hubs and nodes into their commercial
networks and into the Mediterranean subsystem of the late medieval “World
System”.69 This contributed to the emergence of a multitude of overlapping
zones of power and commerce as well as of various religious, ethnic and lin-
guistic backgrounds. Between the 13th and the 15th century, “no other region of
Europe or the Mediterranean became a cynosure of so many ethnicities in
such a small place”.70 The Eastern Mediterranean was the stage of intensive
contacts between Mongols, Byzantines, Armenians, Turks, Persians and Arabs,
Slavonic-, Albanian- and Vlach-speaking people, “Latins” or “Franks”, and a
large number of further ethnicities, members of which were of course also mo-
bile across political borders;71 moreover, between Orthodox, Oriental and
Western Christian Churches as well as Islam (in its various denominations)
and (within the Mongol Sphere) also Buddhism.72 During that period, the first
groups of people later known as “Gypsies” also appear in the records of South-
eastern Europe, whom modern research since the 18th century tentatively has
tried to connect with various groups originating in India.73 Beyond traditional
supra-regional contacts of members of medieval religious elites and nobilities
which always had crossed borders within and beyond cultural-religious
frontiers,74 the increase in the number of contact zones, especially on the basis
68 Allsen, “Population Movements in Mongol Eurasia”; Beaujard, Les mondes de l’ocean indi-
en ii, pp. 145–159. On the consequences of Mongol conquest see also the contributions in
Krämer/Schmidt/Singer, Historicing the “Beyond”. For an illustrative individual female life
story during this period, see Eastmond, Tamta’s World.
69 Abu-Lughod, Before European Hegemony; Fleet, European and Islamic Trade, pp. 1–12;
Hoerder, Cultures in Contact, 28–30.
70 Epstein, Purity Lost, pp. 110–111.
71 For some examples, cf. the contributions in Balard/Ducellier, Migrations et diasporas
méditerranéennes, and Malamut/Ouerfelli, Les échanges en Méditerranée médiévale.
72 Abu-Lughod, Before European Hegemony; Fleet, European and Islamic Trade, pp. 1–12;
Hoerder, Cultures in Contact, pp. 28–30.
73 Fraser, The Gypsies.
74 Cf. Hoerder, Cultures in Contact, pp. 60–62; Preiser-Kapeller, “Networks of border zones”,
and for the example of the Seljuq-Byzantine border in Anatolia Yıldız, “Reconceptualizing
the Seljuk-Cilician Frontier”, and Yıldız, “Manuel Komnenos Mavrozomes”.
of commerce, opened paths to border-crossing also for non-aristocratic mem-

bers of society.75 Commercial interests and occupational mobility contributed
to the establishment of a “middle ground” beyond religious or ethnic antago-
nisms. As Kate Fleet stated in her study of Genoese and Ottoman trade: “mon-
ey largely formed the basis of the relationship between the Genoese and the
Turks and this, rather than any religious scruple, dictated relations”.76 One il-
lustrative aspect of these relations, also pertaining to labour mobility, is the use
of eastern-style textiles in Europe and of western-style textiles in the Islamic
world.77 “Networks of affinities” were created based on profession and know
how, for instance. One most impressive result of entangled phenomena in this
regard is the emergence of the Lingua franca of Mediterranean seafaring in the
late medieval and early modern period.78 The possibilities for (both deliberate
and forced) migration that emerged in the Aegean imperial sphere of Venice
after the Fourth Crusade in 1204, which involved individuals and groups of
various ethno-linguistic, religious and cultural backgrounds with different
chances of (upwards) social mobility, are analysed in the chapter of Charalam-
pos Gasparis. He also demonstrates what kind of information on motives and
modes of mobility can be retrieved from the more detailed (especially docu-
mentary) source evidence for this period, which we lack for earlier centuries
(see also the discussion above).79
The medieval “World System” emerging from the Mongol expansion, how-
ever, also created the pre-conditions for its demise; the increased connectivity
and mobility across Afro-Eurasia allowed for the diffusion of the plague epi-
demic of the Black Death from East and Central Asia into Western Eurasia in
the 1340s, with all its devastating effects. Even before the outbreak of the epi-
demic, political instability and internecine wars had contributed to the decline
of the Mongol imperial formations and their eventual downfall or fragmenta-
tion.80 The epidemic of the Black Death also motivated another wave of po-
groms against the Jews. This intensified the already on-going shift of the core
75 See now Preiser-Kapeller/Mitsiou, “Mercantile and religious mobility”.

76 Fleet, European and Islamic Trade, p. 141. For examples of labour mobility in this period,
see Mitsiou/Preiser-Kapeller, “Moving Hands”.
77 Flood, Objects of Translation, pp. 11, 61–85; Wardwell, “Panni Tartarici”; Mack, Bazaar to
Piazza; Jacoby, “Silk Economics and Cross-Cultural Artistic Interaction”; Burns, Sea of Silk.
78 Kahane/Kahane/Tietze, The Lingua Franca of the Levant; Makris, Studien zur spätbyzan-
tinischen Schiffahrt, pp. 112–117.
79 On migration into the city of Venice itself, see Ravid, “Venice and its Minorities”.
80 Campbell, The Great Transition; Ciocîltan, The Mongols and the Black Sea Trade; Jackson,
The Mongols and the Islamic World; Jackson, The Mongols and the West; Aberth, Contesting
the Middle Ages, pp. 243–315.
areas of Jewish settlement of the so-called Ashkenazim from Western and Cen-
tral Europe – where there had been a significant growth in the number of Jew-
ish communities between the 10th and the 13th century – to Eastern Central
and Eastern Europe in the 14th–15th century. These regions finally became the
homelands of the majority of all Jewish population until the Shoa during World
War ii.81
The 14th century saw equally the rise of a new imperial project with the es-
tablishment of the Ottoman dynasty, originally one of several Turkish groups
who had started to conquer and migrate into Byzantine territories in Western
Asia Minor due to Mongol pressure from the East since the second half of the
13th century.82 From 1352 onwards, Ottoman armies expanded into Southeast-
ern Europe. Some of the indigenous nobilities resisted but others joined the
Ottoman elite, which remained open for various ethnic and religious back-
grounds. In addition, non-Muslim populations were integrated into the service
of the Ottoman state since the 1360s by force via the so-called devşirme, the
collection of Christian boys from conquered territories as tax who were con-
verted to Islam and later served as Janissaries in the army or administration.83
By 1400, the Ottomans had become the pre-dominant power in Southeastern
Europe and Anatolia and already laid siege to Constantinople. The city was
only saved by a last outbreak of Mongol expansionism under Timur Leng.
From his basis in Samarkand, he afflicted since the 1360s large parts of Central
Asia, Eastern Europe, India, Iran, Iraq and Anatolia, where he defeated the Ot-
tomans near Ankara in 1402. Timur’s military campaigns caused large-scale
displacements of populations across the entire region from Eastern Europe to
India and from Central Asia to the Aegean.84 The Ottomans, however, were
able to re-establish their empire, to conquer Constantinople in 1453, and with-
in the next 100 years to integrate all territories from the Black Sea to Egypt and
from Northwest Iran to Algeria into a new Islamic Empire. This provided the
framework for a new chapter of intensified migration and mobility (including
the immigration of many Jews expulsed from Spain in 1492) which is beyond
the scope of the present volume.85
81 Toch, The economic history of European Jews; Ben-Sasson, Geschichte des jüdischen Volkes,
pp. 687–701; Hoerder, Cultures in Contact, pp. 42–44; Aberth, Contesting the Middle Ages,
pp. 101–140.
82 Korobeinikov, Byzantium and the Turks.
83 Werner, Die Geburt einer Großmacht; Barkey, Empire of Difference; Kafadar, Between Two
Worlds; Imber, The Ottoman Empire.
84 Nagel, Timur der Eroberer.
85 Hoerder, Cultures in Contact, pp. 108–117; Faroqhi, Travel and Artisans in the Ottoman Em-
pire; Bossong, Die Sepharden.
Despite the impressive number of forced or voluntary migrations described

in the papers of this volume, we have to be aware that many extensive popula-
tion movements remained below the “radar” of state authorities or the interest
of official historiography.86 As an example, we may mention the long-distance
migrating movements of nomadic groups who appear in various combinations
and with different names in the records of neighbouring empires, such as the
Chinese, then disappear from them and eventually re-appear in new composi-
tion and with new names, for instance in Roman historiography. The exact con-
nections between these “peoples”, such as the Xiongnu and the Huns in the 4th
century or the Rouran and the Avars in the 6th century, as well as the “pre-his-
tory” of the Magyars before they “emerged” in Byzantine and Latin sources in
the late 9th century, remain unclear. A further example of “hidden” migrations
are the movements of Bantu-speaking groups across most of Sub-Saharan
Africa in the first millennia b.c.e and a.d.87 Yet, as one of the anonymous re-
viewers pointed out, we have to reckon not only “with the possibility of sizable
movements occurring without being mentioned in our literary sources”. On
the other hand, “there is the possibility of migrations recorded in medieval
sources which did not actually occur!” For the latter case, one may reference
the medieval “stories of origin” of peoples (in Latin “origo gentis”). They were
often composed centuries after the “arrival” of groups in their “predetermined
homelands” and traced their emergence and migrations across long distances
many centuries back to biblical or “mythical” times, when totem animals such
as a hind led the Huns or later the Bulgars across the Sea of Azov, for instance.
Earlier research has attempted to “extract” remnants of the “actual” events and
to draw these supposed routes of migration on maps. For present-day scholars,
these texts hint rather at the significance of (actual or imagined) migrations
for identity-constructions now and then.88
3 Conclusion
All papers in this volume point to the heterogeneity and complexity of the phe-
nomenon of migration. They thus caution against simplistic approaches to mi-
gration processes in pre-modern times, which tend to draw moving blocks of
people on historical maps (as, for instance, in the case of the “Völkerwanderung”)
86 See also Borgolte, “Migrationen im Mittelalter. Ein Überblick”.

87 Eggert, “The Bantu Problem”; Bechhaus-Gerst, “Afrika”; Fauvelle, Das Goldene Rhinozeros,
pp. 60–90; Fauvelle, L’Afrique ancienne.
88 Plassmann, Origo gentis.
with allegedly distinct homogenous collective identities such as “Slavs”, “Mus-

lims” etc. (even though we have unavoidably made use of such conventional
“umbrella terms” in the historical outline above).
Against this background, the present volume hopes to contribute to and to
motivate further research in the field of migration history beyond the modern
era, by focussing on the medieval period and redirecting attention from West-
ern Europe and the Atlantic towards the core transition zone between Africa,
Asia and Europe. Moreover, it argues for an intensive and critical dialogue, in
terms of both topics as well as methods, between historians, archaeologists,
sociologists and natural scientists. Our aim was to avoid a recurrence of sim-
plistic models, which only differ in the technical refinement of the underlying
analytical tools or the novelty of terminology from earlier misconceptions.
Table 1.1 Chronological table of selected events of political and migration history
Time Eastern- and Central and Western Asia North and East Africa
Southeastern Europe and (South) Arabia
300 303 Start of 226 Foundation of the 241 Sasanians annex

persecution of Sasanian empire in Iran the Kingdom of the
Christians under and the Iraq on a more Hatrans; 270–330 Rise
Diocletian centralized basis than of the Kingdom of
the preceding Parthian Himyar in Southwest-
Empire ern Arabia
313 Toleration of 311 Conquest of the Between 200 and 500
Christianity in the Chinese capital Luoyang migration of Austrone-
Roman Empire (Edict by troops of the Xiongnu, sian groups from
of Milan) collapse of imperial rule Southeast Asia to
in the north of China Madagascar
309–379 Reign of Great
King Shapur ii in
Sasanian Persia, frequent
wars with the Roman
Empire
330 Inauguration of 320–335 Reign of 330 Advance of troops
Constantinople as Chandragupta i, rise of of the Kingdom of
(one) capital of the the Gupta dynasty in Aksum (modern-day
Roman Empire North India Ethiopia and Eritrea)
into Nubia (modern-
day Sudan)
Table 1.1 Chronological table of selected events of political and migration history (cont.)
340 Conversion of King

Ezana of Aksum to
Christianity, establish-
ment of ecclesiastical
contacts with Roman
Egypt
350 Migration of the
so-called “Iranian Huns”
into Western Central
Asia, establishment of
the Kidarites as first
dynasty, wars with the
Sasanian Persian Empire
359–363 War between
Rome and Sasanian
Persia
375 Migration of the 370 Sasanian Persia 370–375 revolt of
Huns into Eastern looses control over Firmus in North Africa
Europe north of the Bactria to the Kidarites against the Roman
Caucasus and Black Emperor Valentinian I
Sea, attacks on the
Alans and the Goths
378 Defeat of the 386–534 Northern Wei
Roman Emperor dynasty, patrons of
Valens against Gothic Buddhism in north
troops in the Battle of China; 390 Replacement
Adrianople; 382 of the Kidarite dynasty
Emperor Theodosius i by the Alkhonites of the
makes Thervingian “Iranian Huns”
Goths settle as
foederati in Thrace
along the Danube
388 and 394 Hunnic 395–398 Hunnic 398 Defeat of Gildo’s
troops in the service invasions across the revolt in North Africa
of the Roman Caucasus into Roman
Emperor Theodosius I; and Sasanian Persian
after his death 395 territories
rules of his sons

Honorius in the
West and Arcadius
in the East (in
Constantinople)
400 404/405 and 408 399–420 Reign of the
Hunnic raids into Sasanian Great King
Roman territories Yazdegerd i, good
south of the Danube relations with the Roman
Empire
410 Plunder of Rome 413/415 Death of
by the troops of the Chandragupta ii, apex of
Visigothic King Alaric the power of the Gupta
in North India
422–434 Reign of 421–422 War between 429–439 Migration of
Ruga over the Huns, Rome and Sasanian the Vandals into North
exerting of tributes Persia Africa, establishment
from the Roman of their kingdom
Empire
434–453 Reign of 439–442 War between 430 Augustine dies
Attila over the Huns, Rome and Sasanian during the siege of
exerting of increasing Persia Hippo by the Vandals
tributes from the
Roman Empire
454 Collapse of the 450–451 Rebellion in
Hunnic Empire after Armenia against
the death of Attila Sasanian rule
(in 453)
455 Plunder of Rome 460 First reference to a 468 Failure of a
by the Vandals westwards advance of large-scale Roman
the “Avars”, which causes offensive against the
further migrations of Vandals
Sabirs and Oghurs
towards the Black Sea
Steppes
476 Deposition of the 458–528 Migrations of

last Western Roman “Hunas” into Northern
Emperor in Italy by India, contributing to the
the Germanic general fragmentation of the
Odoacer Gupta Empire
488 Migration of the 484 Defeat of the
Ostrogoths from the Sasanian Great King
Balkans into Italy Peroz i against the
under King Theodoric Hephthalites (“White
Huns”) in the Battle of
Herat
499 Great King Kavadh i
returns on the Sasanian
throne with support of
the Hephthalites
500 502–506 War between 500 Bantu speaking
Rome and Sasanian groups, who have
Persia migrated across entire
Sub-Saharan Africa in
the 1500 year before,
reach modern-day
South Africa
485–531 In the reign of 520–525 Reign of King
Great King Kavadh, Yusuf Asʾar Yathʾar in
Zoroastrianism and the Himyar, who converts
Sasanian aristocracy are to Judaism
torn by Mazdak’s
attempted “egalitarian
reform”
Ca. 520 First migra- 526–532 War between 523–525 Invasion of
tions of Slavic groups Rome and Sasanian troops from Aksum in
towards the Roman Persia the Kingdom of
Danube border Himyar; 524 martyr-
dom of Christians of
Najran
535 Start of the 540–562 War between 533–534 Conquest of

(Eastern) Roman Rome and Sasanian the Vandal Kingdom in
campaigns for the Persia North Africa by
conquest of Italy from (Eastern) Roman
the Ostrogoths (until troops
552/553); 537
Dedication of Hagia
Sophia
541/542 Outbreak of 541/542 Outbreak of the 541/542 Outbreak of
the so-called Justini- so-called Justinianic the so-called Justini-
anic Plague Plague anic Plague
557 Arrival of the 552 Collapse of the Ca. 550 Final break of
Avars north of the Rouran Empire in the Ma’rib dam in the
Caucasus Mongolia, establishment Yemen, symbolizing
of the Gök Turkic Empire the decline of the
across the Asian Steppes south Arabian
agricultural society and
the predominance of
pagan Bedouin
patterns in the Arabian
peninsula; after 550
Christianisation of the
Kingdoms of Makuria,
Nobatia and Alwa in
Nubia
568 Establishment of 560 Alliance between Before 570 Aksumites
the Avar Khanate in Sasanian and Turks, control Himyar and
the Carpathian Basin; collapse of the Hephtha- attempt to invade
Lombard migration lite Empire Mecca
into Italy
582 Avar conquest of 571–590 War between 570 Sasanians occupy
the important Roman Sasanian Persia and the Yemen, expelling
frontier fortress of Rome, which allies with the Aksumites,
Sirmium the Turks in Central Asia migrations from Iran
into Southwest Arabia
586 Attack of Slavic 588/589 Unification of 580 Ghassanids,

groups on China by Emperor Wendi Byzantine-sponsored
Thessalonike of the Sui Dynasty Arabs, burn Hirah,
capital of Sasanid-
sponsored Lakhmid
Arab kingdom in the
Iraq desert
590–602 Campaigns 590–610 Rise of the 582 Ghassanids
of the (Eastern) Armenian general Smbat dismissed from
Romans against the Bagratuni at the court of Byzantine service; 594
Avars; they end with a the Sasanian Great King Conversion of the
rebellion of the army Xusro ii Lakhmids to
against Emperor Christianity
Maurice in 602
600 590–604 Gregory the 602–628 War between 611 Day of Dhu Qar: an
Great, pope at Rome Rome and Sasanian Arab tribal group
(still under imperial Persia defeats a Sasanian
rule from force near Hirah in the
Constantinople) Iraq desert
615/616 and 617/618 614 Conquest of 616/619–630 Occupa-
Attacks of Slavic and Jerusalem by Sasanian tion of Egypt by
Avar groups on Persian troops Sasanian Persian
Thessalonike troops
626 Avar siege of 622–628 Heraclius 622 Migration of
Constantinople invades the Sasanian Muhammad and his
realm via the Armenian followers from Mecca
highlands to Medina (the Hijra)
629 Heraclius restores 632 Integration of
the True Cross to Himyar into the
Jerusalem; 630 Conquest emerging Arab Islamic
of the Eastern Turkic Empire; Muhammad’s
Khanate in the Mongol “farewell” pilgrimage,
Steppes by troops of the Musaylimah appears as
Chinese Tang Dynasty prophet in Yamanah in
central Arabia;
Muhammad’s death
649–650 Arabs raid 632–652 Arab conquest 641/642 Arab conquest

Cyprus of Syria, Palestine and of Egypt; migrations
Egypt from Rome and of from the Arabic
Sasanian Persia; the last peninsula into Egypt
Sasanian princes find and other newly
refuge at the Chinese conquered regions; 646
court Byzantines briefly
recapture Alexandria
658 Campaign of 657–659 Chinese 652 Failed Arab
Emperor Konstans ii conquest of the Western expedition into Nubia;
against Slavic groups Turkic Khanate in peace treaty between
on the Balkans Central Asia the Arabs and the
Kingdom of Makura in
Nubia
Ca. 660 Emergence of Ca. 660 Emergence of 656–661 First Civil
the Khazar Empire, the Khazar Empire north War (fitnah) in the
collapse of the Great of the Black and Caspian Islamic Empire
Bulgarian Empire Sea
north of the Black Sea;
667–669 Arab naval
attacks on
Constantinople
677 Siege of Thessa- 670–690 Expansion of Uqba ibn Nafi’
lonike by Slavic groups the Tibetan Empire into conquers Northwest
Central Asia at the cost Africa; 670 foundation
of Chinese influence of Kairouan
680 Migration of parts 685 First Khazar raids After 680 Relocation of
of the Bulgars to the into the Arab provinces the political centre
Lower Danube, south of the Caucasus from Aksum to the city
establishment of the of Kubar; 680–692
Bulgar Khanate Second Civil War
(fitnah) in the Islamic
Empire
695 Exile of Emperor 693 Defeat of Emperor 697–698 Arab
Justinian ii in the Justinian ii against the conquest of Carthage
Khazar Empire Arabs at Sebastoupolis in and further conquests
Asia Minor in North Africa
700 705 Emperor Justinian 706/707 Artisans sent 700 Embassy from
ii returns to the from the Byzantine Ethiopia to Patriarch
throne in Constanti- Empire work at the Simon i of Alexandria
nople with the help of building of the Great
the Bulgars Mosque in Medina
717/718 Arab siege of 702–715 Establishment 711 Arab invasion of
Constantinople; of Arab rule in Western the Visigothic Kingdom
Bulgar help for the Central Asia (Transoxa- on the Iberian
Byzantines nia) and in Northwestern Peninsula from North
India (Sind) Africa; migrations of
Arabs and Berbers
720–729 Pilgrimage 720–737 Several 725 Uprising of
of Willibald from successful campaigns of Christian communities
England to Rome, the Khazars against the in Egypt against Arab
Jerusalem and Arab provinces south of rule and taxation
Constantinople the Caucasus
732 Battle of Tours 737 Defeat of the 732–742 Arab attacks
and Poitiers of Khazars against the on the Kingdom of
Frankish troops Arabs, relocation of the Makura in Nubia
against Arab troops centre of power to the
coming from the Lower Volga
Iberian Peninsula
747/748 Last great 747–750 Third Civil War 740–742 Berber
outbreak of the (fitnah) in the Islamic rebellion in North
“Justinianic Plague” in Empire, overthrow of the Africa; 744 Baghawata
the Byzantine Empire Caliphal dynasty of the Berber dynasty
Umayyads by the established at the
Abbasids, migration of Atlantic coast
their followers from
Khurāsān to the western
regions of the Caliphate
751 Conquest of 750 Advance of troops
Byzantine Ravenna by from Makura up to the
the Lombards; 756 city of Fustat in Arab
Spain independent Egypt
from the Abbasid

caliphate under an
Umayyad prince
756–775 Several 762 Foundation of 757 Midrarid dynasty
successful campaigns Baghdad by the new (from Miknasa
of Emperor Constan- Caliphal dynasty of the Berbers) established in
tine v against the Abbasids Sijilmasa (modern
Bulgars Morocco)
777 Baptism of the 775 Temporal disrup-
Bulgar Khan Telerig tion of the canal
after his flight to between the Nile and
Constantinople the Red Sea at the
order of Caliph
al-Mansūr
785 Negotiations 788–974 Shiite Idrisids
between the Chinese independent, establish
Tang Dynasty and the their capital at Fez
Abbasid Caliph on an
alliance against Tibet
792 Byzantine defeat 786–803 Rise of the Since the late 8th
against the Bulgars at (originally Buddhist) century increasing
Markellai family of the Barmakids trade and migration
from Balkh in Afghani- between the Islamic
stan at the court of world and East Africa,
Caliph Hārūn ar-Rašīd transfer of Islam and
emergence of the
Swahili culture
800 802 Collapse of the Ca. 800 Conversion of 800–909 Reign of the
Avar Empire after the elite of the Khazar Aghlabids as de facto
attacks by Frankish Empire to Judaism independent governors
forces under for the caliphs in North
Charlemagne Africa, launch attacks
on Sicily, southern
Italy; Islamization of
Ifriqiyah (modern
Tunisia)
811 Defeat of the 811–813 Fourth Civil 800 Trade contacts

Byzantine Emperor War (fitnah) in the between Arab ruled
Nikephoros i against Islamic Empire; 813–833 North Africa and the
the Bulgars under Reign of Caliph al- Ghana Empire;
Khan Krum Ma’mūn, arrival of new migrations and transfer
retainers from Eastern of Islam across the
Iran and Central Asia in Sahara
Baghdad and the western
regions of the Caliphate,
including warrior slaves
(mamlūks) especially of
Turkic origin
822 Military support 824/827 Conquest of 827 Beginning of the
of the Bulgars for Crete by Arab emigrants Arab conquest of and
Emperor Michael ii from Spain, who had migration into Sicily
against the rebel army spent some years in from North Africa
of Thomas the Slav Alexandria in Egypt
before
839 First reference to 834 Defection of several 831/832 Christian
the arrival of Varan- thousand Khurramites revolt in Arab Egypt
gian Rus from (adherents of a religious
Scandinavia in rebel movement in
Constantinople Azerbaijan) from the
Caliphate to the Byzan-
tine Empire
847–871 Arab troops 847–861 Reign of the 847–997 Reign of the
occupy the city of Bari Abbasid Caliph al- Yuʿfirid Dynasty in
in Southern Italy Mutawakkil; after his parts of Yemen
murder by Turkic guard
troops in the new capital
of Sāmarrāʾ increasing
political fragmentation
of the Arab Empire
863 Mission of Cyril 869 to 883 Rebellion of 868–905 Reign of the
and Method to Great the Zanj (slaves from Tulunids, a dynasty of
Moravia in the Africa) in Abbasid Iraq Turkic origin, as de
Danube region; 864 facto independent

Baptism of the Bulgar governors in Egypt
Khan Boris with the
Byzantine Emperor
Michael iii as
god-father
878 Baptism of 872 Resettlement of
princes of the Serbs members of the Pauli-
cian sect from Asia
Minor to the Balkans
after their defeat against
Byzantine troops
881/882 Unification 874 Rise of the Iranian
of the Rus princedoms dynasty of the Samanids
in Novgorod and in in Central Asia
Kiev by Oleg
896–900 Migration of 893–895 War of the 896 Emergence of the
the Magyars (Hungar- Samanids against the Sultanate of Showa as
ians) into the Carpath- Oghuz, who in turn first Muslim state in
ian Basin under attack the Pechenegs Ethiopia
pressure from the together with the
Pechenegs Khazars; Pecheneg
migrations towards the
west, there exerting
pressure on the Magyars
900 904 Arab raiders 890–1001 Shiite 909 Establishment of a
conquer Thessalonike Hamdanids in Aleppo, Shiite Caliphate of the
patronize famous Fatimids in North
Muslim poets, philoso- Africa
phers and scientists;
Samanids become
virtually independent in
Transoxania, develop
important administrative
practices, patronize
important Muslim poets,
philosophers and
scientists
907–955 Wide- 907 Collapse of the Tang 914–915 First attempt

ranging raids of the Dynasty in China of the Fatimids to
Magyars into Central conquer Egypt
and Western Europe
and Italy
927 Recognition of 922 Journey of Ibn 919–921 Second
the imperial title of Fadlan from Baghdad to attempt of the Fatimids
the Bulgarian Tsar and the Bulgars at the Volga, to conquer Egypt
of the establishment who have accepted Islam
of a Bulgarian
Patriarchate by the
Byzantine Emperor
929–991 The Shiite 939–969 Reign of the
Hamdanids rule from Ikhshidids, a dynasty of
Mosul; 936 Migration of Turkic origin, as de
parts of the Arab tribe of facto independent
the Banu Habib to governors in Egypt,
Byzantine territory expand into Syria
948 Baptism of the 945 The Shiite Iranian
Hungarian Prince dynasty of the Buyids
Bulscu in becomes protector of the
Constantinople Abbasid Caliphs in
Baghdad
955 Baptism of the Ca. 950 Seljuk Turks
Princess Olga of Kiev move into the Bukhara
in Constantinople area and adopt Islam
963–965 Conquest of 966–1045 Successive 969 The Fatimids
the Khazar cities of annexation of various conquer Egypt and
Sarkel and of Itil by Armenian princedoms found Cairo as their
Prince Sviatoslav of and kingdoms by the new capital; relocation
Kiev, collapse of the Byzantine Empire, at the of their retinue of
Khazar Empire same time Armenian and Arabs, Berbers and
also Syrian migrations military slaves of Slavic
into Byzantine Central and African origin to
and Eastern Anatolia Egypt
970–997 Reign of 977–997 Rise of the 975 Foundation of the

Géza, establishment Turkish dynasty of the port city of Kilwa
of the dynasty of the Ghaznavids in Eastern Kisiwani in Tanzania
Arpads in Hungary Iran and Western Central by Muslim merchants
Asia from Shiraz in Iran
988 Baptism of Great 988 Peace treaty
Prince Vladimir of between the Byzantine
Kiev, Christianisation Empire and the Fatimid
of the Rus from Caliph, demarcation of
Constantinople; the spheres of influence in
Rus mercenaries sent Syria; reference to the
to Constantinople name of the Fatimid
become the Varangian Caliph in the mosque in
Guard Constantinople
992–1124 Qarakhanids 996–1021 Reign of the
in Transoxania and Fatimid Caliph
Eastern Turkestan; al-Hākim in Egypt and
997–1030 Mahmud of Palestine, constraints
Ghaznah, expands into for Christians and Jews
India, Khurāsān, and
Transoxania
1000 1001 Renewed peace Ca. 1000–1270 Rule of
treaty between the the Zagwe dynasty in
Byzantine Empire and northern Ethiopia
the Fatimid Caliph;
Hamdanids in Syria
collapse; Samanids in
Transoxania collapse and
their domains are
divided between
Mahmud of Ghaznah
and the Qarakhanids
1014–1018 Byzantine 1017/18 Caliphate of
conquest of the Córdoba (Islamic
Bulgarian Empire Iberia along with a part
of North Africa)
collapses
1027 Renewed peace

treaty between the
Byzantine Empire and
the Fatimid Caliph
1030/1042 Emer- 1036–1040 Conquest of 1031 End of Umayyad
gence of the first the Eastern Iranian rule over Spain
princedoms of Province of Khorasan
immigrant mercenar- from the Ghaznavids by
ies from Normandy in Turkish groups under
Southern Italy command of the Seljuk
dynasty
1048–1053 Migration 1041/1042 Last raids of 1047–1138 Reign of
of Pecheneg groups Varangians from the Shiite Sulaihid
into the Byzantine Scandinavia into the Dynasty in parts of
Empire due to inner Caspian Sea region Yemen
conflicts and pressure
from the Oghuz and
Cumans
1055 Settlement of 1055 Capture of 1046 Emergence of the
Pecheneg groups in Baghdad from the Buyids Berber movement of
Hungary by the Seljuks the Almoravids in
Western North Africa,
expansion into the
Iberian Peninsula and
across the Sahara; 1050
migrations (“invasion”)
of Banu Hilal Bedouins
into North Africa
1064 Raids of the 1064 Seljuk conquest of 1060 Almoravids found
Oghuz from the the Armenian capital of Marrakesh
Steppes into the Ani (since 1045 under
Byzantine Balkans Byzantine control)
1071 Loss of Bari as 1071 Defeat of the 1074 Badr al-Ǧamālī, a
last Byzantine outpost Byzantines against general of Armenian
in Southern Italy to the Seljuks in the origin, becomes vizier
the Normans Battle of Manzikert; and de facto-ruler in
Turkish migrations into Fatimid Egypt (until his

Anatolia death in 1094);
migrations of
Armenians to Egypt
1081–1085 Norman 1072–1085 Establish- 1086 The Almoravids
attacks from Southern ment of an Armenian under Yusuf ibn
Italy on the Byzantine princedom in Cilicia Tashfin defeat an army
Balkans, which are after the collapse of of the Castilian king
repelled with the help Byzantine power in the Alfonso vi in the battle
of Venice, which region of Sagrajas (Zallaqa)
receives trade
privileges in the
Byzantine Empire;
1085 Toledo falls to
Reconquista Christian
forces
1090 Saint Mark’s Movement of the Nizari 1094–1121 al-Afḍal
Cathedral built at assassins formed; 1092 Šāhanšāh, son of Badr
Venice; 1091 Comple- Death of the Seljuk al-Ǧamālī, rules as
tion of the Norman Sultan Malik Shah, vizier in Fatimid Egypt
conquest of Arab weakening of the central
Sicily power
1100 1091 Byzantine 1096–1099 First 1100 The documents
victory against the Crusade, establishment in the Genizah of the
Pechenegs in the of four Frankish states in Ben Ezra-Synagogue in
Battle of Levounion the Levant, migrations Cairo hint at wide-
from Western Europe ranging trade networks
of the Jewish commu-
nity between North
Africa, the Red Sea and
India in the 11th and
12th centuries
1111 Trade privileges After 1096 Establish- 1107 Formation of the
for the city of Pisa in ment of the Seljuk Almohad sect in North
the Byzantine Empire Sultanate of Rum in Africa
central Anatolia
1122 Decisive victory 1118 Migration of 1118 Crusader attack

of the Byzantine reportedly 40,000 on Egypt
Emperor John ii families of the Cumans
Komnenos against the across the Caucasus into
Pechenegs Georgia
1125 Permanent 1125–1141 Establish- 1130–1269 Almohads
political fragmenta- ment of the Empire of in North Africa and
tion of the realm of the Kara Khitai in (until 1212) in Spain
the Rus after the death Central Asia after their
of Vladimir ii emigration from
Monomakh Manchuria due to their
defeat against the
Jurchen/Jin
1147–1149 Norman 1144 Conquest of the 1147 Collapse of the
attacks from Southern Crusader princedom of Empire of the Al-
Italy on Byzantine Edessa by Imad ad-Din moravids, rise of the
Greece Zengi; 1147–1149 Almohads
Second Crusade
1154 Death of Roger 1157 Fragmentation of 1163–1184 The
ii of Sicily, patron of the Seljuk Empire in Iran Almohad Abu Yaʾqub
Islamic learning; 1155 after the death of Sultan Yusuf unifies most
Trade privileges for Ahmad Sanjar parts of Spain under
the city of Genoa in his rule
the Byzantine Empire
1168/1169 Joint
Byzantine-Crusader
attack on Fatimid
Egypt
1171 Temporal 1176 Byzantine defeat 1171 Replacement of
eviction of the against the Seljuks of the Fatimid dynasty in
Venetians from the Anatolia at Egypt by the Ayyubids
Byzantine Empire Myriokephalon (Sultan Saladin, of
Kurdish origin)
1185 Norman 1187 Sultan Saladin 1173–1228 Reign of a

conquest of Thessa- defeats the Crusaders at branch of the Ayyubid
lonike; rebellion in Hattin and conquers Dynasty in Yemen
Bulgaria against Jerusalem; 1189–1192
Byzantine rule and Third Crusade
foundation of the
Second Bulgarian
Empire
1195 Byzantine 1190 Ghurids take Delhi; 1196–1549 Marinids
embassy to the Khwarazm Shahs expand in Morocco
Scandinavian their power over western
kingdoms in order to Central Asia
hire soldiers for the
Varangian Guard
1200 1204 Fourth Crusade, 1205–1211 Seljuk 1200 Rise of the
conquest of Constan- expansion in Anatolia Kingdom of Mali in
tinople and establish- towards the Black Sea Western Africa, first
ment of a “Latin and the Mediterranean pilgrimage of a prince
Empire” and further of the Mandinke to
Crusader states in Mecca
Greece
1204/1210 Venice 1206 Proclamation of 1218–1221 Fifth
secures the possession Temujin as Genghis Khan Crusade, attack on
of the island of Crete of the Mongols; the Egypt and temporal
and further colonies in following Mongol occupation of the city
the Aegean, migra- conquests cause of Damiette
tions from Venice and wide-ranging movements
other parts of Italy of troops, refugees,
deportees and migrants
across Eurasia
1223 Victory of a 1221–1231 Devastating 1228–1454 Reign of
Mongol army over campaigns of the Sultan the Rasulid Dynasty in
Russian and Cuman Jalal al-Din of Khwārazm Yemen
troops in the Battle of in Western Iran, Caucasia
Kalka and Mesopotamia after
his defeat against the
Mongols
1237–1240 Mongol 1237/1241 Cuman

conquest of the refugees from the
Russian princedoms; Mongols are settled by
1230–1492 Nasrids Emperor John iii
rule from Granada in Vatatzes in Byzantine
the remaining Islamic Asia Minor
territories in the
Iberian Peninsula
1241 Mongol 1243 Defeat of the 1249–1254, Seventh
invasions of Poland Seljuks in Anatolia by the Crusade of King Louis
and of Hungary Mongols at Kösedağ ix of France, attack on
Egypt
1254 Foundation of 1258 Mongol conquest 1250/1252 Takeover of
the City of Sarai at the of Baghdad; establish- power in Egypt by the
Volga as capital of the ment of the Mongol Mamluks (warrior
Mongol Khanate in Ilkhanate in Iran, Iraq slaves, mostly from the
Eastern Europe and Southern Caucasia Western Eurasian
(“Golden Horde”) steppes)
1261 Conquest of 1260 Defeat of the 1269 End of the
Constantinople by Mongols by the Mamluks Almohad dynasty in
troops of the Byzan- at Ain Jalut in Palestine North Africa
tine “exile state” of
Nicaea; establishment
of a Genoese colony in
Galata
1270 Establishment of 1267–1279 Mongol 1270 Eighth Crusade of
a Genoese colony in conquest of Southern King Louis ix of
Kaffa on the Crimea China under Kublai France, attack on Tunis
Khan; migrations from
across Central and
Western Asia into China
1274–1282 Short 1271–1294 Marco Polo 1270–1285, Reign of
lived Union of in the Mongol Empire of Yekuno Amlak, founder
Churches between Kublai Khan of the Solomonic
Rome and dynasty in Ethiopia;
Constantinople diplomatic contacts
with Mamluk Egypt
1294–1302 War 1291 Fall of Acre as last 1285 Emergence of the

between the Byzan- outpost of the Crusaders Sultanate of Ifat in
tine Empire and at the mainland Levan- Ethiopia
Venice tine coast to the Mam-
luks; 1296 Defections of
thousands of Oirat
warriors and their
families (originally
coming from Southern
Siberia) from the Ilkhan
Empire to the Mamluk
Sultanate
1300 1302 Migration of 1302 First defeat of the 1306 Embassy of King
followers of the Byzantines against the Wedem Arad of
defeated Khan Nogai Ottomans at Bapheus; Ethiopia to the Papacy
after a civil war in the refugees from the
Golden Horde to conquered areas in
Byzantium Western Asia Minor
come to Constantinople
1311 First relocation 1307/1318 Establish- 1310–1333 Apex of
of the see of the ment of Catholic the Sultanate of Kilwa
Metropolitan of bishoprics in the Mongol Kisiwani in Tanzania in
Russia from Kiev to capitals in China the reign of al-Hasan
Moscow (Beijing) and Persia ibn Sulaiman, who is
(Sultaniyya) also visited by the
traveller Ibn Battuta
1321–1328 Civil war 1326 Ottoman conquest 1312 Mamluk invasion
in the Byzantine of the Byzantine city of of the Nubian Kingdom
Empire Bursa (Prusa) in North- of Makuria, a Muslim
west Asia Minor member of the royal
dynasty is put on the
throne
1327 Acknowledge- 1331 Ottoman conquest 1324 Pilgrimage of
ment of Prince Ivan i of the Byzantine city of King Mansa Musa i of
of Moscow as Grand Nikaia (Iznik) in Mali from West Africa
Prince of Russia by the Northwest Asia Minor to Mecca
Golden Horde
1340 Expansion of the 1335 Fragmentation of

Kingdom of Poland the Mongol Ilkhanate
and of the Grand after the death of Abū
Duke of Lithuania into Saʿīd
Western Russian
regions
1352 Ottoman 1346 Outbreak of the 1346 Outbreak of the
capture of the fortress Plague epidemic of the Plague epidemic of the
of Tzympe, start of “Black Death” across “Black Death” across
their expansion into Western Afro-Eurasia Western Afro-Eurasia
the Balkans
1362 Ottoman 1368 Overthrow of the 1365 Attack of a
conquest of the Mongol Yuan Dynasty in Crusader army from
Byzantine city of China by the Ming Cyprus on Alexandria
Adrianople (Edirne) in Egypt
1371 Ottoman victory 1370–1405 Establish-
over an alliance of ment of a new Mongol
Serbian princes in the Empire in western
Battle at the river Central Asia and Iran by
Maritza Timur Leng
1389 Ottoman victory 1381–1392 Ottoman 1382 Establishment of
over an alliance of conquest of most of the the Burji dynasty in the
Christian princes in competing Turkish Mamluk Sultanate
the Battle of Kosovo Emirates in Western Asia
Polje Minor
1395–1402 First 1390–1399 Devastating
Ottoman siege of campaigns of Timur Leng
Constantinople into India and against
the Golden Horde
1400 1402–1413 Civil war 1402 Ottoman defeat
in the Ottoman against Timur Leng in
Empire the Battle of Ankara
1410 Death of the 1415 Emergence of the
famous Byzantine Adal Sultanate at the
Icon painter Theo- Horn of Africa
phanes in Russia
1422 Second Ottoman 1415 Conquest of

siege of Ceuta in North Africa
Constantinople by Portugal
1423–1432 First war 1434 Portuguese
between the Otto- seafarers reach Cape
mans and Venice Bojador in West Africa
1444 Defeat of King 1447 Ultimate collapse
Vladislav iii of of Timurid rule in Iran,
Hungary and Poland rise of the Turkish
against the Ottomans federation of the Qara
in the Battle of Varna Qoyunlu
1453 The Ottoman 1456 Portuguese
Sultan Mehmed ii seafarers reach Cap
conquers Verde islands
Constantinople
1460 Conquest of the 1467 Defeat of the Qara 1465–1492 Rise of the
Peloponnese by the Qoyunlu by the Aq Empire of Songhay in
Ottomans Qoyunlu under Uzun Western Africa under
Hasan the rule of Sonni Ali
1475 Conquest of the
last Genoese colonies
on the Crimea by an
alliance of the
Khanate of the Crimea
and the Ottomans
1482 The Portuguese
reach the mouth of the
river Congo
1492 Expulsion of Formation of several 1487/1488 The
Jews from Spain, many Muslim petty states in Portuguese Bartolomeu
find refuge in the India; 1498 Vasco da Dias reaches the Cape
Ottoman Empire Gama lands in Calicut of Good Hope
1500 1501–1507 Overthrow of 1500 Collapse of the
the Aq Qoyunlu by the Christian Nubian
Shiite Safavid dynasty in Kingdom
Iran
1509–1511 Revolts 1516/1517 Ottoman

under the leadership of conquest of the
Shiite clergymen and Mamluk Sultanate in
dervishes in Ottoman Syrian and Egypt
Anatolia
1526 Ottoman defeat
of the army of the
Kingdom of Hungary in
the Battle of Mohács
Acknowledgement
The (open access) publication of this volume was financed within the frame-
work of the project “Moving Byzantium: Mobility, Microstructures and Person-
al Agency”, directed by Prof. Claudia Rapp (Vienna) and funded by the fwf
Austrian Science Fund (Project Z 288 Wittgenstein-Preis). For more informa-
tion on this project, see https://rapp.univie.ac.at/.
Bibliography
Aberth, J., Contesting the Middle Ages. Debates that are Changing our Narrative of Medi-
eval History, London/New York 2019.
Abu-Lughod, J.L., Before European Hegemony. The World System a.d. 1250–1350, New
York/Oxford 1989.
Alram, M., Das Antlitz des Fremden. Die Münzprägung der Hunnen und Westtürken in
Zentralasien und Indien, Vienna 2016.
Allsen, Th. T., Culture and Conquest in Mongol Eurasia, Cambridge 2001.
Allsen, Th. T., “Population Movements in Mongol Eurasia”, in: R. Amitai/M. Biran (eds.),
Nomads as Agents of Cultural Change. The Mongols and Their Eurasian Predecessors,
Honolulu 2015, pp. 119–154.
Amitai-Preiss, R., Mongols and Mamluks. The Mamluk-Īlkhānid Wars, 1260–1281, Cam-
bridge 1995.
Amorim, C.E.G., et al., “Understanding 6th-century barbarian social organization and

migration through paleogenomics”, Nature Communications 9, Article number: 3547
(2018): https://www.nature.com/articles/s41467-018-06024-4.
Avanzini, A., By Land and by Sea. A History of South Arabia before Islam recounted from
Inscriptions, Rome 2016.
Baker, B./Takeyuki, T. (eds.), Migration and Disruptions. Toward a Unifying Theory of
Ancient and Contemporary Migrations, Gainesville et al. 2015.
Balard, M./Ducellier, A. (eds.), Migrations et diasporas méditerranéennes (xe–xvie siè-
cles), Paris 2002.
Barkey, K., Empire of Difference. The Ottomans in Comparative Perspective, Cambridge
2008.
Bartlett, R., The Making of Europe: Conquest, Colonization and Cultural Change 950–
1350, London 1993.
Baumer, Ch., The History of Central Asia: The Age of the Silk Road, London/New York
2014.
Beaujard, Ph., Les mondes de l’ocean indien, 2 Vols., Paris 2012.
Bechhaus-Gerst, M., “Afrika”, in: M. Borgolte (ed.), Migrationen im Mittelalter: Ein
Handbuch, Berlin 2017, pp. 107–117.
Beihammer, A.D., Byzantium and the Emergence of Muslim-Turkish Anatolia, ca. 1040–
1130, Abingdon 2017.
Ben-Sasson, H.H., Geschichte des jüdischen Volkes. Von den Anfängen bis zur Gegenwart,
Munich 1994.
Berger, L., “Muslimische Welt”, in: M. Borgolte (ed.), Migrationen im Mittelalter: Ein
Bösl, E., Doing Ancient dna: Zur Wissenschaftsgeschichte der aDNA-Forschung, Biele-
feld 2017.
Borgolte, M. (ed.), Migrationen im Mittelalter: Ein Handbuch, Berlin 2017.
Borgolte, M., “Einführung”, in: M. Borgolte (ed.), Migrationen im Mittelalter: Ein
Borgolte, M., “Migrationen im Mittelalter. Ein Überblick”, in: M. Borgolte (ed.), Migra-
tionen im Mittelalter: Ein Handbuch, Berlin 2017, pp. 21–33.
Bossong, G., Die Sepharden. Geschichte und Kultur der spanischen Juden, Munich 2008.
Bowlus, C.R., The Battle of Lechfeld and its Aftermath, August 955. The End of the Age of
Migrations in the Latin West, Aldershot 2006.
Büntgen, Ulf, et al., “Cooling and societal change during the Late Antique Little Ice Age
from 536 to around 660 ad”, Nature Geoscience 9 (2016), 231–236.
Burmeister, St., “Archaeology and Migration: Approaches to an Archaeological Proof of
Migration”, Current Anthropology 41/4, August/October 2000, pp. 539–567.
Burns, E.J., Sea of Silk. A Textile Geography of Women´s Work in Medieval French Litera-
ture, Philadelphia 2009.
Campbell, B.M.S., The Great Transition: Climate, Disease and Society in the Late Medi-
eval World, Cambridge 2016.
Chaffee, J.W., The Muslim merchants of Premodern China. The History of a Maritime
Asian Trade Diaspora, 750–1400, Cambridge 2018.
Christie, N., The Lombards. The Ancient Longobards, Oxford 1995.
Ciocîltan, V., The Mongols and the Black Sea Trade in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Cen-
turies, Leiden/Boston 2012.
Cohen, R., Global Diasporas: An Introduction, London/New York 2008.
Cunliffe, B., By Steppe, Desert, and Ocean. The Birth of Eurasia, Oxford 2015.
Cunliffe, B., On the Ocean. The Mediterranean and the Atlantic from Prehistory of ad
1500, Oxford 2017.
Curta, F., The Making of the Slavs: History and Archaeology of the Lower Danube Region,
c.500–700, Cambridge 2001.
Curta, F., Southeastern Europe in the Middle Ages 500–1250, Cambridge 2006.
Curtin, Ph. D., Cross-cultural Trade in World history, Cambridge 1984.
de Barros Damgaard, P., et al., “137 ancient human genomes from across the Eurasian
steppes”, Nature 557 (17 May 2018), 369–374.
Demandt, A., Der Fall Roms. Die Auflösung des römischen Reiches im Urteil der Nach-
welt, Munich 2014.
di Branco, M./Wolf, K., “Berber und Araber im Maghreb und Europa”, in: M. Borgolte
(ed.), Migrationen im Mittelalter: Ein Handbuch, Berlin 2017, pp. 149–160.
Ditten, H., Ethnische Verschiebungen zwischen der Balkanhalbinsel und Kleinasien vom
Ende des 6. bis zur zweiten Hälfte des 9. Jahrhunderts, Berliner Byzantinische Arbe-
iten 59, Berlin 1993.
Dold-Ghadar, G., Pers-Andalus: iranische Kulturdenkmäler in “al-Andalus al-aqṣā”: Be
wertung der Forschungsergebnisse für das 8.–12. Jahrhundert, Berlin 2016.
Eastmond, A., Tamta’s World. The Life and Encounters of a Medieval Noblewoman from
the Middle East to Mongolia, Cambridge 2017.
Eggert, M.K.H., “The Bantu Problem and African Archaeology”, in: A.B. Stahl (ed.), Afri-
can Archaeology: A Critical Introduction, Malden/Oxford 2004, pp. 301–326.
Ellenblum, R., Frankish Rural Settlement in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, Cambridge
1998.
Ellenblum, R., The Collapse of the Eastern Mediterranean: Climate Change and the De-
cline of the East, 950–1072, Cambridge, 2012.
Epstein, St. A., Purity Lost: Transgressing Boundaries in the Eastern Mediterranean,
1000–1400, Baltimore 2007.
Faroqhi, S., Travel and Artisans in the Ottoman Empire: Employment and Mobility in the
Early Modern Era, London 2014.
Fauvelle, F.-X., Das Goldene Rhinozeros. Afrika im Mittelalter, Munich 2017.
Fauvelle, F.-X. (ed.), L’Afrique ancienne: De l’Acacus au Zimbabwe. 20 000 avant notre ère-
xviie siècle, Paris 2018.
Ferrier, C., LÍnde des Gupta (ive–vi siécle), Paris 2015.
Feuchter, J., “Über die Herausforderung der Geschichtswissenschaft durch die Gene-
tik: Zwölf Thesen zur Genetic History”, 2016 online: https://mittelalter.hypotheses
.org/7629.
Fleet, K., European and Islamic Trade in the early Ottoman State. The Merchants of Ge-
noa and Turkey, Cambridge 1999.
Fleet, K., “The Turkish economy, 1071–1453”, in: idem (ed.), The Cambridge History of
Turkey, Vol. I: Byzantium to Turkey 1071–1453, Cambridge 2009, pp. 227–265.
Flood, F.B., Objects of Translation. Material Culture and Medieval “Hindu-Muslim” En-
counter, Princeton/Oxford 2009.
Fraser, A., The Gypsies, Malden/Oxford 1995.
Gandila, A., Cultural Encounters on Byzantium´s Northern Frontier, c. ad 500–700. Coins,
Artefacts and History, Cambridge 2018.
Gil, M., “The Radhanite Merchants and the Land of Radhan”, Journal of the Economic
and Social History of the Orient 17, 1974, 299–328.
Golden, P.B./Ben-Shammai, H./Róna-Tas, A. (eds.), The World of the Khazars. New Per-
spectives, Leiden/Boston 2007.
Gomez, M.A., African Dominion. A new History of Empire in Early and Medieval West
Africa, Princeton/Oxford 2018.
Gordon, M.S., The Breaking of a Thousand Swords. A History of the Turkish Military of
Samarra (a.h. 200–275/815–889 c.e.), Albany 2001.
Hahn, S., Historische Migrationsforschung, Frankfurt/New York 2012.
Halperin, C.J., “The Kipchak connection: the lkhans, the Mamluks and Ayn Jalut”, Bul-
letin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 63, 2000, 229–245.
Halsall, G., Barbarian Migrations and the Roman West 376–568, Cambridge 2007.
Hardt, M., “Slawen”, in: M. Borgolte (ed.), Migrationen im Mittelalter: Ein Handbuch,
Berlin 2017, pp. 171–180.
Härke, H., “Archaeologists and Migrations: A Problem of Attitude?”, Current Anthropol-
ogy 39/1, February 1998, pp. 19–46.
Harzig, C./Hoerder, D., with D. Gabaccia, What is Migration History?, Malden, MA
2009.
Hatke, G., Aksum and Nubia. Warfare, Commerce and Political Fictions in Ancient North-
east Africa, New York 2013.
Hawkes, J.D./Wynne-Jones, St., “India in Africa: Trade goods and connections of the
late first millennium”, Afriques 06 (2015), online: https://afriques.revues.org/1752.
Heers, J., Les négriers en terres díslam, viie–xvie siècle, Paris 2007.
Hillenbrand, C., The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, corrected reprint, Edinburgh 2006.
Hoerder, D., Cultures in Contact. World Migrations in the Second Millennium, Durham/
London 2002.
Horton, M./Middleton, J., The Swahili, Oxford/Malden 2000.
Imber, C., The Ottoman Empire, 1300–1650: The Structure of Power, Basingstoke 2009.
Jackson, P, The Mongols and the Islamic World: From Conquest to Conversion, Yale 2017.
Jackson, P, The Mongols and the West, 1221–1410, 2nd ed. London 2018.
Jacoby, D., “Silk Economics and Cross-Cultural Artistic Interaction: Byzantium, the
Muslim World, and the Christian West”, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 58 (2004),
197–240.
Kafadar, C., Between Two Worlds. The Construction of the Ottoman State, Berkeley/Los
Angeles/London 1996.
Kahane, H./Kahane, R./Tietze, A., The Lingua Franca of the Levant. Turkish Nautical
Terms of Italian and Greek Origin, Urbana, Illinois 1958.
Kaldellis, A., Streams of Gold, Rivers of Blood: The Rise and Fall of Byzantium, 955 a.d. to
the First Crusade, Oxford 2017.
Kaldellis, A., Romanland. Ethnicity and Empire in Byzantium, Cambridge, Mass./Lon-
don 2019.
Kardaras, G., Byzantium and the Avars, 6th–9th Century ad: Political, Diplomatic and
Cultural Relations, Leiden/Boston 2018.
Kim, H.J., The Huns, Abingdon 2016.
Korobeinikov, D., “A broken mirror: the Kıpçak world in the thirteenth century”, in: F.
Curta (ed.), The Other Europe in the Middle Ages. Avars, Bulgars, Khazars, and Cu-
mans, East Central and Eastern Europe in the Middle Ages, 450–1450, Leiden/Bos-
ton 2008, pp. 379–410.
Korobeinikov, D., Byzantium and the Turks in the Thirteenth Century, Oxford 2014.
Krämer, F./Schmidt, K./Singer, J. (eds.), Historicing the “Beyond”. The Mongolian Inva-
sion as a new Dimension of Violence, Heidelberg 2011.
Krause, J., with Trappe, Th., Die Reise unserer Gene. Eine Geschichte über uns und unsere
Vorfahren, Berlin 2019.
Kulke, H., Das europäische Mittelalter – ein eurasisches Mittelalter?, Berlin 2016.
Kulke, H./Rothermund, D., Geschichte Indiens. Von der Induskultur bis heute, Munich
2010.
Le Goff, J., Faut-il vraiment découper l’histoire en tranches?, Paris 2016.
Lewis, M.E., China between Empires. The Northern and Southern Dynasties, Cambridge,
Mass./London 2009.
Lilie, R.-J., Handel und Politik zwischen dem byzantinischen Reich und den italienischen
Kommunen Venedig, Pisa und Genua in der Epoche der Komnenen und der Angeloi
(1081–1204), Amsterdam 1984.
Loiseau, J., Les Mamelouks xiiie–xvie siècle: Une expérience du pouvoir dans l’islam me-
dieval, Paris 2014.
Lombard, M., Blütezeit des Islam. Eine Wirtschafts- und Kulturgeschichte 8.-11. Jahrhun-
dert, Frankfurt am Main 1992.
Luft, St., Die Flüchtlingskrise. Ursachen, Konflikte, Folgen, Munich 2016.
Mack, R.E., Bazaar to Piazza. Islamic Trade and Italian Art, 1300–1600, Berkeley/Los An-
geles/London 2002.
Makris, G., Studien zur spätbyzantinischen Schiffahrt, Genoa 1988.
Malamut, É./Ouerfelli, M. (eds.), Les échanges en Méditerranée médiévale, Aix-en-
Provence 2012.
Marboe, R.A., Von Burgos nach Cuzco. Das Werden Spaniens 530–1530, Essen 2006.
McCormick, M., “New Light on the Dark Ages: How the Slave Trade Fueled the Carolin-
gian Economy”, Past and Present 177 (2002), 17–54.
McCormick, M., et al., “Climate Change during and after the Roman Empire: Recon-
structing the Past from Scientific and Historical Evidence”, Journal of Interdisciplin-
ary History 43 (2) (2012), 169–220.
McLeman, R.A., Climate and Human Migration: Past Experiences, Future Challenges,
Cambridge 2013.
Meško, M., “Pecheneg groups in the Balkans (ca. 1053–1091) according to the Byzantine
sources”, in: F. Curta/B.-P. Maleon (eds.), The Steppe Lands and the World beyond
them. Studies in honor of Victor Spinei on his 70th birthday, Iași 2013, pp. 179–205.
Middleton, J., World of Swahili: An African Mercantile Civilization, New Haven 1994.
Mitsiou, E./Preiser-Kapeller, J., “Moving Hands: Types and Scales of Labour Mobility in
the Late Medieval Eastern Mediterranean (1200–1500 ce)”, in: C.G. de Vito/A. Ger-
ritsen (eds.), Micro-Spatial Histories of Global Labour, London 2017, pp. 29–67.
Nagel, T., Timur der Eroberer und die islamische Welt des späten Mittelalters, Munich
1993.
Orthmann, E., Stamm und Macht. Die arabischen Stämme im 2. und 3. Jahrhundert der
Hidschra, Wiesbaden 2002.
Pálóczi-Horváth, A., Pechenegs, Cumans, Iasians. Steppe peoples in medieval Hungary,
Budapest 1989.
Peacock, A.C.S, The Great Seljuk Empire, Edinburgh 2015.
Plassmann, A., Origo gentis: Identitäts- und Legitimitätsstiftung in früh- und hochmit-
telalterlichen Herkunftserzählungen, Berlin 2006.
Pohl, W. (ed.), The Genetic Challenge to Medieval History and Archaeology, Medieval
Worlds 4 (2016), online: https://www.medievalworlds.net/8084-5inhalt?frames
=yes.
Pohl, W., Die Völkerwanderung: Eroberung und Integration, 3rd ed. Stuttgart 2020.
Pohl, W., The Avars: A Steppe Empire in Central Europe, 567–822, Ithaca/London 2018.
Popovic, A., The Revolt of African Slaves in Iraq in the 3rd/9th Century, Princeton, N.J.
1999.
Power, T., The Red Sea from Byzantium to the Caliphate: ad 500–1000, Cairo 2012.
Prange, S.R., Monsoon Islam. Trade and Faith on the Medieval Malabar Coast, Cam-
bridge 2018.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., “Networks of border zones – multiplex relations of power, religion
and economy in South-eastern Europe, 1250–1453 ce”, in: Proceedings of the 39th
Annual Conference of Computer Applications and Quantitative Methods in Archaeol-
ogy, “Revive the Past” (CAA) in Beijing, China, Amsterdam 2012, 381–393.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., “A Collapse of the Eastern Mediterranean? New results and theo-
ries on the interplay between climate and societies in Byzantium and the Near East,
ca. 1000–1200 ad”, Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 65, 2015, 195–242.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., “Byzantinische Geschichte, 1025–1204”, in: F. Daim (ed.), Byzanz.
Historisch-kulturwissenschaftliches Handbuch, Neuer Pauly, Supplement 11, Stutt-
gart 2016, pp. 130–195.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., “Complex processes of migration: the south Caucasus in the early
Islamic Empire (7th–10th century ad)”, in: H. Mehler/F. Daim/J. Krause/R. Risch
(eds.), Migration und Integration von der Urgeschichte bis zum Mittelalter, Halle 2017,
pp. 295–313.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., Jenseits von Rom und Karl dem Großen. Aspekte der globalen Ver-
flechtung in der langen Spätantike, 300–800 n. Chr., Vienna 2018.
Preiser-Kapeller, J./Mitsiou, Ek., “Mercantile and religious mobility between Byz-
antines, Latins and Muslims, 1200–1500: on the theory and practice of social
networks”, Medieval Worlds, Issue 1/2019, online: https://www.medievalworlds
.net/0xc1aa5576%200x003abd7e.pdf.
Raffensperger, Ch., Reimagining Europe: Kievan Rus’ in the Medieval World, 988–1146,
Harvard 2012
Ravid, B., “Venice and its Minorities”, in: E. Dursteler (ed.), A Companion to Venetian
History, 1400–1797, Leiden/Boston 2013, pp. 449–485.
Reichert, F.E., Begegnungen mit China: Die Entdeckung Ostasiens im Mittelalter, Stutt-
gart 1992.
Rezakhani, Kh., ReOrienting the Sasanians. East Iran in Late Antiquity, Edinburgh 2017.
Róna-Tas, A., Hungarians and Europe in the Early Middle Ages: An Introduction to Early
Hungarian History, Budapest 1999.
Rotman, Y., Byzantine Slavery and the Mediterranean World, Cambridge, Mass./London
2009.
Scheel, R., Skandinavien und Byzanz: Bedingungen und Konsequenzen mittelalterlicher
Kulturbeziehungen, Bonn 2015.
Schiel, J., “Sklaven”, in: M. Borgolte (ed.), Migrationen im Mittelalter: Ein Handbuch, Ber-
lin 2017, pp. 251–266.
Schmiedchen, A., “Indien”, in: M. Borgolte (ed.), Migrationen im Mittelalter: Ein
Schuppert, G.F., Verflochtene Staatlichkeit. Globalisierung als Governance-Geschichte,
Frankfurt/New York 2014.
Schwenken, H., Globale Migration zur Einführung, Hamburg 2018.

Sénac, Ph., Charlemagne et Mahomet en Espagne (viiie–ixe siècles), Paris 2015.
Shukurov, R., The Byzantine Turks, 1204–1461, Leiden/Boston 2016.
Skinner, P., Medieval Amalfi and Its Diaspora, 800–1250, Oxford 2013.
Spinei, V. The Romanians and the Turkic Nomads North of the Danube Delta from the
Tenth to the Mid-Thirteenth Century, Leiden/Boston 2009.
Stephenson, P., Byzantium’s Balkan Frontier. A Political Study of the Northern Balkans,
900–1204, Cambridge 2000.
Stickler, Th., Die Hunnen, Munich 2007.
Tannous, J., The Making of the Medieval Middle East: Religion, Society, and Simple Believ-
ers, Princeton 2018.
Theotokis, G., The Norman Campaigns in the Balkans, 1081–1108, Woodbridge 2014.
Tilly, Ch., “Transplanted Networks”, in: V. Yans-McLaughlin (ed.), Immigration Recon-
sidered. History, Sociology and Politics, New York/Oxford 1990, pp. 79–95.
Toch, M., The economic history of European Jews: Late antiquity and early middle ages,
Leiden/Boston 2013
Vásáry, I., Cumans and Tatars. Oriental Military in the Pre-Ottoman Balkans, 1185–1365,
Cambridge 2005.
von Padberg, L., Christianisierung im Mittelalter, Stuttgart 2006.
Ward-Perkins, B., The Fall of Rome and the End of Civilization, Oxford 2006.
Wardwell, A.E., “Panni Tartarici: Eastern Islamic Silks Woven with Gold and Silver (13th
and 14th Centuries)”, Islamic Art 3 (1988/89), 95–173.
Werner, E., Die Geburt einer Großmacht. Die Osmanen (1300–1481). Ein Beitrag zur Ge
nesis des türkischen Feudalismus, Weimar 1985.
Wickham, Ch., The Inheritance of Rome. A History of Europe from 400 to 1000, London
2009.
Yıldız, S.N., “Reconceptualizing the Seljuk-Cilician Frontier: Armenians, Latins, and
Turks in Conflict and Alliance during the Early Thirteenth Century”, in: F. Curta
(ed.), Borders, Barriers, and Ethnogenesis. Frontiers in Late Antiquity and the Middle
Ages, Turnhout 2005, pp. 91–120.
Yıldız, S.N., “Manuel Komnenos Mavrozomes and His Descendants at the Seljuk Court:
The Formation of a Christian Seljuk-Komnenian Elite”, in: St. Leder (ed.), Crossroads
between Latin Europe and the Near East: Corollaries of the Frankish Presence in the
Eastern Mediterranean (12th–14th centuries), Würzburg 2011, pp. 55–80.
Zhivkov, B., Khazaria in the Ninth and Tenth Centuries, Leiden/Boston 2015.
Ziemann, D., Vom Wandervolk zur Großmacht. Die Entstehung Bulgariens im frühen
Mittelalter (7.–9. Jahrhundert), Kölner Historische Abhandlungen 43, Cologne/
Weimar/Vienna 2007.
Chapter 2
Introductory Essay: Migration—Travel—

Commerce—Cultural Transfer. The Complex
Connections Byzantium-Kiev-Novgorod-Varangian
Lands, 6–14th Century
Dirk Hoerder
Dealing with Varangian-Rus’/Kievan and Byzantine interactions in Europe’s

so-called “Middle Ages” involves several macro-regions: the East Roman realm,
the Iranian as well as the Mesopotamian and Egyptian realms, and the distant
Scandinavian one. Scholarship has been hampered by terminological prob-
lems: The East Roman inhabitants—”Rhomaioi”, “Rhom”, or “Rum”—were mis-
named “Byzantines” almost a century after the Empire’s demise by the Augs-
burg humanist Hieronymus Wolf (1516–1580). His reference to the Greek
settlement Byzantion rather than to Constantinople, the Roman Empire’s con-
tinuity, and Orthodox Christianity was meant to reduce East Roman culture
to an “in-between” and elevate Western Christianity and the Carolingian rein-
vention of western Rome as sole successor to “Rome” whether Empire or city or
St. Peter’s Christianity.1
The still unified Roman Empire—through armed conquest—had estab-
lished rule or held sway in the Anatolian-Eastern/ Mediterranean-West Asian
region but could not annex the Iranian realm once conquered by Alexander
[“the Great”] and “Hellenized” as much as the Macedonians were “Persianized”.
When, from the 3rd to the 6th century, “Rome”, whether empire, federation
of provinces, or region of connected urban centers, came apart as circum-Medi
terranean and trans-alpine polity, the eastern half continued as a politically
unified but territorially expanding or shrinking realm with Constantinople as
capital. It was thus not a “Byzantine” successor state to a dissolved empire.
To the north of Constantinople and Anatolia, the vast region from the
Black to the Baltic Sea was an arena of migration and of settlement of Baltic-,
Finno-Ugric, and Slavic-speaking peoples. Highly mobile groups from further
1 I am grateful to Lewis Siegelbaum and Leslie Page Moch for a critical reading of an earlier
version of this essay and to Johannes Preiser-Kapeller and Claudia Rapp as well as Jonathan
Shepard for intense comments and references to further literature. Greek- and Russian-
languageresearch has not been accessible to me.
© Dirk Hoerder, �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_003
Migration—Travel—Commerce—Cultural Transfer 51
east, some from as far as the northern border of Imperial China, transmigrated
or settled for several generations. These, popular memory and historians’ “mas-
ter narratives” labeled “Asiatic horsemen”. They included women and children,
often were of poly-ethnic background, but were subsumed by contemporary
designations under singularizing labels: “Huns”, “Mongols”, “Tatars”, or in an
earlier phase “Scythians”. From Scandinavia, the multiple local societies of
“Norsemen” and women with high shipbuilding and seafaring skills reached
out. The mobile cultural groups did pose massive threats to entire settled
populations, to communities, and to individual families in the steppe macro-
region, in Byzantium, and in Western Europe. Whether on the move or estab-
lishing temporary and, in the case of the “Mongols”, century-long rule, from the
(East) Roman perspective they were neighbors/ aggressors/ passers-by.2
In this essay, I first outline the southward Scandinavia-Black Sea/ Central
Asia connections along river routes; second, turn to the multi-facetted migra-
tions and cultural exchanges between East Rome and the Varangian-Rus’ prin-
cipalities; and finally summarize the transcontinental connectivity of the
many Norsemen and -women. In conclusion, I will assess the specific character
of these mass, cultural elite, and military labor migrations.
1 The Early “Varangian”—Black Sea Connections
Population development in the macro-region between Baltic and Black seas

had involved the slow, land-bound dispersion of cultural groups from Mazuria
in the north to the Lower Danube in the south. While 19th-century ethno-cen-
tric historians had placed the origin of “proto-Slavic groups” in wetlands and
lowlands of the Pripyat-River, Bug, and Dnepr, recent research emphasizes a
“Byzantine authors-making-the-Slavs” process: 6th-century chroniclers viewed
the Empire’s northern neighbors as two groups of enemies labelled “Sclavenes”
and “Antes”. Their many cultures expanded westward via the Danubian plains
to the East Alpine foothills in mid-6th century, a common Slavic may have
been the lingua franca.3 In the north at this time, Scandinavian, Finno-Ugri-
an and Baltic peoples began to explore the water routes—sea, lakes, and the
2 Kennedy, Mongols, Huns and Vikings.

3 The Kievan monks’ “Primary Chronicle” (1113) described the migrations based on Slavic
chronicles, native legends, Norse sagas, Arab texts, Byzantine historiography, and treaties be-
tween the Kievan Rus’ and Byzantium: Primary Chronicle, transl. Cross/Sherbowitz-Wetzor.
Cf. also Curta, The Making of the Slavs; Curta, “The Making of the Slavs: Ethnogenesis Revis-
ited”; Koder, “Anmerkungen zum Slawen-Namen in byzantinischen Quellen”, 333–346.
52 Hoerder
seemingly endless southward-flowing rivers—to the Caspian and Black seas to

settle and trade with merchants from the Iranian and Central Asian region.4
Again parallel in time, steppe cultural groups moved westward: Huns (5th cen-
tury), Avars (6th century), Bulgarians (7th century), Magyars (9th century),
and Pechenegs/ Patzniaks (late 9th century). In addition, the (Western) Turk-
ish Khaganate from Central Asia to the Crimea (from mid-6th century), the
rule of the Khazars as its successors north of the Caucasus (from mid-7th cen-
tury) and the Cuman-Kipchak federation—perhaps (partly) Nestorian Chris-
tian—from the 11th century played important roles. Then the Mongols (12th–
13th century) established their transcontinental realm. These flexible “cultural
groups” rather than “peoples” with essentialist identities were both agents of
destruction and of state building. They posed threats, first to the eastern Or-
thodox Christian Roman Empire, from about 800 to Latin Christian Western
Europe, and from the late 12th century to the Kievan and other Rus’-landish
principalities, as well as to the Iranian and Islamic spheres. The transconti-
nental pax mongolica of the 13th and 14th centuries permitted resumption of
trading connections.5
From among the many migrations, those of the cultures of proto-Slavic
(5th–8th century) and of Scandinavian languages were central to the emer-
gence of the Kievan Principality with whom the Constantinopolitan Empire
would interact. Scandinavia’s and Jutland’s naturally limited agriculturally us-
able land, given population increases, forced people to emigrate, and long
coasts, resulting in seafaring expertise, made this possible. From economic
micro-regions and meso-regional realms of rule, men and women migrated
eastbound via the Baltic Sea’s Gulf of Finland and via the Narva, Neva, and
Daugava (or Western Dvina) rivers to lakes Peipus, Ladoga, and Ilmen; west-
ward via the North Sea to the (British) isles settled by Angles and Saxons and
to what would be called “Normandy”; and southward onward to Sicily, Con-
stantinople, and the cities of Syria and Palestine (in Christian naming the
“Holy Land”).6 Later historians named these circum- and transcontinental
4 Franklin/Shepard, The Emergence of the Rus, on the northbound migrations of cultural

groups from the Caucasian Mountain range (pp. 71–80), on trading places along the Donetsk
River where Chinese goods from the Tang-period have been excavated (p. 83) and on mi-
grants from the Baltic island of Åland at the middle Dnepr in the 10th century (p. 125). Cf. also
Kappeler, Russland als Vielvölkerreich, pp. 9–24; Preiser-Kapeller, Jenseits von Rom und Karl
dem Großen, pp. 164–165.
5 Pickhan, “Von der Kiever Rus zum Moskauer Reich”, pp. 113–137, esp. p. 114; Golden, Central
Asia in World History, pp. 77–79, 83–84, 93.
6 Musset, “L’aristocratie normande au xie siècle”, pp. 71–96; Walker, The Normans in Britain.
The courts of the Sicilian rulers, esp. of the Norman King Roger ii (1103–1154) and the
Hohenstaufen Frederick ii (1212–1250), were centers of intercultural and inter-religious ex-
change, cf. Houben, Roger ii. von Sizilien.
aterborne migrants according to perceived roles: (1) state-building Normans

w
(and, analytically important, Nor-women), (2) Vikings as raiders and/ or long-
distance traders, and (3) Varangians as aggressive power-imposing settlers and
traders. Many moved in stages, francophone Normans from Normandy, for
example, to the “Holy Land”. Thus, like the “Sclavenes”, the men and women
from the northern cultures were labeled according to the perceptions and dis-
courses of chroniclers from the societies in which they arrived/ which they
aggressed.
The 7th-century Scandinavian-origin traders who would come into contact
with East Rome settled in populated regions and, mixing over generations with
women and men of Slavic culture, formed the Novgorodian, Kievan, and later
Muscovite principalities. They came from distinct regional cultures, among
them military-style armed and predominantly male “Swedes” from Uppland
and Östergötland and trade-oriented families from the isle of Gotland, and
mixed with Baltic and Finno-Ugric settlers. They established settlements
where trade goods had to be reloaded onto river boats, Staraia Ladoga at Lake
Ladoga and Gorodishche at Lake Ilmen, and connected southward across
lakes, rivers, and portages, first, as long-distance-merchants via the Volga and
the Caspian Sea to Persian and Arab merchants and, second, along the Dnepr
to Slavic settlements and, finally to the Black Sea and Constantinople.7
At the Volga route’s southern end, the Nordic merchants traded with Arab
and Iranian ones traveling the (later so-called) Silk Roads (plural!) from China,
Central Asia, India, and elsewhere. Recently Islamized traders, settled Arabs in
the frontier regions as well Turkish military manpower and soldiers provided
key support for the foundation of the Abbasid Caliphate in 749/750 a.d., which
formed a stable frame for exchange. After the transfer of the capital from Da-
mascus to Baghdad (founded in 762), a new and wealthy elite created demand
for luxury goods from the north. Merchants of the Choresm oases-region at the
southern shore of the Aral Sea and of Tashkent, Bukhara, and Samarkand south
of the Caspian Sea distributed northern “exotic” products, in the 8th century
via Khazar middlemen or families and in the 10th century via Bulgarian ones.
Merchants in Novgorod, Gotland, and Birka (Lake Malaren), in turn, traded
southern Arabian, Persian, and Byzantine (Roman or Greek) “exotic” products.
This Volga trade route never became a migration pathway.8
In contrast, the second route along the Dnepr involved migration and settle-
ment and would become the major axis between the north and Byzantium.
From Lake Ladoga, Novgorod and Pskov Varangians migrated southward and,
7 Cunliffe, Europe between the Oceans, pp. 12, 263, provides maps of the trans-European migra-
tory space.
8 Preiser-Kapeller, Jenseits von Rom und Karl dem Großen, pp. 164–166, 235–237.
54 Hoerder
according to late 9th-century sources, established rule over the settled East
Slavic-speaking families. They founded (or selected) Kiev as capital possibly at
the site of a Khazar Jewish community.9 The many-cultured settlements along
the Dnepr linked to southeastern cultural groups in a process of changing from
Old Turkic-Mongolian and Jewish beliefs to Christian and Muslim ones. The
arrival of Northerner newcomers-intruders, as is frequently the case when
mainly men migrate, involved violence. The cost of the imposition of rule had
to be borne by those subjugated and the new order disrupted the residents’
societal arrangements. Slavic enslaved men had to build dugout boats facilitat-
ing the rulers’ mobility; women became sex objects, concubines, or wives, gave
birth to, and raised culturally mixed children. Hierarchies between the in-
migrating and, since the 6th century, settled East Slavic peoples and the arriv-
ing Rus’ are difficult to evaluate: did the migrants from the north establish
themselves as an overlay or were they subversive to the residents’ ways of life?
Was the comparatively small number of Nordic people absorbed as is suggest-
ed by their acceptance of the Slavic language? Alternatively, did they deeply
change the culture of the resident families as suggested by patterns of trade?10
The Varangians, possibly a name for traders with shared liability, were also
called “Rus” (Slavic), “Rūs” (Arabic), and “Rhōs” (Greek) which may refer to one
of the regions of origin, RoÞer or RoÞin at the Swedish Baltic coast.11 In a lin-
guistically-connotatively-conceptually confusing turn, this name was increas-
ingly used for the new mixed population and, finally, as “Russians” for the East
Slavic-speaking métis-descendants of both ethno-cultural groups in the pre-
Muscovite “land of the Rus”, Rus’-landish, Ruskaia zemlia. Rus-land or “Russia”
refers to the state emerging in the 14th and 15th centuries with Moscow as its
center. Better than dichotomous juxtapositions of peoples, concepts of hierar-
chical fusion or métissage help understand the development of new societies:
processes of exchange, acculturation, merging rather than essentialist folk (or
national) identities.
9 On a possible Khazarian pre-history of Kiev, see essays in Golden/Ben-Shammai/Róna-

Tas, The World of the Khazars.
10 A founding legend invented later has three brothers arrive—add: with their families and
dependents—allegedly invited by resident strife-torn cultural groups to reestablish order.
The oldest, Rurik, gave name to the “Rurikid” dynasty. Folk tales and master narratives
sometimes merge into founding myths legitimizing rule. In many such stories young
brothers—an age group wanting to separate from parents—depart from hearth and
home. Such migrants’ ascribed names often became the designation of the new upper
strata and, by extension, of “peoples”, cf. Jones, A History of the Vikings, pp. 244–246.
Geary, The Myth of Nations.
11 Benedikz, The Varangians of Byzantium, pp. 1–7.
In addition, in the 8th and 9th centuries “‘home’ was itself a movable and
uncertain affair for the inhabitants of the river valleys and the depths of the
forests alike—part hunter-gathers, part fishermen and part agriculturists”.
While spiritual connections to ancestors encouraged immobility around burial
grounds, dearth, hunger, and increasing population provided constant stimuli
for further mobility. Settlements along the rivers were “places of co-residence
of diverse ethnic groups (including Finno-Ugrian and Baltic ones) over a pro-
tracted period”.12 Strife internal to one of the co-resident groups could involve
further mobility and mixing. Prince Vladimir of Kiev (r. 980–1015) had lived as
a refugee in Sweden, returned with Varangian soldiers, and settled the Turk-
language Torki and Berendei as border guards at the southern limits of his
realm. The competitors for his succession mobilized mercenary men: Saxons
and Hungarians, Slovenes and Varangians, men from the steppes and the Cau-
casus. They marched across vast distances, were left by the wayside or demobi-
lized somewhere, left families behind or formed new ones. His son Jaroslav
(r. 1019–1054) married his children into Norwegian, French, Hungarian, Polish,
and German noble families. Historians’ emphasis on the territoriality of rule
has obscured such military, commercial and cultural interaction.13
2 Spiritual and Material Interactions between East Rome and Kiev
From the perspective of Rhom elites culture and competition emerged from
Persia, Syria, and Egypt. The often mobile realms of the steppes and woodlands
north of the Black Sea were also of interest as threatening, as potential allies,
or as neighbors to be informed by diplomatic mission when a new emperor
ascended the throne.14 When more than five centuries after the Roman Em-
pire’s shift to the east but only about two centuries after the Varangians’ arrival
at Lake Ladoga a fighting force of some 5,000 of the latter appeared before
Constantinople in 860, distant some 2,000 km from Novgorod as the crow flies,
contacts intensified.15 Their aggressive mobility in quest of booty made the
12 Franklin/Shepard, Emergence of the Rus, quote pp. 6, 6–27; Jones, A History of the Vikings,
pp. 241–268; Waßenhoven, Skandinavier unterwegs in Europa.
13 Raffensperger, Reimagining Europe: Kievan Rus’ in the Medieval World.
14 Dölger, Regesten, nrs. 13, 41, 63, 183, 263, 302a, 438a and 458, lists embassies to the Turkish
Khaganate in the 6th century and to the Khazars from the 7th to the 9th century. See
contributions to Smythe, Strangers to Themselves, and Di Cosmo/Maas, Empires and Ex-
changes, pp. 1–15, 70–83.
15 Jones, A History of the Vikings, pp. 259–260; Androshchuk, Vikings in the East; Holmquist/
Minaeva, Scandinavia and the Balkans; Scheel, Skandinavien und Byzanz.
56 Hoerder
men from the north strange as well as curiosity-arousing objects for Constanti-
nople’s chroniclers: dramatic events, in contrast to everyday ways of life, enter
historic narratives.
The high level of literacy among East Roman elites—poly-ethnically com-
posed of Greeks, in-migrating Romans, Armenians, Syrians, Slavs, Turks, Bul-
garians, Vlachs, Alans, Magyars, and Georgians—and resulting texts provide
views of “the Others” whether called Varangians, Rhōs, or Tauroskythians. Such
naming involves bordering and fixing in place. It disguises the continuous
composing and re-composing, the transitoriness of cultural groups. The Byz-
antine chroniclers backgrounded the south-to-north perspective, of interest
here, by an overriding east-west narrative structure and, like their Arabian,
Scandinavian, and Ruslandic counterparts, never focused on common people
and their mobilities. This east-west axis, still current in Euro-centric historiog-
raphy, dates to the ancient Mediterranean world: Herodotus had described the
conflict between the Achaemenid Persian Empire (est. 6th century b.c.e) and
the Greek states in this perspective.16 Later antiquity-worshipping historians
elevated his perspective to status of paradigm. Other perspectives, to Egypt in
the south and Kiev in the north, received less attention or were deliberately
avoided.
When the Rus’ army appeared, the Emperor, preoccupied with border wars
and on his way eastward with thousands of soldiers, requested negotiations
but, prudently, also reversed the direction of his marching men. Unexpected
by Rhomaioi and Rus’ alike the looming clash—a “bumping into each other” in
which the agents/ players like billiard balls might bounce into many direc-
tions—became the beginning of intensive interactions with the Dnepr as axis:
merchants’ travels; migration of Church personnel; diplomatic voyages of Ki-
evan rulers and princesses with their retinues to Constantinople; marriage mi-
gration of imperial princesses to Kiev in the frame of power policies; forced
migrations of enslaved men and women; migration of under-employed Varan-
gian-Rus’ to the southern military segment of the labor market.17 In “master”
narratives, warfaring large-distance movements often became a story’s core.
Such master-induced narratives were subservient to a master’s power. Along
16 Herodotus did discuss the Scyths and their ways.

17 Wyrozumski, “La géographie des migrations en Europe centrale et orientale du Moyen
Âge au début des temps modernes”, pp. 191–198; Bibikov/Kabuzan/Nazarov, “Ethno-
Demographic Changes in the Region of Northern Pontos-Southern Russia-Ukraine”,
pp. 271–297; Scheel, Skandinavien und Byzanz.
the Dnepr, many migrations were peaceful, intended to find sustainable ways
of life. Chroniclers designated the geographic Dnepr-axis functionally as the
“route from the Varangians to the Byzantines”, migration and trade became
markers for conceptualizing space.18
2.1 Christianity: Clerical Personnel and Craftsmen

Shortly after the first clashing-negotiating contact the brothers and monks
Cyril and Method traveled-migrated in 862 or 863 northwestward. To reach out
to the (future) faithful they decided in the planning phase of their mission to
“the Slavs” with consent of the Patriarch to end the Orthodox liturgy-Greek
language oneness by creating a “new vernacular”. Based on southern Slavic
they created the “Glagolitic” script with future macro-regional impact as Old
Church Slavonic and as basis for the (later developed “Cyrillic”) script of most
modern East Slavic languages. Orthodox Kievan Christians could thus cele-
brate the liturgy in their own language while the Western Carolingian Empire’s
Christians had to follow the Rome-centered Latin version.19 While establish-
ment of Kievan society had involved armed migration of considerable num-
bers of Varangians, this macro-regional linguistic innovation with populariz-
ing intent was achieved by a mere two intellectual migrants.
Cyril and Method moved about but, rather than being labeled vagrants,
were respected, received accommodation and sustenance, and founded
churches. Itinerancy of the powerful and the influential from one center of
mission to another, between monasteries, or from castle to castle and palace to
palace, has never been categorized together with the job- and alms-seeking
mobility of the weak. When, as cultural representative of the emperor, Method
reached the distant Moravian and Pannonian state (modern Czech and Slovak
territories), he entered spaces over whose inhabitants the Patriarch’s competi-
tors, the bishops of the West Roman Church claimed rule. To safeguard their
“rights” to the tithe-paying populations, the Western clerics ordered his arrest.
If successful, his mission would have redirected common people’s tithes to
eastern Orthodox clerics. The Pope, who around 870 had assigned Method the
18 Franklin/Shepard, Emergence of the Rus, pp. 39–80, 183–204. Conflictual relations ended
after the Rus’ unsuccessful attack of 1043.
19 The Latin translations of the liturgy from the Greek had only been established in the 3rd
and 4th centuries and their “canonization” was to buttress the power of the bishop/ pope
in Rome. Only the Reformation of 1517 introduced “vernacular” languages into Western
Christianity.
58 Hoerder
role of bishop for the Pannonian Slavs, later ordered his release; as yet, the
schism was not complete.20
Northward along the Dnepr, the “Christianization” project established the
East Roman emperors’, Basil i (867–886) in particular, hegemony over the ex-
panding religious institutions and preachers, over time “the Bulgars”, another
many-cultured group, adopted Christianity. About a century later, perhaps in
946 or, probably in 955 or 957, Princess Olga of Kiev, the widow of Prince Igor
and regent for their son, traveled to Constantinople to be baptized.21 Around
988, the Kievan Prince Vladimir assessed his options. He allegedly informed
himself about the Latin Christian and Jewish (Khazar) faiths, then followed
Olga’s example. Internally this implied that his subjects became Christian-Or-
thodox; externally he improved his negotiating position vis-à-vis Byzantium;
for the emperors “the sphere of influence was enlarged to an extent undreamed
of”. The new Kievan Metropolitan was subordinate to the Patriarchate of Con-
stantinople and, up to mid-12th century, always was a Rhomaios (or Byzantine)
migrant.22 “The cultural development of Russia was to be under the aegis of
Byzantium” for two centuries; East Roman elites conceptualized a pan-Europe-
an “Commonwealth”, even a universal Empire of Christ.23
The religious-political developments initiated migrations: the Kievan Church
needed personnel, required churches to be built, icons to be painted. After
Vladimir i conquered Cherson in 988, captured books, icons, and liturgical ob-
jects served as models for Rus’ craftsmen. “Travelling objects”, diplomatic gifts
in particular, had also been inspirations for reflection, copying, adapting. Byz-
antine architects, artisans in the building trades, painters specialized in icons
and frescoes, and mosaicists migrated to Kiev and as far as Novgorod.24 Two
20 Dvornik, Byzantine Missions among the Slavs, pp. 73–193; Hannick, “Die Byzantinischen
Missionen”, pp. 279–359.
21 Acceptance of the Christian faith first by a woman who then induces men in her family—
husband or brothers—to follow is a trope in Christian chroniclers’ and narrators’ writ-
ings. Among scholars, time and place of Olga’s baptism are still controversial, cf. Kresten,
“Staatsempfänge” im Kaiserpalast, and Tinnefeld, “Zum Stand der Olga-Diskussion”.
22 In general: Poppe, “The Original Status of the Old-Russian Church”.
23 Ostrogorsky, History of the Byzantine State, quotes pp. 304–305; Obolensky, The Byzantine
Commonwealth; Fowden, Empire to Commonwealth.
24 Prinzing, “Zum Austausch diplomatischer Geschenke zwischen Byzanz und seinen Nach-
barn in Ostmittel- und Südosteuropa”, 139–171. Angermann/Friedland, Novgorod. Markt
und Kontor der Hanse; Seibt/Bosdorf/Grütter, Transit Brügge—Novgorod; Gormin/Yarosh,
Novgorod. Art Treasures and Architectural Monuments 11th–18th Centuries, pp. 5–23, dis-
cuss “overseas merchants”, Byzantine and Serbian painters and travelers, Armenian mo-
tifs. Novgorod was linked by trade with the Baltic, with Kiev and Constantinople, with
Smolensk in western Russia, the littoral of the White Sea, and the Transuralian regions, as
well as with the Arabian states. Mango, The Art of the Byzantine Empire.
specialized labor market segments emerged: spiritual jobs for clergymen, who
probably came with families since priests could marry, and jobs for producers
of material utensils and symbols of the new religion. While architects-artists-
artisans came by themselves or in small groups, ranking clerical personnel trav-
elled with retinues of servants and staff. Within a year after Vladimir’s baptism,
in-migrating architects following Byzantine designs built the Desjatinnaja or
“Tithe” Church in Kiev. In the larger cities, this first cross-in-square masonry
edifice became the model for replacing the customary wooden churches. From
the early 11th century, masonry building culminated in the erection, from 1037
onwards, of the “new Kiev” of Prince Jaroslav complete with a “Golden Gate”
copied from a triumphal arch in Constantinople.
The successful architects, painters, and mosaicists did not attract large
numbers of Rhomaioi specialists. Rather they trained local craftsmen who
translated the Byzantine architectural-artistic language. In some cases, they
had to learn basic new production methods. Experienced as carpenters build-
ing wooden churches, they had to learn to make bricks and edifices out of
them. Such training of residents avoided job-competition with migrants and,
since the construction enterprises for stone-churches remained local, so did
profits. Did close contacts emerge between in-migrating “Greek” men and the
residents, especially women? The sources recorded neither the lives of immi-
grant workers nor those of the artistic masters.
The métissage of imported and local languages of form, color, and symbols
appears in the impressive early-12th-century churches of the Novgorodian St.
Anthony and St. George monasteries: a Russianizing of Byzantine architectural
vocabulary. Frescoes in the churches of Novgorod the Mirožskij Monastery
(c.1156) of Pskov indicate to which degree visual techniques and iconographic
patterns were either transmitted by migrating painters or adapted from pat-
tern books. Illuminated manuscripts—of which the Ostromir Gospel (1057)
and the izbornik (theological compendium) of Svjatoslav (1073) are the best
examples—also testify to cultural adaptation. The variation of Byzantine con-
ventions by the 12th century assumed distinct local expression in “schools” of
style. The products of so-called “minor” arts of decorative sculpture and carv-
ing (jewelry, metal objects, ritual utensils, liturgical vessels) also combined
Byzantine models, local codes of coloring, and Slavic folklore. Hand-drawn
pattern books were exchanged between regions and passed on to subsequent
generations. Russian literary writing, too, adapted Byzantine Greek-language
texts and in-migrating metropolitans influenced the Old Russian literature. It
remained narrowly religious in scope, authors attempted to adhere to Byzan-
tine traditions. In-migrating priests and producers of religious art, however,
also kept some of their exclusiveness and prevented residents’ access to these
60 Hoerder
labor markets: It took some two hundred years before the explanatory texts in
icons of saints, mosaics, or frescoes changed from Greek to Slavic lettering and
language. Thus Rhomaioi “white collar workers”, priests, teachers, translators,
remained in demand for long though Rus’ “blue collar workers” had learned the
imported language of symbol and form and had mastered the techniques.25
This trans-lation—building cultural bridges—required, on the one hand,
remaining as close to the original as possible and, on the other, as close to the
new audience as necessary for easy understanding. The constructed difference
between “metropolitan” Byzantine and “primitive” Russian art and the hierar-
chies of imperial-peripheral, central-marginal, capital city-provincial require
reassessment. The concept of “first peoples” and “arts premiers”, rather than
mere “local expression”, incorporates traditional cultural expression of resi-
dent peoples with less complex structures of societal organization but com-
plex codes of meaning and expression. Only through a share-and-change
premise may metropolitan-imported and resident-established cultures be
studied at par.26 The resident “consumers of religious art” or “the faithful inter-
preting new symbolism” were not to be deterred by overly foreign, even alien,
elements of form and expression. This has methodological and theoretical
consequences for scholarship: contacts involve many levels of societies and
codes of expression.
2.2 Commerce: Merchant Mobility and Transport Workers

Varangian-Rus’ princes had repeatedly expressed their interest in the wealth of
Constantinople through military attacks.27 However, as laid down in De admin-
istratio imperio (948–952) by Constantine vii Porphyrogennetos, for the em-
perors diplomacy, far more cost-effective than warfare, was the preferred coun-
termove: they turned the sequence of aggressions into a sequence of treaties.
Treaties of 907 (perhaps an informal agreement) and 911 regulated trade rela-
tions: travels of merchants (in this case not merchant families) with permission
of a temporary, limited period of stay at the destination. The treaty of 944 or
25 Kazhdan et al., Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium 3, pp. 1820–1822 (s.v. “Rus, Art and Archi-
tecture”, and “Rus, Literature of”); Podskalsky, Christentum und theologische Literatur;
Franklin, Writing, Society and Culture in Early Rus.
26 Musin, “Archeology of Urban Sites”.
27 Sequence of attacks: 907; the 941 surprise landing on the Bithynian coast laid waste the
Asiatic shore of the Bosporus but was halted by the Byzantine fleet’s use of “Greek fire”; a
fleet commanded by Prince Igor appeared on the Danube in 943; Byzantine campaign
against Prince Svjatoslav with whom the Bulgars allied themselves in 971; strained rela-
tions in 1043 and surprise attack by a Rus’ fleet: the “problem” was solved by a marriage
alliance, cf. Jones, A History of the Vikings, pp. 259–265.
945 confirmed these regulations but contained clauses more favorable to the
Byzantines.28 For example, the price for slaves—young men and women cap-
tured in warfare—was reduced by half. Did the most important suppliers, the
Cumans, who ruled the steppes since the end of the 11th century, make up for
their loss by delivering more enslaved human beings?
The merchants from Kiev, Černigov, Perejaslavl’ and other cities, whose
right of residence was limited to Constantinople’s suburbs outside the wall,
could enter the city only unarmed and in groups of no more than fifty—
indicating the presence of considerable numbers. According to the treaty of
944/945, they were to be supplied with free provisions for up to one month and
with support for their return voyage, presumably in fall either by boat upstream
or perhaps by caravan. Protocols of protection for commerce and trade were
common in the Europe of this time since the territorially fixed dynastic states’
economies required the capabilities of mobile merchants for exchange rela-
tions. The Mediterranean equivalent to such protocols was hostels, which pro-
vided accommodation for merchants, pack animals and wares—pandocheion,
funduq-fundicum-fondaco, khân. In Constantinople one 12th-century build-
ing for about one hundred men seems to have been reserved for western
merchants, other regulations assigned Syrian merchants to specific quar-
ters.29 The East Roman government’s third treaty, 944/45, with Rus’, in addi-
tion to princes and “boiars”, was signed on the merchants’ side, by fewer men
with Scandinavian names. Does this indicate acculturation, Slavicization, or
changed internal Kievan power relations?
Once the Kievan princes, from conviction or utilitarian considerations, ac-
cepted Christianity and with the increasing usage of the Slavic language, trad-
ing connections in the transit region between Lake Ladoga and the Mediter-
ranean changed. Constantinopolitan merchants began to offer material item
with religious meaning: cult objects like icons, liturgical silver utensils, luxury
products for court, metropolitan, and upper strata, glass, amphora with wine
and oil, and tesserae (colored pieces of ceramics and terracotta) for mosaics.
Merchants from the Kievan economy—from mid-9th to mid-12th century the
macro-region’s most powerful principality—exported bees wax, honey, tim-
ber, furs, and as intermediaries Cuman-captured slaves and Baltic amber. War-
fare, in one case of a Kievan army of 20,000 with about 400 boats to rob rather
than trade, such mobile merchants could sit out. With the aggressors repulsed
28 Ferluga, “Der byzantinische Handel nach Norden im 9. und 10. Jahrhundert”, pp. 616–642,
and Hellmann, “Die Handelsverträge des 10. Jahrhunderts zwischen Kiev und Byzanz”,
pp. 643–666.
29 Constable, Housing the Stranger in the Mediterranean World, pp. 12, 64–65, 147–157.
62 Hoerder
trade continued. Byzantine merchants sailed to Crimean ports but did not
travel northward up the Dnepr. Chronicles list the multiplicity of cultural
groups in these ports and surrounding regions. In the 13th century, the ports
would enter an “Italian” period, the connection via the Silk Roads to (then
Mongol controlled) Central Asia, Iran, and China continued.30
Constantinople’s location and the networks of Byzantine, Arab, Syrian, west-
ern, and Kievan merchants around the year 1000 made it the most important
exchange node of this segment of global—as yet tri-continental—commerce.
The literati’s depictions of the Varangian-Rus’ changed from “alien” and “dan-
gerous” to Christian practices and information about the populations and
their customs. Ensconced in Christian discourse, they remained silent about
merchants of different, Jewish faith. Along the Volga, gravestones prove their
presence. A Jewish community existed in Constantinople and in Khazaria the
top strata had converted to Judaism in the (late) 8th century. This poly-eth-
nic, Turk-speaking, multi-religious polity ruled the region north of the Black
and Caspian seas in the 9th and 10th centuries and thus controlled the routes
connecting the western part of the Silk Roads with the Kievan and Byzan-
tine worlds. Arab traders travelled these routes as well as northern fur traders
whose marketing of furs became a core element of the Kievan, Novgorodian,
and Muscovite economies: Scandinavian as well as Siberian macro-regions of
supply connected with regions of demand from Constantinople to Rome and
Paris.31
Commerce over long distances involved merchants “on the Greek run” and,
perhaps, small traders. Along the Dnepr route, their numbers remained limit-
ed, though from about 900 to the 1450s perhaps larger than the number of cler-
ics and related artisans. However, transport of goods, manning and maneuver-
ing of the ships, and personal service for merchants required considerable
staffs who became part of the cultural exchanges. At anchor points and hostels
the support workers, men and women, “managed” encounters in this contact
zone. Though stationary in place, they mentally and physically interacted with
strangers and strange customs. Whether any of the merchants settled and ac-
culturated at either end of the annual trajectory or along the routes at a stop-
over point, we do not know.
30 Albrecht, Quellen zur Geschichte der byzantinischen Krim; Karagianni, “Networks of medi-
eval city-ports on the Black Sea”.
31 Preiser-Kapeller, “Das ‘jüdische’ Khanat”. On northbound Arab travelers and on Arab ge-
ographers’ knowledge see Ibn Fadlān, transl. Lunde/Stone. For the fur trade, see Martin,
Treasure of the Land of Darkness.
In addition to the south-north/ north-south connections between Rhomaioi

and Rus’ eastward routes extended into the steppes and as far as China. The
Crimean ports became the nodes of exchange. To the west, the Danube and
land routes connected Constantinople to northern Italy, the “Frankish” realm
and its successor regnae. An association of merchants of Jewish faith connect-
ed “Frankland” and the Chinese Empire through trans-hemispheric overland
routes and the Mediterranean-Indian-Southeast Asian seas. In his famous
Book of Roads and Kingdoms (885) the Arab postmaster Ibn Khordadbeh de-
scribed the “al-Radhaniyya” merchants. Multilingual—Greek, Arabic and Per-
sian, “Frankish” and “Andalusian”, as well as Slavic—they exported from the
west and elsewhere eunuchs, slave boys and girls, and swords; from the north
furs; from textile manufacturing centers brocades; and from the east silks,
spices, and aromatics, incense in particular. Constantinople was one of their
nodes.32
2.3 Forced Migrations: Slaves

In the East Roman Empire, slaves were born of slave mothers of many cultures
or became enslaved through self-sale or kidnapping. Enslaving of military and
civilian other-cultured captives was part of warfaring armies, of pirates, and of
the trans-European and -Mediterranean trade. Captives came from Slavic
lands, from the steppes, from or via the Franks’ lands, and Arabia. Given East
Rome’s almost constant state-of-war and both Arab and Carolingian wars of
expansion, supply was unlimited.33 From the Carolingian realm in the 8th/9th
century to the Cuman realm of the 12th/13th century and from Muslim Iberia
to Syria, warfare and raiding were closely entwined. Byzantine raiders cap-
tured slaves from Aegean and Mediterranean islands and the shores of the
Adriatic. Among European powers warfare had to pay for itself and thus sol-
diers were paid in slaves or from the proceeds of their sale. When Emperor
Justinian ii (r. 685–695, 705–711) captured Cherson in the early 8th century, he
ordered all inhabitants to be killed but the soldiers refused—they needed to
sell them for their wages. Whole populations of captured cities were sold or
transported into imperial slavery. Annual payments of tribute might involve
consignments of gold, slaves, and horses. Around 960, after victories in Crete,
Cilicia, and Aleppo, Constantinople was said to be full of slaves.34
32 Preiser-Kapeller, Jenseits von Rom und Karl dem Großen, pp. 170–172. Cf. also Drauschke,
Zwischen Handel und Geschenk; Ciocîltan, The Mongols and the Black Sea Trade.
33 The reverse, sale of captured Byzantine soldiers into slavery outside the Empire, is beyond
the scope of this essay as is the return migration and cultural impact of enslaved East
Romans when ransomed.
34 Rotman, Byzantine Slavery and the Mediterranean World.
64 Hoerder
The major transit ways were Dnepr, Don River to Sea of Azov, or Don-Volga
route via Itil and the Caspian Sea for captives of Russian Slavic and steppe
group cultures; men and women from Western Slav and Saxon groups came via
Raffelstetten, for instance, in Bavaria either along the Danube or across the
Alps and Venice; Bulgars came from the steppes and Balkans; again others
came via Frankland and its Mediterranean ports. Slaves included Christians,
who according to the Latin Church were not to be sold to Muslim buyers: The
sellers therefore used Jewish merchants as intermediaries. Again, others, of Is-
lamic faith, came from the Arab world. Depending on their skills and the inter-
ests of owners, slaves in East Rome worked as unskilled laborers, skilled arti-
sans, scribes, or in the domestic sphere. They could become foremen or shop
managers. Imperial slaves provided the labor for public works and mining.
Enslaved artisans from cities with a reputation for high quality production
might be transported to imperial workshops or be sold to private entrepre-
neurs and continue in their skills as gold embroiderers, coppersmiths, armed
guards, notaries (notarios), overseers. Thus, in terms of cultural origin, skills,
and position slaves formed an essential and sizeable part of the Byzantine cul-
tural fabric.35
2.4 Marriage Migration among the Nobility

Few in number but influential in terms of cultural exchange women’s marriage
migrations were part of the European nobility’s strategies to forge alliances or
strengthen existing ones, to acquire territories or establish friendly relations
with competing-cooperating families. This trans-European mobility included
the Kievan and, later, the Muscovite courts as well as Byzantium’s ruling fami-
lies. Women might also act as cultural mediators on their own as indicated
by Princess Olga. Empress Irene (r. 775–802) and Charlemagne entertained a
marriage project for a daughter and a son. Prince Vladimir, when supporting
Emperor Basil ii during an internal uprising, received the promise to wed the
emperor’s sister, “purple born” Anna.36 Her voyage—like those of other noble
brides—involved large retinues. Male and female retainers and servants would
35 Rotman, Byzantine Slavery and the Mediterranean World, esp. pp. 57–130; McCormick, Ori-
gins of the European Economy, pp. 729–777. For particular trades see Gordon, The Breaking
of a Thousand Swords; Skirda, La traite des slaves.
36 Designation for sons and daughters of the Byzantine imperial couples referred to birth in
the Porphyra, a room paneled with Egyptian purple porphyry. To work imported stone
artisans in the building trades like jewelers working precious stones from afar had to ac-
quire the skills. They might be trained, in the case of porphyry, by in-migrating Egyptian
craftsmen or undertake an apprenticeship migration to Egypt. Cf. for instance Pseudo-
Kodinos, ed. and transl. Macrides/Munitiz/Angelov, p. 27.
stay in the employment of the bride (rarely: groom) and might form an enclave
at the receiving court. The marriage of “Holy (West) Roman” Emperor Otto
ii with Theophanu, niece of the Byzantine Emperor, in 972, provoked anti-
foreigner sentiments among some top-level German-speakers.37
When maritime trade routes shifted—but were not interrupted—with the
presence of Arab-Muslim fleets from the 7th century; when the Latin Churches
“crusading” warfare resulted in tensions and cooperations from the 11th cen-
tury; and when Byzantium faced the power of the Norman Kingdom of Sicily
(est. 1130), marriage migration increasingly included the western Mediterra-
nean World. Emperor Manuel i (r. 1143–1180)—whose mother was the daugh-
ter of the royal Hungarian Arpad and Swabian couple—married the sister-in-
law of German Hohenstaufen King Conrad iii, Bertha of Sulzbach. The
rationale, an alliance for a crusade and to fight the Norman King, Roger ii, of
Sicily, came to naught. Roger ii seized Corfu as well as Corinth and Thebes in
1147. In these wealthiest cities of the Greek segment of Byzantium and core
locations of the empire’s silk industries, originating centuries earlier from trad-
ing connections to China, artisans produced for courts—brides and grooms.
The Norman King “kidnapped” silk weavers who, after forced economic migra-
tion, developed Palermo’s recently established silk industry. The ancestors of
Roger and his warriors, like the Varangians along the Dnepr, had come from
Scandinavia but lived in Normandy.38
Another kind of involuntary elite mobility was migration of hostages as part
of early medieval family politics and diplomacy. “Hostages”, like delegates,
were cultural mediators rather than pawns. When Peter, Tsar of Bulgaria (929–
69), in a post-war diplomatic exchange married the Emperor’s granddaughter
Maria Eirene Lakapene, sons born from this union had to live at the court in
Constantinople. Such men and women, when returning “home” after cultural
immersion, could become particularly valued mediators between court cul-
tures. Ambassadors, too, could represent one side and easily take a role on the
other side; they were intermediaries valued for their skills rather than “loyal-
ists” of one of the contracting parties. Bi- or many-cultured capabilities were
valued, several papal delegates to Byzantium later became popes themselves.
Mobility was high, travels manifold in the Roman-Byzantine realm and the
Mediterranean World.39
37 Meyendorff, Byzantium and the Rise of Russia. For a systematic survey of Byzantine diplo-
matic marriages in the 6th–12th century see Panagopoulou, Οι διπλωματικοί γάμοι στο
Βυζάντιο, and for the especially prominent case of Theophanu see Panagopoulou, Θεοφανώ.
Η Βυζαντινή αυτοκράτειρα .
38 Ostrogorsky, History of the Byzantine State, pp. 381–394.
39 Kosto, Hostages in the Middle Ages.
66 Hoerder
3 Trans-European Routes to East Rome’s Military Labor Market
Migration of soldiers was, from ancient times, part of migrations to wage work
but, until recently, has not often been studied as such. Surplus men from rural
regions had to out-migrate and, in times of endless wars between dynasties
over territorial possessions or within dynastic families over succession, jobs
were plentiful. Germanic groups for instance had served as Roman soldiers
since the time of the Principate and continued to do so during the Late Roman
and Byzantine period. Other men had been recruited within the Empire, since
the 7th century reorganized into military “themes”.40
By the 10th century, the civil government—in strong competition with the
military aristocracy—had converted conscripted men into a self-sustaining
peasant-soldiery at the borders. As settled border guard, they could no longer
be recruited into mobile fighting units and the armies consisted of recruited
men from the foederati, mercenaries. Many came with wives and children,
formed families with women from the train, or found partners from among local
women. Already in the 9th century, the military following of one rebel against
the emperor, “Thomas, the Slav”, consisted—in addition to Byzantines—of
“Hagarenes, Egyptians, Indians, Persians, Assyrians, Armenians, Chaldeans,
Iberians, Zechs, and Kabirs”, as well as “Slavs, Huns, Vandals, Getes, Manichees,
Lazes, and Alans”. 10th-century mercenaries included Frankish and other West
European men, Armenians, Bulgarians, Turks, or came from conquered pop-
ulations like Pecheneg men with their families.41 From the 10th century, the
commercial treaties with Kievan rulers provided options for southbound mili-
tary migrants. The Varangian-Rus’ gained the right to participate in campaigns
as soldiers and sailors, probably as whole units. Sending off unruly young men
eager to fight to foreign armies was a strategy of rulers to rid their realm of
internally disruptive elements: involuntary “export” or self-decided migration
to prove manly fighting spirit.42 In the campaign against Muslim Arabs on
Crete in 911 some 700 men were Varangian-Rus’ and their seafaring expertise
induced sailors from port cities in Dalmatia to join East Roman fleets. During
the 987–989 revolt of leading members of the landed military elite, Basil ii
(r. 976–1025) called for help on the Kievan Prince who sent some 6,000
40 Kühn, Die Byzantinische Armee im 10. und 11. Jahrhundert; Haldon, Warfare, State and Soci-
ety in the Byzantine World.
41 Scharf, Foederati; Preiser-Kapeller, “Central Peripheries”.
42 Examples include a Japanese Shogun’s dispatch of an army against Korea in 1592 or the
service of surplus sons of the gentry in Britain’s colonial armies and administrations.
men.43 This unit, originally from Sweden, had helped Vladimir to regain his
throne, and, the goal achieved, the men needed a task as well as wages.44 After
quelling the revolt, the Scandinavian men remained in the Emperor’s service
as, some authors argued, Varangian Družina or Palace Guard; others dispute
the organized character before the late 11th century.
These Norsemen’s migrations assumed a transcontinental dimension when
the soldier-migrants spread word of job opportunities to their home commu-
nities and the diaspora. Men came (1) transcontinentally via Russia’s south-
flowing rivers; (2) seaborne via settlements along the coasts of the North Sea
and (3) via Sicily, Byzantium, and what Roman and Eastern Christianity called
the “Holy Land”. (4) Some crossed the western part of the continent and came
via the Provence (France) or via the “southern” Italy- or Rome-route. From the
11th century, Anglo-Saxons and Danes came from England and were sometimes
called “refugees” from the restructuring of society after the Norman c onquest
of 1066. In this case, notables with families also came—according to contem-
porary counting in several hundred ships. Later, members of the Varangian
Guard recited their good wishes in front of the emperor in the palace of Con-
stantinople in English (“enklinisti”).45 Often generically called “Normans” by
historians,46 the soldiers came from a wide diaspora and were named “Frankoi”
or “Keltoi” by contemporaries.47 Mention of Constantinople in Icelandic sagas
demonstrates that the northwest-trans-European-and-Mediterranean connec-
tions entered popular memory.48
Whether Byzantine’s popular memory about these or other soldiers was a
positive one remains an open question. The “Norman” mercenaries quelled a
revolt around 1040 and poly-ethnic units, whether strategically stationed or
43 Whether these troops came with “train”, i.e. with women and children and service person-
nel, is not clear from the sources.
44 Benedikz, Varangians of Byzantium, pp. 32–53. An example for high mobility was the later
Norwegian King Harold (1047–66) who had had to flee to Kiev, lived in Constantinople
1034–1043, fought in Sicily, then returned to Norway (ibid. pp. 54–102, for other travelers,
pp. 193–222).
45 Vasiliev, “The Opening Stages of the Anglo-Saxon Immigration to Byzantium”, 247–258;
Ciggaar, “L’émigration anglaise à Byzance après 1066”, 301–342; Shepard, “The English and
Byzantium: A Study of Their Role in the Byzantine Army in the Later Eleventh Century”,
53–92; Pappas, “English Refugees in the Byzantine Armed Forces”: For the use of “English”
language cf. Pseudo-Kodinos, ed. and transl. Macrides/Munitiz/Angelov, pp. 154–155, and
Scheel, Skandinavien und Byzanz, p. 883 (B118).
46 Men from the north might also be designated as “Russians”, cf. Kühn, Byzantinische Ar-
mee, p. 213 and passim.
47 A voluminous older literature, often concerned with men’s “heroic deeds”, has exploited
this topic. Dawkins, “The Later History of the Varangian Guard”, 39–46.
48 Scheel, Skandinavien und Byzanz, with a systematic survey of Scandinavian sources.
68 Hoerder
marching across vast spaces, had to feed themselves, their horses and pack ani-
mals, and possibly their families. For human food and animal fodder they or
specific foraging units had to “extract surplus wealth” from villages along the
routes. These families may not have agreed with the assumption that they were
parting with “surplus”.49 By the 11th century, military service had been replaced
by war tax levies. Imperial soldiery in general and Norman elite troops in par-
ticular contributed to a complex “us” and “them” imagery in which neither “us”
nor “them” was of one culture.
4 Changing Relations: Steppe Peoples, Crusaders, the Rise of Moscow,

the Coming of the Turks
From mid-11th century onwards ethno-cultural groups of the steppes moved

into the lands of the Rus’ and, while East Rome’s territory contracted before
the advancing Seljuq Turk-speaking groups, the Russian principalities in the
13th century came under Mongol rule. This pressure from the east combined
with the attractions of the west changed Russian rulers’ politics and diplomacy
from the north-south to an east-west orientation. From the perspective of the
Byzantine Empire socio-political distance to the Russian principalities also in-
creased since the steppe groups’ advance into the east-west corridor north of
the Black Sea increased risk and cost of traversing the region. In the 10th and
11th century the imperial authorities negotiated and cooperated with mobile
and aggressive “nomads” like the Pechenegs, Uzes, and Cumans, in order to
keep the Magyars as well as the Bulgars at a distance. “Imperial” policies be-
trayed weakness: To settle the Pechenegs, Byzantium had to buy off the leaders
with presents and with imperial titles. In the 12th century, the Kiev rulers kept
the riverways to the Black Sea and Byzantium open by using Turkic steppe-
nomad groups like the Berendei as border securing personnel. The 12th-century
Komnenes rulers revitalized recruitment of native-born troops and employed
many Frankish, Turkish and other warriors.50
In the Mediterranean southwest, the Normans from Sicily curtailed the
reach of Byzantium’s trading and imperial fleets. The worst threat, however,
came from the Latin Christians. As crusaders—under the lead of Constanti-
nople’s main and powerful competitor Venice, in the process of expanding
from city-state to regional empire—they attacked and sacked the city in 1204.
From this destruction and mass flight—the number of inhabitants shrank
49 Haldon, Warfare, State and Society, pp. 4, 284–292.

50 Curta, The Other Europe in the Middle Ages.
from about maybe 400,000 to 35,000—Constantinople would never recover

and the epithet “Latin” became the Byzantine equivalent of “Tatar” in Muscovy
or “Hun” in Frankish lands.51
In consequence of the combined external threats, the burden of the cost of
defense especially after the reconquest of Constantinople in 1261 became al-
most unbearable for the population. The empire’s soldiery, like the marauding-
migrating-adventuring crusader masses, consisted of “foreigners”, men alone,
with families or partners, with large trains providing services. In addition to
the—sometimes separately listed—Varangian and Russian men, Pecheneg
and Cuman men as well as Turk-speaking men from among the threatening
eastern neighbors came, and, from the equally threatening West crusading va-
grants of Italian, French, German, and English languages. Furthermore: from
the Balkans Hungarian and Bulgarian men, from the Caucasian Mountains
Abkhaz and Alan men, and from the southeast Arab men. Some of those serving—
and their cultural groups or segments of them—acculturated.52
Immediately after wresting rule from the western crusader powers and the
reestablishment of the Byzantine state, the emperor in 1262 forged diplomatic
and commercial ties with the eastern Golden Horde, thus benefitting from the
pax mongolica’ options for east-west trade. The Jochid rulers were overlords of
the north-eastern principalities including Moscow. Viewed in this context, the
move of the Metropolitan from Kiev to Moscow may have reflected a B yzantine
strategy rather than a disengagement with the Patriarch in Constantinople.53
During the 14th-century step-by-step recovery of the several Russian princi-
palities from the rule of the “Tatars” led to an ascent of Muscovy. Its ruler’s
massive building program attracted new migrant artists, architects, and crafts-
men who imported the most recent trends in Constantinopolitan painting as
far as monasteries and secular urban residences in northeastern Russia. Once
again, the sources recorded but few names—with the exception of “Theo-
phanes, the Greek” who, having gained renown by painting churches in Con-
stantinople and Galata, by decorating stone churches in Chalcedon (Bithynia)
and Kaffa (Crimea), arrived in Novgorod and Nižnij Novgorod in the 1370s,
moved to Moscow in 1395, and seems to have stayed there till 1405. Like his 11th-
and 12th-century predecessors, he worked with indigenous craftsmen and he
co-authored a book of models for the training of Russian artists fusing
51 Cf. Mitsiou, “Feinde, Freunde, Konkurrenten”.

52 Vásáry, Cumans and Tatars, pp. 114–121, mislabeled acculturation as “Hellenization”. A Byz-
antine army of 1259, according to one source, for instance consisted of 1,500 Hungarian
and 300 German mercenaries, a cavalry of 2,000 Cumans, 1,500 Turks, 600 Serbians, an
unspecified number of Bulgarians, and Greek archers.
53 Meyendorff, Byzantium and the Rise of Russia.
70 Hoerder
yzantine (court) and Russian (folk) styles. He influenced the icon painting of
B
Andrej Rublev (c.1360–1430), who in a dialogue between internal and external
forms of visual expression “combined delicate and highly refined Palaiologan
artistic techniques and sophisticated theological concepts with the strong lin-
ear traditions seen in Novgorodian painting”.54 At the same time and depend-
ing on the security of the route, Russian pilgrims still traveled in considerable
numbers to Constantinople. Some settled, others continued, if means permit-
ted, to Jerusalem, describing themselves as xenos, wanderer or outsider, to the
distant but relevant shrines.55
Post-crusader Constantinople, once as first “new” Rome the destination of
migrant nobles from (old) Rome in Italy, became an emigration region more
than a millennium later when the Ottomans conquered the city in 1453.56
While parts of the elite stayed and cooperated with the new rulers, Orthodox
faithful and priests with their families as well as secular families and individu-
als, provided they had the means, departed the newly Islamic realm. The ma-
jority of these elite migrants headed to Italian cities and powerful Venice.57
Often referred to as scholars, the migrants included impoverished members of
Constantinople’s upper strata, who earned their living as teachers of Greek in
wealthy Roman families. For those selecting the old south-north axis, now to
Moscow,58 Novgorod, and Kiev, Islamic “push” was supplemented by Musco-
vite “pull” since, at the beginning of the 14th century, Metropolitan Peter (1308–
1326) had transferred his residence to Moscow and had set in motion an inter-
nal migration of clerical personnel. By the century’s end, Grand Prince Vasily
(Basil) i of Moscow (r. 1389–1425) had rejected the supremacy of the Byzantine
emperors though not of the Patriarch. In a further step, Prince Ivan iii (r. 1462–
1505), having secured power in the interior and adjacent principalities,59
married the niece of the last Emperor of Byzantium, Sofia (Zoë) Palaiologos, to
54 Kazhdan et al., Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium 3, p. 2064 (s.v. “Theophanes ‘the Greek’”).
55 Majeska, Russian Travelers to Constantinople.
56 During the political and religious power struggles, Emperor John viii Palaiologos, at the
Council of Ferrara-Florence, 1438/39, accepted the preeminence of the Roman Pope in
vain hope of support against the approaching “Turks”. After this “sell-out” the Metropoli-
tan in Moscow could no longer defend the authority of Constantinople’s Patriarch, cf.
Preiser-Kapeller, “Das Patriarchat von Konstantinopel und die russischen Kirchen”.
57 Harris, Greek Emigres in the West.
58 The label “Third Rom” seems to have been a widespread misconstruction. Ostrowski,
“‘Moscow the Third Rom’ as Historical Ghost”, pp. 170–179.
59 Conquest of Novgorod (1471/1478), Tver (1485), and Lithuania (1492/1501) involved forced
migrations: expulsion of Novgorod’s Hanseatic (German-language) merchants and de-
portation of the resident upper classes to Central Russia. In general, Crummey, The
Formation of Muscovy; Ostrowski, Muscovy and the Mongols.
secure his claim as successor of the East Roman emperor and his standing
among Europe’s monarchs. He assumed the title of “Tsar” in 1478.60 Changed
power relation brought new private north-south connections: Russian nobles
sent funds to restore Christian churches in Constantinople including the Hagia
Sophia, in bad repair since the Latin-Frankish soldiers’ and clerics’ pillaging.
For the refugees-emigrants, acceptance of Tsar’s and Metropolitan’s new roles
increased options for office-holding in Muscovy.
With Byzantium gone, the tsars began a west-east and south-east process of
incorporating foreign experts to limit the power of the Boyar families distin-
guished neither by training nor by capabilities. From the south, where Con-
stantinople no longer played a role, craftsmen, artists, and architects came
from many Mediterranean, especially Italian, societies. They rebuilt the Mos-
cow citadel, transforming it into the Kremlin as fortified palace.61 From the
west, mostly from German-language regions, experts came and filled military
and administrative positions or, as merchants, expanded the early 14th-and
15th-century commercial contacts between Kiev and Nuremberg to other ex-
change nodes, intensified trade with the fur-producing Siberian spaces as well
as southward.62 In the Ottoman realm, sultans introduced different—yet in
some cases similar—processes of migration and transcultural state-building:
Non-ethnic elites and ranking Greek as well as Christian devşirme administra-
tors prevented ethno-Turkish overlordship just as German-background admin-
istrators reduced Russian nobles’ power. Both states transported populations
to wherever needed to further economic development.63 Rather than “west-
ern” merchants as in the case of Muscovy, the Ottoman rulers called Sephardic
Jewish families expelled from the Iberian Catholic societies for their human
capital and commercial networks. Constantinople, now Istanbul, continued to
attract migrants, but different ones.64
60 In Byzantium the Hellenized term “Kaisar” (Caesar)—tsar—was used for designated suc-
cessors, the emperors were called “Basileus” or “Augustus”, cf. Guilland, “Le césar”.
61 Among the migrants from Italy were Pietro Antoni Solari, Antonio Gislardi, Marco Ruffo,
Aristotile Fioravanti—several of them recruited by the Venetian ambassador upon re-
quest of Ivan iii. Ruffo’s name was Russianized as Mark Frjasin (“Mark Foreigner” or,
perhaps, “the Frank”). The migrants introduced Italian Renaissance styles, partly Byzan-
tine, in fact, through westward fleeing priests, intellectuals, architects, craftsmen and oth-
ers, cf. Hurst, Italians and the New Byzantium.
62 Kappeler, Rußlands erste Nationalitäten; Alef, “Das Erlöschen des Abzugsrechts der Mos-
kauer Bojaren”, 7–74.
63 Sunderland, “Catherine’s Dilemma: Resettlement and Power in Russia 1500s–1914”, and
Kessler, “Measuring Migration in Russia: a Perspective of Empire, 1500–1900”.
64 Faroqhi, Travel and Artisans in the Ottoman Empire.
72 Hoerder
5 Conclusion: Migration and Agency
Those arriving in Byzantium departed from, transited through, and arrived in

specific local and micro-regional expressions or manifestations of complex so-
cieties characterized by economic structure, level of urbanization, demo-
graphic characteristics, social hierarchies, legal and political structures and
processes, systems of education and training, ethno-cultural composition, reli-
gion or religions, previous migratory experiences and patterns. Contrary to ev-
eryday language usage, neither did generic Rhomaioi or Byzantines nor “the
Russians” or “the Normans” migrate. No one, whether princess, merchant, or
commoner, departed from one unitary Byzantine state or arrived in one mono-
lithic Russia. Architects came from cities, Constantinople in particular and mi-
grated to cities where investments in churches, monasteries, secular building
permitted successful sale of their capabilities: Kiev at first, Novgorod and Mos-
cow later. Migration history needs to be explicit about the sociology and hu-
man geography of migrant decision-making.
Each and every process of migration—as individual, in families, in groups—
required agency: a decision to migrate or not to migrate within the context of
discourses and practices of mobility in local, regional, and statewide contexts;
evaluation of obstacles and options along the route; acquisition of funds for
the trip (and a calculation of the loss of income while on the road or river rath-
er than at a workplace); knowledge of routes; anchor points (earlier migrants)
at the destination. In the case of migration under constraints, the powerful—
like princesses moving in marriage migrations concocted between political dy-
nasties—could carry their material cultural baggage and bring retainers with
them. In forced migrations like those of enslaved men and women whether
sold by Steppe or Frankish traders, the commodified “objects” had to find ways
to survive, make life acceptable, perhaps even worthwhile. Those deprived of
their liberty were socialized (young) adults, not passivized workers or cultur-
ally empty vessels. At their involuntary destination they, too, provided cultural
input. Self-willed and forced men and women depart from a specific location
with a local socialization and move to a specific destination characterized by
local-regional societal structures and, ideally, with kin, acquaintances, or fel-
low craftsmen as connecting persons. Migration is trans-local in the frame of
(trans-) regional economic and social options in the larger frame of trans-state
or inter-national legal-political structures. Analytically, migration is trans-
cultural rather than transnational within or between local societies or larger
states, transstate.65
65 Hoerder, “Nützliche Subjekte”, 7–34; Harzig/Hoerder/Gabaccia, What is Migration Histo-

ry?; Hoerder, “From Migrants to Ethnics”, pp. 211–262. Anderson, Imagined Communities.
Migration and cultural transfer are inextricably entwined. Analysis of mi-

gration is analysis of trans-lation with an over-coming or conquest of distance
and with trans-position of ways of expression. Migrants and residents cooper-
ated while transforming Christian teachings, rites, frescoes, and church archi-
tecture into a symbolism accessible to both sides. Thus, migration research is
also the study of arts and economics. The production and materiality of arti-
facts are as processual as migrants’ lives. Since migrants cannot leave any per-
sonal accounts or other sources, material evidence become paramount to the
understanding of trajectories: patterns of weaving, use of building materials,
creation of icons, frescoes and other objects. Analysis of cultural métissage, as
in the Constantinople-Kiev connection, connects humans’ spatial mobility
and cultural-material exchange relations. While art historians may be content
with analyzing art-ifacts and philologists with texts, such “signs” provide no
more than the starting point for the study of cultures-on-the-move: Who mi-
grated, who accomplished the exchange (and fusion) over space? Arab-Islamic
coins or Abbasid silver-dirhams in graves of Scandinavian nobles like Jewish
gravestones at trading points along the river routes provide important if cir-
cumstantial evidence about migrants. The frescoes in Novgorodian churches
indicate that in-migrant and local artists communicated as well as the types of
fusion they achieved. Byzantine jewelry and liturgical vessels, traded to Kiev,
inspired local craftsmen to produce “imitations” which, in their way, were gen-
uine local expressions. “In Byzantine style” is a statement about distant, highly
refined art producers or art-isans; about the status of the jewelry’s or tool’s
owners; about processes of exchange rather than mere migration.
Bibliography
Primary Sources
Ibn Fadlān, transl. P. Lunde/C. Stone, Ibn Fadlān and the Land of Darkness. Arab Travel-
lers in the Far North, London 2012.
Pseudo-Kodinos, ed. and transl. R. Macrides/J.A. Munitiz/D. Angelov, Pseudo-Kodinos
and the Constantinopolitan Court: Offices and Ceremonies, Farnham/Burlington
2013.
Primary Chronicle, transl. S.H. Cross/O.P. Sherbowitz-Wetzor, The Russian Primary
Chronicle, Cambridge, Mass. 1953.
Secondary Literature
Alef, G. “Das Erlöschen des Abzugsrechts der Moskauer Bojaren”, Forschungen zur os-
teuropäischen Geschichte 10 (1965), 7–74.
Albrecht, St., Quellen zur Geschichte der byzantinischen Krim, Mainz 2013.
74 Hoerder
Anderson, A., Imagined Communities. Reflections on the Origin and Spread of National-
ism, London 1986.
Androshchuk, F., Vikings in the East: Essays on Contacts along the Road to Byzantium
(800–1100), Uppsala 2014.
Angermann, N./Friedland, K. (eds.), Novgorod. Markt und Kontor der Hanse, Cologne
2002.
Benedikz, B.S., The Varangians of Byzantium, translated, revised, rewritten by S. Blöndal,
Cambridge 1978.
Bibikov, M./Kabuzan, V.M./Nazarov, V.D., “Ethno-Demographic Changes in the Region
of Northern Pontos-Southern Russia-Ukraine”, in S. Cavaciocchi (ed.), Le migrazioni
in Europa secc. xiii–xviii, Florence 1994, pp. 271–297.
Ciggaar, K., “L’émigration anglaise à Byzance après 1066”, Revue des études Byzantines
32 (1974), 301–342.
Ciocîltan, V., The Mongols and the Black Sea Trade in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Cen-
tury, Leiden 2012.
Constable, O.R., Housing the Stranger in the Mediterranean World: Lodging, Trade, and
Travel in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages, Cambridge 2003.
Cosmo, N. di/Maas, M. (eds.), Empires and Exchanges in Eurasian Late Antiquity: Rome,
China, Iran, and the Steppe, ca. 250–750, Cambridge 2018.
Crummey, R.O., The Formation of Muscovy, 1304–1613, London 1987.
Cunliffe, B., Europe between the Oceans. Themes and Variations: 9000 bc–ad 1000, New
Haven 2011.
Curta, F., The Making of the Slavs: History and Archaeology of the Lower Danube Region,
c.500–700, Cambridge 2001.
Curta, F., “The making of the Slavs: Slavic ethnogenesis revisited”, in: J. Repič/A.
Bartulović/K. Sajovec Altshul (eds.), MESS and RAMSES ii, Mediterranean Ethno-
logical Summer School, Ljubljana 2008, pp. 277–307.
Curta, F. (ed.), The Other Europe in the Middle Ages: Avars, Bulgars, Khazars and Cu-
mans, Leiden/Boston 2008.
Dawkins, R.M., “The Later History of the Varangian Guard: Some Notes”, Journal of Ro-
man Studies 37 (1947), 39–46.
Dölger, F., Regesten der Kaiserurkunden des oströmischen Reiches von 565–1453. 1. Teil, 1.
Halbband: Regesten von 565–867, Zweite Auflage neu bearbeitet von A.E. Müller/J.
Preiser-Kapeller/A. Riehle, Munich 2009.
Drauschke, D., Zwischen Handel und Geschenk. Studien zur Distribution von Objekten
aus dem Orient, aus Byzanz und aus Mitteleuropa im östlichen Merowingerreich, Rah-
den/West. 2011.
Dvornik, F., Byzantine Missions among the Slavs. SS. Constantine-Cyril and Methodius,
New Brunswick 1970.
Ferluga, F., “Der byzantinische Handel nach Norden im 9. und 10. Jahrhundert”, in
Klaus Düwell et al. (eds.), Untersuchungen zu Handel und Verkehr der vor- und früh-
geschichtlichen Zeit in Mittel- und Nordeuropa, Vol. 4, Göttingen 1987, pp. 616–642.
Fowden, G., Empire to Commonwealth. Consequences of Monotheism in Late Antiquity,
Princeton 1993.
Franklin, S., Writing, Society and Culture in Early Rus, c.950–1300, Cambridge 2002.
Franklin, S./Shepard, J., The Emergence of the Rus 750–1200, London 1996.
Geary, P.J., The Myth of Nations. The Medieval Origins of Europe, Princeton 2001.
Golden, P.B., Central Asia in World History, Oxford, 2011.
Golden, P.B./Ben-Shammai, H./Róna-Tas, A. (eds.), The World of the Khazars. New Per-
spectives, Leiden 2007.
Gordon, M.S., The Breaking of a Thousand Swords: A History of the Turkish Military of
Samarra (A.H. 200–275/815–889 C.E.), New York 2001.
Gormin, V./Yarosh, L. (eds.), Novgorod. Art Treasures and Architectural Monuments
11th–18th Centuries, Leningrad 1984.
Guilland, R., “Le césar”, Orientalia Christiana Periodica 13 (1947), 169–194.
Haldon, J.F., Warfare, State and Society in the Byzantine World 565–1204, London 1999.
Hannick, C., “Die Byzantinischen Missionen”, in H. Frohnes et al. (eds.), Kirchenge-
schichte als Missionsgeschichte, Vol. 2.1 “Die Kirche des frühen Mittelalters”, Munich
1978, pp. 279–359.
Harris, J., Greek Emigres in the West, 1400–1520. Camberley 1995.
2009.
Hellmann, M., “Die Handelsverträge des 10. Jahrhunderts zwischen Kiev und Byzanz”,
in Kl. Düwell et al. (eds.), Untersuchungen zu Handel und Verkehr der vor- und früh-
geschichtlichen Zeit in Mittel- und Nordeuropa, Vol. 4, Göttingen 1987, pp. 643–666.
Hoerder, D., “From Migrants to Ethnics: Acculturation in a Societal Framework”, in:
D. Hoerder/L.P. Moch (eds.), European Migrants: Global and Local Perspectives, Bos-
ton 1996, pp. 211–262.
Hoerder, D., “‘Nützliche Subjekte’—Fremde—Mittler zwischen Kulturen: Migration
und Transkulturalität in Europa, 1600–1914”, Sozial.Geschichte—Zeitschrift für histo-
rische Analyse des 20. und 21. Jahrhunderts N.F. 18.3 (2003), 7–34.
Holmquist, L./Minaeva, O. (eds.), Scandinavia and the Balkans: Cultural Interactions
with Byzantium and Eastern Europe in the First Millennium ad, Cambridge 2015.
Houben, H., Roger ii. von Sizilien. Herrscher zwischen Orient und Okzident, Darmstadt
2010.
Hurst, E.A., Italians and the New Byzantium: Lombard and Venetian Architects in Mus-
covy, 1472–1539, Dissertation, The City University of New York, 2014.
Jones, G., A History of the Vikings, second edition, Oxford 1984.
Kappeler, A., Rußlands erste Nationalitäten. Das Zarenreich und die Völker der Mittleren
Wolga vom 16. bis 19. Jahrhundert, Cologne 1982.
76 Hoerder
Kappeler, A., Russland als Vielvölkerreich. Entstehung-Geschichte-Zerfall, Munich 2001.

Karagianni, F., “Networks of medieval city-ports on the Black Sea (7th–15th century).
The archaeological evidence”, in J. Preiser-Kapeller/F. Daim (eds.), Harbours and
maritime networks as complex adaptive systems, Mainz 2015, pp. 83–104.
Kazhdan, A.P. et al. (eds.), Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium, 3 vols., Oxford 1991.
Kennedy, H., Mongols, Huns and Vikings, London 2002.
Kessler, K. “Measuring Migration in Russia: a Perspective of Empire, 1500–1900”, in:
J. Lucassen/L. Lucassen (eds.), Globalising Migration History: The Eurasian Experi-
ence (16th–21st Centuries), Leiden 2014, pp. 71–88.
Koder, J., “Anmerkungen zum Slawen-Namen in byzantinischen Quellen”, Travaux et
mémoires 14 (2002), 333–346.
Kosto, A.J., Hostages in the Middle Ages, Oxford 2012.
Kresten, O., “Staatsempfänge” im Kaiserpalast von Konstantinopel um die Mitte des 10.
Jahrhunderts. Beobachtungen zu Kapitel ii 15 des sogenannten “Zeremonienbuchs”
(Sitzungsberichte der philosophisch-historischen Klasse der Österreichischen
Akademie der Wissenschaften 670), Vienna 2000.
Kühn, H.-J., Die Byzantinische Armee im 10. und 11. Jahrhundert: Studien zur Organisation
der Tagmata, Vienna 1991.
Majeska, G.P., Russian Travelers to Constantinople in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centu-
ries, Washington, D.C. 1984.
Mango, C., The Art of the Byzantine Empire, 312–1453: Sources and Documents, Engle-
wood Cliffs, NJ 1972, repr. 1986.
Martin, J., Treasure of the Land of Darkness: The Fur Trade and Its Significance for Medi-
eval Russia, Cambridge 2004.
McCormick, M., Origins of the European Economy: Communications and Commerce ad
300–900, Cambridge 2002.
Meyendorff, J., Byzantium and the Rise of Russia. A Study of Byzantino-Russian Relations
in the Fourteenth Century, Cambridge 2010.
Mitsiou, E., “Feinde, Freunde, Konkurrenten—Die Interaktion zwischen Byzantinern
und ‘Lateinern’ im Spätmittelalter”, Historicum. Zeitschrift für Geschichte Sommer/
Herbst 2011 (2012), 48–55.
Musin, A., “The Archeology of Northern Russia’s Urban Sites as a Source for the Study
of Middle and Late Byzantine Culture”, Byzantinoslavica 67 (2009), 41–49.
Musset, L., “L’aristocratie normande au xie siècle”, in Ph. Contamine (ed.), La noblesse
au moyen âge xie–xve siècles: Essais à la mémoire de Robert Boutruche, Paris 1976,
pp. 71–96.
Obolensky, D., The Byzantine Commonwealth. Eastern Europe 500–1453, New York
1971.
Ostrogorsky, G., History of the Byzantine State, New Brunswick 1969.
Ostrowski, D., Muscovy and the Mongols: Cross-Cultural Influences on the Steppe Fron-
tier, 1304–1589, Cambridge 1998.
Ostrowski, D., “‘Moscow the Third Rom’ as Historical Ghost”, in S.T. Brooks (ed.), Byzan-
tium: Faith and Power (1261–1557). Perspectives on Late Byzantine Art and Culture,
New York 2006, pp. 170–179.
Panagopoulou, A.G., Οι διπλωματικοί γάμοι στο Βυζάντιο (6ος-12ος αιώνας), Athens 2006.
Panagopoulou, A.G., Θεοφανώ. Η Βυζαντινή αυτοκράτειρα της Γερμανίας πρέσβειρα του
βυζαντινού πολιτισμού στη Δύση, Athens 2008.
Pappas, N.C.J., English Refugees in the Byzantine Armed Forces: The Varangian Guard
and Anglo-Saxon Ethnic Consciousness, Huntsville, Tx. 2004.
Pickhan, P., “Von der Kiever Rus zum Moskauer Reich. Osteuropa”, in Th. Ertl/M. Lim-
berger (eds.), Die Welt 1250–1500, Vienna 2009, pp. 113–137.
Podskalsky, G., Christentum und theologische Literatur in der Kiever Rus’ (988–1237), Mu-
nich 1982.
Poppe, A., “The Original Status of the Old-Russian Church”, Acta Poloniae Historica 39
(1979), 5–45.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., “Das ‘jüdische’ Khanat. Geschichte und Religion des Reiches der
Chasaren”, Karfunkel—Zeitschrift für erlebbare Geschichte 79 (2008), 17–22.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., “Das Patriarchat von Konstantinopel und die russischen Kirchen
vom 13. bis zum 15. Jh. Ein Überblick zur Kirchenpolitik auf der Grundlage des Patri-
archatsregisters”, Historicum. Zeitschrift für Geschichte (2008), 71–77.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., “Central Peripheries. Empires and Elites across Byzantine and Arab
Frontiers in Comparison (700–900 ce)”, in W. Drews (ed.), Die Interaktion von
Herrschern und Elitengruppen in imperialen Ordnungen des Mittelalters, Berlin/
Boston 2018, pp. 91–112.
Prinzing, G., “Zum Austausch diplomatischer Geschenke zwischen Byzanz und seinen
Nachbarn in Ostmittel- und Südosteuropa”, Mitteilungen zur spätantiken Archäolo-
gie und byzantinischen Kunstgeschichte 4 (2005), 139–71.
Raffensperger, Ch., Reimagining Europe: Kievan Rus’ in the Medieval World, 988–1146,
Cambridge, Mass. 2012.
Rotman, Y., Byzantine Slavery and the Mediterranean World, Cambridge, Mass. 2009.
Scharf, R., Foederati. Von der völkerrechtlichen Kategorie zur byzantinischen Truppen-
gattung (Tyche Supplementband 4), Vienna 2001.
Scheel, R., Skandinavien und Byzanz: Bedingungen und Konsequenzen mittelalterlicher
Kulturbeziehungen, Bonn 2015.
Seibt, F./Bosdorf, U./Grütter, H.Th. (eds.), Transit Brügge—Novgorod. Eine Straße durch
die europäische Geschichte, Essen 1997.
78 Hoerder
Shepard, J., “The English and Byzantium: A Study of Their Role in the Byzantine Army
in the Later Eleventh Century”, Traditio 29 (1973), 53–92.
Skirda, A., La traite des slaves. L’esclavage des Blancs du viiie au xviiie siècle, Paris 2010.
Smythe, D.C. (ed.), Strangers to Themselves: The Byzantine Outsider, Aldershot 2000.
Sunderland, W., “Catherine’s Dilemma: Resettlement and Power in Russia 1500s–1914”,
in J. Lucassen/L. Lucassen (eds.), Globalising Migration History: The Eurasian Experi-
ence (16th–21st Centuries), Leiden 2014, pp. 55–70.
Tinnefeld, F.H., “Zum Stand der Olga-Diskussion”, in L.M. Hoffmann/A. Monarchiza-
deh (eds.), Zwischen Polis, Provinz und Peripherie. Beiträge zur byzantinischen Ge-
schichte und Kultur, Wiesbaden 2005, pp. 531–569.
Vásáry, I., Cumans and Tatars. Oriental Military in the Pre-Ottoman Balkans, 1185–1365,
Cambridge 2005.
Vasiliev, A.A., “The Opening Stages of the Anglo-Saxon Immigration to Byzantium in
the Eleventh Century”, Annales de l’Institut Kondakov 9 (1937), 247–58.
Walker, W., The Normans in Britain, Oxford 1994.
Waßenhoven, D., Skandinavier unterwegs in Europa (1000–1250). Untersuchungen zu
Mobilität und Kulturtransfer auf prosopographischer Grundlage, Berlin 2006.
Wyrozumski, J., “La géographie des migrations en Europe centrale et orientale du Moy-
en Âge au début des temps modernes”, in S. Cavaciocchi (ed.), Le migrazioni in Eu-
ropa secc. xiii–xviii, Florence 1994, pp. 191–198.
Part 1
Migration in Eastern and Southeastern Europe,
6th–10th Century
∵
Chapter 3
On the Slavic Immigration in the Byzantine Balkans

Johannes Koder
The Balkans have a complex ethnic and linguistic structure owing to migra-
tions from the North which took place in waves of varying intensity and
changed the regions demographic character from the antiquity onwards, when
it was inhabitated by Illyrian and Greek tribes.1 The Slavic immigration from
the late 6th century onwards was the most important for the present ethnic
composition of the populations in southeastern Europe. It has been a matter
of great debate since Jacob Philipp Fallmerayer (1790–1861) published his noto-
rious thesis, stating that “not the slightest drop of undiluted Hellenic blood
flows in the veins of the Christian population of present-day Greece”.2
Already since the 12th century Byzantine historians like Nikephoros Bryen-
nios (12th century), George Pachymeres (13th century), Nikephoros Gregoras
(14th century), Michael Kritoboulos and especially Laonikos Chalkokondyles
(15th century) discussed the ethnic identities of the medieval Balkan popula-
tions and their alledged Illyrian origin. They used the ethnonyms Albanoi,
Akarnanoi, Bosnoi, Bulgaroi, Dalmatai, Illyrioi, Makedones, Mysoi, Sarmatai,
Skythai, Thrakes, Thessaloi and Triballoi.3 The collective names of the Slavs,
1 The indigenous Illyrian tribes and their territories are first mentioned by Hekataios of Mile-
tos (d. ca. 476 b.c.), fragments 86, 97, 100, 119, 172.
2 Fallmerayer, Geschichte der Halbinsel Morea, p. iii (Vorrede): “Das Geschlecht der Hellenen
ist in Europa ausgerottet. Schönheit der Körper, Sonnenflug des Geistes, Ebenmaß und Ein-
falt der Sitte, Kunst, Rennbahn, Stadt, Dorf, Säulenpracht und Tempel, ja sogar der Name ist
von der Oberfläche des griechischen Kontinents verschwunden … auch nicht ein Tropfen
echten und ungemischten Hellenenblutes in den Adern der christlichen Bevölkerung des
heutigen Griechenlands fließet” (The race of the Hellenes has been wiped out in Europe.
Physical beauty, intellectual brilliance, innate harmony and simplicity, art, competition, city,
village, the splendour of column and temple—indeed, even the name has disappeared from
the surface of the Greek continent …. Not the slightest drop of undiluted Hellenic blood
flows in the veins of the Christian population of present-day Greece). This thesis was ques-
tioned already by Miklosich, Die slavischen Elemente – Gerhard Neweklowsky (Klagenfurt /
Vienna) kindly drew my attention to this valuable early study. For a well-balanced assess-
ment see now Schreiner, “An den Anfängen”; for bibliographical information: Grünbart, Ja-
kob Philipp Fallmerayer.
3 Koder, “Illyrikon und Illyrios”.
© Johannes Koder, �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_004

82 Koder
namely Sklaboi, Sthlaboi, Sthlabenoi, Sklabenoi, Antai, Ouenedai etc.4 which are
well documented in the early medieval sources, are missing from this list,
probably because they were not in use in the later centuries.
In the present, the mainstream view is that Slavic tribes had their first con-
tacts with the eastern Roman empire in the mid-6th century at the latest, dur-
ing the reign of the Byzantine emperor Justinian i (527–565) and that their first
major phase of immigration to south-eastern Europe began a few years after
this emperor’s death.5 Moreover, their place of origin is considered to have
been in the north – Heinrich Kunstmann’s theory that the Balkans were the
original homeland of the Slavic tribes and that they migrated from there to the
north has been dismissed.6
Our information about the Slavic immigration and integration7 is based in
part on written sources: hagiographical texts, for example the Miracula Sancti
Demetrii and the Vita of Nikon Metanoeite, historians beginning with Jordanes
and Procopius, chronicles, especially the Chronicle of Monemvasia,8 and impe-
rial handbooks, like Ps.-Mauricius’ Strategikon or the Taktika, which are as-
cribed to the emperor Leo vi the so-called Wise, and finally the works of Con-
stantine Porphyrogenitus, the De thematibus, and mainly the De administrando
imperio, a Vademecum for his son Romanus. Furthermore, archaeological re-
mains and toponyms or placenames enable us to reconstruct the immigration
of the Slavic settlers.9
The Byzantine territories in the Balkans have clear boundaries to the west,
south and east, namely the Adriatic, Ionian, Aegean and Black Sea. To the
north, the lower valleys of Sava and Danube mark the administrative and po-
litical frontier in the early Byzantine period, with Sirmium (Srmska Mitrovica),
the capital of Illyricum, being its northernmost fortified city. The linguistic
separation between Greek and Latin runs, according to the evidence of late
4 Not Slaboi, because Greek phonotactic does not allow σλ- in initial position: Brugmann/Del-
brück, Grundriß, p. 749–750. For the collective names see Weiss, Das Ethnikon Sklabenoi;
Koder, “Anmerkungen zum Slaven-Namen”.
5 For a critical approach to this mainstream view, see the chapter by Florin Curta in this
volume.
6 Kunstmann, Die Slaven, but see Schramm, Ein Damm bricht, pp. 175–208 (arguing on the
tribal names); Curta, The Making of the Slavs; Koder, “Anmerkungen zum Slaven-Namen”.
7 Useful overviews: Ivanov, “Byzantium and the Slavs”; Pahlitzsch, “Byzanz”, pp. 94–97; Hardt,
“Slawen”, pp. 171–174; Izdebski, “The Slavs’ political institutions”; Nystazopulu-Pelekidu,
Βυζάντιο και Σλάβοι; Nystazopulu-Pelekidu, Σλαβικές εγκαταστάσεις.
8 Kislinger, Regionalgeschichte; Anagnostakis/Kaldellis, “The Textual Sources” (with a refer-
ence to Pausanias as a source for Arethas of Kaisareia); see also Kresten, “Zur Echtheit des
sigillion”; Koder, “Arethas”.
9 The sources will be discussed below.
On the Slavic Immigration in the Byzantine Balkans 83
antique inscriptions, along a virtual line extending from Dyrrachion (Durres) –

Skopia – Serdika (Sofia) – Nikopolis (Weliko Tarnowo) to the estuaries of the
Danube;10 it is too narrow.
Similar to the migration and settlement of the so-called “Protobulgarians”,
the first organized groups of “southern” Slavs reached the Balkans at different
places along the Danube frontier about the year 574. The first wave moved un-
der the military and political rule of the Avars who captured Sirmium (Srmska
Mitrovica), Singidunum (Belgrade) and Viminacium (Kostulac) in the year
582.11
The anonymous text of a short prayer, written on a roof-tile during the siege
of Sirmium, illustrates the desperate situation in the city which had been the
capital of the Praetorian prefecture of Illyricum from 318 until its occupation
by the Huns in 441 and again from 567 onwards. The prayer reads: “Oh Lord,
help the town and halt the Avar and protect the Romania and the scribe.
Amen”.12 This short sgraffito in writen in the vernacular demonstrates vividly
how evident the leading role of the Avars during the first phase of the Slavic
immigration must have been that the contemporary eyewitnes mentioned
only them, even if in reality they crossed along with the Slavs.13 One explana-
tion for the latter’s subordination to the Avars may be that their political struc-
ture, which Procopius described with the term demokratia,14 impeded coordi-
nated military resistance against the enemy.
After the capture of Sirmium, the Byzantines reacted to the new status quo
by transferring not only the centers of administration to the south, but also the
worship of the warrior-saint Demetrius from Sirmium to Thessalonica.15 His
two early collections of “miracles” are important sources for the early history
of the Slavs in the Balkans.16 They are dated before 620 and after 680, respec-
tively, and were written during and after the process of political separation
from the Avars of those Slavic tribes who after 582 migrated southwards. They
10 Gerov, “Die lateinisch-griechische Sprachgrenze”.

11 Pohl, Die Awaren, pp. 58–76.
12 † [Staurogramm] κ(υρι)ε βοητι της πολ1/ λεος κε ρυξον τον αβα2/ ριν3/ κε πυλαξον την ρω4/
μανιαν5/ κε τον γρ6/ αψαν7/ τα8/ ἀμη9/ ν †10/, Noll, “Ein Ziegel”, 145–148. – Probably the
piece is authentic; see Koder, “Anmerkungen zum Awaren-Sgraffito”,
14 Prokopios, Bella 7.14.22: Σκλαβηνοί τε καὶ Ἄνται, οὐκ ἄρχονται πρὸς ἀνδρὸς ἑνὸς, ἀλλ’ ἐν
δημοκρατίᾳ ἐκ παλαιοῦ βιοτεύουσι, καὶ διὰ τοῦτο αὐτοῖς τῶν πραγμάτων ἀεὶ τά τε ξύμφορα καὶ
τὰ δύσκολα ἐς κοινὸν ἄγεται.
15 Bauer, Eine Stadt und ihr Patron, pp. 235–281.
16 Miracula Demetrii, see Koder, “Anmerkungen zu den Miracula”.
84 Koder
reached Macedonia where some tribes settled in the immediate neighbour-

hood of Thessalonica, whilst others made their way to Thessaly and Epirus.
According to the first two tales of the second collection of the miracles,
some of these tribes with their leader Chatzon revolted around the year 615.17
The tales maintain that they devastated not only the neighbouring provinces
of Thessaly and Epirus, but “all” of Greece, the islands and even parts of west-
ern Asia Minor – probably an exaggeration. When Chatzon decided to lay siege
on Thessalonica itself, he invited the Avars to join him who accepted the call.
It goes without saying that Saint Demetrius saved his city, though only after a
siege of 33 days.18 Howecer, it is interesting that in the first two decades of the
7th century – that is, before the unssuccessful attack against Constantinople
by the cooperating armies of Persians and Avars in 626 – these tribes were al-
ready independent from the Avars (whose political center was in distant Pan-
nonia), even though they still recognized their political supremacy. Only after
626, as a result of their defeat at Constantinople, the prestige and influence of
the Avar leaders declined in the east.
At this time, the Slavic tribes continued their infiltration in Greece. They
settled in southern Epirus, Macedonia, and Thessaly, and reached even at the
southernmost parts of the Peloponnesian peninsula. Although in some regions
the indigenous inhabitants were expelled by force, the settlement of the Slavs
in the central and southern parts of Albania, in Macedonia and in Greece did
not meet considerable resistance.19 This may be explained in part with the low
level of Byzantine military presence in the mainland and the western areas of
the peninsula, because the imperial armies were concentrated along the east-
ern coastline and the islands of the Aegean and the Ionian Sea. However, an
important reason for this quasi effortless immigration was the significant de-
mographic decline of the indigenous population, which had been caused by
the so-called Justinianic plague, the pandemic pestilence that spread across
the eastern Mediterranean in consecutive waves from the year 541 until the
mid-8th century.
The second source of information is archaeology. Remains of monuments
and nearly all kinds of small findings allow for the partial reconstruction of
settlement history on the local level. Furthermore, it seems that the Slavs intro-
duced more resistant types of cereals, for example millet,20 as well as new or
modified agricultural tools which were better suited for the mountainous
17 Miracula Demetrii, §§ 193–214.

20 Millet (kenchros) is mentioned in Maurikios, Strategikon 11.4 and in Leo vi, Taktika 18.99.
l andscape of the mainland. This has been interpreted as evidence of their swift
settlement as sedentary farmers in the newly occupied regions.21 For certain
groups of small findings, in particular pottery findings, their Slavic or Avaro-
Slavic origin is a matter of debate not only due to the refinement of archaeo-
logical research methods, but also for reasons of national politics related to the
national histories and identities of the Balkan region, to which I referred in the
beginning of my paper. This applies to the Peloponnese, for example, where we
have some 300 sites with thousands of findings between the 4th to the 8th
century, the exact date and interpretation of which is still disputed.22
A valuable group of sources are the already mentioned toponyms the se-
mantic typology of which offers information about the landscapes the Slavs
were confronted with: e.g. balta, baltos (marsh, moor), ezeros, nezeros (lake),
Goritsa (mountain peak), Kamenikos (stony peak), lanka, lankadi (ravine), Za-
gora (behind the mountain or woods). Furthermore, they also serve as a pos-
sible indicator for the proportion between the new settlers and the indigenous
population. Even though it is a difficult or even an impossible task to recon-
struct the regional Slavic microtoponyms in medieval Greece, at least the Slav-
ic names of settlements have been documented insofar as they have survived or
have existed in the last two centuries in situ. Our knowledge relies often on
travelogues, on early modern times descriptions of Greece, and on maps which
were produced soon after the foundation of the modern Greek state, that is,
before the policy of Hellenization of non-hellenic toponyms was systemati-
cally implemented.23 The book of Max Vasmer represents a landmark in
this regard, whereas the recently published etymological lexicon of Greek
toponyms by Charalampos Symeonides is of extraordinary importance as
well.24 The research on Slavic placenames in the Byzantine Balkans, especial-
ly in Greece, owes much to the research of Jordan Zaimov, Demetrios
21 See Henning, “Untersuchungen zur Entwicklung der Landwirtschaft”; Henning, Südosteu-

ropa zwischen Antike und Mittelalter; Henning, “Eisenverarbeitungswerkstätten”.
22 See Avramea, Le Péloponnèse, pp. 163–203 and map; Lampropoulou/Anagnostakis/Konti/
Panopoulou, “Συμβολή”; see also the discussion in Kislinger, Regionalgeschichte, pp. 72–
101; Anagnostakis, “Η χειροποίητη κεραμική”.
23 The most important is the French military map: Carte de la Grèce redigée et gravée au
dépôt de la guerre d’après la triangulation et les levés exécutés par les officiers du corps d‘état
majeur à l’echelle de 1:200.000, Paris 21852; see also H. Kiepert/J. Kokides, General-Karte des
Königreiches Griechenland im Maße 1:300.000, Vienna 1885, and the Sonderausgabe vii and x,
1940, 1:100.000 (German Wehrmacht), relying on Greek state maps produced in the 30s of
the 20th c.
24 Vasmer, Die Slaven in Griechenland; Symeonides, Ετυμολογικό Λεξικό.
86 Koder
eorgacas, Phaidon Malingoudis, François Brunet, Gottfried Schramm, and

G
Peter Soustal.25
Loans from the common Slavic language are often attested in the Greek-
speaking parts of the Balkans during the Byzantine and the post-Byzantine
period.26 For the purpose of the current paper, the etymology of Slavic top-
onyms and settlement names are of particular interest, insofar as their archaic
character may testify to an early colonization.27 Significant are names, in which
the Slavic nasal vowels *ę und *ǫ appear in Greek as εν/εμ and ον/ομ respec-
tively28 (e.g. Englenoba, Longos, Mesolongi); furthermore, names that did not
undergo the metathesis of liquid consonants (e.g. Balta, Gardiki, Gabroba, Ka-
pernikion), a development which may probably be dated before the 9th cen-
tury, or the vowel shift a > o (e.g. Arachova, Dragoboutzista, Kalovo, Prablaka)
before the 10th century.29
The number and density of Slavic names of settlements in central and
southern Greece allow for an approximate reconstruction of Slavic immigra-
tion and settlement patterns.30 The following maps rely on Max Vasmer’s com-
pendium.31 The first map (Map 3.1) shows the number of settlements with
Slavic names per ninth of a quadrangle (which corresponds in these latitudes
to about 1,000 km2). The number of Slavic toponyms per quadrangle varies be-
tween zero and 14 in the plains and along the coasts of Greece, and between 20
and 35 in the mountainous landscapes, with one extreme value of 50 in the
region of the southern Pindos (in Epirus).
The comparison with the number of modern settlements, taken from the
directory of municipalities of the National Statistic Service of Greece, does not
25 Zaimov, Zaselvane na bălgarskite Slavjani; Georgacas, Place names; Malingoudis, Studien

zu den slavischen Ortsnamen; Malingoudis, Σλάβοι στη Μεσαιωνική Ελλάδα; Schramm, Ero-
berer und Eingesessene; Schramm, Ortsnamen und Lehnwörter; Soustal, “Überlegungen
zur Rolle der Toponyme”; ibid, “Place names”, both with more bibliography. Helpful is also
Skach, Die Lautgeschichte des frühen Slavischen.
26 See Skach, Die Lautgeschichte des frühen Slavischen, esp. the results pp. 261–265 and 276;
see also Holzer, Historische Grammatik des Kroatischen, both with further bibliography.
27 Shevelov, A Prehistory of Slavic; Brunet, “Sur l’hellénisation des toponymes slaves”; Carl-
ton, Introduction to the phonological history; Holzer, “Die Einheitlichkeit des Slavischen”.
28 I owe this information to Gerhard Neweklowsky (Klagenfurt/Vienna).
29 Examples may be found in Brunet, “Hellénisation”; Symeonides, Ετυμολογιό λεξικό (see
esp. pp. 101–107 and the indexes of Slavic toponyms, pp. 1891–1926); Vasmer, Slaven in
Griechenland (Wortregister, pp. 331–50).
30 See Koder. “Zur Frage der slavischen Siedlungsgebiete”; ibid., “Προβλήματα”.
31 Vasmer, Slawen in Griechenland; see also Henrich, “Einige slawische Siedlungsnamen”. Le-
fort, “Toponymie et anthroponymie”; Koder, “Zur Frage der slavischen Siedlungsgebiete”.
7 14 17 5 2
7 7 19 18 50 6 6 9 1
0
1 19 6 20 9 13 5 2 4
5 13 31 21 9 4 1 0
3 12
3 13 34 18 12 19 5 0 3
5
3
10 22 36 4 3 3 1 7 1 9
2 5 0
22 29 23 10 15 0 1
8
30 23 13 7 4 2
6 25 22 15 8 0 0
6 9 28 1 5
Die Zahl slavischer Toponyme
5 2
in Gradfeldneuntel
Map 3.1 Number of Slavic settlement names per ca. 1000 km2 in central and southern
Greece
map created by j. koder, 2001
change that picture.32 It makes the contrasts even clearer. The second map
(Map 3.2) shows the percentage of Slavic settlements in the total number of
settlements in the mid-20th century.
32 Λεξικόν των δήμων, κοινοτήτων και οικισμών της Ελλάδος, ed. Εθνική Στατιστική Υπηρεσία της
Ελλάδος, Athens 1963.
88 Koder
21 29 25 6
6
61 27 37 7 7 13 3
41 21 22 6 4 8 0
8 30 67 30 11
24 9 3 0
5 12 52 45 21 23 12
8 0 5
19 32 57 11 11 6 2 6 6 64
5 25 46 35 15 18 5 9 0
0
22 8
48 68 23 10 9
30 42 41 24 31 0 0
14 35 61 12 5
Wertzahlen slavischer 19 10
Toponyme im Gradfeldneuntel,
bĕzogen auf moderne Siedlungs-
zahlen
Map 3.2 Relation in % of the Slavic and the total of modern settlement names in central
and southern Greece
From the toponymic patterns, it can be deduced that the early medieval Slavic
settlement in the major parts of Greece took mainly place in the inland, often
along the mountain ranges.33 The Slavs proceeded to the south from both
sides of the Pindos mountain range and the mountains in Aitoloakarnania
33 For the development of the Byzantine reconquista of territories occupied by the Slavs and
their integration see Chrysos, “Settlements of Slavs”, with bibliography.
(Panaitolikon, Arakynthos, Xeromera). They crossed the gulf of Corinth at its

narrow western part – not at the Isthmos, since the fort and the city of Corinth
were always under Byzantine military control – and they proceeded to settle
on the mountain massifs of the Peloponnese (Panachaikon, Erymanthos,
Minthe, Lykaion, Mainalon, Ithome, Taygetos, Parthenion, Parnon) as far as
the Maina peninsula.
In the Aegean coastal areas, the density of Slavic settlements is significantly
lower, especially in the plains of Attica and Boeotia and on the island of
Euboea. In this context, it should be noted that the Boeotian urban center of
Thebes was the capital of Byzantine administration in the medieval province
Hellas, with the nearby coastal city of Euripos (ancient Chalkis) functioning as
its military harbour.
On the other hand, the northern and northwestern Greek regions, Macedo-
nia and Epirus vetus, demonstrate an overall high density of Slavic toponyms
in the plains and even on the coastlines. This corresponds with the informa-
tion of the written sources, as shown, for example, from the toponymic evi-
dence for the Chalkidike peninsula and the adjacent part of eastern
Macedonia,34 for which a study on the linguistic development of the toponyms
was published some thirty years ago.35 The fact that, apart from the names of
(former) Slavic monasteries, old Slavic placenames are also found in the pen-
insula of Mount Athos to the south of Hierissos is an additional argument for
an early immigration before the 9th century, when the foundations of large
Athonitic monasteries began.36
The majority of early Slavic settlements consisted of villages which in the
course of the peninsula’s reconquest by the Byzantines were subordinated to a
Byzantine fortified town which functioned as administrative, ecclesiastic, and
economic center. A good example is the Dropuli valley in Epirus in southern
Albania (Map 3.3): Along the river Drino, three centers of agriculture and mar-
ket existed during the Roman and the early Byzantine period: Antigoneia,
Hadrianupolis and a Roman military camp, whose remains nowadays have the
place-name Palokastra (“ancient fortification”). The Slavs replaced these aban-
doned centers with more than forty small villages on the mountain slopes at
both sides on the level of the water horizon. The modern regional capital Gjiro-
kastra (Argyrokastron) was founded only after the reconquest of the area by
Emperor Basil ii (976–1025) as the valley’s fortified urban center.37
34 See the map in Lefort, “Toponymie et anthroponymie”, fig. 1.

35 Brunet, “Hellénisation”.
36 Soustal, “Zur Präsenz der Slawen”.
37 Soustal, Nikopolis und Kephallenia, pp. 50–54; Koder, “Προβλήματα”.
90 Koder
Map 3.3 Toponyms in Dropulli

Slavic villages in close proximity to, or even as suburbs of, Byzantine cities are
documented often in written sources only after the 8th century, although they
probably existed much earlier. Interesting examples are two central towns, the
harbour city of Patras in northwestern Peloponnese and Sparta in the center of
the peninsula.
During the reign of the Emperor Nicephorus i (802–811), the city of Patras
survived the attacks of an Arab fleet and of Slavic tribes, who settled in its
interland after having expelled the local population.38 According to a r eligious

h
tradition, the city’s patron saint, apostle Andrew, saved it from the attackers,
acquiring the role of an hypermachos strategos (defending general) for Patras,
like St Demetrius for Thessalonica and the Mother of God for Constantino-
ple.39 As a thanksgiving offering to St Andrew for his miraculous help, the em-
peror devoted the Slavic tribes and their land in the region of Patras to the
saint’s metropolitan church.40 In view of this historical background, it is not
surprising that around Patras and in its hinterland more than 80 Slavic top-
onyms are documented.
The testament (diatheke) of the holy monk Nikon Metanoeite (ca. 930–ca.
1000) is a valuable source for the city of Sparta.41 It reports on the miracles
performed by the saint in favour of Lakedaimona, the name of Sparta in the
10th century. Greeks and Jews lived in the city, with the saint odrering that the
latter had to be expelled, whereas the Slavs had settled in close proximity to it
in a separate village named Sklabochori (Slavic village). It is not clear whether
these were subordinate to the bishop of Lakedaimona.42 Around Sparta and in
its mountainous hinterland, far away from the coast, more than 100 Slavic top-
onyms are documented.
On the other hand, the eastern coastal regions were obviously much less
overrun by Slavic invaders. Two cities there provide proof of Byzantine conti-
nuity: Corinth remained unborken under Byzantine authority, as already men-
tioned above. Hence, in its hinterland only 15 Slavic toponyms are document-
ed. Moreover, the harbour-city of Monemvasia (a name meaning “only one
entrance”) points to the reaction of the Byzantine government to the immigra-
tion, for it was founded as a byzantine stronghold on a rock island close to the
southeastern coast at the end of the 6th century.43 Consequently, only eight
Slavic toponyms are documented in its hinterland, whereas in nearby Mes-
senian Mani (Μεσσηνιακή Μάνη, also Έξω Μάνη), which is only a part of the
peninsula, more than 200 Slavic fieldnames existed.44
After the immigration and settlement of the Slavic tribes, the level of their
political organization remained generally low. This made it easier for the
38 Kislinger, Regionalgeschichte, pp. 42–53.

39 Constantine Porphyrogenitus, dai 49, l. 25–38.
40 Constantine Porphyrogenitus, dai 49, esp. l. 50–59; Kresten, “Zur Echtheit des sigillion”.
41 A short annex to his biography, ed. Lampsides, Ο εκ Πόντου Όσιος Νίκων ο Μετανοείτε,
pp. 251–256.
42 Notitiae episcopatuum, Not. 7.550, 9.411, 10.493, s. also p. 499b.
43 Kislinger, Regionalgeschichte, pp. 29–37; Schreiner, “Note sur la fondation de Monemvasie”.
44 Malingoudis, Studien zu den slavischen Ortsnamen.
92 Koder
yzantines to regain control over parts of Macedonia and Epirus and most of
B
the territories to the south by the late-8th and early-9th centuries. Obviously,
the majority of the Slavic population was not expelled, but stayed as a seden-
tary rural population (whereas the Romance-speaking Vlachs remained semi-
nomadic livestock breeders). Fortified harbour cities, like Thessalonica, Euri-
pos, Corinth, Patras, and Monemvasia, played an important role in the process
of reconquest. They served as nuclei for the later installation of the administra-
tive system of the so-called themata, a type of provinces with combined mili-
tary and civilian administration.45 The Melingues, a tribe in the mountain
ranges of Taygetos and Oitylos in the Peloponnese, were distinguishable by
their language from the local Greeks and maintained a semi-autonomous re-
gional status until the 15th century.46 This probably applies to other tribes as
well in remoted parts of southern Greece.
How did the integration of the Slavic population into the Byzantine state
work? Information comes from the military manual Taktika of emperor Leo vi
who describes, how his father, Emperor Basil i (867–886), brought about the
political and religious integration of Slavic tribes in the 60s of the 9th century.
According to Leo, this was a process cosisting of three intertwined actions:47
First, he persuaded the Slavs to abandon their traditional customs (archaia
ethe) and “made them Greek” (grecizised them). I understand the latter mea-
sure as a process of adaptation of the immigrants to the usages and manners of
conduct of the Greek-speaking population living in Greece, Epirus, and Mace-
donia. Practically, I think, this included also a basic knowledge of the Greek
language. The Emperor Leo did not use the verb hellenize on purpose because
this term would point to a higher education and bore still connotations of
paganism.48
The emperor’s second action was to integrate them into the political and
military structures of the Byzantine administration by gaving them archontes
(rulers, chieftains) according to the Roman model. This often included the
45 Stavridou-Zafraka, “Slav Invasions”.

46 Bon, La Morée franque, pp. 498, 505; Ahrweiler-Glykatzi, “Une inscription méconnue”;
Malingoudis, Studien zu slavischen Ortsnamen, p. 20.
47 Leon vi., Taktika 18.95 (l. 453–460): Ταῦτα δὲ [τὰ ἔθνη] ὁ ἡμέτερος ἐν θείᾳ τῇ λήξει γενόμενος
πατὴρ καὶ ῾Ρωμαίων αὐτοκράτωρ Βασίλειος τῶν ἀρχαίων ἐθῶν ἔπεισε μεταστῆναι, καὶ,
γραικώσας, καὶ ἄρχουσι κατὰ τὸν ῾Ρωμαϊκὸν τύπον ὑποτάξας, καὶ βαπτίσματι τιμήσας, τῆς τε
δουλείας ἠλευθέρωσε τῶν ἑαυτῶν ἀρχόντων, καὶ στρατεύεσθαι κατὰ τῶν ῾Ρωμαίοις πολεμούντων
ἐθνῶν ἐξεπαίδευσεν, ούτω πως ἐπιμελῶς περὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα διακείμενος, διὸ καὶ ἀμερίμνους
Ῥωμαίους ἐκ τῆς πολλάκις Σκλάβων γενομένης ἀνταρσίας ἐποίησεν, πολλὰς ὑπ᾿ ὀχλήσεις καὶ
πολέμους τοῖς πάλαι χρόνοις ὑπομείναντας,. Cf. Haldon, A critical commentary on the Taktika,
p. 350.
48 Koder, “Anmerkungen zu γραικόω”.
conversion to Christian faith (“He graced them with baptism”). This is a good
example showcasing the well-known close connection of politics and mission
in Byzantium.49
As a third step, he enrolled them into the Byzantine armies and trained
them to fight against all enemies of the empire, which may have included oth-
er Slavic tribes as well. The final sentence of the excerpt not only praises the
late emperor’s policies, but confirms that former problems or difficulties
caused by Slavic revolts against the empire were now solved.
Although Leo claims that his father employed this policy of pacification and
political integration, Leo’s son, Constantine Porphyrogenitus, states that Slavic
tribal archontes (chieftains) authorized by the Byzantines already existed since
the 8th century: These archontes are mentioned several times in the eight
chapters (Chapter 29–36) of his treatise De administrando imperio, which are
devoted to the Slavs. Constantine uses once the term sklabarchontes, obviously
meaning “Slave-chieftain”.50
There is no doubt that Constantine had read his father’s Taktika, especially
the chapters on the Slavs, where he found Leo’s hapax legomenon verb γραικόω
(“grecisize”), because in the chapter on the Peloponnese in his other treatise,
the De thematibus, he created and used two times the corresponding verb
σθλαβόω (“slavicize”), another hapax legomenon.51
49 See Beck, Christliche Mission und politische Propaganda; Engelhardt, Mission und Politik;
Hannick, “Die byzantinischen Missionen”; Brandes, “Taufe und soziale Inklusion”. On the
christianization of the Slavs, see Waldmüller, Die ersten Begegnungen der Slawen; Dvorník,
Byzantine missions, pp. 1–48 and 230–258.
50 Constantine Porphyrogenitus, dai 29, l.106–115, 113: σκλαβάρχοντες. Cf. Koder, “Zu den Ar-
chontes der Slaven”.
51 The first mention is in the context of the epidemic plague in the mid-8th century: “all the
country was slavicized and became barbaric”; a few lines later he quotes a “well-known
satirical iambic vers Γαρασδοειδὴς ὄψις έσθλαβωμένη (‘sly slavicized visage’)”. This last quo-
tation, a satirical verse which is ascribed to the grammarian Euphemios, demonstrates
not only an aversion to a certain person, but also that Constantine’s feeling about the
Slavs were not unreservedly positive. Cf. the Greek text in Constantine Porphyrogenitus,
De thematibus 6.31–42: … Ὕστερον δὲ πάλιν, τῶν Μακεδόνων ὑπὸ Ῥωμαίων ἡττηθέντων, πᾶσα ἡ
Ἑλλάς τε καὶ ἡ Πελοπόννησος ὑπὸ τὴν τῶν Ῥωμαίων σαγήνην ἐγένετο, ὥστε δούλους ἀντ’ ἐλευθέρων
γενέσθαι. Ἐσθλαβώθη δὲ πᾶσα ἡ χώρα καὶ γέγονε βάρβαρος, ὅτε ὁ λοιμικὸς θάνατος πᾶσαν ἐβόσκετο
τὴν οἰκουμένην, ὁπηνίκα Κωνσταντῖνος, ὁ τῆς κοπρίας ἐπώνυμος, τὰ σκῆπτρα τῆς τῶν Ῥωμαίων
διεῖπεν ἀρχῆς, ὥστε τινὰ τῶν ἐκ Πελοποννήσου μέγα φρονοῦντα ἐπὶ τῇ αὑτοῦ εὐγενείᾳ, ἵνα μὴ λέγω
δυσγενείᾳ, Εὐφήμιον ἐκεῖνον τὸν περιβόητον γραμματικὸν ἀποσκῶψαι εἰς αὐτὸν τουτοῒ τὸ θρυλούμενον
ἰαμβεῖον· “Γαρασδοειδὴς ὄψις έσθλαβωμένη”. Ἦν δὲ οὗτος Νικήτας, ὁ κηδεύσας ἐπὶ θυγατρὶ Σοφίᾳ
Χριστοφόρον τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ καλοῦ Ῥωμανοῦ καὶ ἀγαθοῦ βασιλέως; for γαρασδοειδὴς see Trapp,
Lexikon, p. 309a. According to the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae (11.1.2014) these are the only
testimonies for the verb σθλαβόω / σκλαβόω (in the late Byzantine period always with the
94 Koder
The above described policy of integration was employed with remarkable

flexibility within and beyond the Byzantine political boundaries in the Bal-
kans. It influenced and helped shape the new Slavic states and the so-called
Sklabiniai (the Slavic territories inside the state) as well.52
A special case were the Bulgarians who already in 681 achieved their territori-
al and political independence from Byzantium.53 A treaty between the Emperor
Michael iii (842–867) and the Tsar Boris-Michael, his godson, in 864 set in mo-
tion their conversion, as a top-down Christianization process. On this occasion,
the policy described by Leo vi was modified insofar as the Bulgarians were not
“grecizised”, but kept their own language in the liturgy and in all ecclesiastical
matters. This practice would be in use for all the subsequent orthodox mission-
ary activities in Slavic lands outside the borders of the Byzantine empire.
The Byzantine policy in Bulgaria facilitated the ethnic mingling of Thraco-
Macedonians and Slavs with the “Protobulgarians” who had the role of the
ruling class in the first Bulgarian state.54 Perhaps, the Paulician and Bogomil
movements, which spread in Bulgaria since the late 9th and the mid-10th cen-
tury, respectively, should be understood – independently from their religious
implications – as a political opposition against an approach to a Roman and
orthodox Christian identity.55 Furthermore, it was not by chance that the Bul-
garian rulers adopted the fundamentals of “Roman” political ideology. Conse-
quently, their Tsar Symeon (893–927) tried to usurp the privileges, which the
Byzantines had inherited, and even the imperial throne itlself in Constantinople –
a unique incident before the Crusades. It was only after Symeon’s death that his
son and successor, Tsar Peter i (927–969), renewed peaceful relations with Byz-
antuim in 927. In response to that, Emperor Romanos i Lakapenos (920–944)
hounored the Bulgarian ambassador in Constantinople with the high rank of
patrikios which provided him with the privilege to seat next to the emperor at
his table.56 It is understandable that Constantine Porphyrogenitus, not a friend
sense of “making / being slave”); see, also, Anagnostakis/Kaldellis, “Sources for the Pelo-
ponnese”, 130.
52 Vgl. Koder, “Sklavinien”.
53 Hannick, “Die byzantinischen Missionen”; Koder, “Nationwerdung”; Koder, “Bulgarische
und byzantinische Identität”, with further bibliography.
54 This procedure did not include the Vlachs, though they had close relations to the
Bulgarians.
55 Lemerle, L’histoire des Pauliciens; Manselli, “Bogomilen” (with bibliography); Browning,
Byzantium and Bulgaria, pp. 45–58.
56 See the – angry – description of the bishop Liudprand on the occasion of his visit to Con-
stantinople as ambassador of Otto the Great (June, 4–October, 2, 968), when he had only
the 15th position, after the Bulgarorum nuntium, Ungarico more tonsum, aenea catena
cinctum, Liudprand, Legatio, Chapter 11, 13 und 19.
of Lakapenos, disliked the Bulgarians, calling them “the God-hated Bulgarian

nation”57 and “always vain boasters”.58
In concluding, it is evident that all measures and activities, aimed at the in-
tegration and subordination of the Slavs and the Bulgarians – and other peo-
ples as well as – to the political and religious sphere of Constantinople, were in
principle undertaken by the Byzantine emperors,59 even though some patri-
archs tried to claim an exclusive right to the organization of missionary activ-
ity for the Church – Patriarch Photios (858–867, 878–886) being the most
prominent case among them.60 The aforementioned political practices of inte-
gration were successful due to their flexibility and apparent liberality which
gave the relevant ethnic groups or states and their leaders the impression that,
even after their submission to the Byzantine system of political and ecclesiasti-
cal authority, they were free to make their own decisions and that they would
maintain their collective identity.
Bibliography
Primary Sources
Hekataios of Miletos, Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker, 1, ed. F. Jacoby, Leiden
1923.
Konstantinos Porphyrogennetos, De administrando imperio (DAI), ed. Gy. Moravcsik,
Washington, D.C. 1967.
Konstantinos Porphyrogennetos, De thematibus, ed. A. Pertusi, Città del Vaticano 1952.
Leo vi, Taktika, ed. G.T. Dennis, Washington, D.C. 2010.
Liudprandi opera, Legatio, ed. J. Becker, Hannover/Leipzig 1915, pp. 535–541.
Maurikios, Strategikon, ed. G.T. Dennis, Vienna 1981.
Miracula Sancti Demetrii, ed. P. Lemerle, Les plus anciens recueils des miracles de saint
Démétrius et la pénétration des Slaves dans les Balkans, i, Paris 1979.
Notitiae episcopatuum ecclesiae Constantinopolitanae, ed. J. Darrouzès, Paris 1981.
Vita Basilii, ed. I. Ševčenko, Theophanis Continuati Chronographia quae Theophanis
Continuati nomine fertur Liber quo Vita Basilii Imperatoris amplectitur, Berlin 2011.
57 Constantine Porphyrogenitus, De thematibus, Europe 1, p. 25: τὸ θεομίσητον τῶν Βουλγάρων

ἔθνος.
58 Theophanes Continuatus, 12, l. 13: Οἱ δὲ Βούλγαροι ἀεί πως οἰηματὶαι καὶ καυχηματίαι
τυγχάνοντες; cf. Anagnostakis/Kaldellis, “Sources for the Peloponnese”, 132.
59 See Fögen, “Das politische Denken der Byzantiner”, pp. 59–67.
60 See his Eisagoge, § 3.2, “On the Patriarch”: … τοὺς ἀπίστους διὰ τῆς λαμπρᾶς καὶ
περιφανεστάτης καὶ θαυμασίας αὐτοῦ πράξεως ἐκπλήττων μιμητὰς ποιῆσαι τῆς πίστεως.
96 Koder
Ahrweiler-Glykatzi, H., “Une inscription méconnue sur les Mélingues du Taygète”, Bul-
letin de la Correspondance Hellénique 86 (1962), 1–10.
Anagnostakis, I., “Η χειροποίητη κεραμική ανάμεσα στην Ιστορία και την Αρχαιολογία”,
Βυζαντιακά 17 (1997), 285–330.
Anagnostakis, I./Kaldellis, A., “The Textual Sources for the Peloponnese, a.d. 582–959:
Their Creative Engagement with Ancient Literature”, Greek, Roman and Byzantine
Studies 54 (2014), 105–35.
Avramea, A., Le Péloponnèse du ive au viiie siècle, changements et persistances (Byzan-
tina Sorbonensia 15), Paris 1997.
Bauer, F.A., Eine Stadt und ihr Patron: Thessaloniki und der Heilige Demetrios, Regens-
burg 2013.
Beck, H.-G., “Christliche Mission und politische Propaganda im byzantinischen Reich”,
in La conversione al cristianesimo dell’ Europa nell’ Alto Medioevo, Atti 14o Sett. st. alto
medioevo, Spoleto 1967, pp. 649–676.
Bon, A., La Morée franque. Recherches historiques, topographiques et archéologiques sur
la principauté d’Achaie (1205–1430), Paris 1969.
Brandes, W., “Taufe und soziale Inklusion / Exklusion in Byzanz”, Rechtsgeschichte 21
(2013), 75–86.
Browning, R., Byzantium and Bulgaria. A comparative study across the early medieval
frontier, London 1975.
Brugmann, K./Delbrück, B., Grundriß der vergleichenden Grammatik der indoger-
manischen Sprachen, I. Einleitung und Lautlehre, Strassburg 1897.
Brunet, F., “Sur l’hellénisation des toponymes slaves en Macédoine byzantine”, Travaux
et Mémoires 9 (1985), 235–65.
Carlton, T.R., Introduction to the phonological history of the Slavic languages, Columbus,
Ohio 1991.
Chrysos, E., “Settlements of Slavs and Byzantine Sovereignty in the Balkans”, in
K. Belke/E. Kislinger/A. Külzer/M. Stassinopoulou (eds.), Byzantina Mediterranea,
Festschrift für Johannes Koder zum 65. Geburtstag, Vienna/Köln/Weimar 2007,
pp. 123–135.
Curta, F., The Making of the Slavs, History and Archaeology of the Lower Danube Region,
c. 500–700, Cambridge 2001.
Dvorník, F., Byzantine missions among the Slavs: SS. Constantine-Cyril and Methodius,
New Brunswick, NJ 1970.
Engelhardt, I., Mission und Politik in Byzanz. Ein Beitrag zur Strukturanalyse byzan-
tinischer Mission zur Zeit Justins und Justinians (Miscellanea Byzantina Monacensia
19), Munich 1974.
Fallmerayer, J.Ph., Geschichte der Halbinsel Morea während des Mittelalters, 1. Unter-
gang der peloponnesischen Hellenen und Wiederbevölkerung des leeren Bodens durch
slavische Volksstämme, Stuttgart 1830.
Fögen, M.Th., “Das politische Denken der Byzantiner”, in: I. Fetscher (ed.), Pipers
Handbuch der politischen Ideen, 2. Mittelalter, Munich 1993, pp. 41–85.
Georgacas, D.J., Place names of Southwest Peloponnesus, Athens 1967.
Gerov, B., “Die lateinisch-griechische Sprachgrenze”, in Die Sprachen im römischen
Reich der Kaiserzeit (Bonner Jahrbücher, Beiheft 40), Cologne/Bonn 1980,
pp. 147–165.
Grünbart, M., Jakob Philipp Fallmerayer: Bibliographie der Sekundärliteratur, 1900–2011,
Vienna 2011.
Haldon, J.F., A critical commentary on the Taktika of Leo vi (Dumbarton Oaks Studies
44), Washington D.C 2014.
Hannick, Ch., “Die byzantinischen Missionen”, in: Kirchengeschichte als Missionsge-
schichte, 2.1. Die Kirche des früheren Mittelalters, Munich 1978, pp. 354–358.
Hardt, M., “Slawen”, in M. Borgolte/J. Lemberg (eds.), Migrationen im Mittelalter. Ein
Henning, J., “Untersuchungen zur Entwicklung der Landwirtschaft in Südosteuropa im
Übergang von der Spätantike zum frühen Mittelalter”. Ethnographisch-Archäolo-
gische Zeitschrift 25 (1984), 123–30.
Henning, J., “Eisenverarbeitungswerkstätten im unteren Donaugebiet zwischen
Spätantike und Frühmittelalter”, Zeitschrift für Archäologie 21 (1987), 59–73.
Henning, J., Südosteuropa zwischen Antike und Mittelalter. Archäologische Beiträge zur
Landwirtschaft des 1. Jahrtausends u.Z. (Schriften zur Ur- und Frühgeschichte 42),
Berlin 1987.
Henrich, G.S., “Einige slawische Siedlungsnamen Nordwestgriechenlands (Nachtrag zu
Max Vasmer)”, Studia Onomastica 10 (1999), 147–164.
Holzer, G., “Die Einheitlichkeit des Slavischen um 600 n. Chr. und ihr Zerfall”, Wiener
Slavistisches Jahrbuch 41 (1995), 55–89.
Holzer, G., “Zu Lautgeschichte und Dialekten des mittelalterlichen Slavischen in Öster-
reich”, Wiener Slavistisches Jahrbuch 42 (1996), 81–110.
Holzer, G., “Landschaft und Siedlung im slavischen Frühmittelalter”, in P. Anreiter/
P. Ernst/I. Hausner/H. Kalb (eds.), Namen, Sprachen und Kulturen / Imena, Jeziki in
Kulture. Festschrift für Heinz Dieter Pohl zum 60. Geburtstag, Vienna 2002,
pp. 386–398.
Holzer, G., Historische Grammatik des Kroatischen. Einleitung und Lautgeschichte der
Standardsprache, Frankfurt am Main 2007.
Ivanov, S., “Byzantium and the Slavs”, in D. Sakel (ed.), Byzantine Culture, Papers from
the Conference ‘Byzantine Days of Istanbul’, Ankara 2014, pp. 207–215.
Izdebski, A., “The Slavs’ political institutions and the Byzantine policies (ca 530–650)”,
Byzantinoslavica 69 (2011), 50–69.
Kislinger, E., Regionalgeschichte als Quellenproblem: Die Chronik von Monembasia und
das sizilianische Demenna. Eine historisch-topographische Studie (Veröff. der Tabula
Imperii Byzantini 8), Vienna 2001.
98 Koder
Koder, J., “Arethas von Kaisareia und die sogenannte Chronik von Monembasia”, Jahr-
buch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 25 (1976), 75–80.
Koder, J., “Zur Frage der slavischen Siedlungsgebiete im mittelalterlichen Griechen-
land”, Byzantinische Zeitschrift 71 (1978), 315–31.
Koder, J., “Προβλήματα της σλαβικής εποίκισης και τοπωνυμίας στη μεσαιωνική Ήπειρο”,
Epeirotika Chronika 24 (1982), 9–35.
Koder, J., “Zu den Archontes der Slaven in De Administrando Imperio 29, 106–115”, Wie-
ner Slavist. Jahrbuch 29 (1983), 128–131.
Koder, J., “Anmerkungen zu den Miracula Sancti Demetrii”, in Byzance – Hommage à
André N. Stratos, 2, Athens 1986, pp. 523–538.
Koder, J., “Sklavinien”, in Lexikon des Mittelalters 7 (1995), p. 1988.
Koder, J., “Nationwerdung und religiöse Identität der Bulgaren”, in Kirche und natio-
nale Identität = Mitteilungen des Bulgarischen Forschungsinstitutes in Österreich 12
(1999/2000), pp. 9–23.
Koder, J., “Anmerkungen zu γραικόω”, in Gedenkschrift für I.E. Karagiannopoulos = Byz-
antina 21 (2000), pp. 199–202.
Koder, J., “Anmerkungen zum Slaven-Namen in byzantinischen Quellen”, in Mélanges
Gilbert Dagron = Travaux et Mémoires 14 (2002), pp. 333–346.
Koder, J., “Bulgarische und byzantinische Identität in der Zeit vor den Kreuzzügen”,
Thetis 18 (2011), 123–129.
Koder, J., “Illyrikon und Illyrios. Geographische und ethnische Namen der Wortfamilie
*illyr in byzantinischen Quellen”, in A. Beihammer/B. Krönung/Cl. Ludwig (eds.),
Prosopon Rhomaikon. Ergänzende Studien zur Prosopographie der mittelbyzan-
tinischen Zeit, Berlin/Boston 2017, pp. 197–210.
Koder, J., “Anmerkungen zum Awaren-Sgraffito von Sirmium”, in J. Drauschke/
E. Kislinger/K. Kühtreiber/Th. Kühtreiber/G. Scharrer-Liška/T. Vida (eds.), Leb-
enswelten zwischen Archäologie und Geschichte. Festschrift für Falko Daim zu sei-
nem 65. Geburtstag, Mainz 2018, pp. 733–740.
Kresten, O., “Zur Echtheit des sigillion des Kaisers Nikephoros I. für Patras”, Römische
Historische Mitteilungen 19 (1977), 17–78.
Kunstmann, H., Die Slaven. Ihr Name, ihre Wanderung nach Europa und die Anfänge der
russischen Geschichte in historisch-onomastischer Sicht, Stuttgart 1996.
Lampropoulou, A./Anagnostakis, I./Konti, V./Panopoulou, A., “Συμβολή στην ερμηνεία
των αρχαιολογικών τεκμηρίων της Πελοποννήσου κατά τους ‘σκοτεινούς αιώνες”, in
E. Kountoura-Galake (ed.), Οι σκοτεινοί αιώνες του Βυζαντίου (7ος–9ος αι.), Athens 2001,
pp. 189–229.
Lampsides, O., Ο εκ Πόντου Όσιος Νίκων ο Μετανοείτε (Archeion Pontou, Parartema 13),
Athens 1982.
Lefort, J., “Toponymie et anthroponymie. Le contact entre Grecs et Slaves en Macé-
doine”, in J. Lefort, Société rurale et histoire du paysage à Byzance (Bilans de Recher-
che 1), Paris 2006, pp. 265–278.
Lemerle, P., “L’histoire des Pauliciens d’Asie Mineure d’après les sources grecques”,
Travaux et Mémoires 5 (1973), 1–113.
Malingoudis, Ph., Σλάβοι στη Μεσαιωνική Ελλάδα, Thessalonike 22013.
Malingoudis, Ph., Studien zu den slavischen Ortsnamen Griechenlands, Slavische Flur-
namen aus der messenischen Mani, Mainz/Wiesbaden 1981.
Manselli, R., “Bogomilen”, in Lexikon des Mittelalters 2 (1983), pp. 328–332.
Miklosich, F., Die slavischen Elemente im Neugriechischen, Vienna 1870.
Noll, R., “Ein Ziegel als sprechendes Zeugnis einer historischen Katastrophe (Zum Un-
tergang Sirmiums 582 n. Chr.)”, in Anzeiger der philosophisch-historischen Klasse der
Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften 126 (1989), 139–154.
Nystazopulu-Pelekidu, M., Σλαβικές εγκαταστάσεις στη μεσαιωνική Ελλάδα. Γενική
επισκόπηση (Όψεις της βυζαντινής κοινωνίας 8), Athens 1995.
Nystazopulu-Pelekidu, M., Βυζάντιο και Σλάβοι – Ελλάδα και Βαλκάνια (6ος–20ος αι.),
Thessalonike 2001.
Pahlitzsch, J., “Byzanz”, in M. Borgolte/J. Lemberg (eds.), Migrationen im Mittelalter. Ein
Pohl, W., Die Awaren, ein Steppenvolk in Mitteleuropa 567–822 n. Chr., Munich
22002.
Schramm, G., Eroberer und Eingesessene. Geografische Lehnnamen als Zeugen der Ge-
schichte Südosteuropas im ersten Jahrtausend n. Chr., Stuttgart 1981.
Pohl, W., Ein Damm bricht. Die römische Donaugrenze und die Invasion des 5.–7. Jahr-
hunderts im Lichte von Namen und Wörtern, München 1997.
Pohl, W., “Ortsnamen und Lehnwörter als Quellen der Frühgeschichte Osteuropas”,
Zeitschrift für Balkanologie 37 (2001), 62–83.
Pohl, W., “Note sur la fondation de Monemvasie en 582–583”, Travaux et Mémoires 4
(1970), 471–75.
Schreiner, P., “An den Anfängen einer geschichtlichen Darstellung des Byzantinischen
Reiches. Mit unedierten Scripten Fallmerayers aus der Nachlass-Sammlung der
Bayerischen Staatsbibliothek im Anhang”, in C. Märtl/P. Schreiner (eds.), Jakob
Philipp Fallmerayer (1790–1861). Der Gelehrte und seine Aktualität im 21. Jahrhundert
(Abhandlungen der philosophisch-historischen Klasse der Bayrischen Akademie
der Wissenschaften, NF 139), Munich 2013, pp. 33–161.
Shevelov, G.Y., A Prehistory of Slavic. The Historical Phonology of Common Slavic, Hei-
delberg 1964.
Skach, E., Die Lautgeschichte des frühen Slavischen in Griechenland im Lichte der Lehn-
beziehungen, Vienna 2008.
Soustal, P., Nikopolis und Kephallenia (Tabula Imperii Byzantini 3), Vienna 1981.
Soustal, P., “Überlegungen zur Rolle der Toponyme in der historischen Geographie”, in
Byzanz als Raum. Zu Methoden und Inhalten der historischen Geographie des östli-
chen Mittelmeerraumes (Veröffentlichungen der Kommission für die Tabula Imperii
Byzantini 7), Vienna 2000, pp. 209–221.
100 Koder
Soustal, P., “Place names as a source for migration and settlement: continuity and
change in Byzantine Chalkidiki”, Wiener Schriften zur Geographie und Kartographie,
18 (2009), 177–183.
Soustal, P., “Überlegungen zu Toponymen der Region Kastoria aus dem osmanisch-
en Defter von 1440”, in B. Krsmanović/Sr. Pirivatrić (eds.), Mélanges Ljubomir
Maksimović = Zbornik Radova Vizantološkog Instituta 50.1–2 (2013), pp. 863–871.
Soustal, P., “Zur Präsenz der Slawen auf dem Heiligen Berg Athos”, in A. Schwarcz/
P. Soustal/A. Tcholakova (eds.), Das mittelalterliche Bulgarien, Byzanz und Europa.
Festschrift für Vasil Gjuzelev zum 75. Geburtstag = Miscellanea Bulgarica 21, Vienna
2014, pp. 77–88.
Stavridou-Zafraka, A., “Slav Invasions and the Theme Organization in the Balkan Pen-
insula”, Byzantiaka 12 (1992), 165–179.
Symeonides, Ch.P., Ετυμολογικό Λεξικό των Νεοελληνικών Οικωνυμιών, 1–2, Leukosia/Thes-
salonike 2010.
Thesaurus Linguae Graecae. A Digital Library of Greek Literature, Irvine, California
2001, online: http://stephanus.tlg.uci.edu.
Trapp, E., et al., Lexikon zur byzantinischen Gräzität, besonders des 9.–12. Jahrhunderts,
Vienna 2001–2017.
Vasmer, M., Die Slaven in Griechenland, Berlin 1941.
Waldmüller, L., Die ersten Begegnungen der Slawen mit dem Christentum und den christ-
lichen Völkern vom vi. bis viii. Jahrhundert. Die Slawen zwischen Byzanz und Abend-
land, Amsterdam 1976.
Weiss, G., Das Ethnikon Sklabenoi, Sklaboi in den griechischen Quellen bis 1025 (Glossar
zur frühmittelalterlichen Geschichte im östlichen Europa, Beiheft 5), Stuttgart 1988.
Zaimov, J., Zaselvane na bălgarskite Slavjani na Balkanskija poluostrov: proučvane na
žitelskite imena v bălgarskata toponimija, Sofia 1967.
Chapter 4
Migrations in the Archaeology of Eastern and

Southeastern Europe in the Early Middle Ages
(Some Comments on the Current State of
Research)
Florin Curta
Historians of the modern era have recently turned Eastern Europe into a vagi-
na nationum: the greatest mass migration and even the “making of the free
world” are directly related to Eastern Europe.1 Historians studying Late Antiq-
uity and the early Middle Ages disagree. They doubt that migration could ex-
plain even changes taking place in the region. Walter Goffart sees no reason for
Germanic tribes residing in the vastness of Ukraine to emigrate: “if really land
hungry, they might have satisfied their needs right where they were”.2 Accord-
ing to Guy Halsall, the archaeological record pertaining to East Central Europe
in the 3rd century does “not support the idea of a substantial migration”.3 In-
stead, one can envision communication lines along the principal trade routes.4
The idea that the Goths migrated out of northern Europe to the fringes of the
Empire rests “mainly on the evidence of a single ancient source, the Getica of
Jordanes, around which complicated structures of scholarly hypothesis have
been built”.5 One could argue in principle that the Sântana de Mureş-
Černjachov culture came into being “because of a migration out of the Wiel-
bark regions, but one might equally argue that it was an indigenous develop-
ment of local Pontic, Carpic, and Dacian cultures”.6
Peter Heather, however, is skeptical about skepticism. To him, there can
be no doubt that the Wielbark people morphed into the Sântana de M ureş-
Černjachov people, who became Goths in the course of a century-long migra-
tion across Eastern Europe, from the Baltic to the Black Sea.7 Similarly, the
1 Zahra, Great Departure. Vagina nationum: Jordanes, Getica 25, ed. Mommsen, p. 60, lines 5–6.
2 Goffart, Barbarian Tides, p. 29.
3 Halsall, Barbarian Migrations, p. 133.
4 Halsall, Barbarian Migrations, p. 421.
5 Kulikowski, Rome’s Gothic Wars, p. 41.
6 Kulikowski, Rome’s Gothic Wars, p. 67.
7 Heather, Goths, p. 43.
© Florin Curta, �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_005

102 Curta
Slavic migration is traceable by means of a “‘thin’ ribbon of Korchak sites”. The

Slavs “spread into the power vacuum created by Przeworsk culture collapse in
the late fifth or the earlier 6th century”.8 The lack of archaeological evidence
in support of such a model of early medieval migration is gleefully dismissed:
“the range of evidence available for the nature and scale of Slavic migration
flows bears not the remotest resemblance to anything you might consider an
ideal data set; but this is all part of the fun of early medieval history”.9 With his
mind set on fun activities, Heather offers an analogy for the migration process
that he envisioned: “billiard balls rolling around the green baize table. Some-
thing might make the balls roll from one part of the table to another—over-
population at the point of departure was the usual suspect—but any one ball
was straightforwardly the same ball in a different place when the movement
had finished”.10
Goffart and Kulikowski are right to point out that a text-hindered archaeol-
ogy will never effectively contribute to the debate surrounding migration.
Heather is also right about the use of anthropological models of migration to
understand early medieval migrations: mobility is not a modern phenomenon
and “cultural mobility is a key constituent element of human life in virtually all
periods” of history.11 However, none of them is either aware of the existence in
Eastern Europe of a large body of literature on early medieval migrations, or
indeed familiar with the abundant archaeological literature pertaining to it.
For example, Peter Heather’s billiard analogy shows ignorance of, and is in
direct contradiction with László Vajda’s 40-year old study of “chain migration”.
Vajda has demonstrated that the idea of billiard-like, chain migrations was
directly borrowed from Herodotus. This idea was the result of a deductive-
rationalistic mode of thinking epitomized by classical mechanics, with its em-
phasis on point particles.12 In other words, the description in historical sources
of movements of population as billiard balls is nothing but a metaphor (and a
8 Heather, Empires and Barbarians, pp. 410–411. See also ibid., p. 437: “Slavic migration gen-
erated the recolonization of the lands left empty by Germanic migrants of the Völkerwan-
derung era”.
9 Heather, Empires and Barbarians, p. 427.
10 Heather, Empires and Barbarians, p. 11.
11 Dommelen, “Movins on”, p. 480.
12 Vajda, “Zur Frage”, p. 35. Vajda reacted against the use of “chain migration” in ethnology
and sociology, for which see, for example, Macdonald/Macdonald, “Chain migration”. The
concept is still used by some historians in Eastern Europe, who, like Heather, ignore Vaj-
da’s work (e.g., Pylypchuk, “Predystoriia vengrov”).
Migrations in Archaeology of Eastern and Southeastern Europe 103
way to display knowledge of the classics), not a description of what has actu-
ally happened. Similarly, Peter Heather’s pondering whether the wave of
advance model fits the Slavic migration obviously ignores Evžen Neustupný’s
remarks on the migrations as infiltrations.13 According to the Czech archaeolo-
gist, the migration of the Slavs “could have taken the most varied forms includ-
ing colonization, expansion, invasion, and infiltration either at the same time
or in some sort of sequence”.14 No participant in the current debate surround-
ing migrations seems to be aware of the discussions on this topic that took
place in 1970s and 1980s in Soviet archaeology. Soviet archaeologist traced mi-
grations in Eastern Europe to the historical dialectics of modes of production,
and, drawing on Marxist theory, conceptualized them from theoretical plat-
forms such as economic primitivism, environmentalism, and imperialism.15
Migration was described in rich conceptual terms, even though models of his-
torical migrations did not really fit the archaeological evidence. Lev Klein’s re-
cent survey of those discussions is also a plea: migrations, according to him,
can be recognized archaeologically and even distinguished in their different
manifestations—migration of an entire population, migration of a specific
group, or forced movement of population (deportation).16
Such optimism is also responsible for the recent enthusiasm on display in
the application of bioarchaeology for tracking migrations in Eastern Europe.
Molecular anthropology, for example, has the ability to distinguish similarities
in the noncoding regions of the genome, which can reflect shared ancestry
and/or the exchange of genes via the movement of individuals between popu-
lations. Some scholars compare contemporaneous populations from different
geographic regions. If similarity is detected, then they draw the necessary con-
clusion that those populations share ancestry, which in turn may imply migra-
tion. Such was the idea behind a recent study of paternal genetic lineages,
looking for the subclade R1b-M73 in several modern populations—the Kazakh,
the Karakalpak, and the Bashkir Kipchaks. Their common ancestors are be-
lieved to have been the medieval Cumans.17 Other scholars choose to compare
13 Heather, Empires and Barbarians, p. 422. Nonetheless, Heather’s “Slavic spread” is a copy
of Lucien Musset’s “avance slave”. See Musset, Les invasions, pp. 87–92; Heather, Empires
and Barbarians, pp. 419–420.
14 Neustupný, “Prehistoric migrations”, p. 287. For Neustupný’s ideas, see Kuna, “Intransigent
archaeology”; Kristiansen/Šmejda/Turek, “Evžen Neustupný”.
15 Frachetti, “Migration concepts”, p. 198.
16 Klein, “Migraciia”, p. 67. For Klein’s ideas, see Leach, Russian Perspective.
17 Volkov, “K voprosu o migraciiakh”. The attribution of the subclade to Cuman ancestry is
based on its distribution, which is believed to coincide with the territory that the Cumans
controlled between the 9th and the 13th centuries (ibid., p. 302 fig. 4).
104 Curta
populations that inhabited the same geographic region at different points in

time. In this case, similarity reflects genetic continuity, while differences be-
tray immigration, or even population replacement.18 Mitochondrial genome
sequences thus show a continuity of several maternal lineages in Central Eu-
rope from the Bronze and Iron Ages. That excludes the possibility that in Late
Antiquity, the northern areas of Central Europe were depopulated through the
emigration of the Goths, only to be repopulated by Slavic immigrants in the
6th century.19 The comparison of contemporaneous, Slavic-speaking popula-
tions in Eastern Europe, however, led to a radically different conclusion: only
migration could explain the genetic similarity between populations in the Bal-
kans and in East Central Europe.20
Biogeochemical techniques have also been used for the identification of
first-generation immigrants. Biogeochemical values are compared for dental
and skeletal elements that formed at different times over an individual’s life-
time. If those values are different for dental and skeletal elements, then the
individual in question must have moved from one geologic or environmental
zone to another during his or her lifetime.21 The strontium isotope analysis of
13 out of 49 skeletons from the Viking-age cemetery in Bodzia (Poland) has re-
vealed that only one individual was of local origin. Although the analysis could
not point to the origin of the “foreigners”, “the archaeological context implicate
Kievan Rus’ very strongly, and the isotopic evidence from strontium fits that
interpretation”.22 Similar conclusions have resulted from the isotope analysis
18 Bolnick, “Continuity and change”, pp. 265–266.

19 Mielnik-Sikorska et al., “The history of the Slavs”.
20 Malyarchuk et al., “Mitochondrial dna variability”. It is of course impossible to date that
migration, which could may very well have taken place long before the Middle Ages. For
a similar conclusion based on non-recombining Y chromosome from 25 extant popula-
tions of Europe and the Middle East, see Šlaus et al., “Craniometric relationships”, p. 441.
21 Tütken/Knipper/Alt, “Mobilität und Migration”; Schweissing, “Archäologische Fragen”;
Knudson, “Identifying archaeological human migration”, p. 232. The underlying idea of
such techniques of analysis is that, during an individual’s life development, strontium
substitutes for calcium in hydroxyapatite, the mineral component of enamel and bone.
Enamel (on the permanent teeth) is formed in early childhood and does not change
through life. It is also the hardest tissue in the skeleton and therefore resistant to decay
and diagenesis. The ratio of the radiogenic isotope of strontium, 87Sr, and one stable iso-
tope of strontium, 86Sr, found in the teeth and in the bones reflect the 87Sr/86Sr found in
plants, animals, and water that the individual in question consumed during his or her
lifetime. That in turn reflects the isotope ratios found in the soil and bedrock of the spe-
cific region in which the individual lived. If the isotopic ratios of the place of burial are
different from those of the enamel, then the individual in question must be a migrant,
who changed residence during his or her lifetime.
22 Price/Frei, “Isotopic proveniencing”, pp. 457–458 and 462.
of tooth enamel from skeletal material found in the 6th-century cemeteries of

Lužice and Holubice (Czech Republic). There were many immigrants among
those buried in those cemeteries, each one of which was in use over three suc-
cessive generations.23 Sometimes, however, the strontium isotope analysis
may produce different results. Only five out 17 skeletons in the 5th- to 9th-
century cemetery located to the south from the late Roman fort in Keszthely-
Fenékpuszta (Hungary) were of immigrants, but they were all buried in exactly
the same manner and style as the locals.24
Southeastern Europe is perhaps the only part of the Continent in which mi-
grations have been concocted out of thin air, against all evidence produced by
archaeology. The presumed ancestors of the Albanians, the Bessi, are said to
have lived in the lands on both sides of the present-day Bulgarian-Serbian and
Bulgarian-Macedonian borders. At some point during the first half of the 9th
century, they were pushed out of their ancestral lands by the Byzantine-Bulgar
wars, and they moved to the west, where they became Albanians.25 While
there is plenty of evidence for an out-migration of Albanians in the 14th cen-
tury, primarily because of the profound transformations taking place in the
tribal society, and the concomitant rise of the Albanian aristocracy, there
is absolutely no archaeological evidence of a 9th-century migration from
western Bulgaria to Albania—of Bessi, proto-Albanians, or of anyone else.26
Romanians are also said to have come to the present-day territory of their
country in waves over several centuries, some as late as the 13th or 14th centu-
ries.27 This has often been regarded as a form of return migration, since the
Latin-speaking population of the province of Dacia was also believed to have
migrated to the Balkan Peninsula after the abandonment of the province in the
late 3rd century. The migration out of Dacia supposedly took place in the early
7th century, when the Danube frontier of the Empire presumably collapsed
under the pressure of the Avars and Slavs. Place names of Latin origin, the
existence of Vlach communities in the Balkans, as well as the close relations
between their dialects and the Romanian language have all been treated
as sufficient evidence for the later migration of Romanians back to the same
23 Tejral, “K současnému stavu”, p. 59.

24 Heinrich-Tamáska/Schweissing, “Strontiumisotopen- und Radiokarbonuntersuchungen”,
pp. 466–467. No more than a quarter of the entire population buried in Keszthely-
Fenékpuszta is made up of “foreigners”.
25 Schramm, Anfänge, pp. 149–156.
26 Ducellier , “Les Albanais”.
27 Friedwagner, “Über die Sprache und Heimat”, p. 692; Darkó, “Die Übersiedlung der
Walachen”; Stadtmüller 1950, 207 with 205 map 12.
106 Curta
lands abandoned by their ancestors in the early 7th century.28 There are seri-
ous problems with such interpretations of the primarily linguistic evidence,
not the least of which is the inability to date any phonetic and/or linguistic
changes with sufficient precision for the historical reconstruction. More recent
archaeological research has painted a very bleak picture of the Balkans in the
7th century, one of largely uninhabited areas in the center of the Peninsula,
precisely those areas to which the immigrants from present-day Romania is
said to have moved after the collapse of the Danube frontier.29
Moreover, early medieval migrations to and from the Balkans are well docu-
mented, but none of them fits the idea of a Romanian migration to Romania.
For example, the fifth miracle in Book ii of the Miracles of St. Demetrius con-
tains the story of the Sermesianoi—the descendants of prisoners that the
Avars had taken from the Balkan provinces in the early 7th century, and had
then moved forcefully to Pannonia, in the area of Sirmium (hence their name).
After 60 years, during which they were ruled by their own chieftains, the Ser-
mesianoi rose in rebellion against the Avars, and migrated across the Danube
back into the Balkans.30 In the early 9th century, after Krum’s successful cam-
paigns in Thrace, between 10,000 and 20,000 prisoners of war are said to have
been forcefully moved to “Bulgaria beyond the Danube”, which was most likely
located in southern Romania. Much like the Sermesianoi, those prisoners had
their own leaders. With the assistance of the Byzantine fleet on the Danube,
after spending 40 or 50 years in “Bulgaria beyond the Danube”, the Adrianop-
olitans rose in rebellion against the Bulgars, and migrated back to their home-
land inside the Empire.31
28 Schramm, Eroberer und Eingesessene, pp. 131–140. Stanev, “Migraciiata ot Trakiia”, pp. 214–
217 believes that the Vlachs of Epirus, Thessaly, southern Macedonia, and Albania mi-
grated to northern Bulgaria under the pressure of the Normans at the end of the 11th
century and in the early 12th century.
29 Curta, “The beginning of the Middle Ages”.
30 Miracles of St. Demetrius ii 5, in Lemerle, Les plus anciens, pp. 286–288; Pillon, “L’exode
des Sermésiens”, pp. 104–105. Werner, Der Schatzfund von Vrap, and “Der Schatz eines
awarischen Kagans” has unsuccessfully tried to link this migration to the hoard of silver
vessels and belt fittings from Vrap (Albania). For the hoard, see now Garam, “The Vrap
treasure” and Piguet-Panayotova, “The gold and silver vessels”.
31 Scriptor incertus, ed. Iadevaia, pp. 54–55; Tăpkova-Zaimova, “Migrations frontalières”,
pp. 126–127. For “Bulgaria beyond the Danube” and its administrative organization, see
Brătianu, “Bulgaria de dincolo de Dunăre”; Tăpkova-Zaimova, “Roliata i administrativnata
organizaciia”. Several cemeteries in Walachia, the stronghold in Slon, and a number of
hoards of iron implements and weapons have been linked to “Bulgaria beyond the Dan-
ube” (Fiedler, “Bulgars in the Lower Danube region”, pp. 155–156; Ciupercă, “Some observa-
tions”; Canache/Curta, “Depozite de unelte şi arme medievale timpurii”).
With no such accounts at their disposal, archaeologists have long debated

the origins of the 4th- to 7th-century archaeological culture in the Samara
Bend known as Imen’kovo, after the eponymous site at the confluence of the
Volga and the Kama rivers.32 According to Galina Matveeva, that culture origi-
nated in the Zarubyntsi culture of western Ukraine (3rd century b.c. to 1st cen-
tury a.d.).33 Her critics pointed out that in Late Antiquity and the early Middle
Ages, migrations were usually from the east to the west, not the other way
around. Others notes that 400 years separated the end of the Zarubyntsi from
the beginning of the Imen’kovo culture. Nonetheless, the idea of a western ori-
gin of the Imen’kovo culture was the orthodoxy during the first decade of the
21st century, even though the exact identity of the migrants (or, later, of the
bearers of the Imen’kovo culture) remained a matter of dispute. Valentin Se-
dov believed that the origins of the Imen’kovo culture must be sought in the
Sântana de Mureş-Chernyakhov culture, which was at that same time at the
center of the debate surrounding the early history of the Goths. The Imen’kovo
people later migrated to Left-Bank Ukraine, where they laid the foundations of
the Volintsevo culture of the 8th- to the 10th-century Slavs on the northern
border of Khazaria.34 Others denied any derivation of the Imen’kovo from the
Sântana de Mureş-Chernyakhov culture, since the origins of the former pre-
date the Hunnic invasion, which, according to Sedov, has triggered the east-
ward migration of the Sântana de Mureş-Chernyakhov people to the Samara
Bend. That the Imen’kovo culture in that region of the Middle Volga was the
result of a migration is therefore not a conclusion drawn from the archaeologi-
cal evidence, but an idea based on the assumption that only migration can
explain cultural changes. Recent studies, without rejecting the possibility of
short-distance population movements, suggest however that the Imen’kovo
culture is the result not of migration from western Ukraine, but of cultural
mestizaje, for it appears to be a combination of elements that appear in other
cultures of the Kama and Volga region.35 Nor can a case be made for the lands
32 Bogachev, “Problemy etnokul’turnogo vzaimodeistviia”, pp. 108–110.

33 Matveeva, “O proiskhozhdenii”. See also Matveeva, “K voprosu o proiskhozhdenii pogre-
benii s trupopolozheniiami”; Matveeva, Srednee Povolzh’e, pp. 65–74.
34 Sedov, Slaviane, p. 315. Fodor, “K voprosu ob etnicheskoi prinadlezhnosti”, p. 106 has right-
ly noted that the idea has first been put forward by Aleksandr Smirnov (Smirnov, “Neko-
torye spornye voprosy”).
35 Viazov/Stashenkov, “Kul’turno-khronologicheskie gruppy”, p. 49. Although Viazov,
“O proiskhozhdenii pakhotnykh orudii” still derives Imen’kovo plowshares from Sântana
de Mureş-Chernyakhov prototypes, Viazov, “O proiskhozhdenii toporov” argues that axes
found on Imen’kovo sites derive from prototypes in the Kama region. To be sure, Leonid
Viazov does not draw any conclusions about migration from his studies of tools and
weapons, respectively.
108 Curta
in the Samara Bend region being emptied in the mid-7th century, because of
the migration of the Imen’kovo people to the Middle Dnieper. Recent excava-
tions on sites located at the foot of the Zhiguli Mountains (e.g., Osh-Pando-Ner’)
have produced materials dated to the first half of the 8th century representing
a mixture of cultural traditions, one of which is clearly Imen’kovo. In the words
of a Russian archaeologist commenting on those finds, “this is not migration,
but acculturation”.36
Elsewhere, the fundamental assumption is that a migration must have tak-
en place, if settlements and cemeteries appear suddenly in a region that has
previously been sparsely populated. For example, a vacuum of population is
postulated in order to explain the migration that led to the rise of the 5th- to
early 7th-century archaeological group known as Elbląg in the Lower Vistula
region of northern Poland. During the 5th century, the Wielbark population is
believed to have moved to the south. In the early 6th century the lands that had
thus been vacated were occupied by immigrants from the Sambian Peninsula
(Samland) and Natangia, in what is now the Kaliningrad oblast’ of Russia. This
wave of Baltic-speaking newcomers supposedly moved along the Vistula La-
goon and populated its entire southern shore, from the Pasłęka all the way to
the Lower Vistula.37 Where no assumptions can be made about a vacuum of
population, migration is identified archaeologically through the sudden ap-
pearance in a given region of dress accessories without any local traditions or
parallels. For example, only a few types of Viking-age female dress accessories
found in Finland and the Baltic countries are known that have parallels in
Scandinavia, and they usually appear singly and in graves which are in all other
respects typically local. By contrast, in northwestern Russia, practically all
types of Scandinavian female dress accessories are represented, and they ap-
pear in typically Scandinavian combinations in the graves, which also conform
in other respects (e.g., burial rite) in a remarkable way to the Scandinavian
culture. While artifacts of Scandinavian origin related to religion or magic,
such as Thor’s hammer rings, are practically absent from Finland and the Baltic
countries, they are numerous in Russia. This polarized distribution of artifacts
has therefore been interpreted as evidence of a large immigration of whole
families from Scandinavia to Russia. The migration must have been sufficiently
36 Rastoropov, “Voprosy etnokul’turnoi istorii”, pp. 46–47.

37 Okulicz, “Osadnictwo ziem pruskich”, pp. 32 and 31 pl. iii; Nowakowski, “Zmierzch
dawnych czasów”, p. 278. By contrast, the neighboring Olsztyn group in Mazuria (north-
eastern Poland) is believed to be the result of a late 5th- or early 6th-century “return mi-
gration” from the region of the Middle Danube (Nowakowski, “Die Olsztyn-Gruppe”,
pp. 175 and 177; 176 fig. 5).
strong for those distinctive features to be preserved over a couple of

generations.38
Although mentioned in written sources, the migrations of the Sermesianoi
and the Adrianopolitans mentioned above have no archaeological correlates.
The same is true for the migration of the Croats. In his De administrando impe-
rio, Emperor Constantine vii Porphyrogenitus (913–959) had the Croats arriv-
ing to Dalmatia “to claim the protection of the emperor of the Romans
Heraclius”.39 Where did they come from? “The Croats who now live in the re-
gion of Dalmatia are descended from the unbaptized Croats, also called ‘white’,
who live beyond Turkey [Hungary] and next to Francia”.40 According to Em-
peror Constantine, the migrants came to Dalmatia under the leadership of five
brothers (Kloukas, Lobelos, Kosentzis, Mouchlo, and Chrobatos) and two sis-
ters (Touga and Bouga) and conquered the land from the Avars. Generations of
historians have taken the story at face value, and many archaeologists are still
looking for evidence to confirm it.41 Recently, however, it has been noted that
Emperor Constantine’s account is an adaptation of a story found in Herodotus
(iv 33.3): “the Croatian migration did not take place, but… Constantine Por-
phyrogenitus created it relying on the literary models traditionally applied to
described the Landnahme of Scythian Barbarians”.42 Moreover, there is no ar-
chaeological evidence of a new population arriving in Dalmatia in the early
7th century. On the contrary, the region seems to have experienced a dramatic
38 Jansson, “Warfare, trade or colonization?”, pp. 26–27. For iron torcs with Thor’s hammers
in Eastern Europe, see Novikova, “Iron neck-rings”. Such rings have also been found in
Poland, especially in Pomerania, see Gardeła, Scandinavian Amulets and “Amulety skan-
dynawskie”. In Pomerania, the sudden change of burial rites from cremation to inhuma-
tion is attributed to a Scandinavian immigration (Sikora, “Akulturacja, wymuszona chrys-
tianizacja czy migracja?”).
39 Constantine Porphyrogenitus, De administrando imperio 31, ed. Moravcsik/Jenkins,
pp. 146 and 147. The Croats settled down in Dalmatia “by mandate of Heraclius” (ibid.,
pp. 148 and 149) .
40 Constantine Porphyrogentius, De administrando imperio 31, ed. Moravcsik/ Jenkins,
pp. 146 and 147. See also, ibid., 30, pp. 142 and 143: “But the Croats at that time were dwell-
ing beyond Bavaria, where the Belocroats are now”.
41 See Hauptmann, “Dolazak Hrvata”; Antoljak, “Hrvati u Karantaniji”; and Kardaras, “The
settlement of the Croats and the Serbs”. For a good historiographic survey, see Dzino, Be-
coming Slav, Becoming Croat, pp. 99–117. According to Jarak, “Zapažanja o grobljima”,
since no drastic changes in earring typology took place in Croatia between the 8th and
the 9th centuries, one has to admit that the Croats came to Dalmatia in the 7th century,
as indicated in the De administrando imperio.
42 Borri, “White Croatia”, p. 231. For Emperor Constantine’s political motivations of mak-
ing Emperor Heraclius invite the Croats to Dalmatia, see Dzino, “Pričam ti priču”,
pp. 159–160.
110 Curta
population decline during the first half of the 7th century, with only coastal
towns surviving. The earliest burial assemblages that have been attributed to
the Croats cannot be dated before the year 700.43
A somewhat different situation concerns the migration of the Pechenegs.
Their movement across the Eurasian steppe is believed to have been triggered
by the rising power of the Qarluqs and the attacks of the Oghuz. The Pech-
enegs then crossed the Volga and the Don, and invaded the lands north of the
Black Sea inhabited by the Magyars.44 The archaeological correlates of that
migration reconstructed by historians on the basis of a mixture of historical
and linguistic arguments are hard to find, for none of the so-called nomadic
graves in the steppe lands can be securely attributed to the Pechenegs alone.
There is incontrovertible evidence of their migration across the Danube into
the Balkan provinces of the Byzantine Empire. In 1046, a Pecheneg chieftain
named Kegen fled from a rival together 20,000 fellow tribesmen across the
Danube and took shelter on a “little island in the river”, not far from Dristra
(nowadays, Silistra, in northern Bulgaria). The Pechenegs received “three of the
fortresses standing on the banks of the Danube and many hectares”, and Kegen
was “inscribed among the friends and allies of the Romans”.45 Kegen converted
to Christianity, and was then given the supreme command of the troops from
Paristrion, Thrace, and Bulgaria. That this is no literary construction is clearly
demonstrated by his seal found in Silistra, the inscription of which reads “Lord,
have mercy upon the magistros John Kegen, the archon of Patzinakia”.46
Despite clear evidence from the written sources, the archaeological corre-
lates of the Pecheneg migration to the Balkans are elusive. Archaeologists have
linked the destruction of settlements in the northern Balkans to the Pechenegs
raids, but the evidence of a Pecheneg settlement is circumstantial. Various cat-
egories of artifacts have been attributed to them, from clay kettles and hand-
made pottery to leaf-shaped pendants with open-work ornament, horseman-
shaped amulets, jingle bells, appliques and bridle mounts, arrowheads, and
43 For the archaeology of the late 6th and early 7th century in the territory of present-day
Croatia and Slovenia, see Curta, “The early Slavs in the northern and eastern Adriatic re-
gion”, pp. 321–322; Dzino, Becoming Slav, Becoming Croat, pp. 121–128.
44 Zimonyi, “A besenyők nyugatra”. In a belated reply to László Vajda, Fodor, “Ecology and
migrations”, p. 80 regards the Pecheneg migration across the Volga, the Don, and the
Dnieper rivers as the best example of a “chain migration”.
45 Skylitzes, Synopsis, ed. Thurn, p. 456, transl. Wortley, p. 428. For this episode see Curta,
“The image and archaeology”, pp. 153–154.
46 Iordanov, “Sceau d’archonte” and “Pechati”. For Kegen’s title of magister, see Dudek,
“Pieczęć magistra Jana Kegena”. For Patzinakia as the region of the theme of Paradouna-
von in what is now northeastern Bulgaria, see Madgearu, “The periphery”, p. 51.
stirrups. However, no warrior graves have so far been found, despite the over-
whelming evidence in the sources of devastation and plundering done by
groups of armed men. Moreover, the ethnic identification of clay kettles and
leaf-shaped pendants as Pechenegs is highly problematic.47 While the archae-
ological visibility of the Pechenegs in the lands north of the Danube is associ-
ated with burials in prehistoric mounds, there are no 11th-century graves in
burial mounds in Bulgaria. Burials with the skull and legs of a horse deposited
next to the human skeleton, which many regard as typical for the steppe no-
mads, are also very rare.48 The detailed examination of the cemetery excavated
in Odărci—the largest 11th-century cemetery in northern Bulgaria—shows no
traditions common to the community burying their dead there and to those in
the lands north of the Black Sea and the Lower Danube.49 A general tendency
towards the adoption of the Christian burial, including coffin-like structures
associated with stone-lined graves as well as burial in and around cemetery
chapels, seem to have been associated with the reinterpretation of a number
of traits that are not prominent in the archaeological record of the East Euro-
pean steppe lands—trepanation, charcoal in the grave pit, and bridle mounts
recycled as dress accessories. The absence from the region of any signs of mili-
tary posturing so typical for burial in prehistoric barrows north of the river
Danube is simply the other side of the same coin. There is, in other words, no
direct archaeological correlate of the migration of the Pechenegs. Elements of
the archaeological evidence from large cemeteries, such as Odărci (the chro-
nology of which coincides in time with the events known from written sourc-
es), which could be regarded as reflections of the traditions of the steppe, “may
well have been ‘quotes’ designed to give a ‘Pecheneg look’ to a regional identity
at a time of considerable political and social turmoil” and in an area in which
the Pechenegs of Paristrion were a leading political group.50
In three cases concerning migrations into the Carpathian Basin, the archae-
ological evidence backs the conclusions drawn from the written sources. Em-
peror Constantine vii Porphyrogenitus knew that the Magyars (whom he
called “Turks”) “had of old their dwelling next to Khazaria, in the place called
Lebedia”. Defeated by the Pechenegs, the Magyars “split into two parts. One
part went eastwards and settled in the region of Persia, and they to this day are
47 Curta, “The image and archaeology”, pp. 159–162 and 168–170; Fiedler, “Zur Suche”,
pp. 271–279.
48 For an isolated burial with the head and legs of a horse deposited on the left side of a hu-
man skeleton, which was recently found in Plovdiv and attributed to the Pechenegs, see
Ivanov, “Novi danni”, pp. 406 and 405 fig. 6.
49 Curta, “The image and archaeology”, pp. 170–178.
50 Curta, “The image and archaeology”, p. 181.
112 Curta
called by the ancient denomination of the Turks ‘Sabartoi asphaloi’; but the
other part … settled in the western region, in places called Atelkouzou, in
which places the nation of the Pechenegs now lives”.51 The Pechenegs had in
fact expelled the Magyars from their abodes, and the latter “came and settled
in the land which they now dwell in”, i.e., Hungary.52 The account of the con-
tinuous migration of the Magyars from east to west, modeled after that of the
Chosen People, has been traditionally taken at face value by many historians,
and only recently, some commentators of Emperor Constantine’s work have
pointed out the obviously literary construction of that account.53 In many re-
spects, therefore, the problem of the Magyar migration as depicted in the writ-
ten sources is not different from that of the Croat migration. However, Hungar-
ian archaeologists have been able to isolate a number of artifacts clearly
associated with the first generation of Magyars in the Carpathian Basin, pri-
marily based on analogies with finds in Eastern Europe. For example, the belt
set from Karancslapujtő has analogies on sites in Mordvinia (the present-day
Mordovian Republic), while the horse gear in the female burial in Szakony has
parallels in Belymer, Tankeevka and Borshevo—all sites in the Middle Volga
region.54 Most analogies point to sites associated with the late 8th- to mid-9th-
century Karaiakupovo culture: burial construction, orientation and position of
the body inside the burial pit, burial goods associated with male and female
51 Constantine Porphyrogentius, De administrando imperio 38, ed. Moravcsik/Jenkins,

pp. 170–173. Most historians have traditionally taken the story about the Sabartoi asphaloi
at face value, e.g., Ducellier, “Les sources byzantines”, p. 53. For recent doubts, see Bata,
“The Turks” and Bubenok, “Savarty-asfaly”.
pp. 176–177. Emperor Constantine mentions Trajan’s bridge over the Danube (now at
Drobeta-Turnu Severin, in southwestern Romania), Belgrade, Sirmium (Sremska Mitro-
vica, in northern Serbia), and “great Moravia” in relation to the lands in which the Mag-
yars have settled.
53 For the continuous migration of the Magyars, see Barna, “A magyarok útjáról”; Fodor, In
Search of a New Homeland; Váczy, “The Byzantine emperor”; Róna-Tas, “The migration of
the Hungarians”, pp. 246–248; Tóth, Levediától a Kárpát-medencéig; Múcska, “Migracja i
etnogeneza”. For the historioghraphy of the Magyar ethnogenesis and migration, see
Ovchinnikova/Gyóni, Protovengry. For cracks in the traditional interpretation of Emperor
Constantine’s account, see Szabados, “A legyőzött magyarok ming hódítók?” Archaeolo-
gists have also clung onto the “serial migration model” created on the basis of De admin-
istrando imperio, with different archaeological cultures corresponding to various stages of
the migration, and each one of those stages being responsible for some key change in the
Magyar culture and language. See the critical remarks of Sindbæk, “A Magyar occurrence”,
p. 153.
54 Mesterházy, “Die Landnahme der Ungarn”, pp. 28–31. Contra: Vavruš, “Prvá maďarská gen-
erácia”, p. 186. For the finds from Karancslapujtő and Szakony, see Dienes, Die Ungarn,
fig. 16 and “A karancslapujtő honfoglalás kori őv”.
graves (especially mortuary masks), the deposition of horse remains (skull and
limbs).55 In other words, the archaeological evidence points to the appearance
in the 10th century of a new, coherent culture in the Carpathian Basin, which
is different from those of the previous period. This culture has been described
as “a wide, homogeneous unit, with contacts reaching to the steppe lands in
Eastern Europe and beyond”, even though some of its features seem to have
developed locally. The beginnings of the new culture coincide in time with the
immigration of the Magyars known from the written sources.56
Three centuries earlier, a similarly new and coherent culture has made its
appearance in the Carpathian Basin. New burial customs and artifact types, for
which there is no analogy in the whole of Europe, have been associated with
the immigration of the Avars, as reconstructed based on the information in
Paul the Deacon’s History of the Lombards that was written more than 150 years
after the events.57 István Bóna believed that the only analogies for pits with
cremated remains of horse gear (including stirrups) and, occasionally, weap-
ons (lance heads) were in Central Asia, while Sassanian influences were re-
flected in such categories of artifacts as weapons, dress accessories, as well as
gold- or silverware.58 “Nomadic” belt sets, swords with long blades, bow rein-
forcement plates, remains of quivers, and many other artifacts were equally
regarded as new for the picture of European archaeology. However, only rarely
can contemporary parallels for the earliest artifact-categories associated with
the earliest Avars be found outside the Carpathian Basin.59 Apple-shaped, cast
stirrups with elongated suspension loops and flat treat slightly bent inwards
are typical for the earliest assemblages associated with the Avar immigration,
and are the earliest European stirrups known so far. However, there are no par-
allels for those artifacts on any site in Eurasia that may be dated prior to the
migration of the Avars.60 Nonetheless, the population that buried its dead in
55 Gołębiowska-Tobiasz, “The Hungarians”, pp. 41–42.

56 Langó, “Archaeological research”, p. 181.
57 Paul the Deacon, History of the Lombards i 27 and ii 7, ed. Waitz, pp. 80 and 89. Despite
efforts to reassess the History of the Lombards as a literary work, Paul the Deacon’s ac-
count of the Avar migration has been remarkably resistant to historical criticism, particu-
larly the idea that the Lombards bestowed their “own abode, that is, Pannonia” upon the
Avars. Pohl, Die Awaren, pp. 50–51 takes the account at face value, even though he recog-
nizes “legendary” elements in the story of how Cunimund, the king of the Gepids, was
defeated and killed in war with the Lombards and their Avar allies.
58 Bóna, “Die Geschichte der Awaren”, pp. 443–444.
59 Bálint, Die Archäologie der Steppe, p. 149; Bálint, “Probleme”, p. 214. Attempts to identify
Central Asian Avars by means of physical anthropology bore no fruits (Tóth, “Észak-
dunántul avarkori népességének”).
60 La Salvia, “La diffusione della staffa”; Curta, “The earliest Avar-age stirrups”.
114 Curta
cemeteries located to the east from the Middle Tisza river migrated there from
the steppe lands in southern Ukraine, as indicated by the typical graves with
tunnel-shaped shafts that have no parallels in the Carpathian Basin.61 Two of
the men buried in the 7th century in the Komárom-Shipyard cemetery (Slova-
kia) were accompanied in death by spears, the shafts of which were made of
black mulberry, a species of tree that did not exist in the Carpathian Basin dur-
ing the early Middle Ages, but was widely spread in Central and Eastern Asia.62
During the 6th century, the area between the Danube and the Tisza in what is
today Hungary, was only sparsely inhabited, and may well have played the role
of a “no man’s land” between the Lombard and Gepid territories. It is only after
ca. 600 that this area was densely inhabited, as indicated by a number of new
cemeteries that came into being along the Tisza and north of present-day Kec-
skemét.63 There can therefore be no doubts about the migration of the Avars
into the Carpathian Basin, even though it was probably not a single event and
did not involve only one group of population, or even a cohesive ethnic group.64
Paul the Deacon, the only author directly referring to the migration of the
Avars into the Carpathian Basin, did so in the context of his account of the
migration of the Lombards from that region, across the Alps, to Italy.65 Many
scholars still regard the movement of the Lombard to Italy as “spectacular”,
a “migration avalanche”. Unlike other migrations, that of the Lombards is
treated as a “total migration”, in that it was not just a group, but also the en-
tire population that moved out from the Carpathian Basin into the Italian
61 Lőrinczy, “Kelet-európai steppe népesség”; Türk, “O novykh rezul’tatakh”. For a slightly

different argument, see Gulyás, “Újabb adatok”. For an anthropological study of the im-
migrants, see Fóthi/Lőrinczy/Marcsik, “Arkheologicheskie i antropologicheskie sviazi”.
62 Trugly, “Komárom-Hajógyár”, p. 209.
63 Balogh, “A Duna-Tisza köze”, pp. 59–64. For an “explosion” of sites in the whole Carpathian
Basin shortly after the year 600, see also Szenpéteri, “Was die Verbreitungskarten er-
zählen…”, pp. 334 with fig. 7.1.
64 A fierce debate surrounds István Bóna’s idea that the change in archaeological culture,
which he dated ca. 675, was to be explained in terms of another migration of Turkic ele-
ments from the steppe lands in Central and Inner Asia (Bóna, “Die Geschichte der Awar-
en”, pp. 455–456). This idea was embraced by others who pointed to new cemeteries being
opened at different locations during the last quarter of the 7th century (Tomka, “Die
Frage”). For a thorough critique of Bóna’s theory, see Bálint, “Der Beginn der Mittela-
warenzeit”. The debate has been fueled by nationalist concerns deriving from Gyula
László’s idea that the new immigrants were speakers of a Ugric language, which made the
Hungarians native to the Carpathian Basin about two centuries before the Magyar migra-
tion to that area. See László, “A kettős honfoglalásrol”; Kristó, “Nyelv és etnikum”; Madaras,
“Az Alföldi avarság”; Magyar, “A honfoglalás (kettős honfoglalás) legújabb”; Olajos, “De la
théorie”; Fodor, “A ‘kettős honfoglalás’”.
65 Paul the Deacon, History of the Lombards ii 8, ed. Waitz, p. 90.
Peninsula.66 While the mass character of the Lombard migration to Italy has
been recently questioned, no one seems to doubt it. A strategy for acquiring a
better social position, the migration of the Lombards from the lands now in
southern Hungary has been associated with grave robbing, itself a phenome-
non interpreted as a sign of abandonment of the old settlements.67 Historians
have also not questioned the movement of the Lombards from the lands to the
north into those to the south of the river Danube. Although none of the phases
(and corresponding stops) of that migration, as related in the Origo gentis Lan-
gobardorum, is confirmed by any other sources, that version of the Lombard
migration is taken for granted.68 Jaroslav Tejral has long insisted upon the dis-
tinction between various cultural horizons in the archaeology of the 4th to 6th
centuries in the Czech lands and Moravia; the last horizon represents the ar-
rival of a new group of people from the lands along the Elbe river—the Lom-
bards of the Origo gentis.69 The results of the isotope analysis of tooth enamel
from skeletal materials from two 6th-century cemeteries in Moravia (Lužice
and Holubice) seem to confirm the idea of a migration taking place shortly
before the year 500.70 The migration of the Lombards to the lands south of the
river Danube now within Hungary has also received much attention from ar-
chaeologists. The first phase (ca. 510 to ca. 535) is believed to be associated
with relatively small cemeteries (80–90 graves) in use for a couple of genera-
tions. Such cemeteries were not fundamentally different from much larger
ones of the previous, pre-Pannonian phase in Austria or Moravia. However,
graves of males in such cemeteries have produced a greater quantity and vari-
ety of weapons. During the second phase (535–550), new cemeteries appear in
southern Pannonia, that were considerably smaller (40–50 graves), because
they were in use only for a very short period of time. Those cemeteries typi-
cally include “archaic” material of Moravian provenance, such as handmade
pottery of the Elbe type, often associated with urn cremations. The last phase
(550–568) is supposedly identifiable by means of comparison with the earliest
finds in Italy.71 The existence of short-distance movements of population
66 Borgolte, “Eine langobardische ‘Wanderlawine’”, pp. 293–295, blames Walter Pohl for the
propagation of such myths.
67 Barbiera, Changing Lands, p. 146. See Freeden, “Wer stört Gräber?”.
68 Origo gentis Langobardorum, ed. Waitz, pp. 1–6. For the traditional interpretation of the
migration of the Lombards to Pannonia, see Borovszky, “A langobardok vándorlása”; Jar-
nut, Geschichte, p. 19; Bystrický, Sťahovanie národov, pp. 81–105. For a critique of that ap-
proach, see Pohl, “Migration und Ethnogenese”, p. 1.
69 Tejral, “Zur Unterscheidung”.
70 Tejral, “K současnému stavu”, p. 59.
71 Vida, “Aufgaben und Perspektiven”, p. 346; Keresztes, “Fegyveres langobardok”, p. 481. See
also Vida, “La ricerca”. The distinction between the three phases of the Lombard migration
116 Curta
across Transdanubia (the lands to the south and west of the river Danube, now
in Hungary and Austria) during the 6th century is also confirmed by the results
of the stable isotope analysis of tooth enamel from the skeletal material of the
newly excavated cemetery in Szólád, which came into existence during the
second phase of the Lombard migration. Two thirds of those buried in that
cemetery were not of local origin. Children have been buried in that cemetery,
who had been born elsewhere, most likely in northern Transdanubia, during
the first third of the 6th century. There were also local children, but not adults,
in the Szólád cemetery. This seems to point to a relatively short period during
which the cemetery was in use, perhaps no more than a generation.72 The un-
derlying assumption is, of course, that those abandoning the cemetery in Szó-
lád moved to Italy.
Without skeletal material from large cemeteries and no written sources to
describe the migration of the Slavs in explicit terms, archaeologists and histo-
rians alike have embraced an outdated model ultimately inspired by research
in linguistics. Many of them still stubbornly stick to that, even though the evi-
dence accumulated over the last few decades clearly points to a completely
different interpretation.73 To be sure there is only one medieval author that
specifically mentioned Slavs (“who are also called Avars”) moving from their
lands “on the far side of the river Danube” to the Balkans and establishing
themselves in Salona (near present-day Split, in Croatia). Moreover, that late
source is, again, Emperor Constantine vii Porphyrogenitus. His story looks
more like an attempt to explain the particular situation of Salona and of the
former province of Dalmatia.74 At any rate, there is no indication of a Slavic
migration from the lands north of the Danube into Dalmatia either before or
during the reign of Emperor Heraclius, whose name is associated to the “story
of the province of Dalmatia”.75 No 6th-century author mentions the migration
of the Slavs to the Danube, or their movement across that river in order to set-
into the lands south of the river Danube goes back to István Bóna (Vida, “Die Langobarden”,
pp. 75–76).
72 Peters et al. “Schmelztiegel Balaton?”, p. 354. For Szólád, see Freeden/Vida, “Ausgrabung”.
73 Biermann, “Kommentar”, pp. 339–340 and 344 even compares the Slavs with the Bantu,
both with migrations identified linguistically. For a mise-au-point, see Curta, “The early
Slavs in Bohemia”, pp. 728–729 and 736–737.
pp. 122–125. In the following Chapter (30), those putting to the sword the city of Salona
and making themselves masters of “all the country of Dalmatia” are Avars, not Slavs (ibid.,
pp. 142–143). For the sources and interpretation of the story, see Dzino, Becoming Slav,
Becoming Croat, pp. 111–112.
pp. 124–125; Žiković, De conversione, pp. 103, 106, and 109; Curta, “The early Slavs in the
tle permanently in the Balkan provinces of the early Byzantine Empire, or any-
where else in Europe.76 Attempts to delineate a migration of the Slavs based on
place names currently in use in East Central and Eastern Europe have pro-
duced dubious results.77
Archaeologists have turned to pottery as an indicator of both Slavic ethnic-
ity and migration. The handmade pottery of the so-called Prague type has be-
come the hallmark of the culture believed to be the contrast agent allowing the
archaeological visibility of the Slavic population movements. Since the Slavs
are “represented” by the Prague culture, the study of the migration of the Slavs
was the study of how that culture expanded across large parts of eastern and
southeastern Europe between the 6th and the 8th centuries.78 Various phases
of the migration are thus based on the presence of the earliest phases of the
Prague-type pottery in particular territories.79 There are serious problems with
such an interpretation of the archaeological evidence. First, to this day, the
handmade pottery of Prague type lacks a clear definition and typology. It is not
even clear whether such a type truly existed. Nor is it known where and when
it may have originated and how it may have spread over a vast area, from the
northern and eastern Adriatic region”, p. 322. For a more traditional take on those issues,
see the contribution of Koder in the present volume.
76 For a contrary, but utterly wrong opinion, see Fusek, “Drevnee slavianskoe naselenie”,
p. 153.
77 Udolph, “Die Landnahme der Ostslaven”, pp. 334 map 1, and 335 map 2. Place names have
also been used, with similarly dubious results, to claim a movement of the Slavs in the
contrary direction, from the Danube to the lands in East Central and Eastern Europe
(Kunstmann, “Wie die Slovenen an den Ilmensee kamen” and “Waren die ersten
Přemysliden Balkanslaven?”, p. 42). Responsible for this migration from south to north are
supposedly the Avars or the Bulgars. The idea of a Slavic migration from south to north
enjoys increasing popularity among Russian and Ukrainian archaeologists (Prykhodniuk,
“Osnovni pidsumky”, pp. 18–19; Kuz’min, “O vremeni”; Kazanski, “Les Slaves”, pp. 27–30;
Sedov, “O rasselenii dunaiskikh slavian” and “Migraciia dunaiskikh slavian”; Shcheglova,
“Volny rasprostraneniia veshchei”, pp. 60–61; Iushkova, “North-western Russia”, p. 149). For
the historiography of the problem, see Koneckii, “Slavianskaia kolonizaciia”.
78 Machinskii, “Migraciia slavian”, pp. 31–37; Měřínský, České země, pp. 46 and 57–59; Bier-
mann, “Kommentar”, p. 399. For the migration of the Slavs as a migration of multiple ar-
chaeological cultures, see Pleterski, Etnogeneza Slovanov, p. 34 fig. 7. Kobyliński, “The
Slavs”, p. 531 believes that sunken-floored buildings are a better contrast agent for tracing
the migration of the Slavs; Sedov, “Venedy-slaviane” prefers the so-called “Slavic” bow
fibulae.
79 Gavritukhin, “Nachalo”, pp. 73–74 and 78–82. The idea of tracking the migration of the
Slavs by means of a study of the chronology of cultural changes over a vast area and a
longer period of time has been first put forward by Godłowski, “Die Frage” (reprinted in
Godłowski, Frühe Slawen, pp. 85–122).
118 Curta
Pripet marshes to Bohemia and Greece.80 Second, there is still no firm chronol-
ogy of the ceramic assemblages attributed to the Prague culture. For example,
it is believed that the Slavs reached eastern Mecklenburg in the late 5th or early
6th century, at the same time as they entered Silesia, eastern Brandenburg, and
the northeastern part of the Carpathian Basin. They were in Moldavia during
the first half of the 6th century, and their expansion into the Balkans started
after the middle of that century. Soon after that, they also reached Bohemia.81
However, German archaeologists believe that the bearers of the Prague cul-
ture who reached northern Germany came from Bohemia and Moravia, which
means that their immigration could not have taken place before the middle of
the 6th century. As a matter of fact, no archaeological assemblage attributed to
the Slavs either in northern Germany or in northern Poland may be dated ear-
lier than ca. 700.82 Conversely, the archaeological assemblages attributed to
the Slavs (Sclavenes) in southern and eastern Romania are earlier than any in
central Ukraine, the Middle Dnieper region, or any other part of Eastern Eu-
rope.83 While it is true that during the second half of the 6th and the first half
of the 7th century, the number of settlements increased considerably in east-
ern Romania, in contrast to the situation of the previous two centuries, the
increase is not necessarily the result of migration. It may instead reflect the
itinerary agriculture and the pastoralist activities of the local population.84
There are to date no indications of an expansion of the Prague culture into the
Balkans before 600 and very few indications after that of any archaeological
evidence that could be attributed to the Slavs.85 Meanwhile, none of the ar-
chaeological assemblages associated with the so-called Prague culture in
Bohemia and Moravia may be dated before 600.86
80 Curta, “The Prague type” (reprinted in Curta, Text, Context, pp. 87–130). The notion of a
“Prague type” of pottery was first introduced by Borkovský, Staroslovanská keramika, but
various attempts at formal description and analysis have so far failed to isolate the Prague
type.
81 Gavritukhin, “Nachalo”, p. 84.
82 Brather, Archäologie, p. 59; Dulinicz, “Najstarsza faza” and Frühe Slawen, pp. 275–287. Ac-
cording to Brather, “Einwanderergruppe oder Regionalentwicklung?”, p. 343, the migra-
tion of the Slavs into northern Poland and Germany is archaeologically invisible.
83 Curta, Making of the Slavs, pp. 335–338.
84 Teodor, “Evoluţia demografică”, p. 275 (compared to the number of settlements dated be-
tween the 5th and the 6th century, the number of those dated between ca. 550 and ca. 650
rose by 55 to 60 percent). The link between itinerary agriculture and the appearance of
new settlements is best illustrated by the excavations in Dulceanca (southern Romania),
for which see Curta, Making of the Slavs, pp. 276 and 308.
85 Curta, “The beginning of the Middle Ages”, pp. 196–197.
86 Curta, “Utváření Slovanů”, pp. 681–682. Most radiocarbon dates now available for sites in
Bohemia and Moravia are late, despite occasional claims to the contrary (Profantová/
One of the most egregious problems with the current model of the Slavic
migration is that it is not at all clear where it started. There is in fact no agree-
ment as to the exact location of the primitive homeland of the Slavs, if there
ever was one. The idea of tracing the origin of the Slavs to the Zarubyntsi cul-
ture dated between the 3rd century b.c. and the first century a.d. is that a gap
of about 200 years separates it from the Kiev culture (dated between the 3rd
and the 4th century a.d.), which is also attributed to the Slavs.87 Furthermore,
another century separates the Kiev culture from the earliest assemblages at-
tributed to the Prague culture. It remains unclear where did the (prehistoric)
Slavs go after the first century, and whence they could return, two centuries
later, to the same region from which their ancestors had left. The obvious cul-
tural discontinuity in the region of the presumed homeland raises serious
doubts about any attempts to write the history of the Slavic migration on such
a basis. There is simply no evidence of the material remains of the Zarubyntsi,
Kiev, or even Prague culture in the southern and southwestern direction of the
presumed migration of the Slavs towards the Danube frontier of the Roman
Empire.
Moreover, there is no agreement regarding the possible reasons for which
the presumed migration happened in the first place. While Peter Heather
made the Slavs fill the “power vacuum created by Przeworsk culture collapse”
in the late 5th or early 6th century, the Russian archaeologist Valentin Sedov
treated the Slavs as bearers of the Przeworsk culture, and wrote of their 5th-
century migration to the north and to the northeast, as far as the lakes Ilmen
and Peipus.88 Why did the Slavs move out of their primitive homeland? Some
authors blame the combined effects of the Hunnic invasion and climate
change, with temperatures much lower than in the previous 2,000 years, which
Bureš, “Bedeutende frühe slawische Siedlungen”, p. 191; Profantová, “Slaviane”, pp. 100 and
102). When multiple radiocarbon dates contradict her theory of an early Slavic culture in
Bohemia, Naďa Profantová finds excuses: “The migration hypothesis cannot be tested
with the help of the natural sciences” (Profantová, “Cultural discontinuity”, p. 260).
87 Furas’ev, “Fenomen”; Pleterski, “Etnogeneza Slavena”, pp. 15 fig. 3; 20. For a rebuttal, see
Curta, “Four questions”, pp. 290–293.
88 Sedov, “Nachalo” and “Sever Vostochno-Evropeiskoi ravniny”, pp. 17–18. The Slavs presum-
ably looked for good lands for agriculture, and Minasian, “Problema slavianskogo zasele-
niia” has even defined a set of agricultural implements as typical for the Slavic agriculture
of the 6th century. The appearance of that set in any given region was then treated as evi-
dence of a Slavic migration. For critical remarks about those theories, see Tvauri, “Mi-
grants or natives?” pp. 26–27. Others believe that a Slavic presence in the Novgorod lands
cannot be dated before the mid-9th century (Kuz’min/Mikhailova, “Novye materialy”,
pp. 143 and 146).
120 Curta
made living conditions in the forest zone of Eastern Europe particularly bad.89
The out-migration was the result of an ecological crisis, the main reasons for
which were podsolization (caused by slash-and-burn form of agriculture) and
epizootics (itself caused by the depletion of soils of basic metals, especially
cobalt).90 To others, no assumption of demographic pressure, external forces,
or ecological catastrophe is needed to explain the southward migration of the
Slavs. Instead, a “simple under-pressure mechanism” must be favored: the Slavs
were attracted to the Balkans because that region had been depleted by Justin-
ian’s plague. In fact, the migration was supported by the Empire, which ex-
ploited the Slavs as easily accessible work force that the imperial government
needed after the demographic collapse of the Balkans.91 Still others think that
the Slavic migration was “a response to inequalities of wealth and develop-
ment and, in that respect, is very similar to modern migrations”. The Slavs were
simply poor, and migration became “a well-entrenched strategy among many
Slavic populations”, which kept on moving. For the Slavs, migration was a
means of carrying on traditional lifestyles, “including a very small scale of so-
cial organization”. Their extended familial settlements spread across Central
Europe simply because of population growth. “They may have lacked circuses,
togas, Latin poetry, and central heating, but the Slavs were as successful in im-
posing a new social order across central and Eastern Europe as the Romans
had been to the west and south”.92
Even with such elucubrations, the lack of archaeological evidence to sup-
port them makes it increasingly difficult to maintain the idea of the Slavs as a
population expanding physically and rapidly over large areas of Eastern and
East Central Europe, colonizing “vacant” places, and carrying their culture
with them.93 Migrationism in this particular case is associated with a stubborn
refusal to abandon a model of historical development fashioned by linguists
primarily on the basis of the family tree of languages, which located the Slavic
homeland in the epicenter of the modern distribution of Slavic languages. New
89 Sedov, “Proiskhozhdenie slavian”, pp. 57–58, and “Osnovnye voprosy”, p. 435. The warming
of the climate supposedly triggers migration as well (Oleinikov, “Kul’tura dlinnykh kur-
ganov”, p. 173).
90 Shevchenko, “Ekologicheskii krizis” and v zone slavianskogo etnogeneza, pp. 139–142, 143,
149–151, and 199: the “cobalt deficiency” led to an ecological catastrophe, which led to
migration.
91 Sołtysiak, “The plague endemic”, p. 361.
92 Heather, Empires and Barbarians, pp. 446–447. The Slavs from “Dulcinea” (probably a cor-
rupted form of Dulceanca, the name of an archaeological site in southern Romania) mi-
grated into the Roman Empire. In Heather’s Don Quixotesque version of early Slavic his-
tory, social change starts in El Toboso.
93 Urbańczyk, “Foreign leaders”, p. 263.
approaches to the spread of (Common) Slavic inspired by sociolinguistics had

absolutely no impact on the archaeological and historical research on the early
Slavs.94 Equally neglected by both archaeologists and historians remains the
idea that instead of migration of Slavs, one should speak of the “expansion of
Slavicism, as the expansion of a cultural model”, which was adopted by the in-
habitants of various parts of Eastern Europe together with the Slavic language
and associated patterns of material culture.95
Several conclusions may be drawn from this survey of the current state of
research on migrations in early medieval Eastern Europe. First, migration is
still conceptualized as “invasion” or a “large-scale population movement”.
There is yet no sign of the theoretical impact of the recent resurgence of schol-
arly interest in migration, which has been inspired by concerns with connec-
tivity, colonial studies, postcolonial perspectives, and entangled situations.96
Nor is there any concern with migration as a “multi-layered process”. Equally
absent is any preoccupation with small-scale migrations that may reflect bor-
der shifts or moving population centers among seasonally transhumant
groups. Environmentalist arguments have been particularly popular because
they could fill out Marxist studies of economically primitive societies.97 Ar-
chaeologists in Eastern Europe understand migration as a one-way residential
relocation to a different “environment”, but they rely on general notions of the
process to explain the chronological and geographic distributions of tools, ce-
ramics, metallurgy, human biological traits, and language, and ethnicity.
Migration, in other words, was used an explanatory device, and was itself only
94 See Nichols, “The linguistic geography”; Holzer, “Proto-Slavic”; Boček Pravoslovanština

2014. For an attempt at integrating the sociolinguistic approach with the historical and
archaeological evidence, see Curta, “The Slavic lingua franca”.
95 Urbańczyk, “Obcy wśród”, pp. 70–71; “Foreign leaders”, p. 263.
96 Dommelen, “Moving on”, p. 480. For migration and connectivity, see Carson/Hung, “Semi-
conductor theory in migration”.
97 Frachetti, “Migration concepts”, p. 199: although the Soviet cultural-ecological approach
was especially strong in the 1970s with Lev Gumilev and the integration of geological and
paleoclimate research across the Soviet Union, the subtle tenor of environmentalism and
primitivism survived and even flourished in post-Soviet Russia. It is important to note the
accompanying lack of interest in what Carr, “A unified middle-range theory” has called
“low visibility style”. Archaeologists working on the Middle Ages in Eastern Europe still
have to link their research questions concerning migration to their conspicuous interest
in technological styles (“ways of doing things”, chaînes opératoires). See Burmeister, “Ar-
chaeology and migration”, p. 542; Cabana/Clark, “Migration in anthropology”, p. 5; Clark,
“Disappearance and diaspora”, pp. 86–87 and 91. For the interest in technological styles in
Eastern Europe, see Indruszewski, “Technological aspects”; Szenthe, “Technological his-
tory”; Fazioli, “Rethinking ethnicity”; Herold, “Technological traditions”; Zav’ialov/Terek-
hova, “Three-fold welding technology”.
122 Curta
rarely the subject of archaeological investigation. At the beginning of the

21st century, surrounded by the highly visible consequences of large-scale
migrations, archaeologists in Eastern Europe struggle with the dissonance
between the ever-increasing archaeological evidence and the complexity of
the motivations for which people choose to migration, and the way they choose
to do it.
Bibliography
Primary Sources
Constantine Porphyrogenitus, De administrando imperio, ed. Gy. Moravcsik/R.J.H. Jen-
kins (Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae, 1), Washington 1967.
Jordanes, Getica, ed. Th. Mommsen, Romana et Getica (Monumenta Germaniae His-
torica, Auctores antiquissimi 5, 1), Berlin 1882.
Lemerle, P. (ed.), Les plus anciens recueils des Miracles de Saint Démétrius et la pénétra-
tion des Slaves dans les Balkans, Paris 1979.
Origo gentis Langobardorum, ed. G. Waitz (Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scrip-
tores rerum Langobardicarum et Italicarum), Hannover 1878.
Paul the Deacon, History of the Lombards, ed. G. Waitz (Monumenta Germaniae His-
torica, Scriptores rerum Germanicarum, 48), Hannover 1878.
Scriptor incertus, ed. F. Iadevaia, Messina 1987.
John Skylitzes, A Synopsis of Byzantine History, 811–1057, ed. H. Thurn, Berlin 1973;
English translation by J. Wortley, Cambridge 2010.
Antoljak, Stjepan. “Hrvati u Karantaniji. Prilog seobi Hrvata iz Dalmacije u prekosavske
krajeve u 7. stoljeću” [The Croats in Carinthia. A contribution to the history of the
Croatian migration to Dalmatia from the regions beyond the Sava river (7th centu-
ry)], Godishen zbornik. Filosofski fakultet na Univerzitetot Skopje 9 (1956), 15–38.
Bálint, Cs., Die Archäologie der Steppe. Steppenvölker zwischen Volga und Donau vom 6.
bis zum 10. Jahrhundert, Vienna/Cologne 1989.
Bálint, Cs., “Probleme der archäologischen Forschung zur awarischen Landnahmen”,
in M. Müller-Wille/R. Schneider (eds.), Ausgewählte Probleme europäischer Land-
nahmen des Früh- und Hochmittelalters, vol. 1, Sigmaringen 1993, pp. 195–273.
Bálint, Cs., “Der Beginn der Mittelawarenzeit und die Einwanderung Kubers”, Antaeus
29–30 (2008–2009), 29–61.
Balogh, Cs., “A Duna-Tisza köze avar kori betelepülése”, [The settlement of the Avar
population in the Danube-Tisza interfluvial region], Cumania 27 (2016), 55–74.
Barbiera, I., Changing Lands in Changing Memories. Migration and Identity during the
Lombard Invasions, Florence 2005.
Barna, F., “A magyarok útjáról az Uralról Lebediába” [The Magyar migration from the
Ural Mountains to Levedia], Századok 18 (1884), 353–363, 449–456, and 527–535.
Bata, G., “The Turks who were called ΣΑΒΑΡΤΟΙ ΑΣΦΑΛΟΙ”, Journal of Turkish Studies
20 (1996), 177–187.
Bierbrauer, V. “Gepiden im 5. Jahrhundert. Eine Spurensuche”, in V. Mihăilescu-Bîrliba/
C. Hriban/L. Munteanu (eds.), Miscellanea romano-barbarica. In honorem septage-
narii magistri Ion Ioniţă oblata, Bucharest 2006, pp. 167–216.
Biermann, F., “Kommentar zum Aufsatz von Florin Curta: Utváření Slovanů (se
zvlaštním zřetelem k Čecham a Moravě)—The Making of the Slavs (with a special
emphasis on Bohemia and Moravia), Archeologické rozhledy 60”, Archeologické ro-
zhledy 61 (2009), 337–349.
Boček, V., Pravoslovanština a jazykový kontakt [Common Slavic and language contact],
Prague 2014.
Bogachev, A.V., “Problemy etnokul’turnogo vzaimodeistviia osedlykh i kochevnykh
plemen Srednego Povolzh’ia v seredine I tysiacheletiia” [Problems of the ethno-
cultural relations between the sedentary and the nomadic populations of the Mid-
dle Volga region in the middle of the first millennium], Russian History 28 (2001),
nos. 1–4, 105–136.
Bolnick, D.A., “Continuity and change in anthropological perspectives on migration.
Insights from molecular anthropology”, in G.S. Cabana/J.J. Clark (eds.), Rethinking
Anthropological Perspectives on Migration, Gainesville, 2011, pp. 263–277.
Bóna, I., “Die Geschichte der Awaren im Lichte der archäologischen Quellen”, in Popoli
delle steppe: Unni, Avari, Ungari, Spoleto 1988, pp. 440–458.
Borgolte, M., “Eine langobardische ‘Wanderlawine’’ vom Jahr 568? Zur Kritik historiog-
raphischer Zeugnisse der Migrationsperiode”, Zeitschrift für Geschichtswissenschaft
61 (2013), 293–310.
Borkovský, I., Staroslovanská keramika ve střední Evropě. Studie k počátkům slovanské
kultury [The oldest Slavic pottery of central Europe]), Prague 1940.
Borovszky, S. “A longobardok vándorlása” [The Lombard migration], Századok 19
(1885), 501–518, 590–602, 662–676, and 725–736.
Borri, F., “White Croatia and the arrival of the Croats: an interpretation of Constantine
Porphyrogenitus on the oldest Dalmatian history”, Early Medieval Europe 19/2 (2011),
204–231.
Brather, S., “Einwanderergruppe oder Regionalentwicklung? Die frühen Slawen
zwischen Elbe und Oder”, Das Altertum 45 (1999), 301–316.
Brather, S., Archäologie der westlichen Slawen. Siedlung, Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft
im früh- und hochmittelalterlichen Ostmitteleuropa (Ergänzungsbände zum Real-
lexikon der Germanischen Altertumskunde, 30), Berlin/New York 2001.
Brătianu, Gh.I., “‘Bulgaria de dincolo de Dunăre’ în izvoarele bizantine” [“Bulgaria be-
yond the Danube” in the Byzantine sources], in Omagiu lui I. Lupaş la împlinirea
vârstei de 60 ani, august 1940, Bucharest 1943, pp. 127–132.
124 Curta
Bubenok, O.B., “Savarty-asfaly v ‘kraiakh Persii’: pravda ili vymysel?” [The “Sabartoi as-
phaloi” in the “region of Persia”: truth or fabrication?], in E.A. Mel’nikova/T.M.
Kalinina/A.S. Shchavelev (eds.), Vostochnaia Evropa v drevnosti i srednevekov’e. Mi-
gracii, rasselenie, voina kak faktory politogeneza. xxiv Chteniia pamiati chlena-korre-
spondenta AN SSSR Vladimira Terent’evicha Pashuto. Moskva, 18–20 aprelia 2012.
Materialy konferencii, Moscow 2012, pp. 30–34.
Burmeister, S., “Archaeology and migration. Approaches to an archaeological proof of
migration”, Current Anthropology 41/4 (2000), 539–567.
Bystrický, P., Sťahovanie národov (454–568). Ostrogóti, Gepidi, Longobardi a Slova-
nia [The Migration Period (454–568). Ostrogoths, Gepids, Lombards, and Slavs],
Bratislava 2008.
Cabana, G.S./Clark, J.J., “Migration in anthropology. Where we stand”, in G.S. Cabana/J.J.
Clark (eds.), Rethinking Anthropological Perspectives on Migration, Gainesville 2011,
pp. 3–15.
Canache, A./Curta, F., “Depozite de unelte şi arme medievale timpurii de pe teritoriul
României” [Hoards of early medieval iron weapons and implements in Romania],
Mousaios 4/1 (1994), 179–221.
Carr, C., “A unified middle-range theory of artifact design”, in C. Carr/J.E. Neitzel (eds.),
Style, Society, and Person: Archaeological and Ethnological Perspectives, New York/
London 1995, pp. 171–258.
Carson, M.T./Hung, H., “Semiconductor theory in migration: population receivers,
homelands, and gateways in Taiwan and Island Southeast Asia”, World Archaeology
46/4 (2014), 502–515.
Ciupercă, B., “Some observations from the point of view of the Slon fortifications about
power centres in the Lower Danube between the eighth and the tenth centuries”, in
A. Paroń/S. Rossignol/B.S. Szmoniewski/G. Vercamer (eds.), Potestas et communitas.
Interdisziplinäre Beiträge zu Wesen und Darstellung von Herrschaftsverhältnissen im
Mittelalter östlich der Elbe, Warsaw/Wrocław 2010, pp. 257–289.
Clark, J.J., “Disappearance and diaspora. Contrasting two migrations in the southern
U.S. Southwest”, in G.S. Cabana/J.J. Clark (eds.), Rethinking Anthropological Perspec-
tives on Migration, Gainesville 2011, pp. 84–107.
Curta, F., The Making of the Slavs. History and Archaeology of the Lower Danube Region,
c. 500–700, Cambridge/New York 2001.
Curta, F., “The Prague type: a critical approach to pottery classification”, Archaeologia
Bulgarica 5/1 (2001), 73–106.
Curta, F., “The Slavic lingua franca (Linguistic notes of an archaeologist turned histo-
rian)”, East Central Europe 31/1 (2004), 125–148.
Curta, F., “The earliest Avar-age stirrups, or the ‘stirrup controversy’ revisited”, in F.
Curta (ed.), The Other Europe in the Middle Ages. Avars, Bulgars, Khazars, and
Cumans (East Central and Eastern Europe in the Middle Ages, 450–1450, 2), Leiden/
Boston 2008, pp. 297–326.
Curta, F., “Utváření Slovanů (se zvláštním zřetelem k Čechám a Moravě)” [The making
of the Slavs (with a special emphasis on Bohemia and Moravia)], Archeologické ro-
zhledy 60 (2008), 643–694.
Curta, F., Text, Context, History, and Archaeology. Studies in Late Antiquity and the Mid-
dle Ages (Florilegium magistrorum historiae archaeologiaeque Antiquitatis et Me-
dii Aevi, 6), Bucharest/Brăila 2009.
Curta, F., “The early Slavs in Bohemia and Moravia: a response to my critics”, Archeo-
logické rozhledy 61 (2009), 725–754.
Curta, F., “The early Slavs in the northern and eastern Adriatic region. A critical ap-
proach”, Archeologia Medievale 37 (2010), 307–329.
Curta, F., “The beginning of the Middle Ages in the Balkans”, Millennium 10 (2013),
145–214.
Curta, F., “The image and archaeology of the Pechenegs”, Banatica 23 (2013), 143–202.
Curta, F., “Four questions for those who still believe in prehistoric Slavs and other fairy
tales”, Starohrvatska prosvjeta 42 (2015), 286–303.
Darkó, Jenő. “Die Übersiedlung der Walachen vom Süden nach Norden der Donau”,
Izvestiia na Bălgarskoto istorichesko druzhestvo 17 (1940), 173–180.
Dienes, I., “A karancslapujtői honfoglalás kori őv és mordvinföldi hasonmása” [The belt
set from Karancslapujtő dated to the 10th century and its analogy from the land of
the Mordva], Archaeologiai Értesitő 91 (1964), 18–40.
Dienes, I., Die Ungarn um die Zeit der Landnahme, Budapest 1972.
Dommelen, P. van, “Moving on: archaeological perspectives on mobility and migra-
tion”, World Archaeology 46/4 (2014), 477–483.
Ducellier, A., “Les sources byzantines et l’apparition des Hongrois en Europe”, Etudes
finno-ougriennes 1 (1964), 29–53.
Ducellier, A., “Les Albanais du xie au xiiie siècle: nomades ou sédentaires?” Byzan-
tinische Forschungen 7 (1979), 23–36.
Dudek, J., “Pieczęć magistra Jana Kegena jako wyraz polityki Bizancjum wobec stepow-
ców w połowie xi w” . [The seal of magistros John Kegen as an expression of the
Byzantine empire’s policy towards nomads in the mid-11th century], in S. Rosik/P.
Wiszewski (eds.), Causa creandi. O pragmatyce źródła historycznego, Wrocław 2005,
pp. 327–343.
Dulinicz, M., “Najstarsza faza osadnictwa słowiańskiego w północnej części Europy
Środkowej” [The earliest phase of the Slavic migration to the northern part of Cen-
tral Europe], in P. Kaczanowski/M. Parczewski (eds.), Archeologia o początkach
Słowian. Materiały z konferencji, Kraków, 19–21 listopada 2001, Cracow 2005,
pp. 513–526.
126 Curta
Dulinicz, M., Frühe Slawen im Gebiet zwischen unterer Weichsel und Elbe. Eine archäolo-
gische Studie, Neumünster 2006.
Dzino, D., Becoming Slav, Becoming Croat. Identity Transformation in Post-Roman and
Early Medieval Dalmatia (East Central and Eastern Europe in the Middle Ages, 450–
1450, 12), Leiden/Boston 2010.
Dzino, D., “Pričam ti priču: ideološko-narativni diskursi o dolasku Hrvata u De admin-
istrando imperio” [Telling the stories: ideological-narrative discourses on the Croat
migrations in De administrando imperio], Radovi Zavoda za hrvatsku povijest 42
(2010), 153–165.
Fazioli, K.P., “Rethinking ethnicity in early medieval archaeology: social identity, tech-
nological choice, and communities of practice”, in S.D. Stull (ed.), From West to East.
Current Approaches to Medieval Archaeology, Newcastle upon Tyne 2014, pp. 20–39.
Fiedler, U., “Bulgars in the Lower Danube region. A survey of the archaeological
evidence and of the state of current research”, in F. Curta (ed.), The Other Europe
in the Middle Ages. Avars, Bulgars, Khazars, and Cumans, Leiden/Boston 2008,
pp. 151–236.
Fiedler, U., “Zur Suche nach dem archäologischen Niederschlag von Petschenegen,
Uzen und Kumanen in den Gebieten südlich der unteren Donau”, in F. Curta/B.-P.
Maleon (eds.), The Steppe Lands and the World Beyond Them. Studies in Honor of
Victor Spinei on his 70th Birthday, Iași 2013, pp. 249–285.
Fodor, I., In Search of a New Homeland. The Prehistory of the Hungarian People and the
Conquest. Budapest 1982.
Fodor, I., “K voprosu ob etnicheskoi prinadlezhnosti imen’kovskoi kul’tury (Tezisy)”
[On the ethnic attribution of the Imen’kovo culture], in M.Z. Vasiutin (ed.),
Formirovanie, istoricheskoe vzaimodeistvie, kul’turnye sviazi finno-ugorskikh narodov.
Materialy iii mezhdunarodnogo istoricheskogo kongressa finno-ugrovedov, Ioshkar-
Ola 2004, pp. 106–107.
Fodor, I., “Ecology and migrations on the Eurasian steppes and the Carpathian Basin”,
Chronica. Annual of the Institute of History, University of Szeged 7–8 (2007–2008),
77–84.
Fodor, I., “A ‘kettős honfoglalás’ elméletének forrásvidéke” [The sources of the “double
land-taking” theory], Korunk 8 (2014), 75–81.
Fóthi, E./Lőrinczy, G./Marcsik, A., “Arkheologicheskie i antropologicheskie sviazi
mezhdu stepiami Evrazii i ranneavarskoi gruppoi naseleniia v Karpatskom basse-
ine” [Archaeological and anthropological relations between the Eurasian steppe
and a group of early Avar population in the Carpathian Basin], in D.A. Stashenkov/A.F.
Kochkina/A.M. Kuznecova (eds.), Kul’tury evraziiskikh stepei vtoroi poloviny I tysi-
acheletiia n.e. (iz istorii kostiuma), vol. 2, Samara 2001, pp. 211–219.
Frachetti, M., “Migration concepts in Central Eurasian archaeology”, Annual Review of
Anthropology 40 (2011), 195–212.
Freeden, U. von, “Wer stört Gräber? Grabstörungen ohne Graböffnungen”, Acta Archae-
ologica Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae 59 (2008), no. 2, 247–255.
Freeden, U. von/Vida, T., “Ausgrabung des langobardenzeitlichen Gräberfeldes von
Szólád, Komitat Somogy, Ungarn. Vorbericht und Überblick über langobardenzeitli-
chen Besiedlung am Plattensee”, Germania 85 (2005), 359–384.
Friedwagner, M. “Über die Sprache und Heimat der Rumänen in ihre Frühzeit”,
Zeitschrift für romanische Philologie 44 (1934), 641–715.
Furas’ev, A.G., “Fenomen kievskoi arkheologicheskoi kul’tury i ranneslavianskoe edin-
stvo”, [The phenomenon of the Kiev archaeological culture and the early Slavic
unity], in D.A. Machinskii (ed.), Istoki slavianstva i Rusi. Sbornik statei po material-
am x chtenii pamiati Anny Machinskoi (Staraia Ladoga, 24–25 dekabria 2005 g.), St.
Petersburg 2012, pp. 166–174.
Fusek, G., “Drevnee slavianskoe naselenie na territorii Slovakii” [The early Slavic popu-
lation on the territory of Slovakia], Stratum+ (2015), 5, 151–62.
Garam, É. “The Vrap treasure”, in K. Reynolds Brown/D. Kidd/Ch.T. Little (eds.), From
Attila to Charlemagne. Arts of the Early Medieval Period in the Metropolitan Museum
of Art, New York 2000, pp. 170–179.
Gardeła, L. Scandinavian Amulets in Viking Age Poland, Rzeszów 2014.
Gardeła, L., “Amulety skandynawskie z Wolina i Truso” [Scandinavian amulets from
Wolin and Truso], in J. Popielska-Grzybowska/J. Iwaszczuk (eds.), Meetings at the
Borders. Studies Dedicated to Professor Władysław Duczko, Pułtusk 2016, pp.
99–106.
Gavritukhin, I.O., “Nachalo velikogo slavianskogo rasselenie na iug i zapad” [The begin-
ning of the Slavic migration to the south and west], in P.P. Tolochko (ed.), Arkheo-
logichni studii, vol. 1, Kiev/Chernivtsi 2000, pp. 72–90.
Godłowski, K., “Die Frage der slawischen Einwanderung in östliche Mitteleuropa”,
Zeitschrift für Ostforschung 28 (1979), 416–447.
Godłowski, K., Frühe Slawen in Mitteleuropa, Neumünster 2005.
Goffart, W., Barbarian Tides. The Migration Age and the Later Roman Empire, Philadel-
phia 2006.
Gołębiowska-Tobiasz, A., “The Hungarians in the era of formation of south-western
borders of the Rurik state. Notes on ethnogenesis of old Hungarians”, in V.
Nagirnyy/A. Mesiarkin (eds.), Rus’ and Central Europe from the 11th to the 14th Cen-
tury. Publication after the 5th International Conference, Spišská kapitula, 16th-18th
October, 2014, Cracow/Bratislava 2015, pp. 37–54.
Gulyás, B., “Újabb adatok a kora avar kori Tiszántúl kelet-európai kapcsolataihoz” [New
results of the research concerning the relations between Eastern Hungary and the
East European steppe lands in the Early Avar period], in Cs. Balogh/B. Major (eds.),
Hadak útján xxiv. A népvándorláskor fiatal kutatóinak xxiv. konferenciája. Eszter-
gom, 2014. november 4–6., vol. 1, Budapest/Esztergom 2015, pp. 499–512.
128 Curta
Halsall, G., Barbarian Migrations and the Roman West, 376–568, Cambridge/New York
2007.
Hauptmann, L., “Dolazak Hrvata” [The Croatian conquest of Dalmatia], in Zbornik
kralja Tomislava u spomen tisučugodišnjice hrvatskogo kraljevstva, Zagreb 1925,
pp. 86–127.
Heather, P., The Goths, Oxford 1996.
Heather, P., Empires and Barbarians, London 2009.
Heinrich-Tamáska, O./Schweissing, M., “Strontiumisotopen- und Radiokarbonunter-
suchungen am anthropologischen Fundmaterial von Keszthely-Fenékpuszta: ihr
Aussagepotenzial zur Fragen der Migration und Chronologie”, in O. Heinrich-
Tamáska (ed.), Keszthely-Fenékpuszta im Kontext spätantiker Kontinuitätsforsc-
hung zwischen Noricum und Moesia, Budapest/Leipzig/Keszthely/ Rahden 2011,
pp. 457–474.
Herold, H., “Technological traditions in early medieval eastern Austria”, in O. Heinrich-
Tamáska/P. Straub/T. Vida (eds.), “Castellum, civitas, urbs”. Zentren und Eliten im
frühmittelalterlichen Ostmitteleuropa, Rahden 2015, pp. 329–344.
Holzer, G., “Proto-Slavic: historical setting and linguistic reconstruction”, East Central
Europe 31 (2004), no. 1, 49–59.
Indruszewski, G., “Technological aspects of cultural identity: the case of early medieval
shipbuilding and seafaring in the Baltic”, in S. Moździoch/B. Stanisławski/P. Wisze-
wski (eds.), Scandinavian Culture in Medieval Poland, Wrocław 2013, pp. 437–455.
Iordanov, I., “Sceau d’archonte de Patzinakia du xi-e siècle”, Etudes Balkaniques 28/2
(1992), 79–82.
Iordanov, I., “Pechati na Ioan Kegen, magistăr i arkhont na Pechenegiia (1050–1051)”
[The seal of John Kegen, the magistros and archon of Patzinakia, 1050–1051], Numiz-
matika i sfragistika 5/1 (1998), 96–101.
Iushkova, M.A., “North-western Russia before its settling by Slavs (8th century bc–8th
century ad)”, in J. Nuorluoto (ed.), The Slavicization of the Russian North. Mecha-
nisms and Chronology, Helsinki 2006, pp. 141–154.
Ivanov, R., “Novi danni za pechenegite v Iuzhna Dobrudzha” [New data on the Pech-
enegs in southern Dobrudzha], Dobrudzha 30 (2015), 401–410.
Jansson, I., “Warfare, trade or colonisation? Some general remarks on the eastern ex-
pansion of the Scandinavians in the Viking period”, in P. Hansson (ed.), The Rural
Viking in Russia and Sweden. Conference 19–20 October 1996 in the Manor of Karlslund,
Örebro, Sweden, Örebro 1997, pp. 9–64.
Jarak, M., “Zapažanja o grobljima 8.i 9. st. u Dalmaciji” [Notes on the cemeteries of the
8th and 9th century in Dalmatia], Opuscula Archaeologica 26 (2002), 247–255.
Jarnut, J., Die Geschichte der Langobarden, Stuttgart 1982.
Kardaras, G., “The settlement of the Croats and Serbs on the Balkans in the frame of
the Byzantine-Avar conflicts”, in S. Dermendzhieva/D. Dimitrov (eds.), Bălgariia,
bălgarite i Evropa. Mit, istoriia, săvremie. iv (Dokladi ot Mezhdunarodna konferenciia
v pamet na prof. d.i.n. Iordan Andreev “Bălgariia, zemia na blazheni…”, V. Tărnovo,

29–31 oktomvri 2009 g.), Veliko Tărnovo 2011, pp. 91–98.
Kazanski, M., “Les Slaves dans la zone forestière d’Europe orientale au début du Moyen
Age” in M. Kazanski/A. Nercessian/C. Zuckerman (eds.), Les centres proto-urbains
russes entre Scandinavie, Byzance et Orient. Actes du colloque international tenu au
Collège de France en octobre 1997, Paris 2000, pp. 17–44.
Keresztes, N.N., “Fegyveres langobardok Magyarországon I. Típusok és fegyverkom-
binációk” [Langobard warriors in Hungary i. Types and combinations], in Cs.
Balogh/B. Major (eds.), Hadak útján xxiv. A népvándorláskor fiatal kutatóinak
xxiv. konferenciája. Esztergom, 2014. november 4–6., vol. 1, Budapest/Esztergom 2015,
pp. 469–498.
Klein, L.S., “Migraciia: arkheologicheskie priznaki” [The archaeological markers of mi-
gration], Stratum+ (1999), 1, 151–62.
Knudson, K., “Identifying archaeological human migration using biogeochemistry.
Case studies from the south-central Andes”, in G.S. Cabana/J.J. Clark (eds.), Rethink-
ing Anthropological Perspectives on Migration, Gainesville, 2011, pp. 231–247.
Kobyliński, Z., “The Slavs, 500–700 a.d.”, in P. Fouracre (ed.), The New Cambridge Medi-
eval History, vol. 1, Cambridge/New York 2005, pp. 524–544.
Koneckii, V. Ia., “Slavianskaia kolonizaciia Iuzhnogo Prichud’ia na fone obshchikh
etnokul’turnykh processov Severo-Zapada” [The Slavic colonization of the southern
region of Lake Peipus against the background of the ethno-cultural processes in
Northwestern Russia], in V.V. Sedov (ed.), Pskov v rossiiskoi i evropeiskoi istorii. K
1100-letiiu pervogo letopisnogo upominaniia, Moscow 2003, pp. 206–212.
Kristiansen, K./Šmejda, L./Turek, J., “Evžen Neustupný: paradigm found”, in K.
Kristiansen/L. Šmejda/J. Turek (eds.), Paradigm Found. Archaeological Theory, Pres-
ent, Past and Future. Essays in Honour of Evžen Neustupný, Oxford/Philadelphia
2014, pp. 1–4.
Kristó, Gy., “Nyelv és etnikum. A ‘kettős honfoglalás’ elméleti alaplaihoz” [Language
and ethnicity. On the theoretical basis of the “double conquest” concept], in A. Ró-
na-Tas (ed.), A 80-as évek társadalomtudománya: eredmények és perspektivák, Sze-
ged 1983, pp. 177–190.
Kulikowski, M., Rome’s Gothic Wars from the Third Century to Alaric, Cambridge/New
York 2007.
Kuna, M., “Intransigent archaeology. An interview with Evžen Neustupný on his life in
archaeology”, Archaeological Dialogues 19/1 (2012), 3–28.
Kunstmann, H., “Wie die Slovene an den Ilmensee kamen”, Welt der Slawen 30 (1985),
387–401.
Kunstmann, H., “Waren die ersten Přemysliden Balkanslaven?”, Welt der Slawen 32
(1987), 25–47.
Kuz’min, S.L., “O vremeni, kharatere i obstaiatel’stvakh slavianskogo rasseleniia na
Severo-Zapade” [On the chronology, character, and circumstances of the Slavic
130 Curta
s ettlement in northwestern Russia], in D.A. Machinskii (ed.), Ladoga i epokha vi-

kingov. Chetvertye chteniia pamiati Anny Machinskoi. Staraia Ladoga, 21–23 dekabria
1198 g. Materialy k chteniiam, St. Petersburg 1998, pp. 8–15.
Kuz’min, S.L./Mikhailova, E.R., “Novye materialy k probleme slavianskogo rasseleniia
na severo-zapade Rusi” [New data on the problem of the Slavic settlement in north-
western Russia], in V.V. Sedov (ed.), Etnogenez i etnokul’turnye kontakty slavian
(Trudy vi Mezhdunarodnogo Kongressa slavianskogo arkheologii, 3), Moscow 1997,
pp. 138–146.
La Salvia, V., “La diffusione della staffa nell’area merovingia orientale alla luce delle
fonti archeologiche”, Temporis signa. Archeologia della tarda antichità e del medioe-
vo 2 (2007), 155–171.
Langó, P., “Archaeological research on the conquering Hungarians: a review”, in B.G.
Mende (ed.), Research on the Prehistory of the Hungarian: a Review. Papers Presented
at the Meetings of the Institute of Archaeology of the HAS, 2003–2004, Budapest 2005,
pp. 175–340.
László, Gy., “A ‘kettős honfoglalás’-ról” [On the Magyar “double conquest”], Archaeolo-
giai Értesitő 97 (1970), 161–190.
Leach, S., A Russian Perspective on Theoretical Archaeology. The Life and Work of Leo S.
Klejn, Walnut Creek 2015.
Lőrinczy, G., “Kelet-európai steppei népesség a 6–7. századi Kárpát-medencében. Ré-
gészeti adatok a Tiszántúl kora avar kori betelepüléséhez” [The East European
steppe population in the Carpathian Basin during the 6th and 7th centuries. Ar-
chaeological contributions to the Early Avar settlement in the lands beyond the
Tisza], Móra Ferenc Múzeum Evkönyve. Studia Archaeologica 4 (1998), 343–472.
Macdonald, J.S./Macdonald, L.D., “Chain migration, ethnic neighborhood formation
and social networks”, Millbank Memorial Fund Quarterly 42/1 (1964), 82–97.
Machinskii, D.A., “Migraciia slavian v I tysiacheletiia n. e”. [The migration of the Slavs
in the first millennium], in V.D. Koroliuk (ed.), Formirovanie rannefeodal’nykh slavi-
anskikh narodnostei, Moscow 1981, pp. 31–52.
Madaras, L., “Az Alföldi avarság 9. századi továbbélésének lehetoségérol a régészeti for-
rások tükrében” [The presumed continuity of the Avar population in the 9th-century
Great Plain in the light of the archaeological evidence], in G. Lőrinczy (ed.), Az
Alföld a 9. században (Az 1992. November 30–December 1-én elhangzott előadások
írott változatai), Szeged 1993, pp. 11–32.
Madgearu, A., “The periphery against the centre: the case of Paradunavon”, Zbornik
radova Vizantološkog Instituta 40 (2003), 49–56.
Magyar, K., “A honfoglalás (kettős honfoglalás) legújabb somogyi forrásairól” [The
newest evidence of the conquest (double conquest) of the homeland from Co. So-
mogyi], Valóság 39/6 (1996), 42–53.
Malyarchuk, B.A./Grzybowski, T./Derenko, M.V./Czarny, J./Drobnič, K./Miścicka-

Śliwka, D., “Mitochondrial DNA variability in Bosnians and Slovenians”, Annals of
Human Genetics 67/5 (2003), 412–425.
Matveeva, G.I., “O proiskhozhdenii imen’kovskoi kul’tury” [On the origin of the
Imen’kovo culture], in G.I. Matveeva (ed.), Drevnie i srednevekovie kul’tury Povolzh’ia.
Mezhvuzovskii sbornik, Kuibyshev 1981, pp. 52–73.
Matveeva, G.I., “K voprosu o proiskhozhdenii pogrebenii s trupopolozheniiami na ter-
ritorii imen’kovskoi kul’tury” [On the origin of inhumation burials from the
Imen’kovo culture], in A.F. Kochkina/L.V. Kuznecova/D.A. Stashenkov (eds.),
Kul’tury evraziiskikh stepei vtoroi poloviny I tysiacheletiia n.e, Samara 1996, pp. 58–65.
Matveeva, G.I., Srednee Povolzh’e v iv–vii vv.: imen’kovskaia kul’tura [The Middle Volga
region between the 4th and the 7th cc.: the Imen’kovo culture], Samara 2003.
Měřínský, Z., České země od příchodu Slovanů po Velkou Moravu [The Czech lands from
the arrival of the Slavs to Great Moravia], Prague 2002.
Mesterházy, K., “Die Landnahme der Ungarn aus archäologischer Sicht”, in M. Müller-
Wille/R. Schneider (eds.), Ausgewählte Probleme europäischer Landnahmen des
Früh- und Hochmittelalters, vol. 2, Sigmaringen 1994, pp. 22–65.
Mielnik-Sikorska, M./Daca, P./Malyarchuk, B.A./Derenko, M.V./Skonieczna, K./Perkova,
M.A./Dobosz, T./Grzybowski, T., “The history of the Slavs inferred from complete
mitochondrial genome sequences”, PLoS One 8 (2013), 1–11.
Minasian, R.S., “Problema slavianskogo zaseleniia lesnoi zony Vostochnoi Evropy v
svete arkheologicheskikh dannykh” [Problems of the Slavic settlement of the forest
belt in Eastern Europe in the light of the archaeological evidence], in A.D. Stoliar
(ed.), Severnaia Rus’ i ee sosedi v epokhu rannego srednevekov’ia. Mezhvuzovskii
sbornik, Leningrad 1982, pp. 24–29.
Múcska, V. “Migracja i etnogeneza węgrów. Zarys współczesnego stanu badań” [The
migration and ethnogenesis of the Hungarians. An outline of contemporary re-
search], in M. Salamon/J. Strzelczyk (eds.), Wędrówka i etnogeneza w starożytności i
średniowieczu, Cracow 2010, pp. 335–347.
Musset, L., Les invasions: le second assaut contre l’Europe chrétienne (vii-e–xi-e siècles).
Paris 1971.
Neustupný, E., “Prehistoric migrations by infiltration”, Archeologické rozhledy 34 (1982),
278–293.
Nichols, J., “The linguistic geography of the Slavic expansion”, in R.A. Maguire/A. Tim-
berlake (eds.), American Contributions to the Eleventh International Congress of Slav-
ists. Bratislava, August–September 1993. Literature, Linguistics, Poetics, Columbus
1993, pp. 377–391.
Novikova, G.L., “Iron neck-rings with Thor’s hammers found in Eastern Europe”, Forn-
vännen 87 (1992), 73–89.
132 Curta
Nowakowski, W., “Die Olsztyn-Gruppe (masurgermanische Kultur) in der Völkerwan-

derungszeit. Das Problem ihrer chronologischen und territorialen Grenzen”, in M.
Maczyńska/T. Grabarczyk (eds.), Die spätrömische Kaiserzeit und die frühe Völker-
wanderungszeit im Mittel- und Osteuropa, Łódż 2000, pp. 168–190.
Nowakowski, W., “Zmierzch dawnych czasów, czy świt nowej epoki? Południowa
rubież osadnictwa zachodniobałtyskiego w vi–vii wieku” [The twilight of the old
times or the dawn of the new epoch? The southern outskirts of the West Baltic set-
tlement area in the 6th and 7th century], in W. Chudziak/S. Moździoch (eds.), Stan
i potrzeby badań nad wczesnym średniowieczem w Polsce—15 lat później, Toruń/
Wrocław/Warsaw 2006, pp. 273–283.
Okulicz, J., “Osadnictwo ziem pruskich od czasów najdawniejszych do xiii
wieku” [The settlement in Prussia from the earliest times to the 13th c.], in J.
Sikorski/S. Szostakowski (eds.), Dzieje Warmii i Mazur w zarysie, vol. 1, Warsaw
1981, pp. 8–60.
Olajos, T., “De la théorie de la ‘double conquête’ hongroise du Bassin des Carpathes”,
Studia Hungaro-Bulgarica 1 (2007), 49–61.
Oleinikov, O.M., “Kul’tura dlinnykh kurganov verkhnevolzhskogo i verkhnedneprovsk-
ogo regionov” [The culture of the long barrows in the Upper Volga and Upper
Dnieper regions], Tverskoi Arkheologicheskii Sbornik 6/2 (2007), 166–184.
Ovchinnikova, B.B./Gyóni, G., Protovengry na Urale v trudakh rossiskikh i vengerskikh
issledovatelei [The Proto-Hungarians in the Urals in the Russian and Hungarian his-
toriography], Ekaterinburg 2008.
Peters, D./Knipper, C./ von Freeden, U./Müller, W./Maurer, A.-F./Alt, K.W./Vida, T.,
“Schmelztiegel Balaton? Zum Verhältnis ‘langobardischer’ Einwanderergruppen
und (vor-)langobardenzeitlichen romanischer Bevölkerung am Balaton-Szólád und
Keszthely-Fenékpuszta zwischen Archäologie und Isotopie”, in O. Heinrich-
Tamáska/P. Straub (eds.), Mensch, Siedlung und Landschaft im Wechsel der
Jahrtausende am Balaton, Budapest/Leipzig/Keszthely/Rahden 2014, pp. 337–360.
Piguet-Panayotova, D., “The gold and silver vessels from the Albanian treasure in a new
light”, in R. Harreither/Ph. Pergola/R. Pillinger/A. Pülz (eds.), Acta Congressus inter-
nationalis xiv archaeologiae Christianae, Vindobonae 19.-26. 9. 1999. Frühes Christen-
tum zwischen Rom un Konstantinopel, Vatican 2006, pp. 609–619.
Pillon, M., “L’exode des Sermésiens et les grandes migrations des Romains de Pannonie
dans les Balkans durant le Haut Moyen Age”, Etudes Balkaniques 38/3 (2002),
103–141.
Pleterski, A., Etnogeneza Slovanov: obris trenutnega stanja arheoloskih raziskav [The
ethnogenesis of the Slavs. An outline of the current state of archaeological research],
Ljubljana 1990.
Pleterski, A., “Etnogeneza Slavena—metode i proces”, [The Slavic ethnogenesis—
method and process], Starohrvatska prosvjeta 40 (2013), 8–32.
Pohl, W., Die Awaren. Ein Steppenvolk im Mitteleuropa 567–822 n. Chr., Munich 2002.
Pohl, W., “Migration und Ethnogenese der Langobarden aus Sicht der Schriftquellen”,
in J. Bemmann/M. Schmauder (eds.), Kulturwandel in Mitteleuropa. Langobarden—
Awaren—Slawen. Akten der internationalen Tagung in Bonn vom 25. bis 28 Februar
2008, Bonn 2008, pp. 1–12.
Price, T.D./Frei, K.M., “Isotopic proveniencing of the Bodzia burials”, in A. Buko (ed.),
Bodzia. A Late Viking-Age Elite Cemetery in Central Poland (East Central and Eastern
Europe in the Middle Ages, 450–1450, 27), Leiden/Boston 2015, pp. 445–462.
Profantová, N., “Cultural discontinuity and the migration hypothesis. The ‘Slavic
migration’ (6th century) in the light of new archaeological finds from Bohemia”, in
R. Annaert/T. Jacobs/I. In’t Ven/S. Coppens (eds.), The Very Beginning of Europe?
Cultural and Social Dimensions of Early Medieval Migration and Colonisation (5th-8th
Century). Archaeology in Contemporary Europe. Conference, Brussels, May 17–19, 2011,
Brussels 2012, pp. 255–264.
Profantová, N., “Slaviane na territorii Chekhii i ikh kontakty v vi-vii vv”. [Slavs on the
territory of Czechia and their contacts in the 6th–7th centuries], Stratum+ (2015), 5,
97–116.
Profantová, N./Bureš, M., “Bedeutende frühe slawische Siedlungen in Böhmen (6.–8.
Jh.) und Probleme der absoluten Datenerfassung”, in M. Dulinicz/S. Moździoch
(eds.), The Early Slavic Settlement in Central Europe in the Light of New Dating Evi-
dence, Wrocław 2013, pp. 169–194.
Prykhodniuk, O.M., “Osnovni pidsumky ta zavdannia vyvchennia Pastyrs’kogo goro-
dyshcha”, [The main results and the main problems of the archaeological excava-
tions within the Pastyr stronghold], Arkheolohiia 3 (1998), 4–24.
Pylypchuk, Ia., “Predystoriia vengrov i vengero-permskaia problema” [The prehistory
of the Magyars and the Magyar-Perm problem], Ekho vekov 1–2 (2015), 121–132.
Rastoropov, A.V., “Voprosy etnokul’turnoi istorii lesostepnoi Povolzh’ia vtoroi poloviny
I tysiacheletiia n. e. i migracii naseleniia” [Questions of ethnohistory regarding the
forest-steppe belt in the Volga region during the second half of the first millennium
ad and the migration of the population], in D.A. Stashenkov (ed.), Kul’tury evra-
ziiskikh stepei vtoroi poloviny I tysiacheletiia n. e. Voprosy mezhetnicheskikh kontaktov
i mezhkul’turnogo vzaimodeistviia, Samara 2010, pp. 45–49.
Róna-Tas, A., “The migration of the Hungarians and their settlement in the Carpathian
basin”, in A. Berta/E. Horváth (eds.), Historical and Linguistic Interaction Between
Inner Asia and Europe. Proceedings of the 39th Permanent International Altaistic
Conference (PIAC), Szeged, Hungary: June 16–21, 1996, Szeged 1997, pp. 243–253.
Schramm, G., Eroberer und Eingesessene. Geographische Lehnnahmen als Zeugen der
Geschichte Südosteuropas im ersten Jahrtausend n.Chr., Stuttgart 1981.
Schramm, G., Anfänge des albanischen Christentums. Die frühe Bekehrung der Bessen
und ihre langen Folgen, Freiburg im Breisgau 1994.
Schweissing, M.M., “Archäologische Fragen zu Migration: Grundlagen, Chancen
und Probleme von Untersuchungen stabiler Strontiumisotope (87Sr/86Sr)”, in O.
134 Curta
einrich-Tamáska/N. Krohn/S. Ristow (eds.), Dunkle Jahrhunderte in Mitteleuropa?

H
Tagungsbeiträge der Arbeitsgemeinschaft Spätantike und Frühmittelalter. 1. Rituale
und Moden (Xanten, 8. Juni 2006). 2. Möglichkeiten und Probleme archäologisch-
naturwissenschaftlicher Zusammenarbeit (Schleswig, 9.–10. Oktober 2007)(Studien
zu Spätantike und Frühmittelalter, 1), Hamburg 2009, pp. 293–306.
Sedov, V.V., “Nachalo slavianskogo osvoeniia territorii Novgorodskoi zemli” [The begin-
ning of the Slavic settlement of the Novogorod lands], in G.A. Fedorov-Davydov/
E.A. Ryvina/A.S. Khoroshev (eds.), Istoriia i kul’tura drevnerusskogo goroda, Moscow
1989, pp. 12–17.
Sedov, V.V., “Venedy-slaviane v Iugo-Vostochnoi Pribaltike”, [Venedi-Slavs on the south-
eastern shore of the Baltic Sea], Arkheologiia i istoriia Pskova i Pskovskoi zemli (1992),
35–37.
Sedov, V.V., Slaviane v drevnosti [The Slavs in the past], Moscow 1994.
Sedov, V.V., “Proiskhozhdenie slavian i mestonakhozhdenie ikh prarodiny. Rasselenie
slavian v v–vii vv.” [The origin of the Slavs and their native land. Settling apart of
the Slavs in the 5th–7th c.)], in V.K. Volkov/V. Ia. Petrukhin/S.M. Tolstaia/B.N. Flor’ia
(eds.), Ocherki istorii kul’tury slavian, Moscow 1996, pp. 15–115.
Sedov, V.V., “O rasselenii dunaiskikh slavian na Vostochnoevropeiskoi ravnine” [The
migration of the Danubian Slavs to the East European plains], in E.A. Mel’nikova
(ed.), Vostochnaia Evropa v drevnosti i srednevekov’e. Kontakty, zony kontaktov i kon-
taktnye zony. xi Chteniia pamiati chlena-korrespondenta AH SSSR Vladimira
Terent’evicha Pashuto, Moskva, 14–16 aprelia 1999 g., Moscow 1999, pp. 39–41.
Sedov, V.V., “Migraciia dunaiskikh slavian v Vostochnuiu Evropu” [The migration of the
Danubian Slavs to Eastern Europe], Arkheologiia i istoriia Pskova i Pskovskoi zemli
(2000), 160–165.
Sedov, V.V., “Osnovnye voprosy izucheniia tushemlinskoi kul’tury” [The main issues in
the study of the Tushemlia culture], Stratum+ (2001–2002), 6, 431–437.
Sedov, V.V., “Sever Vostochno-Evropeiskoi ravniny v period pereseleniia narodov i v
rannem srednevekov’e (predyistoriia severnovelikorusov)”, [The northern part of
Eastern Europe during the Great Migration period and the early Middle Ages (the
prehistory of the northern Russians)], Kratkie soobshcheniia Instituta Arkheologii
AN Rossii 218 (2005), 12–22.
Shcheglova, O.A., “Volny rasprostraneniia veshchei iz Podunav’ia na Severo-Vostok v
vi–viii vv. kak otrazhenie migracii ili kul’turnykh vliianii” [The spread of artifacts
from the Danube region to northeastern Russia in the 6th to 8th centuries as indica-
tion of migration or cultural contacts], in D.A. Machinskii/T.B. Senichenkova (eds.),
Slozhenie russkoi gosudarstvennosti v kontekste rannesrednevekovoi istorii Starogo
Sveta. Materialy mezhdunarodnoi konferencii, sostoiavsheisia 14–18 maia 2007 goda v
Gosudarstvennoi Ermitazhe, St. Petersburg 2009, pp. 39–65.
Shevchenko, Iu.Iu., “Ekologicheskii krizis v–vii vv. i final ‘kul’tury rechnykh dolin’ (na
primere pogranich’ia lesa i lesostepi Dneprovskogo Levoberezh’ia)” [The ecological
crisis of the fifth to seventh century and the end of the “river valley cultures” (an
example from the frontier region between the forest and the steppe-forest belts in
Left-Bank Ukraine)], in V.I. D’iachenko/L.R. Pavlinskaia (eds.), Priroda i civilizaciia.
Reki i kul’tury. Materialy konferencii. Posviashchaetsia 100-letiiu vykhoda v svet pervo-
go russkogo izdaniia knigi vydaiushchegosia uchenogo L.I. Mechnikova “Civilizaciia i
velikie istoricheskie reki”, St. Petersburg 1997, pp. 213–219.
Shevchenko, Iu.Iu., V zone slavianskogo etnogeneza. Paleodemoekologiia Nizovii Desny v
pervom tysiacheleti nashei ery [Inside the Slavic ethnogenesis zone. The paleodemo-
ecology of the Lower Desna area during the first millennium a.d.], St. Petersburg
2002.
Sikora, J., “Akulturacja, wymuszona chrystianizacja czy migracja? Problem genezy
wczesnośredniowiecznej inhumacji na Pomorzu” [Acculturation, forced Chris
tianization or migration? The problem of the origin of inhumation in early medi-
eval Pomerania], in W. Dzieduszycki/J. Wrzesiński (eds.), Migracje, Poznań 2013,
pp. 135–146.
Sindbæk, S.M., “A Magyar occurence. Process, practice, and ethnicity between Europe
and the steppes”, Acta Archaeologica 70 (1999), 149–164.
Šlaus, M., “Kraniometrijska analiza srednjovjekovnih populacija središnje Europe s
posebnim osvrtom na položaj hrvatskih nalazišta” [Craniometric relationships of
medieval Central European populations: implications for the ethnogenesis of the
Croats], Starohrvatska prosvjeta 25 (1998), 81–107.
Šlaus, M./Tomičić, Ž./Uglešić, A./Jurić, R., “Craniometric relationships among medi-
eval Central European populations: implications for Croat migration and expan-
sion”, Croatian Medical Journal 45/4 (2004), 434–444.
Smirnov, A.P., “Nekotorye spornye voprosy istorii volzhskikh bolgar” [Some fundamen-
tal problems of the history of the Volga Bulgars], in D.A. Avdusin/V.L. Ianin (eds.),
Istoriko-arkheologicheskii sbornik. Artemiiu Vladimirovichu Arcikhovskomu shestide-
siatiletiiu so dnia rozhdeniia i tridcatipiatiletiiu nauchnoi, pedagogicheskoi i ob-
shchestvennoi deiatel’nosti, Moscow 1962, pp. 160–174.
Sołtysiak, A., “The plague endemic and Slavic expansion in the 6th–8th centuries”, Ar-
chaeologia Polona 44 (2006), 339–364.
Stadtmüller, G., Geschichte Südosteuropas, Munich 1950.
Stanev, K., “Migraciiata ot Trakiia kăm Severna Bălgariia v kraia na xii-nachaloto na
xiii vek i neinite posledici” [The late 12th- to early 13th-century migration from
Thrace to northern Bulgaria and its consequences], in G.N. Nikolov/A. Nikolov
(eds.), Srednovekovniiat bălgarin i “drugite”. Sbornik v chest na 60-godishniia na prof.
d. i. n. Petăr Angelov, Sofia 2013, pp. 207–226.
136 Curta
Szabados, Gy., “A legyőzött magyarok mint hódítók? A De Administrando Imperio és a

népvándorlások antik modellje” [The conquered Hungarians as the conquering
ones? The De administrando imperio and the ancient model of the migrations], in
T. Olajos (ed.), A Kárpát-medence, a magyarság és Bizánc, Szeged 2014, pp. 259–275.
Szenthe, G., “Technological history, experimental archaeology and bronze casting:
research findings and research perspectives in early medieval studies”, Hungarian
Archaeology (2013), 1–6.
Szentpéteri, J., “Was die Verbreitungskarten erzählen… Beiträge zum Problemkreis der
Datierung der Awarenzeit”, Antaeus 29 (2008), 325–346.
Tăpkova-Zaimova, V., “Roliata i administrativnata organizaciia na t. nar. ‘otvăddunavska
Bălgariia’” [The role and the administrative structure of the so-called “Bulgaria be-
yond the Danube”], in N. Todorov/V. Beshevliev/S. Velikov/K. Georgiev/S.
Dimitrov/P. Miiatev/P. Rusev (eds.), Prouchvaniia po sluchai ii Kongres po balkanis-
tika, Sofia 1970, pp. 63–73.
Tăpkova-Zaimova, V., “Migrations frontalières en Bulgarie médiévale”, in M. Balard/A.
Ducellier (eds.), Migrations et diasporas méditerranéennes (xe–xvie siècles). Actes
du Colloque de Conques (octobre 1999), Paris 2002, pp. 125–131.
Tejral, J., “Zur Unterscheidung des vorlangobardischen und elbgermanisch-langobar-
dischen Nachlasses”, in W. Pohl/P. Erhard (eds.), Die Langobarden. Herrschaft und
Identität, Vienna 2005, pp. 103–200.
Tejral, J., “K současnému stavu archeologického i historického bádání o nejčasnějším
středověku na Moravě” [To the present state of archaeological and historical re-
search on the early Middle Ages in Moravia], in J. Doležel/M. Wihoda (eds.), Mezi
raným a vrcholným středověkem. Pavlu Kouřilovi k šedesátým narozeninám přátelé,
kolegové a žáci, Brno 2012, pp. 29–68.
Teodor, D.Gh., “Evoluţia demografică şi culturală la est de Carpaţi în secolele v–xi d.
Hr.” [The demographic and cultural evolution in the lands to the east from the Car-
pathian Mountains between the 5th and the 11th century], Mousaios 15 (2010),
285–310.
Tomka, P., “Die Frage der ethnischen oder kulturellen Verwandschaft bzw. intereth-
nische Wirkung im Spiegel der Begräbnissitten”, A Wosinsky Mór Múzeum Evkönyve
15 (1990), 163–174.
Tóth, S.L., Levediától a Kárpát-medencéig. [From Lebedia to the Carpathian Basin], Sze-
ged 1998.
Tóth, T., “Észak-dunántul avarkori népességének embertani problémái” [Anthropo-
logical problems fo the Avar population in northern Transdanubia], Arrabona 9
(1967), 55–65.
Trugly, A., “Komárom-Hajógyár avar nemesi temetője” [The elite cemetery excavated in
Komárno-Lodenica], in A.K. Molnár/A. Nagy/P. Tomka (eds.), Jöttek-mentek. Lan-
gobardok és avarok a Kisalföldön. Kiállításvezető, Győr 2008, pp. 199–216.
Türk, A., “O novykh rezul’tatakh issledovaniia katakombnykh pogrebenii (Stollengräber)

v Karpatskom basseine” [New results in the study of graves with tunnel-shaped
shafts in the Carpathian Basin], in R.D. Goldina/I.G. Shapran/N.A. Leshchinskaia/L.D.
Makarov (eds.), Vzaimodeistvie narodov Evrazii v epokhu velikogo pereseleniia nar-
odov, Izhevsk 2006, pp. 180–184.
Turkina, T.Iu., “Poselenie Bichevnik I na srednei Pechore (po materialam raskopok 2013
g.)” [The Bichevnik I settlement on the Middle Pechora (on materials of the 2013 ex-
cavations)], Materialy po arkheologii evropeiskogo Severo-Vostoka 19 (2015), 80–88.
Tütken, Th./Knipper, C./Alt, K.W., “Mobilität und Migration im archäologischen
Kontext: Informationspotential von Multi-Element-Isotopenanalysen (Sr, Pb, O)”, in
J. Bemmann/M. Schmauder (eds.), Kulturwandel im Mitteleuropa. Langobarden-
Awaren-Slawen. Akten der internationalen Tagung in Bonn vom 25. bis 28. Februar
2008, Bonn 2009, pp. 13–42.
Tvauri, A., “Migrants or natives? The research history of long barrows in Russia and
Estonia in the 5th–10th centuries”, in J. Nuorluoto (ed.), Topics on the Ethnic, Linguis-
tic and Cultural Making of the Russian North, Helsinki 2007, pp. 1–38.
Udolph, J., “Die Landnahme der Ostslaven im Lichte der Namenforschung”, Jahrbücher
für Geschichte Osteuropas 29 (1981), 322–336.
Urbańczyk, P., “Obcy wśród Słowian”. [The role of foreign leaders in early Slavic societ-
ies], in M. Miśkiewiczowa (ed.), Słowianie w Europie wczesniejszego średniowiecza.
Katalog wystawy, Warsaw 1998, pp. 65–77.
Urbańczyk, P., “Foreign leaders in early Slavic societies”, in W. Pohl/M. Diesenberger
(eds.), Integration und Herrschaft. Ethnische Identitäten und soziale Organisation im
Frühmittelalter, Vienna 2002, pp. 257–268.
Váczy, P., “The Byzantine emperor Constantine vii Porphyrogenitus and the saga of
the Hungarian conquest”, Antaeus 19–20 (1990), 251–256.
Vajda, L. “Zur Frage der Völkerwanderungen”, Paideuma 19–20 (1973–1974), 5–53.
Vavruš, J., “Prvá maďarská generácia v archeologických a písomných prameňoch” [The
first generation of Magyars in the archaeological and written sources], in T.
Štefanovičová/D. Hulínek (eds.), Bitka pri Bratislave v roku 907 a jej význam pre vývoj
stredného Podunajska. Kolokvium sa uskutočnilo v Bratislave 19–20. júna 2007,
Bratislava 2008, pp. 183–193.
Viazov, L.A., “Proiskhozhdenie pakhotnykh orudii imen’kovskoi kul’tury” [The ori-
gin of the agricultural tools in the Imen’kovo culture], in A.A. Vybornov/N.N.
Kovaliuk/V.V. Skripkin/N.S. Berezina/A.V. Viskalin/V.V. Stavickii (eds.), Aktual’nye
voprosy arkheologii Urala i Povolzh’ia. Sbornik statei, Samara 2008, pp. 320–342.
Viazov, L.A., “O proiskhozhdenii toporov imen’kovskoi kul’tury” [On the origin of the
axes in the Imen’kovo culture], in D.A. Stashenkov (ed.), Aktual’nye voprosy arkhe-
ologii Povolzh’ia. K 65-letiiu studencheskogo nauchnogo arkheologicheskogo kruzhka
Kazanskogo universiteta, Kazan’ 2012, pp. 43–53.
138 Curta
Viazov, L.A./Stashenkov, D.A., “Kul’turno-khronologicheskie gruppy naseleniia Samar-

skogo i Ul’ianovskogo Povolzh’ia v epokhu Velikogo pereseleniia narodov” [Cultural
and chronological groups of the population in the Samara and Ul’ianovsk region of
the Volga during the Migration period], in E.V. Goldina/N.A. Leshchinskaia/E.M.
Chernykh/I.G.Shapran(eds.),Istoriko-kul’turnoenasledie—resursformirovaniiasocial’no-
istoricheskoi pamiati grazhdanskogo obshchestva (xiv Baderovskie chteniia). 14–15
oktiabria, g. Izhevsk, Izhevsk 2013, pp. 49–56.
Vida, T., “Aufgaben und Perspektiven der Langobardenforschung in Ungarn nach
István Bóna”, in J. Bemmann/M. Schmauder (eds.), Kulturwandel in Mitteleuropa.
Langobarden—Awaren—Slawen ; Akten der Internationalen Tagung in Bonn vom 25.
bis 28. Februar 2008, Bonn 2008, pp. 343–362.
Vida, T., “Die Langobarden in Pannonien”, in M. Hegewisch (ed.), Die Langobarden. Das
Ende der Völkerwanderungszeit. Katalog zur Ausstellung im Rheinischen Landes-
museum Bonn, 22.8.2008–11.1.2009, Bonn/Darmstadt 2008, pp. 73–89.
Vida, T., “La ricerca e le ultime scoperte longobarde in Pannonia: una sintesi”, in E. Pos-
senti (ed.), Necropoli longobarde in Italia. Indirizzi della ricerca e nuovi dati, Castello
del Buonconsiglio 2014, pp. 55–72.
Volkov, V.G., “K voprosu o migraciiakh i prarodine kychapkov. Geneticheskii aspekt”,
[On the question of the migrations and homeland of the Cumans. Genetic aspects]
Zolotoordynskaia civilizaciia 9 (2016), 298–308.
Werner, J., Der Schatzfund von Vrap in Albanien. Beiträge zur Archäologie der Awaren-
zeit im mittleren Donauraum, Vienna 1986.
Werner, J., “Der Schatz eines awarischen Kagans des 7. Jahrhunderts aus Vrap (Alban-
ien)”, Problemi na prabălgarskata istoriia i kultura 1 (1989), 19–31.
Zahra, T., The Great Departure. Mass Migration from Eastern Europe and the Making of
the Free World, New York 2016.
Zav’ialov, V.I./Terekhova, N.N., “Three-fold welding technology in the blacksmith’s craft
of medieval Rus’ (concerning Scandinavian innovations)”, in A. Hauptmann/D.
Moraressi-Tehrani (eds.), Archaeometallurgy in Europe iii. Proceedings of the 3rd In-
ternational Conference, Deutsches Bergbau-Museum, Bochum, June 29–July 1, 2011,
Bochum 2015, pp. 247–254.
Zimonyi, I., “A besenyők nyugatra vándorlásának okai” [On the westward migration of
the Pechenegs], Acta Universitatis Szegediensis de Attila Jozsef nominatae. Acta His-
torica 106 (1998), 129–144.
Živković, T., De conversione Croatorum et Serborum. A Lost Source, Belgrade 2012.
Part 2
Migrations and Mobility into and within
the Byzantine World
∵
Chapter 5
Migrating in the Medieval East Roman World, ca.

600–1204
Yannis Stouraitis
The movement of groups in the Byzantine world can be distinguished between

two basic types: first, movement from outside-in the empire; second, move-
ment within the – at any time – current boundaries of the Constantinopolitan
emperor’s political authority. This distinction is important insofar as the first
type of movement – usually in form of invasion or penetration of foreign peo-
ples in imperial lands – was mainly responsible for the extensive rearrange-
ment of its geopolitical boundaries within which the second type took place.
The disintegration of the empire’s western parts due to the migration of the
Germanic peoples in the 5th century was the event that set in motion the con-
figuration of the medieval image of the East Roman Empire by establishing the
perception in the eastern parts of the Mediterranean that there could be only
one Roman community in the world, that within the boundaries of authority
of the Roman emperor of Constantinople.1
From that time on, the epicentre of the Roman world shifted toward the
East. The geopolitical sphere of the imperial state of Constantinople included
the broader areas that were roughly circumscribed by the Italian peninsula in
the west, the regions of Mesopotamia and the Caucasus in the east, the North-
African shores in the south, and the Danube in the north.2 The Slavic settle-
ments in the Balkans and the conquest of the eastern provinces by the Muslims
between the late-6th and the late-7th century were the two major develop-
ments that caused a further contraction of east Roman political boundaries,
thus creating a discrepancy between the latter and the boundaries of the
Christian commonwealth that had been established in the east in the course of
late antiquity.3
This new geopolitical status quo created new conditions regarding the
movement of people and groups within the Empire. From a legal-political
viewpoint, internal migration needs to be identified with movement within
1 Stouraitis, “Reinventing Roman Ethnicity”, p. 72.

2 Haldon, The Palgrave Atlas of Byzantine History, pp. 22–67.
3 Fowden, Empire to commonwealth.
© Yannis Stouraitis, �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_006

142 Stouraitis
the –at any time current– boundaries of the imperial office’s enforceable
political, military, and economic authority. With respect to that, the fact that
large parts of formerly Roman territories and Christian-Roman subjects
were left outside the limits of this authority after the mid-7th century while
maintaining – especially in the case of the Chalcedonian Christians –

ideological bonds with the imperial power of Constantinople,4 calls for a more
flexible approach to the phenomenon of movement in the cultural context of
the eastern Christian-Roman Oecumene. As we shall see below, if the Islamic
conquest left a large part of Christian populations of various doctrines outside
the contracted limits of imperial authority, these populations functioned even-
tually as a pool from which the imperial power of Constantinople could draw
human resources from outside its current borders and resettle them on terri-
tory under its authority. This kind of movement had indeed very little to do
with migration of culturally foreign populations into the empire, since the mi-
grants’ Christian identity hardly made them more foreign in their new region
of settlement than any other group of Christians that migrated from one part
of imperial territory to another by order of the imperial government or by their
own initiative.
Departing from such a flexible approach to the movement of groups within
and from outside-in the at any time current imperial boundaries after the 7th
century, I will use as a starting point for my analysis the generic typological
distinction between involuntary and voluntary migration.5 The main criteria to
distinguish movement of groups will be: (1) whether their long-term or perma-
nent change of residence was forced by another actor or impelled by some
natural factor, or (2) whether it took place due to the individual initiative and
interests of the group. Diagram 5.1 represents an effort to schematize relevant
ideal types.
Based on this analytical framework, the focus of the current paper will be on
the different types of involuntary movement of groups in the geopolitical
sphere of the imperial state of Constantinople in the period between c.600 and
1204. As one may deduce from the diagram, involuntary migration consists of
many different subtypes. In the Byzantine case, given the status of our sources,
the major bulk of the information concerns migration of smaller or larger
groups of people, which was forced upon the migrating subjects by war or state
coercion. Warfare mainly caused two types of movement: first, deportation of
populations that were taken captive by enemy forces and were either sold as
slaves or resettled within the enemy’s administrative borders, either for a
longer period of time or permanently. Second, flight of populations from their
4 Haldon, The Empire that would not die, pp. 79–119.

5 Oliver-Smith/Hansen, “Involuntary migration and resettlement: causes and contexts”.
Migrating in the Medieval East Roman World, ca. 600–1204 143
types of migration
involuntary voluntary
impelled or forced movement
natural state coercion war educational professional

catastrophe
pilgrimage economic
Military Religious Deportation Refugees
Political Economic/ Military Economic

Demographic
Diagram 5.1
Categorisation of the types of migration and their causes discussed in
Byzantine sources
homelands in order to seek refuge (for a longer period of time or permanently)
in areas not affected by enemy raids or conquest. State coerced migration, on
the other hand, refers to the initiative of the imperial government to resettle
subject populations within the boundaries of the empire in order to meet vari-
ous needs and problems of demographic, economic and/or military character
as well as for the purpose of enhancing cultural-religious homogeneity in cer-
tain regions.
The here suggested ideal subtypes of forced migration by the state should
not be approached as mutually exclusive, since one type may very well include
elements of all the others. Moreover, this kind of migration also concerns coer-
cive actions in neighbouring states that forced parts of their subject popula-
tions to seek refuge in Byzantine territory. Besides war and state coercion a less
documented but equally important subtype of impelled movement was the
one caused by natural phenomena, such as plague, draught, flood etc. that oc-
casionally forced groups of people to abandon their home places in search of
better conditions of subsistence.
Given that forced migration has probably been the most studied aspect of
movement within the medieval East Roman Empire, especially for the period
between the seventh and the mid-9th century,6 my aim here is to take a closer
look at the development of the phenomenon in the period under scrutiny in
6 Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen; Charanis, “The Transfer of Population as a Policy in the

Byzantine Empire”, passim.
144 Stouraitis
order to discern various patterns and their ideological, political-economic,

military and cultural connotations.
1 Refugees of War
The 7th century admittedly represents a period of extensive transformation of

the Roman Empire of Constantinople, the main trigger of which was the inva-
sion and settlement of foreign peoples on imperial soil. After the end of Justin-
ian i’s reign, whose expansionary wars had re-established for the last time the
Roman dominion around the shores of the Mediterranean, the Empire re-
ceived serious blows in the West, the most important being the invasion of the
Lombards in Italy from 568 onwards. By the beginning of the 7th century, the
imperial power had once again been deprived of large parts of the Italian pen-
insula that had come under Lombard rule, its authority being confined to the
regions of Ravenna, Apulia and Calabria, and Sicily. In the East, the short-term
occupation of Roman provinces by the Persians, which Heraclius was able to
reverse in the late 620s, prepared the ground for the first phase of the early Is-
lamic expansion under the Rashidun Caliphs between 632 and 661.7
The loss of territories to the Slavs in the Balkan Peninsula as well as the loss
of the eastern provinces due to the consecutive Persian and Arab conquests
unavoidably led to a large number of people becoming refugees. These people
left the conquered areas in the face of the enemies’ advance in order to resettle
in other parts of the contracted territory that had remained under imperial
authority.8 The sources rarely offer detailed or, for that matter, reliable infor-
mation about the numbers of people that relocated or about the attitude of
different social groups. Nonetheless, the existing evidence indicates that the
imperial elite of service, the clergy and the monastic communities, as well as
the army represent those social groups whose members were the first to aban-
don the areas that fell under Persian and later under Muslim rule.
For instance, the major Byzantine defeats from the Arabs on the battlefield
were followed by the withdrawal of the eastern armies in Asia Minor, the re-
maining parts of which were resettled within Byzantine Anatolia. This set in
motion the emergence of a new military organization by the early-8th century,
which was based on large territorialized military commands, the so-called
7 Haldon, Byzantium in the seventh century, pp. 32–56; idem, The Empire that would not die;
Kaegi, Byzantium and the early Islamic Conquests.
8 On the Slavic settlement, cf. the chapters of Johannes Koder and Florin Curta in this vol-
ume; on the eastern provinces cf. the chapter of Panagiotis Theodoropoulos.
strategiai.9 Moreover, it is reported that one of Emperor Heraclius’ actions

against the Muslim advance was to evacuate the populations of the areas be-
tween Antioch and Tarsus leaving a no-man’s-land behind.10 The imperial
power was, also, capable of organizing the evacuation of people from cities
under siege when these had access to the sea, as the case of the inhabitants of
the besieged city of Tripolis on the Syriac coastline demonstrates. In the year
645, these dispatched letters to emperor Constans ii asking him to send a fleet
that would help them flee the city in case that no military reinforcements
could be sent from the imperial centre to relieve them from Muslim pressure.
Indeed, the emperor reacted to the request and an imperial fleet evacuated
those that wanted to leave the city, relocating them to an unknown safer place
within the empire.11
The interior of Asia Minor and Cyprus seem to have been the main areas
that received the bulk of the refugees from the conquered provinces in the
east. The Muslim conquerors of the eastern regions usually proceeded with a
common pattern toward the indigenous population. The inhabitants of Byzan-
tine cities that surrendered were given the choice to remain as subjects of the
Muslims paying the poll tax or to seek refuge to Byzantine territory if they so
wished.12 In some cases, populations that had fled their hometown in the face
of the Muslim advance were later able to make an agreement with the con-
querors and return, as the case of the Syrian city of Laodikeia demonstrates.13
In the Balkans, the Slavic settlement created a fairly different situation. The
actual portion of territory that various Slavic tribes occupied remains a debat-
ed issue among scholars. The dominant view is that up to the mid-7th century
Constantinople gradually lost administrative control over the largest part of
the peninsula, with the Slavs occupying the mainland as far south as the Pelo-
ponnese and leaving only small strips of territory, mainly on the eastern Greek
coastline, alongside some important urban centres such as Thessaloniki in the
north or Athens in the south under Byzantine authority. The result of this was
that large parts of the indigenous population abandoned their homelands and
migrated in two main directions: The one was southern Italy; a movement con-
cerning mainly the inhabitants of the western parts of the Balkan peninsula, in
particular of western Greece. The other direction was towards those strips of
9 Brubaker/Haldon, Byzantium in the Iconoclast Era, pp. 726–728.

10 Kaegi, Heraclius, pp. 244–245.
11 Al-Baladuri, The Origins of the Islamic State, p. 128.
12 Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen, p. 55. Similar practices were employed by the Byzan-
tines during their reconquest of the east in the tenth century, see Leon Diakonos, Historia,
ed. Hase, pp. 60, 161.
13 Hitti, The Origins of the Islamic State, p. 135.
146 Stouraitis
land and in particular those urban centres on the eastern coastline of Greece
as well as towards the islands of the Aegean.
The so-called chronicle of Monemvasia – despite its debated c redibility14–
provides plausible indications about the potential locations of resettlement of
the indigenous population of medieval Greece as a result of the Avar and Slavic
incursions. According to its author:
(the Avars) subjugated all of Thessaly Epirus, Attica and Euboea. They
made an incursion also in the conquered it by war, and, destroying and
driving out the noble and nations settled in it themselves. Those among
the former escaping from their blood-stained hands dispersed them-
selves here and there. The city of Patras emigrated to the territory of Rhe-
gium in Calabria; the Argives to the island called Orobe; and the Corinthi-
ans to the island called Aegina. The Lakones too abandoned their native
soil at that time. Some sailed to the island of Sicily and are still there in a
place called Demena, call themselves Demenitae instead of Lacedae-
monitae, and preserve their own Laconian dialect. Others found an inac-
cessible place by the seashore, built there a strong city which they called
Monemvasia because there was only one way for those entering, and
settled in it with their own bishop. Those who belonged to the tenders of
herds and to the rustics of the country settled in the rugged places locat-
ed along there and have been lately called Tzakonitae.15
For the inhabitants of Patras at the northwestern corner of the Peloponnese

sailing towards Byzantine Calabria in the southern part of the Italian penin-
sula seems like the easiest way to flee the Slavic influx. Their relocation there
seems to be verified by a commentary in one of the writings of Arethas, bishop
of Caesarea, in the early-10th century. Arethas states that a number of those
migrants’ offspring returned from south Italy to their (and his own) homeland,
Patras, at the beginning of the 9th century.16 The inhabitants of Laconia, an
area in southeastern Peloponnese, are also presented to have sailed to Sicily.
The information that another part founded the naturally protected fortress-
town of Monemvasia at the southeastern shore of the peninsula has been
shown to be inaccurate, since the site already existed before the Slavic i nroads.17
14 Charanis, “The Chronicle of Monemvasia”, 141–166.

15 Chronicle of Monemvasia, ed. Dujcev, pp. 12–16. Engl. trans. in Charanis, “The Chronicle of
Monemvasia”, 148.
16 Anagnostakis/Kaldellis, “The textual sources of the Peloponnese”, 105–115; Charanis, “The
Chronicle of Monemvasia”, 152.
17 Haldon, Byzantium in the seventh century, p. 44, n. 10.
Nonetheless, this report could be considered as an indication for migration of

shorter distance within the same region from a less safe homeland to a new
one that was better defensible and inaccessible to the invaders. This is verified
by another report about the inhabitants of Corinth who seem to have sailed to
the island of Aegina in the Saronic Gulf in order to put the sea between them
and the invaders. The conquest of Sicily by the Arabs in the 9th century trig-
gered a similar phenomenon of regional migration of Byzantine populations
from the island to Calabria but also towards Greece, where imperial authority
had been rehabilitated for the most part.18
Short or longer distance migration was more often than not the result of
an area becoming repeatedly a victim of enemy raids. The frontier zone that
emerged between the empire and the caliphate in the course of the 7th cen-
tury was subject to yearly raids up to the 10th century. Local populations were
often obliged to abandon their homes and seek for a safer place of residence in
the interior. A typical example is the reported mass withdrawal of local popu-
lations from the border areas with the Caliphate in 716/7 in the face of a large
Muslim invasion that culminated in the second Arab siege of Constantinople.19
Arab naval warfare, which often acquired the form of piracy against the is-
lands and the coastal areas of the Aegean Sea, was another reason for popula-
tions in these areas to decide to abandon their homelands in search of a safer
place. The life of St Luke of Steiris provides an interesting insight into this kind
of movement. According to his biographer, the ancestors of the saint originat-
ed from the island of Aegina, which they, along with the rest of its inhabitants,
were forced to abandon due to the continuous raids of the Muslims. They mi-
grated to various regions such as Attica, the Peloponnese, and Boeotia, proba-
bly in the reign of Basil i (867–886). The saint’s family arrived at a place called
Chrysos at the gulf of Itea, wherefrom they were once again forced to leave
due to an Arab naval raid. Finally, they settled in a nearby location, called
Kastorion.20
If this type of forced migration within the borders of the empire should be
considered typical for the most part of the period between the 7th and the 10th
centuries, the next large wave of refugees due to warfare seems to have taken
place during the Seljuk occupation of large parts of Asia Minor in the late-11th
century. The nature of the advance and settlement of Seljuks and Turkomans
in Asia Minor did not have a similar sweeping character as the Islamic conquest
18 McCormick, “The Imperial Edge”, p. 33.

19 The Seventh Century in the West-Syrian Chronicles, p. 62.
20 Life of St Loukas of Steiris, ed. Sophianos, p. 4.
148 Stouraitis
of the eastern provinces some centuries earlier, since the newcomers seem to
have interpenetrated imperial structures and to have established various new
principalities in Anatolia in interaction with the local element or next to it.21
The sources provide little specific information on groups of refugees from the
areas that came under Turkish control after the 1170s. One rather finds typical
reports on the devastating effects of Turkish raids and the occupation of urban
sites throughout the long 12th century. Once again it seems that the main social
groups that opted for migration in the course of the Turkish settlement where
the landed aristocracy and the clergy.22
Bearing this in mind, statements such as the one by Odo of Deuil who as a
participant in the Second Crusade reported in the mid-12th century that the
Turks had driven the indigenous population out of the largest part of Asia Mi-
nor need to be approached with caution.23 A mass withdrawal of Roman popu-
lations from central and eastern Anatolia can hardly be testified. Moreover, the
population of cities in western Anatolia that were ruined by Turkish raids
seems to have opted for short distance migration towards safer places in adja-
cent regions which, of course, may have included those islands of the Aegean
close to the coast of Asia Minor. With regard to the devastation caused to the
cities of the coastline between Smyrna and Attaleia by the Turks during the
reign of Alexios I, Αnna Komnene reports that the emperor sought to revive
the ruined cities and bring back their emigrated inhabitants.24 Moreover, dur-
ing the campaign of Alexios Komnenos against Ikonion in central Anatolia in
1116 many of the Christians that lived under the Turks found an opportunity to
follow the emperor’s army and seek refuge in imperial territory.25 Choniates
provides some insight into short distance migration when he reports on the
surrender of the besieged city of Dadibra (today Safranbolu in north-central
Anatolia) to the Turks in the year 1196. The author states that the city inhabit-
ants were forced by the new masters to migrate to other provinces and cities,
whereas some of them built wooden huts near their native city with the per-
mission of the Turks and sustained the yoke of slavery because they could not
bear to stay away from their cherished homeland.26
The sack of Constantinople by the Crusaders in 1204 was the culminating
event of this period and was marked by the migration of a large number of the
imperial city’s inhabitants. Choniates as an eyewitness and a victim of these
21 Beihammer, Byzantium and the Emergence of Muslim-Turkish Anatolia, pp. 169–304.

22 Vryonis, The Decline of Medieval Hellenism, pp. 194–229.
23 Odo of Deuil, De profectione Ludovici vii in orientem, ed. Berry, pp. 86–69.
24 Anna Komnene, Alexias, xiv 1, 2, ed. Reinsch/Kambylis, pp. 424–425.
25 Ibid. xv 7, 1–2 ed. Reinsch/Kambylis, p. 481.
26 Choniates, Historia, ed. van Dieten, p. 475.
events provides evidence of that movement when he describes how he with

his family followed a group of Constantinopolitans consisting of members of
the clergy including the patriarch, high-ranking officials, and commoners.
These decided to depart from the conquered city five days after its fall out of
fear for the plundering conquerors. The procession broke out on foot and
moved towards the nearby town of Selymbria.27 From the account, we may
conclude that Choniates’ family settled there for about two years before re-
turning in June 1206 to Constantinople wherefrom they departed once again
after sixth months for Nicaea.28 Their relocation to the city that had come un-
der the control of Theodoros Laskaris who created a new imperial court there
was obviously related to Choniates’ need to reclaim his higher social status and
position, which he had lost after the sack of the imperial city. However, he
hardly received the attention he expected as his embittered narration of the
fate of his family demonstrates.29
2 Deportation and Resettlement of Populations by Enemy Forces
If warfare was responsible for large waves of refugees from the empire’s lost
territories as well as from regions constantly affected by enemy raids, it was
also the cause of another type of forced migration, namely the deportation of
populations by enemy forces. Enemy attacks on imperial soil or Byzantine
campaigns beyond the imperial frontier were more often than not related with
the capture and forced relocation of considerable numbers of people. The de-
portation of the inhabitants of large towns or smaller settlements under the
threat of arms could be of two types: The first type was enslavement resulting
from women, children as well as surviving soldiers being captured, brought to
and sold on the slave market. This led to their relocation –often for a life time–
from their home place to foreign territories.30 The second type refers to the
resettlement of groups of people as freemen from their region into enemy ter-
ritory, where this population was settled and incorporated into local life and
state structures.
The capture and deportation of the inhabitants of Byzantine cities, villages,
and smaller settlements was a recurrent result of Muslim raiding into imperial
27 Ibid., p. 593, cf. also p. 612 about elite members fleeing the city with emperor Alexios iii
who sought refuge to Larissa in central Greece.
28 Ibid., p. 635.
29 Simpson, Niketas Choniates, pp. 22–23.
30 On slavery in the eastern Mediterranean, see the chapter of Youval Rotman in this book.
150 Stouraitis
territory in the period between the mid-7th and the 10th century. A main goal
of such raiding activity was the accumulation of plunder and the capture of
prisoners of war which was quite profitable, since these were sold on the slave
market earning their sellers a great deal of money. There are numerus reports
in the sources about Muslim armies that invaded Byzantine territory and were
able to withdraw with great booty among which where captive civilians.31
A characteristic case of forced removal of populations through captivity and
enslavement from both sides represent the events of the years 837–838. The
Byzantine army of emperor Theophilos conducted a campaign on Muslim soil
in the course of which it captured and destroyed the cities of Aramosata and
Sozopetra taking one thousand prisoners that were transferred into the em-
pire.32 In the following year, Caliph al-Mu’tasim retaliated by capturing the city
of Amorion, the birthplace of the empire’s reigning dynasty. The Muslims
slaughtered the largest part of the city’s defenders and the largest part of the
civilians, mainly women and children, was taken captive. Al-Tabari reports
how a slave market was organized in situ and many of the captives were sold to
slave traders that carried them away.33 Those not sold, among whom were the
high-ranking officials of the Byzantine army and local notables, were trans-
ferred into the caliphate where they were kept as prisoners.
If such forced migration often led to the permanent resettlement of the cap-
tives, sometimes these could be given the chance to return to their homelands
after several years through an arranged exchange of war prisoners between the
empire and the caliphate.34 Seven years after the events of Amorion an ex-
change of prisoners of war was organized between the two powers. According
to the Arab sources, the caliph al-Wathiq had to buy off the freedom of many
Byzantine prisoners of war that had been sold as slaves in the caliphate in or-
der to use them to match the number of Muslim prisoners that the Byzantines
offered for the exchange.35 A similar return of Roman prisoners of war that had
been deported from Sicily by the Muslims and had spent some years in North
Africa is reported by Leo the Deacon in the reign of Nikephoros iI Phokas
31 For the 7th and 8th centuries, see Lilie, Die Byzantinische Reaktion, pp. 57–195, esp. 194–
195; for the 11th and 12th see the references in Vryonis, The Decline of Medieval Hellenism,
pp. 174–175.
32 Bosworth, The History of al-Tabari, vol. xxxii, p. 93; cf. Codoñer, The Emperor Theophilos
and the East, pp. 264–278.
33 Bosworth, The History of al-Tabari, vol. xxxii, pp. 116–117.
34 On such exchanges, see Rotman, Byzantine Slavery, pp. 33–39.
35 The History of al-Tabari, vol. xxiv, transl. Kraemer, pp. 39–40; Bar Hebraeus, The Chronog-
raphy, ed. and trans. Budge, p. 140.
(963–969).36 Byzantine military activity also led to the liberation of Roman

subjects that had been dragged away from their homes as captives. In the reign
of Michael iv, the Byzantine commander Leon Opos campaigned in Sicily and
managed to cross back to Byzantine southern Italy with fifteen thousand Ro-
man prisoners whom he dispersed to their homes.37
Besides imprisonment and enslavement, the deportation of populations by
enemy forces could often have the form of resettlement and integration of the
deported groups into the enemy state’s structures. From the 7th century on-
wards, the Byzantine imperial power was very keen to follow this practice for
various reasons such as dealing with demographic decline and strengthening
its productive population and armed forces. Constans ii was the first to con-
duct a campaign against the sklaviniai (territories under Slavic control) in the
regions of Macedonia und Thrace in 658, in which he took a large number of
captives that he resettled in Asia Minor, obviously as a new productive and
taxpaying group of Roman subjects.38 Justinian ii was the next emperor to
campaign against Bulgars and Slavs in 688. He subjugated a large number of
those and transplanted them to Bithynia in north-western Asia Minor, where
they were given land to settle and part of them was enrolled into the imperial
army as a separate military corps.39
In the 8th century, Constantine v conducted similar forced transfers of pop-
ulations from the frontier zone with the caliphate to the empire’s European
territory in Thrace. In 746, the imperial army campaigned against Germanikeia
(Maras) in northern Syria. After the city’s surrender, the emperor organized the
transfer of the city’s mainly Monophysite population to Thrace.40 Similarly,
predominately Monophysite populations from Melitene und Theodosioupolis
were transplanted by the same emperor to Thrace in 756 and 771.41 In the latter
case, the sources record the large number of 150,000 people. The emperor’s son
and successor Leo iv (775–780) conducted another transfer of Syriac Jacobites
and Armenians to the same region. The imperial power’s main goal with these
movements seems to have been to strengthen demographically the region,
which stood between the imperial city and the Bulgar territories. At the same
time, it sought to deprive of large numbers of productive population those
36 Leo Diakonos, Historia, ed. Hase, pp. 76–77.

37 Skylitzes, Synopsis, ed. Thurn, p. 401.
38 Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen, pp. 209–211.
39 Ibid., pp. 220–223; Charanis, “The transfer of populations”, p. 143.
40 Theophanes, Chronographia, ed. de Boor, p. 422; Nikephoros, Short History, ed. Mango,
p. 62; Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen, pp. 179–180.
41 Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen, pp. 184–185, 192.
152 Stouraitis
areas in the eastern frontier zone, which the Byzantine army could not
control.
The practice of deporting heretical Christian populations from territories
under Muslim rule and resettling them into the empire raises the issue of the
role of Christian identity in such transfers. Obviously, doctrinal and ethno-
cultural differences did not pose a serious obstacle for the resettlement of
those populations in the empire’s territorial core and their integration into the
political body of imperial subjects. On the other hand, a shared Chalcedonian
Christian identity made the deportation and resettlement of populations be-
tween different political entities easier, as the wars between the Bulgars and
the Byzantines in the Balkans after the formers’ Christianization demonstrate.
Tsar Samuel conquered the city of Larissa in the early years of his war against
Emperor Basil ii when the emperor was still occupied with the rebellion of his
general Bardas Skleros (976–979). The Bulgar leader transferred the city’s pop-
ulation along with the relics of its patron St Achillios to Bulgar territory, where
he recruited the men into his army and used them in his war against the Ro-
mans.42 Skylitzes reports that towards the end of the war Basil ii liberated Ro-
man populations that had been deported by the Bulgars and had been settled
in the cities of Pelagonia, Prespa, and Ohrid.43
The Byzantines employed similar practices of deportation on the Balkan
front. During the same war, Basil ii conquered the fortress of Serbia in 1001 and
had its inhabitants transferred to an unknown place, installing a Roman guard
in the city. Furthermore, he invaded Thessaly and retook many fortresses be-
fore moving to besiege and conquer the strong fortress of Bodena (present-day
Edessa) in northern Greece. The Bulgar inhabitants of all these fortresses were
relocated to Boleron close to the Byzantine military base of Mosynopolis.44
After the conquest of the city of Moglena all men that could bear arms were
resettled by the emperor to the region of Vaspurakan in the East.45 These prac-
tices of deportation were related with issues of military security and aimed at
keeping newly subjugated populations quiescent by detaching them from
their homelands.
The use of deported groups to strengthen demographically, economically,
and militarily the imperial realm is testified in the 12th century as well. John ii
Komnenos (1118–1143) made a number of captives in his campaign against the

43 Ibid., pp. 363.
44 Ibid., pp. 344–345. The same practice took place again in 1014 when the emperor had to
conquer the city anew, which in the meantime had passed to Bulgar hands again, ibid.
p. 352.
45 Ibid. p. 352.
Serbs in 1123 and resettled them in Asia Minor where he gave them land, mak-
ing them taxpaying subjects of the empire that were enrolled in his army.46
Similar deportations tool place in the opposite direction, that is, towards the
lands of the empire’s enemies. Choniates reports on a raid of the Turkish ruler
of Ikonion Kaykushraw in 1198 when he captured the inhabitants of the cities
of Karia and Tantalos along the Meander. These were resettled in the region of
Philomelion.47
3 State-Coerced Resettlement of Populations
Besides migration as a consequence of military activity in the geopolitical

sphere of the empire, the imperial state of Constantinople undertook planned
relocations of subject populations within its own boundaries throughout this
period. Such relocations mostly had a coercive character and were intended to
satisfy various needs: demographic, economic, and military. Two basic types of
relocation can be discerned here: the first concerns the relocation of popula-
tions that were already imperial subjects and the second groups outside the
imperial realm that came in agreement with the imperial power that organized
their settlement on imperial soil.
The first type of relocation points to the –by medieval standards– highly
centralized function of the Byzantine state. The imperial government’s ability
to coercively resettle large numbers of its subjects within the borders of its
authority was based on its monopoly of control over superior military power.
In the period under scrutiny, emperor Justinian ii was the first to organize the
relocation of Roman subjects from the island of Cyprus to the regions of Cyzi-
cus in Hellespont and of southwestern Asia Minor in 691. The main motive
behind this forced transfer was the need of the imperial power to reduce the
tributary population of those parts of Cyprus that had come under Arab eco-
nomic control within the framework of the –much-debated– condominium of
the two powers over the island. It seems to have been part of a larger plan of
forced removals of groups organized by this emperor for military and demo-
graphic reasons (e.g. Slavs, Mardaites).48 The sources provide a nuanced ap-
proach to the character of the migration. Theophanes, for instance, highlights
its coercive aspects whereas other sources point to its liberating character
46 Choniates, Historia, ed. van Dieten, p. 16.

47 Ibid., p. 594.
154 Stouraitis
from Muslim yoke.49 Military reasons seem to have led Emperor Tiberios iii
Apsimar to organize the return of the Cypriots to their homeland seven years
later.50
The next major transfer of imperial subjects took place in the reign of Con-
stantine v and the reasons were purely demographic. The large number of hu-
man losses as a result of the last wave of the plague that had broken out in
744/5 and had lasted up to 748 caused the extensive depopulation of the impe-
rial capital. The relocated populations came mainly from the regions of Greece
and the Aegean islands, but perhaps also from eastern Asia Minor, whereas it
remains debated whether the emperor’s action took place right after the wan-
ing of the plague in 748 or in the year 755 when his military campaigns on the
eastern front were marked by the forced transfer of Syrians and Armenians to
Thrace.51 Nevertheless, the ethno-cultural and doctrinal identities of the popu-
lations that were resettled in Constantinople to revive demographically the
imperial capital may have been mixed, consisting of Greek-speaking Chalce-
donian Christians, and Monophysite Armenians and Syrians.
One of the most studied transfers of imperial subjects in the empire took
place in the reign of emperor Nikephoros i (802–811). The imperial power
transplanted an unknown but obviously considerable number of its subjects
from Asia Minor to Greece. The first action took place in 806/7 and was of
lesser scale, while the second and larger transfer occurred in 809. The orga-
nized character of this transfer is demonstrated by the fact that the affected
population, which in its majority must have consisted of Greek-speaking Chal-
cedonian Christians, was forced to abandon its homelands by selling their
properties and was relocated to those Slavicized areas of Greece that had re-
cently come under imperial authority again.52 The emperor’s goal was to
strengthen the Greek-speaking Chalcedonian element in those newly recon-
quered areas that were dominated by Slavs. Moreover, it seems to have been
related to a major administrative reform, namely the foundation of the
notorious theme-system. As has been shown, contrary to the traditional views
of scholarship the division of the empire in administrative units called the-
mata, in which a general undertook both military and civil authority, began in
this emperor’s reign.53 The relocation must, therefore, have involved a large
number of families that had a military background and seems to have been
49 Ibid. p. 309.
50 Ibid., p. 316.
51 Ibid, pp. 318–322.
52 Theophanes, Chronographia, ed. de Boor, p. 486; Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen,
pp. 331–360.
53 Haldon, “A context for two ‘evil deeds’”, pp. 245–266.
rimarily intended to re-establish the imperial state’s authority in the Balkans

p
in military-political terms.
A similar case in which the main aim was to re-establish Roman military-
political authority along with an effort of re-Romanization of the affected ar-
eas is the relocation of groups of imperial subjects, consisting of Armenians
and Rhomaioi (that is, Greek-speaking Chalcedonian Christians), to Crete in
961 after the reconquest of the island by general Nikephoros Phokas.54 The im-
perial power obviously aimed at strengthening the Christian element on the
island that had been under Muslim rule since the 820s. The relocated families
must have been given lands in order to strengthen the local productive popula-
tion and thus, also, secure tax revenues from the island, as well as to provide
new resources of local recruitment for its defence. That this state-sponsored
process of re-Romanization mainly concerned the re-Christianization of the
island’s population is also demonstrated by the missionary activity of monks
that were sent to the island to Christianize its islamicized inhabitants.55
As already argued above, in spite of the official attitude of the imperial state
according to which Roman subjects should be orthodox (i.e. Chalcedonian)
Christians, the imperial power did not hesitate to resettle groups of heretics
into the empire’s territorial core when demographic and military needs were to
be met. The Paulicians represent another good point in case in this regard.
These were a dissident group of imperial subjects of heretic doctrine that had
created an autonomous principality in eastern Asia Minor in the mid-9th cen-
tury before being militarily subjugated by Emperor Basil i (867–886). In the
10th century, emperor John i Tzimiskes decided to resettle a large number of
those Paulicians from the East to Thrace. There, they were given lands and in-
habited fortresses in the context of the emperor’s plan to reorganize the de-
fence of the area in the face of the inroads of nomadic peoples, mainly the
Pechenegs.56
Besides these organized removals of ethno-culturally and doctrinally di-
verse groups of Roman subjects, the imperial power of Constantinople con-
trolled and directed the migration and settlement on imperial soil of various
groups of people that came from the periphery or from outside the current
imperial borders. One of the more prominent resettlements of such a group is
that of the so-called Mardaites. The latter are generally considered to have
54 Leon Diakonos, Historia, ed. Hase, p. 28.

55 The Life of Saint Nikon, text, translation and commentary by D.F. Sullivan, Brookline, MA
1987, pp. 83–87.
56 Skylitzes, Synopsis, ed. Thurn, p. 286; cf. Lilie, “Zur Stellung von ethnischen und religiösen
Minderheiten in Byzanz”, pp. 312–315.
156 Stouraitis
been a group of Monophysite Christians that enjoyed an autonomous status in

the region of the Amanus Mountains in the Caliphate and were resettled to
southern Asia Minor as a result of a peace treaty between Emperor Justinian ii
and the Caliph Abd al-Malik in 685.57
Theophanes the Confessor who is well-known for his bias towards Justinian
ii describes this resettlement as a grave political mistake because it deprived
Byzantium of a competent military ally on the eastern frontier.58 According to
a recent theory, however, the 12,000 Mardaites that came from the Caliphate
may have been Byzantine deserters that had been settled in the areas of north-
ern Syria, around Antioch and Cyrrhus, by the Muslims and were returned to
the empire after the peace treaty.59 This means that their resettlement in the
naval theme of Kibyrrhaiotai as oarsmen may have related to the fact that they
had some previous military experience. Given that service in the navy was not
popular among recruits, it may have represented a suitable way of reintegrat-
ing deserters into the imperial army in a disciplinary manner.
In the reign of Emperor Constantine v, it is reported that a large number of
Slavs fled the Bulgar kingdom due to the change of regime there and sought
refuge in the empire. Whether the Byzantine emperor encouraged this move-
ment remains unclear, but he certainly received the Slavic population and or-
ganized its resettlement in Bithynia. The number of the refugees mentioned in
the sources is very large (208,000 people) and has been a subject of debate,
with more scholars tending to accept its credibility due to the fact that it is not
a round number.60 If this comes any close to the true number of people that
migrated, that makes it certainly one of the most spectacular peaceful reloca-
tions of this period, which must have decisively altered the character of the
area of Bithynia in demographic and ethno-cultural terms.
Reasons of military concern urged the East Roman imperial power to accept
and organize the settlement within its own territories of large military groups
that fled the Caliphate in times of crisis. These were usually integrated into the
imperial army, thus strengthening its ranks. Prominent examples are the case
of the Khurramites, a contingent of 14,000 men that fled the Caliphate with
their leader Nasr in 833. The reason for their migration was their participation
in the failed rebellion of the Persian Babak against the Abbasids. Nasr and his
men were given shelter by Emperor Theophilos who enrolled them into the

58 Theophanes, Chronographia, ed. de Boor, p. 363.
59 Woods, “Corruption and Mistranslation”.
empire’s eastern forces as a tourma of the Armeniakon army.61 A similar case

represented the Banu Habib tribe in the late-10th century, the members of
which fled from the region of Nisibis in Mesopotamia to the empire sometime
after the fall of the emirate of Melitene in 934, probably in 941. Emperor Roma-
nos i organized their settlement and integration into army structures in
the eastern provinces through their Christianization. The 12,000 men were di-
vided in various units and were used to garrison new themes on the eastern
frontier.62
Settlements of outsiders as new imperial subjects were organized due to
different reasons in the later period as well. The culmination of the empire’s
expansionary activity in the early-11th century involved the annexation of
Armenian territories in the East. This caused the relocation into imperial
territory of large groups of Armenians, mainly magnates with their large reti-
nues. The latter were either motivated or forced to exchange Byzantine control
over their lands with lands for settlement in Asia Minor and high-ranking im-
perial offices and titles. Prominent cases are that of the King of Vaspurakan,
Senkerim-Yovhannes Arcruni, who migrated with all his followers in 1021/22 in
Cappadocia, where he settled and became an imperial general with the title of
patrician. His son also received the same office and titles. The same migrating
route took the King of Ani Gagik ii Bagratuni in 1044/45 and the King of Vana-
nd or Kars Gagik-Abas in 1065/65. These and many others were settled in east-
ern Asia Minor with their retinues acquiring control of cities and imperial
titles.63
The incursions of the Pechenegs into the empire from the mid-11th century
onwards were related to a new kind of migration. In the course of these con-
flicts, the imperial power was often willing to come to terms with the invaders
who often represented not plain armies but whole groups of people with el-
ders, wives and children following the warriors. For instance, Emperor Con-
stantine ix offered lands for settlement across the Danube to a group of 20,000
Pechenegs that fled to the empire under the leadership of Kegen in 1045 when
the latter failed to challenge the authority of the Pecheneg leader Tyrakh.
When Tyrakh attacked Byzantine territory and was defeated the emperor de-
cided to settle the subjugated invaders on lands in the region between Sofia
and Nish.64 These actions were aimed at injecting those areas with a new
61 Treadgold, The Byzantine Revival, pp. 282–283, 297–305, 312–325.

62 Treadgold, Byzantium and Its Army, p. 111.
63 Garsoian, “The Problem of Armenian Integration into the Byzantine Empire”, pp. 109–113.
On Armenian mobility, cf. the chapter of Johannes Preiser-Kapeller in this volume.
64 Angold, The Byzantine Empire 1025–1204, p. 15.
158 Stouraitis
roductive and taxpaying population whence the imperial power could recruit
p
soldiers for its armies. Indeed, in 1048 the emperor raised a force of 15,000
among the new settlers and sent them to the eastern front to fight the Seljuks.
This policy did not prove successful, however, since the Pechenegs mutinied
and returned to the Balkans where they started an uprising against the impe-
rial power that resulted in them becoming autonomous in the areas of their
settlement.65
Later in the reign of Emperor Constantine x Doukas (1059–1067) groups of
Ouzes and Pechenegs were given lands in Macedonia, thus being fully inte-
grated into provincial society and state structures, whereas Emperor Alexios i
Komnenos (1081–1118) also took advantage of his great victory at the battle of
Levounion in 1091 against a large Pecheneg army that had invaded Byzantine
territory in order to settle the invaders on Byzantine soil. According to the
chronicler Zonaras, the Pechenegs were given land for settlement with their
families and animals in the region of the province of Moglena. A part of them
was enrolled in the Byzantine army, forming a distinct unit.66
4 Conditions and Realities of Migration
Byzantine sources provide a lot of information on the movement of peoples

and groups within the empire but they are usually less informative when it
comes to the actual conditions of migrating, that is, the means by which peo-
ple were relocated, the difficulties encountered in the course of the movement
as well as the processes of integration of groups of migrants in their new areas
of settlement. In the majority of cases, we find just a simple reference to the
event of the relocation from one place to the other without any further infor-
mation about how this took place or how it was experienced by the people in-
volved in it. However, one may combine the little relevant evidence from many
different reports in an effort to come closer to the reality of forced or impelled
migration in the medieval East Roman Empire.
To begin with, the sources often do not provide numbers for the people that
moved and when they do, their accuracy cannot be taken for granted. One may
argue that the numbers given for military contingents that migrated may be
closer to reality, since in this case we may assume that the receiving state had
an interest to register the exact number of people involved. On the other hand,
the number of refugees from war zones is impossible to estimate. Moreover,
65 Ibid. pp. 15–17.

66 Zonaras, Epitome, ed. Dindorf, vol. iii, pp. 740–741.
the modes of travel for the migrating groups are not always specified but can
be assumed. For instance, when Nikephoros i ordered the relocation of a large
number of Roman subjects from their homes in western Anatolia to Greece we
can be pretty certain that such a relocation took place by land and sea, since
the people involved obviously needed to reach a port on the western coast of
Asia Minor where they could be boarded on ships that carried them to Greece.
According to Theophanes the Confessor, the relocation had a forced charac-
ter since the migrating population was unhappy about the perspective of
abandoning its homelands.67 Whether the author’s statement reflects the truth
or it is a mere product of his bias towards emperor Nikephoros i cannot be said
with certainty. It seems plausible, though, that the people involved in the
transfer had good reasons not to be fond of the idea of abandoning their homes
and selling their properties in order to relocate to a distant and unknown re-
gion.68 This raises the issue of the role of the imperial state’s military power in
coercing subject populations to undertake internal migration. Even though the
sources do not explicitly mention the activity of the army in this case, it is dif-
ficult to imagine how such an enterprise could have taken place without the
active role of military forces and the implicit threat of exercising violence
against those that would refuse to follow the orders of the imperial centre.
The complexity and difficulty of such a task is obvious and we can get an
idea of that by drawing information from other cases. For instance, the depor-
tation of large numbers of Armenians and Syrians under Constantine v in the
mid-8th century certainly took place under the supervision of the military
units that were involved in the emperor’s campaigns in those areas. In this
case, the army was responsible for both forcing the mentioned populations to
leave their homelands as well as for their safe transfer to Thrace. The fact that
due to the internal situation in the caliphate the danger of a Muslim force
tracking the convoy on its way into Byzantine territory was very low facilitated
the dangerous enterprise of moving such a large number of people by land for
such a large distance. An approximate estimation shows that for the popula-
tion of Melitene to be relocated to Thrace in the area of Adrianoupolis, for in-
stance, a journey by land would take more than 44 days in summer time, ac-
cording to the regular pace of movement of an army. The shortest itinerary

68 In Byzantine conception people coming from another region as well as from abroad were
regarded as ksenoi or eksōtikoi (strangers, foreigners) – a notion obviously related to the
fact that local identity was the strongest, cf. Ahrweiler, “Byzantine Concepts of the For-
eigner”, p. 2.
160 Stouraitis
being through Sebasteia, Tabia, Ancyra, Nicaea, Nicomedia, Constantinople,

Perinthus and finally Adrianoupolis.69
The report of Anna Komnena on the deportation of populations from the
region of Philomelion in central Anatolia in the early 12th century offers an
insight into the difficulties of a long-distance move of a large number of civil-
ians accompanied by army forces. Emperor Alexios withdrew from Philome-
lion taking a large number of war prisoners as well as parts of the local Chris-
tian population with him. The latter willingly sought to emigrate by taking
advantage of the imperial army’s presence.70 The author describes how the
convoy was safely organized by the army in terms of following the rules of a
military formation so that the soldiers were able to defend the civilians against
harassing Turkish forces. Moreover, she reports that the tempo of the march
was much slower than usual due to the fact that this was not a purely military
force on the move anymore due to the presence of women and children as well
as of pregnant and sick that needed special help or rest. As a result, there were
people who lost their lives on the way.71 Despite the report’s literary character
with the biblical motif of Moses lurking behind Alexios’ image as an ideal em-
peror that guided his people to liberty, this certainly entails a true core regard-
ing the dangers that the relocation of a large number of civilians under such
circumstances brought with it.
These dangers are made evident in the reports of other authors. For in-
stance, in the case of the forced migration of the Cypriots to Cyzicus under
Justinian ii Theophanes states that a number of the migrants drowned in the
sea due to bad weather.72 Moreover, it goes without saying that forced migra-
tion in the form of deportation of enslaved populations by enemy forces en-
tailed the greatest of dangers and difficulties for the people that were carried
away from their homeland, either for a longer period of time or permanently.
The most informative text in this respect is the narration of John Kameniates
about his own experience as a member of the population of Thessaloniki that
was captured by the Arabs in 904 and was carried by sea to Tripolis in Syria and
from there to Tarsus in Cilicia.73 The author reports on his fate as a long-time
war prisoner, his separation from his wife and children that had managed to
escape slavery, as well as on the death of his father in Tripoli where they had
69 The estimation was made according to the orbis Stanford Geospatial Network Model of
the Roman World.
70 Anna Komnene, xv 4, 9, ed. Reinsch/Kambylis, p. 470.
71 Ibid. xv 7, 1–2 ed. Reinsch/Kambylis, p. 473.
73 On the text and the debate regarding its authenticity, see Frendo/Fotiou, John Kaminiates,
pp. xxxvii–xxxix.
been transported together.74 Moreover, he refers to the sufferings of the prison-

ers whose main hope was to become part of a prisoners exchange between the
empire and the caliphate in order to return home, with many of them being
doomed to die of illness while in captivity.75
If the main fate of prisoners of war was slavery or death due to the hardships
they had to endure, forced migration of groups within the boundaries of the
empire was also not less adventurous or hazardous. The life of St Luke of Steiris
provides a relevant insight. The saint’s ancestors not only had to migrate twice
because of the raids of the Muslims but they were also not received well in the
final place of their resettlement, the village Kastorion. According to the biogra-
pher of the saint, the locals were hostile towards the newcomers and tried to
displace them. This motivated the grandfather of the saint to travel to Constan-
tinople, where he managed to receive a hearing from the emperor who granted
him imperial letters that ordained the division of lands in the village between
the newcomers and the locals.76 Choniates is also explicit in his report regard-
ing the bad treatment of his family and all other refugees from Constantinople
by the population of the area of Selymbria where they resettled after the sack
of the city in April 1204. According to the author, the locals taunted the Con-
stantinopolitan refugees and instead of showing solidarity and support to
them as Roman compatriots, they were rejoicing in their sufferings while tak-
ing advantage of the situation in order to buy at very low prices what the ref-
uges had to offer for sale.77
In spite of the hardships of relocation, refugees as well as deported popula-
tions were more often than not able to grow roots in their new areas of settle-
ment. A good example are the Paulicians who were transferred to Thrace from
the East under Emperor John i Tzimiskes (969–976) in the 10th century. More
than one century later in the reign of Alexios i Komnenos (1081–1118), the
sources testify to the existence of a thriving Paulician community in Thrace,
which the emperor decided to persecute for religious reasons. Nonetheless, it
is evident that these migrants had not only been able to maintain their hereti-
cal beliefs in their new region of settlement for over a century, but were also
fully integrated as a distinct ethno-religious group into provincial and state
structures as a landowning and taxpaying subject population, wherefrom the
imperial power drew recruits for its armies.78
74 John Cameniates, De expugnatione Thessalonicae, ed. Böhlig, pp. 73, 10–11 and 78, 7.
75 Ibid. 78, 8–9.
76 Life of St Luke, ed. Sophianos, p. 6.
77 Choniates, Historia, ed. van Dieten, pp. 593–594.
78 Anna Komnena, Alexias, iv 4,3 and vi 2, ed. Reinsch/Kambylis, pp. 127, 170–171.
162 Stouraitis
Skylitzes provides a relevant insight concerning prisoners of war that had

been relocated during the long-drawn conflict between Samuel and Emperor
Basil ii. After taking control over the areas of Pelagonia, Prespa, and Ohrid at
the core of Samuel’s kingdom, the emperor allowed those Roman and Arme-
nian soldiers that had been settled there as captives of the Bulgars and wished
to remain to do so.79 Choniates also reports on the good treatment of Roman
captives by the Turkish ruler Kaykushraw in 1198. The latter deported a large
number of Romans (5,000 according to Choniates) from cities of the Meander
valley and resettled them to Philomelion. There, they were given fertile lands
which they were allowed to cultivate free of taxation for a certain period of
time. According to the author, this humane attitude of the Turkish ruler to-
wards the deported Roman populations made them forget their homelands,
whereas it motivated other Romans to migrate to this area as well.80
The successful integration of migrants into their new area of settlement be-
comes better evident through some well-known cases of certain individuals.
The life of St Antony the Younger is a case in point, since the saint was actually
a migrant who relocated along with a group of other Christians from the Ca-
liphate (Palestine) to imperial territory in the region of Attaleia (southwestern
Anatolia) in the early-9th century.81 The reasons that motivated those Chris-
tians to migrate are not made clear in the text, but Antony’s biography pro-
vides an excellent insight into how migrants, especially those that were Chal-
cedonian Christians and had a knowledge of Greek, could swiftly become full
members of the Byzantine society and advance socially. After his resettlement,
Antony managed to network with the local powerful who intervened for
his ordainment as sub-governor of the theme Kibyrrhaioton by Emperor
Michael ii.82
Foreign groups that were not Chalcedonian Christians or native Greek-
speakers also had fair chances for integration and social advancement. For
non-Christian groups baptism was the main means of swift social integration,
as demonstrated by the reference of Attaleiates to groups of Ouzes and Pech-
enegs who were settled on imperial soil. Members of these groups had eventu-
ally the opportunity to receive high-ranking titles and enter court elite under
Emperor Constantine x.83 The Armenian magnates that migrated to eastern
Anatolia from the late-11th century onwards, also represent indicative cases of

80 Choniates, Historia, ed. van Dieten, pp. 494–495.
81 Life of St Antony the Younger, ed. Papadopoulos-Kerameus, p. 193.
82 Ibid. p. 194.
83 Attaliates, Historia, ed. Perez-Martinez, p. 66.
non-Chalcedonian and non-Greek-speaking Christians that were able to be-

come part of imperial provincial society, with their prominent members mak-
ing careers in the empire’s provincial administration. These groups were able
to maintain their distinct religious and cultural identities in their new area of
settlement while acquiring a full-blown status of Roman imperial subjects.84
Bibliography
Primary Sources
Al- Balāḏurī, The origins of the Islamic state: being a translation from the Arabic accom-
panied with annotations geographic and historic notes of the Kitâb Futûḥ al-buldân,
by Ph. Khûri Hitti, New York 1916.
Anna Komnene, Alexias, eds. D.R. Reinsch/A. Kambylis, Anna Comnenae Alexias (Cor-
pus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae xl/1), Berlin 2001.
Attaleiates, Historia, ed. Inmaculada Pérez Martín, Miguel Ataliates, Historia, Madrid
2002.
Bar Hebraeus, The Chronography of Gregory Abû’l Faraj commonly known as Bar He-
braeus, ed. and trans. E.W. Budge, London 1932.
Choniates, Historia, ed. J van Dieten, Nicetae Choniatae historia, pars prior (CFHB 11.1),
Berlin 1975.
Chronicle of Monemvasia, ed. I. Dujcev, Cronaca di Monemvasia (Testi e Monumenti
12), Palermo 1976.
John Cameniates, De expugnatione Thessalonicae, ed. G. Böhlig, Ioannis Caminiatae de
expugnatione Thessalonicae (Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae. Series Berolin-
ensis 4) Berlin 1973.
Leon Diakonos, Historia, ed. Ch.-B. Hase, Leonis diaconi Caloënsis historiae libri decem
(CSHB), Bonn 1828.
Life of St Antony the Younger, ed. A. Papadopoulos-Kerameus, Βίος και πολιτεία τοῦ ὁσίου
Ἀντωνίου τοῦ Νέου, in: Συλλογή παλαιστινιακής και συριακής αγιολογίας, I. St. Petersburg
1907.
Life of St Luke, ed. D. Sophianos, Οσιος Λουκάς. Ό βίος του οσίου Λουκά τοῦ Στειριώτη, Ath-
ens 1989.
Nikephoros, Short History, ed. C. Mango, Nicephori archiepiscopi Constantinopolitani
Breviarium historicum de rebus gestis post imperium Mauricii (Corpus Fontium His-
toriae Byzantinae 13), Washington, D.C. 1990.
Odo of Deuil, De profectione Ludovici vii in orientem, ed. V.G. Berry, New York 1948.
84 Garsoian, “The Problem of Armenian Integration into the Byzantine Empire”, pp. 110–112.
164 Stouraitis
Skylitzes, Synopsis, ed. J. Thurn, Ioannis Scylitzae synopsis historiarum (CFHB 5), Berlin
1973.
The Life of Saint Nikon, text, translation and commentary by D.F. Sullivan, Brookline,
MA 1987.
The History of al-Tabari, vol. xxiv: Incipient Decline. The Caliphates of Al-Wathiq, Al-
Mutawakkil, and Al-Muntasir, transl. J.L. Kraemer, Albany 1989.
The History of al-Tabari, vol. xxxii: The Reunification of the ’Abbasid Caliphate: The Ca-
liphate of al-Ma’mun a.d. 813–833/a.h. 198–218, transl. C.E. Bosworth, Albany 1987.
The Seventh Century in the West-Syrian Chronicles, introd., transl. and annotated by A.
Palmer. Including two seventh-century Syriac Apocalyptic Texts, introd., transl. and
annotated by S. Brock with added Annotation and an historical Introduction by R.
Hoyland, Liverpool 1993.
Theophanes, Chronographia, ed. C. de Boor, Leipzig 1883.
Zonaras, Epitome, ed. L.A. Dindorf, Ioannis Zonarae epitome historiarum, vol. iii,
Leipzig 1868.
Ahrweiler, H., “Byzantine Concepts of the Foreigner”, in H. Ahrweiler/A. E. Laiou (eds),
Studies on the Internal Diaspora of the Byzantine Empire, Washington, DC 1998.
Their Creative Engagement with Ancient Literature”, Greek, Roman, and Byzantine
Studies 54 (2014), 105–135.
Angold, M., The Byzantine Empire, 1025–1204: A political history, London 1984.
Beihammer, A.D., Byzantium and the Emergence of Muslim-Turkish Anatolia, ca.
1040–1130, London/New York 2017.
Brubaker, L./Haldon, J., Byzantium in the Iconoclast Era, c. 680–850: a History, Cam-
bridge 2011.
Charanis, P., “The Chronicle of Monemvasia and the Question of the Slavonic Settle-
ments in Greece”, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 5 (1950), 141–166.
Charanis, P., “The Transfer of Population as a Policy in the Byzantine Empire”, Com-
parative Studies in Society and History 3/2 (1961), 140–154.
Codoñer, J.S., The Emperor Theophilos and the East, 829–842: court and frontier in Byzan-
tium during the last phase of iconoclasm, Farnham 2014.
Ende des 6. bis zur zweiten Hälfte des 9. Jahrhunderts, Berlin 1993.
Fowden, G., Empire to commonwealth: consequences of monotheism in late antiquity,
Princeton, NJ, 1993.
Frendo, D./Fotiou, A., John Kaminiates. The Capture of Thessaloniki, Perth 2000.
Garsoïan, N. G., The Problem of Armenian Integration into the Byzantine Empire, in H.
Ahrweiler/A.E. Laiou (eds.), Studies on the Internal Diaspora of the Byzantine Em-
pire, Washington, DC 1998, pp. 53–124.
Haldon, J.F., Byzantium in the Seventh Century: The transformation of a culture, Cam-
bridge 1990.
Haldon, J.F., The Palgrave Atlas of Byzantine History, Basingstoke 2005.
Haldon, J.F., “A context for two ‘evil deeds’: Nikephoros I and the origins of the thema-
ta”, in O. Delouis/S. Métivier/P. Pagès (eds), Le saint, le moine et le paysan. Mélanges
d’histoire byzantine offerts à Michel Kaplan, Paris 2016, pp. 245–266.
Haldon, J.F., The Empire that would not die. The Paradox of East Roman survival, 640–740,
Cambridge 2016.
Kaegi, W.E., Byzantium and the early Islamic Conquests, New York 1992.
Kaegi, W.E., Heraclius, Emperor of Byzantium, Cambridge 2003.
Lilie, R.-J., Die byzantinische Reaktion auf die Ausbreitung der Araber : Studien zur Struk-
turwandlung des byzantinischen Staates im 7. u. 8. Jhd. (Miscellanea Byzantina Mo-
nacensia 22), Munich 1976.
Lilie, R.-J., “Zur Stellung von ethnischen und religiösen Minderheiten in Byzanz: Arme-
nier, Muslime und Paulikianer”, in W. Pohl/C. Gantner/R. Payne (eds), Visions of
Community in the Post-Roman World: the West, Byzantium and the Islamic world,
300–1100, Farnham 2012, pp. 301–316.
McCormick, M., “The Imperial Edge: Italo-Byzantine Identity, Movement and Integra-
tion, a.d. 650–950”, in H. Ahrweiler/A. Laiou (eds), Studies on the internal diaspora
of the Byzantine Empire, Washington, DC 1998, pp. 17–52.
Oliver-Smith, A./Hansen A., “Involuntary migration and resettlement: causes and con-
texts”, in A. Hansen/A. Oliver-Smith (eds.), Involuntary Migration and Resettlement:
The Problems and Responses of Dislocated People, Boulder, CO, 1982, pp. 1–9.
Rotman, Y., Byzantine Slavery and the Mediterranean World, transl. by Jane Marie Todd,
Cambridge, Mass. 2009.
Simpson, A., Niketas Choniates: A historiographical study, Oxford 2013.
Stouraitis, Y., “Reinventing Roman ethnicity in high and late medieval Byzantium”, Me-
dieval Worlds 5 (2017), 70–94.
Treadgold, W., The Byzantine Revival: 780–842, Stanford 1988.
Treadgold, W., Byzantium and Its Army, 284–1081, Stanford, California 1995.
Vryonis, S., The decline of Medieval Hellenism in Asia Minor and the process of Islamiza-
tion from the eleventh through the fifteenth century, Berkley/Los Angeles/London
1971.
Woods, D., “Corruption and Mistranslation: The Common Syriac Source on the Origin
of the Mardaites”, published online: http://www.syriacstudies.com/AFSS/Syriac
_Articles_in_English/Entries/2011/1/9_Corruption_and_Mistranslation__The_Com
mon_Syriac_Source_on_the_Origin_of_the_Mardaites_David_Woods.html.
Chapter 6
Patterns of Turkish Migration and Expansion in

Byzantine Asia Minor in the 11th and 12th Centuries
Alexander Beihammer
The historical evolution of medieval Anatolia in the centuries between the de-
cay of Byzantine rule and the Ottoman conquest is closely linked with intricate
processes of migration, cross-cultural encounter, and ethnic change. The area
in question includes what the Byzantines with a very generic terms used to la-
bel ἡ ἑῴα or ἡ ἀνατολή, i.e., “the East”.1 After various expansionist stages that
culminated in the reign of Basil ii (976–1025) the empire’s eastern provinces
stretched from the western coastland of Asia Minor as far as northern Syria,
the Upper Euphrates region, and the Armenian highlands. At first, the politi-
cal, cultural, and ethnic transformation of this area began as a fortuitous side
effect of the rise of the Great Seljuk Empire in the central lands of Islam. A
ruling clan claiming descent from a common ancestor called Seljuk and super-
ficially Islamized nomadic warriors, who drew their origin from the Turkic
Oghuz tribes dwelling in the steppe lands of Transoxania, formed the driving
force of this new empire. In the 1040s, Turkmen hosts made their first raids into
the region south of the Anti-Taurus range and invaded the Armenian high-
lands between the Araxes (Aras) and the Arsanias (Murat) Rivers. Soon it
turned out that the Taurus Mountains, which for centuries had formed a natu-
ral barrier between Christian-Roman and Muslim territories, had become
permeable.2
In what follows I shall present a survey of salient patterns of expansion,
migration, and settlement, which Turkish warriors and migrants evinced from
the time of their first appearance in the eastern borderland until the emer-
gence of Turkish-Muslim domains in Anatolia. In this context, it is important
1 See, for example, Anna Komnene, Alexias 3.9.3, ed. Reinsch, p. 110; Michael Attaleiates, His-
tory, ed. Pérez Martin, p. 70.
2 For the Oghuz Turks, Turkmens (or Turcoman or Türkmen = Islamized Oghuz Turks), and the
early Seljuk migrations, see Peacock, Seljuk Empire, pp. 22–32, with numerous bibliographical
references. In this article, “Turkmen” designates Turkish nomadic groups whereas “Seljuk”
refers to the synonymous clan or dynasty. The classical study on Turkish nomads in Asia Mi-
nor from a Byzantinist’s vantage point is Vryonis, “Nomadization”, pp. 41–71, but see now
Beihammer, Byzantium and the Emergence of Muslim-Turkish Anatolia.
© Alexander Beihammer, �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_007

Patterns of Turkish Migration and Expansion in Byzantine 167
to examine the correlations and reciprocities between the political and social
characteristics of these incoming groups and the internal situation of Byzan-
tine Asia Minor before and during the Turkish expansion. The latter aspect is
closely related to the notion of the 11th-century crisis, which modern historians
have frequently used as an explicatory model for the rapid collapse of the Byz-
antine central government and military power in the decades after Emperor
Basil ii’s death in 1025.3
The Turks penetrating Asia Minor were far from being a clearly defined and
homogeneous ethnic group. In their efforts to construe an unbroken continu-
ity between the Oghuz tribes of Central Asia and the conquerors of Anatolia,
modern Turkish historians highlight the persistence of tribal structures, ethnic
characteristics, and behavioral patterns originating from Turkic nomadic and
pastoralist traditions. Reports of Muslim authors referring to belligerent groups
wandering about the Iranian provinces between Khurāsān and Azerbaijan
along with their womenfolk, baggage trains, and livestock can be used in sup-
port of these views.4 Likewise, the Seljuk dynastic tradition draws the image of
a noble family descending from the Oghuz Kınık tribe and moving with its
herds and retinues between summer and winter quarters in central Transoxa-
nia.5 Additional evidence for the Turks’ overwhelmingly nomadic character is
provided by the reports of Christian authors.6 Their statements, however, rep-
resent only segments of the whole picture, and there are many descriptions
pointing to more intricate realities. Between the 1040s and 1070s, the sources
mention numerous names of Turkish chieftains conducting raids and attacks
in various provinces of Byzantine Asia Minor and adjacent Muslim regions.
These groups are described either as independently operating units, such as
the followers of Arslān b. Saljūq in the 1030s and 1040s and the warriors
of Hārūn b. Khān, Atsız b. Uwaq, Qaralū/Qurlū, Shuklī, and the sons of Qutlu-
mush in the 1060s/1070s,7 or as subunits subject to the supreme command of
3 For the validity of this explicatory model, see the articles collected in Vlyssidou, The Empire
in Crisis (?), as well as Preiser-Kapeller, “A Collapse of the Eastern Mediterranean”.
4 Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, vol. 6, p. 39, trans. Richards Annals, p. 15. For further evidence regarding
the presence of women and children during Turkmen campaigns, see Peacock, Seljūq Histo-
ry, pp. 83–84.
5 Ẓahīr al-Dīn Nīshāpurī/Rashīd al-Dīn, Saljūq-nama, ed. Ateş, p. 5, trans. Luther, History, p. 29.
6 See, for instance, John Skylitzes, Synopsis, Const. Mon. 9–10, 12–15, ed. Thurn, pp. 442–447,
448–454; Michael the Syrian, Chronicle 14.1–5, ed. Chabot, vol. 3, pp. 149–157; for a broader
treatment of this subject, see Beihammer, “Ethnogenese”, 589–614.
7 For the groups recognizing the leadership of Arslān b. Saljūq, see Turan, Selçuklular Târihi,
pp. 119–121; for Hārūn b. Khān, Atsız b. Uwaq, and Shuklī, see Sevim, Suriye, pp. 35–47
(Hanoğlu Harun), pp. 49–54 (Kurlu et-Türkî), pp. 63–84 (Uvakoğlu Atsız), pp. 66–71 (Şöklü);
for the sons of Qutlumush, see Sevim/Merçil, Selçuklu Devletleri, pp. 426–428.
168 Beihammer
the Seljuk clan, such as the hosts of Samūkh in the late 1050s or of Afshīn in the
1070s.8 Warlords like a brother of the sultan called Aspan Salarios (= isfahsālār)
or the sālār of Khurāsān seem to have been granted titles related to military
posts in Persian cities and provinces.9 This shows that already in the first de-
cades of Seljuk rule the assimilation of Turkish chiefs to the Iranian military
class was well underway.
Claude Cahen proposed a classification based on the commanders’ proxim-
ity to the Seljuk sultan,10 but this would presuppose the existence of a gener-
ally accepted central power, something that was hardly the case before the
reign of Sultan Malikshāh (1072–1092).11 The Seljuk Empire throughout its exis-
tence was characterized by incessant rebellions and intra-dynastic conflicts, in
which Turkmen chiefs and other military men turned from loyal followers into
dangerous rebels and vice versa.12 Many scholars ascribe these phenomena to
the rise of the emirs, a group of military commanders of disparate origin, who
gained power and influence as a result of the consolidation of administrative
structures and hierarchical concepts at the Seljuk court. Another factor was
the transformation of the Seljuk military forces, which increasingly drew on
slave soldiers (mamlūks) in lieu of Turkmen nomadic warriors.13 Modern at-
tempts to sharply distinguish between a traditional Turkmen aristocracy and a
new military elite, however, obfuscates the fact that the boundaries between
the various socio-ethnic groups included in the Seljuk army were always ex-
tremely blurred. The behavioral patterns of early Turkmen chieftains and later
Seljuk emirs, who were appointed as governors and iqṭā‘ (“land grant”) holders
in the provinces, evince numerous commonalities and continuities. A strong
tendency towards a particularization and regionalization of power structures
seems to lie at the very heart of the Seljuk expansionist movement and could
only partly be curtailed by centralizing attempts on the part of the sultanate.
A characteristic feature of these powerful warlords, be they independent
Turkmen chiefs or Seljuk emirs, was their endeavor to effectively interact with
the indigenous population and the local elites. The invaders did not confine
themselves to raiding and pillaging but aimed at a much broader range of
8 For this person, see Sevim, Ünlü Selçuklu Komutanları, pp. 18–32 (Bekçioğlu Emîr Afşin).
9 John Skylitzes, Synopsis, Const. Mon. 14, ed. Thurn, p. 453, lines 76–77: Ἄσπαν Σαλάριος ὁ
τοῦ Ἀβραμίου ἑτεροθαλὴς ἀδελφός; Matthew of Edessa, Chronicle 2.15, trans. Dostourian,
p. 97: Slar Khorasan.
10 Cahen, “Première Pénétration”, pp. 12–13.
11 Peacock, Seljuk Empire, pp. 58–71.
12 For details through the various stages of Seljuk history, see Peacock, Seljuk Empire,
pp. 50–53, 72–80, 95–100, 107–114.
13 Peacock, Seljuk Empire, pp. 72–73, 217–235.
a ctivities by interfering with power struggles, forging coalitions and bonds of

marriage with local rulers, and acquiring new sources of income through the
extortion of tributes, the exploitation of landed estates, and the release of
high-ranking captives. We find numerous examples for these behaviors among
the Turks in the Anti-Taurus region, the Armenian highlands, as well as central
and western Asia Minor.14 It made no difference whether the indigenous aris-
tocracy was Christian or Muslim. Alliances of this kind were usually short-lived
and served specific goals so as to support competing groups against their ad-
versaries. Not surprisingly, these coalitions also affected the composition of
certain military groups. The available evidence is scarce, but it seems that suc-
cessful campaigns frequently caused local elements to join powerful Turkish
warrior groups permanently. In this way, Turkish nomads merged with Persian,
Arab, and Kurdish groups in western Iran, Iraq, Syria, and Azerbaijan.15 As re-
gards the Byzantine territories, from early on we have information referring to
coalitions with Franks, Armenians, and Greeks.16 We may assume that as time
went by this process altered the ethnic composition of these groups. The core
of Turkish soldiers was gradually supplemented by newly arriving people of
different origin. Another factor fostering this development was the presence of
captives, who partly assimilated to the Turks. This phenomenon can also be
observed reversely with respect to Turkish prisoners who were integrated in
the Byzantine cultural environment and the imperial court. We know of Byz-
antine commanders, who as a result of their captivity were well acquainted
14 For raids in western Iran and the first attacks on Byzantine-held territories of Armenia in
the years 1038–1044, see Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, vol. 6, pp. 38–46, trans. Richards, Annals,
pp. 13–25. For the activities of the chieftain Samukh in the region between Vaspurakan
and the Halys (Kızılırmak) Valley in the years 1055–1059, see John Skylitzes, Synopsis,
Mich. Geron 3–4, ed. Thurn, pp. 484–486; Matthew of Edessa, Chronicle 2.12, trans. Dos-
tourian, p. 95; for the coalitions of Hārūn b. Khān with the Marwānid emirs of Aleppo, see
Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Mir’āt al-zamān, ed. Sevim, pp. 100–101; Ibn al-‘Adīm, Zubda, ed. Zakkar,
pp. 250–256; for Turkish groups roaming about central and western Asia Minor during the
1070s, see Michael Attaleiates, History, ed. Pérez Martin, pp. 140–142, 143–145, 147; Nike-
phoros Bryennios, History 2.7–9, 17–18, 21, 23–26 ed. Gautier, pp. 154–159, 178–181, 186–189,
190–193, 195–201. For the Qutlumush Turks during the period 1077–1081, see Michael
Attaleiates, History, ed. Pérez Martin, pp. 155–199, esp. 158, 173–174, 191–193; Nikephoros
Bryennios, History 3.16–17, 4.2, ed. Gautier, pp. 240–241, 242–243, 259; for the revolt of
Nikephoros Melissenos and his coalition with the Turks, see Nikephoros Bryennios, His-
tory 4.31–33, ed. Gautier, pp. 300–303.
15 Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, vol. 6, pp. 38, 40–42, trans. Richards, Annals, pp. 13, 16–19 (Turkmen
warriors in the employ of the Rawwādid ruler of Tabriz); pp. 40–41, trans. Richards,
Annals, pp. 16–17 (bonds of marriage between the family of ‘Alā’ al-Dawla b. Kākūya of
Hamadhān and the Turkmen chief Göktash).
16 For coalitions with Franks and Greeks see the examples cited in note 14.
170 Beihammer
with the customs and language of the Turks.17 Conversely, there were some
high-ranking officers of Turkish descent who reached supreme positions in the
Byzantine army. A case in point was the grand primikerios Tatikios, who played
an important role in numerous campaigns in the Balkans and Asia Minor
throughout the reign of Emperor Alexios i (1081–1118).18 Even more renowned
was John Axouch, who had been taken prisoner after the capitulation of Nica-
ea in 1097 and held the rank of megas domestikos, i.e., commander of the east-
ern and western armies, during the entire the reign of John ii (1118–1143) and in
the early years of Manuel i (1143–1180).19
Modern nationalistic concepts obfuscate the intricacies of these relations
by focusing on binary oppositions, such as thriving Greek-Orthodox communi-
ties vs. unruly nomads, who formed a deadly menace to townspeople and peas-
ants, or powerful conquerors in search of a new homeland vs. decadent local
groups.20 Explanations linking the motives of Turkish migration and expan-
sion in Anatolia with the customs and needs of nomadic modes of living, such
as climatic fluctuations, the suitability of landscapes, ample opportunities for
winter and summer pastures, etc.,21 are certainly illuminating with respect to
the initial stage in which groups of non-sedentary pastoralists arrived and
adapted to the geographical conditions of the Armenian highland and the
Anatolian plateau. Yet it is noteworthy that our primary sources rarely refer to
these aspects. This lack of information should not be ascribed to the limited
scope of outside observers or the distorting effect of literary conventions. The
available narratives simply concentrate on those aspects, which determined
the ways in which sedentary groups perceived and interacted with nomads
and which preconditioned the transition to more permanent forms of settle-
ment and rule. Frequently mentioned phenomena are raiding activities aim-
ing at the accumulation of wealth, military services offered to local potentates,
the infiltration of ruling elites, and the forging of coalitions, which opened the
way to the acquisition of land and resources. In this way, Turkmen chieftains
increased their manpower, developed links with the sedentary communi-
ties, and established rudimentary forms of political authority, which under
favorable circumstances could result in the creation of lordships based on
agreements with the indigenous population.
17 Anna Komnene, Alexias 11.2.9, ed. Reinsch, p. 328 (Rodomeros spent a long time in Turk-
ish captivity).
18 Brand, “Turkish Element”, pp. 3–4.
19 Brand, “Turkish Element”, pp. 4–6.
20 See, for instance, Vryonis, Decline, pp. 1–85; Turan, Türkiye, pp. 1–21; for the background of
this discussion, see Beihammer, Byzantium and the Emergence of Muslim Turkish Anato-
lia, pp. 6–16.
21 Peacock, Seljūq History, pp. 47–71, 128–163; Peacock, Seljuk Empire, pp. 22–39.
What were the political concepts, ideological incentives, and conquest

strategies that created cohesion, a sense of solidarity, and a common identity
among these Turkish warriors? Apparently, there was a strong influence of the
Seljuk elite in Iran and Iraq, which under the leadership of Ṭughril Beg and his
successors gradually developed a dynastic and imperial ideology drawing on
Iranian models of kingship, the title of sultan inherited from the Ghaznavid
tradition, and claims to a leading position in the Muslim world as protectors of
Sunni Islam legitimated by the authority of the Abbasid caliphate.22 These
ideas undoubtedly underscored conquests and other political ambitions in the
central lands of Islam. Turkish chiefs who maintained ties of allegiance with
the Seljuk clan imported some of these concepts into the Byzantine-Armenian
regions of Asia Minor while carving out their bases of power. The historical
memory reflected in later chronicles evokes the notion of cities and territories
assigned by the sultan and the caliph to outstanding Turkish emirs.23 There are
also references to concepts of Muslim jihad, which first appear in reports on
campaigns led by Seljuk sultans against the Byzantines and later on with re-
spect to Turkish emirs fighting the crusaders.24 These features are employed as
legitimizing strategies, which retrospectively link the nascent Turkish-Muslim
lordships of Anatolia with the traditions and institutions of the Muslim central
lands and Seljuk dynastic concepts. They hardly reflect the historical realities
of the conquest period. What seems to have been a decisive impetus from the
outset, however, was the successful leadership of powerful chiefs, who often
gave their names as identifiers to the groups under their command. The fre-
quent mentions of their names in the available narratives indicate the im-
portance of these warlords as leading figures who created cohesion, attracted
newcomers, and determined the course of action of their soldiers and fol-
lowers.25 At a later stage, they were linked with ideological elements related
22 Peacock, Seljuk Empire, pp. 39–52.

23 Zahīr al-Dīn Nīshāpurī/Rashīd al-Dīn, Saljūq-nama, ed. Ateş, pp. 28–29, trans. Luther, His-
tory, p. 29.
24 Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, vol. 6, p. 139, trans. Richards, Annals, p. 67 (report on the Seljuk cam-
paign of 1048, which refers to the Seljuk troops as “Muslims” [muslimūn] and describes
Constantinople as being almost in the reach of the Seljuk invaders); Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil,
vol. 6, pp. 448–449; Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl Tārīkh Dimashq, ed. Amedroz, pp. 146–147 (Emir
Suqmān b. Artuq is presented as fighting against the crusaders).
25 Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, vol. 6, pp. 38–39, trans. Richards, Annals, pp. 13–15: The Iraqi Oghuz (a
group of Turkish warriors related to western Iran) are defined as “the followers of Arslān
b. Saljūq al-Turkī”; Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, vol. 6, pp. 39, 40, 43, trans. Richards, Annals, pp. 15,
17, 18, 20: Kūktāsh (Göktaş), Būqā (Boğa), Qizil (Kızıl), Yaghmur (Yağmur), a sister’s son
(ibn ukht) of Yaghmur, Nāṣoghlī (Nasoğlı), Dānā and Manṣūr b. Ghuzzoghlī are mentioned
as chiefs of Turkmen warrior groups. A similar tendency can be observed in the Byzantine
sources: see, for instance, Michael Attaleiates, History, ed. Pérez Martin, pp. 71–72
172 Beihammer
to Seljuk dynastic traditions and Sunni Islam. In this way, the principalities
created by them were embedded in the traditional concepts of Muslim
sovereignty.
Reliable Information regarding the size of these groups is extremely scarce.
A group of the Iraqi Oghuz is said to have amounted to 2,000 tents, which
would mean a total number of 8–10,000 people including women and chil-
dren.26 Other reports speak about 3,000 and 5,000 warriors in Armenia and
western Iran respectively,27 while the figures regarding the soldiers under the
command of Hārūn b. Khān in northern Syria range between 500 and 1,000.28
Highly exaggerated are the numbers mentioned with respect to the troops in-
volved in large-scale campaigns of the Seljuk sultans in Armenia, Caucasia,
and the Euphrates region.29 Since most reports refer to military operations, we
hardly hear anything about the families accompanying the warriors. We may
assume that non-combatant family members stayed with the warriors as soon
as the latter acquired fortified camps and permanent strongholds. This hap-
pened first in the Diyār Bakr province, in the late 1050s in the Armenian high-
lands, and from the 1060s onwards in regions of Syria and Palestine.30 In the
rural areas of western and central Anatolia, more permanent forms of Turkish
presence are attested to from the mid-1070s onwards.31 The gradual disintegra-
tion of Byzantine administrative and military structures, which was caused in
various parts of Asia Minor by a series of power struggles among competing
factions of the Byzantine aristocracy from 1057 onwards, allowed local lords,
army units,32 and foreign mercenary groups to gain a high degree of indepen-
dence from the central government in Constantinople and brought about a
breakdown of alliances with Muslim emirs in the borderlands. In this situa-
tion, Turkish hosts were able to maintain lines of communication with their
compatriots in the frontier zones and the Muslim regions and new groups of
Turkmen migrants along with their livestock and families invaded Byzantine
territories almost unhindered. Again, it remains unclear to what degree these
(Amertikes), p. 191 (the sons of Qutlumush); John Skylitzes, Synopsis, Mich. Geron 3, ed.
Thurn, p. 484.
26 Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, vol. 6, p. 38, trans. Richards, Annals, p. 13.
28 Ibn al-Adīm, Zubda, ed. Zakkar, p. 250.
29 John Skylitzes, Synopsis, Konst. Mon. 10, 13, ed. Thurn, p. 447, 449.
30 Turan, Selçuklular Târihi, pp. 129–131 (Armenian highlands); Sevim, Suriye, pp. 35–47
(Syria).
31 Turan, Türkiye, pp. 36–44 (central and western Anatolia).
32 For a general overview of this period, see Angold, Byzantine Empire, pp. 44–48; for the
Byzantine aristocracy in Asia Minor, see Cheynet, Pouvoir et contestations, pp. 337–357.
people were still primarily preoccupied with stockbreeding and transhumance

or were already acquainted with farming and sedentary modes of living. We
may assume that the divides between the two types increasingly blurred and
that the Turks, while subjugating the local population and occupying urban
centers, quickly adapted to their new environment. This is well attested, for
instance, in the case of the Turkish bands of Atsız and Shuqlī, who around 1070
began to carve out their lordships in Syria and Palestine.33 In Asia Minor, the
Turks needed more time to take hold of urban centers, but the overall instabil-
ity enabled them to accumulate wealth from rural areas and to infiltrate the
existing power structures. Undoubtedly, the turmoil in Asia Minor brought
about a great deal of ransacking and pillaging, but there were no clear-cut fron-
tiers or warring parties. Turkish warriors stood in the employ of both Byzan-
tine rebels and the imperial government, while the Greek, Armenian, or Syrian
population in towns and the countryside endured raids, sought the protection
of Turkish chieftains, or forged alliances with them. Sections of the indigenous
population certainly fell victim to these hostilities or fled to safer regions, but
the majority kept on living in their hometowns and villages.34
How did the Turks hold sway over the rural areas in Asia Minor and how did
they manage to seize towns? The scholarly literature frequently refers to large
devastated zones that had been abandoned by their former Byzantine lords
and thus could be easily seized and populated by Turkish newcomers.35 Cer-
tain narratives evoke images of a massive influx of settlers, who within a short
period brought about radical changes to the ethnic and demographic compo-
sition.36 This is partly supported by descriptions of Byzantine authors, who
speak about a total collapse of the imperial administration, the decay and
withdrawal of military units, fatal mistakes committed by the central govern-
ment, and incidents of inexcusable negligence.37 Armenian authors, too, refer
to pitiless massacres and destructions of apocalyptic dimensions caused by
the Turkish raids,38 while Muslim authors describe stunning amounts of booty
33 Sevim, Suriye, pp. 64–69.

34 For examples, see the sources cited above, n. 14.
35 Turan, Türkiye, pp. 37–55; Vryonis, Decline, pp. 80–96, 143–168; Cahen, Pre-Ottoman Tur-
key, pp. 64–72; Peacock, Seljūq History, pp. 149–157.
36 See, for instance, Matthew of Edessa, Chronicle 2.73, trans. Dostourian, pp. 143–144; Turan,
Türkiye, pp. 39–40.
37 Michael Attaleiates, History, ed. Pérez Martin, pp. 34–35, 59–62, 70–73, 77–119 (detailed
account of Romanos iv’s three campaigns, which ended with the defeat of Manzikert);
John Skylitzes, Synopsis, Konst. Mon. 12–14, ed. Thurn, pp. 448–454.
38 Matthew of Edessa, Chronicle 1.88, 92, 2.3, 8, 12, 15, trans. Dostourian, pp. 74, 76–77, 86–88,
92–93, 94–96, 97–98.
174 Beihammer
and captives seized by the invaders.39 Taken at face value, all these accounts
give the impression of disruptive events with fatal consequences for all preex-
isting structures, but we should bear in mind that they focus on specific con-
flict situations and are informed by the intentions and vantage points of their
authors.40 Accordingly, they highlight military successes, barbarian menaces,
or the idea of divine wrath, or they utter acerbic critique of opposing factions
or undesired incumbents of the imperial throne.
A number of studies are devoted to the emergence of Turkish toponyms in
Asia Minor, but except for a handful of instances in which geographic names
can be related to personalities and sacred sites of the conquest period, the bulk
of the known material concerning Turkmen tribes, topographic particularities,
or nomadic customs is derived from later waqf (pious foundation) documents
or Ottoman tax registers and reflects data of the 15th and 16th centuries.41 All sur-
viving monuments, artifacts, and archaeological evidence indicating Turkish-
Muslim presence in Anatolia postdate the mid-12th century, when the firm
establishment of Turkish domains in the urban centers of the central and east-
ern highlands was well underway.42 Hence, the only way to reconstruct the
dynamics of expansion is to carefully examine the available narratives by tak-
ing into account prevailing perceptions and intentions and by comparing data
from Anatolia with those garnered from the Muslim central lands. Arabic
sources refer to activities of Turkish warriors, the reactions of the local lords,
and the interactions between the two sides in much more detail than Byzan-
tine and Eastern Christian sources. Hence, certain gaps of information can,
with the necessary caution, filled in with material from other regions.
From a methodological point of view, it is important to sharply distinguish
between military activities, on the one hand, and aspects of permanent settle-
ment and territorial rule, on the other. Raids and attacks certainly had a nega-
tive impact on the regions affected by them, ranging from limited devastation
to a total destruction of social and economic structures.43 Yet they do not nec-
essarily imply that the invaders from the outset aimed at the acquisition of
territories. In fact, Turkish groups who were roaming about Byzantine territo-
ries initially evinced no ambitions whatsoever to permanently occupy towns
or provinces. They were content with increasing their income from booty,

40 For details, see Beihammer, “Feindbilder”, pp. 48–98.
41 Kafali, “Turkification of Anatolia”, pp. 401–417.
42 See the relevant articles in Peker/Bilici (eds.), Selçukluları ve Beylikler Dönemi Uygarlığı,
vol. 2.
43 For possible environmental historical evidence, see Preiser-Kapeller, “A Collapse of the
Eastern Mediterranean”.
t ributes, taxes, and military coalitions. The Turks’ transition from rural to ur-
ban presence was not a sudden and violent act but a gradual process resulting
from successful interaction and shared objectives between indigenous groups
and immigrants.
As regards the various stages of Turkish expansion in Asia Minor, the schol-
arly bibliography places much emphasis on the early Seljuk campaigns and,
above all, the battle of Manzikert in 1071 as decisive events sparking off the
Turkification of Asia Minor.44 There is some truth in that, but a closer look at
the sources reveals realities that are more intricate. The Seljuk campaigns in
the Armenian highlands between the Araxes (Aras Nehri), the Arsanias (Murat
Nehri), and the Lykos (Çoruh Nehri) Valleys, in Transcaucasia, and, later on,
along the southern flank of the borderland as far as Aleppo did not result in
substantial territorial gains or in a massive influx of Turkish warriors into Asia
Minor. What these operations actually brought about was a breakdown of the
imperial government’s coalitions with Muslim emirs in the frontier region, a
dismantlement of the Byzantine defensive structures along the main invasion
routes over the Anti-Taurus, the Amanus Mountains, and the Arsanias Valley
between the Upper Euphrates and Lake Van.45 This, in turn, enabled indepen-
dent bands of warriors to extend their raiding activities during the 1050s and
1060s from the Lykos Valley in the Pontus region to Cappadocia and facilitated
the further intrusion of Turks into the Diyār Bakr province and northern Syr-
ia.46 The Byzantine themata and katepanata/doukata in the east, which had
come into being as a result of the Byzantine conquests in the time between the
mid-tenth and the early 11th century, turned into a permeable transit region
marked by extremely volatile political conditions and the inability of superre-
gional powers to impose centralizing forms of control.47
44 Turan, Selçuklular Târihi, pp. 112–131, 150–157; For a new interpretation of various aspects,
see Peacock, Seljūq History, pp. 128–151; for Manzikert and its implications, see Hillen-
brand, Turkish Myth.
45 For this network and its gradual breakdown as a result of the Seljuk expansion, see Bei-
hammer, “Muslim Rulers”, pp. 157–177.
46 Matthew of Edessa, Chronicle 2.8, trans. Dostourian, pp. 92–93; Michael the Syrian, Chron-
icle 15.1, trans. Chabot, vol. 3, pp. 158–160: attack on Melitene in the fall of 1057; Matthew
of Edessa, Chronicle 2.21, trans. Dostourian, pp. 94–96: attack on Sebasteia in August 1059;
Matthew of Edessa, Chronicle 2.15, trans. Dostourian, pp. 97–98: attacks on the strong-
holds of Bagin, Erkne, and Tulkhum in the Anti-Taurus range northwest of Amid; Sibṭ b.
al-Jawzī, Mir’āt al-zamān, ed. Sevim, pp. 100–101: Turkmen warriors were invited by the
local governor to come to Āmid in 1062/1063; Matthew of Edessa, Chronicle 2.27–29, trans.
Dostourian, pp. 107–109: Turkish attacks from the Diyār Bakr province on the ducate of
Edessa in 1065/1066.
47 For the details of this process, see Leveniotis, Πολιτική Κατάρρευση.
176 Beihammer
First invasions into central Anatolia as far as Konya in Lycaonia and the up-
per Maeander Valley occurred in the years 1068/69, but the advance towards
the northwestern fringes of the Anatolian plateau in Phrygia and Galatia and
thence along the Sangarios (Sakarya Nehri) Valley as far as Bithynia did not
take place before the years 1073–1075.48 In these years, towns were devastated
from time to time but not yet permanently occupied. The Turkish presence
remained restricted to rural areas close to river valleys and sections of the Ana-
tolian road system. Turks entered towns only on certain occasions with the
consent of the local rulers for trade, negotiations, or the bestowal of gifts.49 Yet
their intrusion into the regional structures had become more pressing. Con-
temporary accounts indicate a high degree of control exerted by Turkish war-
rior groups over certain areas close to urban centers or sensitive points of the
local road system.50 This, in turn, suggests the existence of camps in suitable
pasture regions as well as rudimentary military structures that afforded protec-
tion to their tribesmen and supported the surveillance and exploitation of
larger territorial units. Nevertheless, contrarily to what later sources retrospec-
tively claim in their attempt to establish links of legitimacy with the Great
Seljuk sultanate,51 there is still no evidence for the emergence of proper lord-
ships founded by Turkish emirs in those years.
The period between 1080/81–1097/98 witnessed the establishment of Turk-
ish chieftains in towns of Phrygia and Bithynia as well as in places situated in
the coastal areas of western Anatolia, such as Kyzikos (near Ercek), Smyrna,
and Ephesos (Selçuk). Unfortunately, the details of this process are only insuf-
ficiently known due to a gap in Byzantine historiography between about 1080,
where Michael Attaleiates stops his account, and the Komnenian eulogists
of Alexios i’s reign, Nikephoros Bryennios and his wife Anna Komnene, who
48 Michael Attaleiates, History, ed. Pérez Martin, pp. 100–101: Turkish advance as far as Konya
in 1069; ibidem, pp. 105–106: attack on Chonai in the Upper Meander Valley in 1070; in-
scription fragments attest to fortification works in southern Phrygia in about 1070: Foss
and Winfield, Byzantine Fortifications, pp. 139–140; Nikephoros Bryennios, History 2.7–8,
ed. Gautier, pp. 154–157: first mention of Turks roaming the region of Ankara; Michael At-
taleiates, History, ed. Pérez Martin, p. 140; Nikephoros Bryennios, History 2.18, ed. Gautier,
pp. 178–179: Turks controlled the area of the Sophon Mountain (Sabanca Dağı) in western
Bithynia in about 1074–1075.
49 Michael Attaleiates, History, ed. Pérez Martin, pp. 198–199: Nikephoros iii Botaneiates
granted audience to his Turkish allies in order to reward them for their services.
50 Michael Attaleiates, History, ed. Pérez Martin, pp. 99–100: Due to Turkish pressure, de-
tachments of the imperial army evacuate the region of Khanzit and retreat to Keltzene.
Ibidem, p. 193: Turks control the access routes to the city of Nicaea.
51 See the sources quoted above, n. 23–24.
wrote in the 1130/40s.52 Bryennios differs in many respects from Attaleiates in

his account of Anatolian affairs during the 1070s and adds numerous accurate
observations, but his narrative stops before the outbreak of the Komnenian-
Doukas coup in early 1081.53 Consequently, the decisive transition period be-
tween the fall of Nikephoros iii and the consolidation of Alexios i’s regime is
only scarcely documented. In particular, it is hardly possible to elucidate the
strong impact this event must have had on the power relations between Byzan-
tine aristocrats and Turkish warrior groups in Anatolia. Projecting experiences
of her own time back to the expansion period, Anna Komnene depicts the
Turks as independent local lords, who were already firmly established in many
urban centers of western Anatolia. The incessant revolts of the late 1070s and
the fierce infighting among the leading aristocratic clans up to 1081 seem to
have created a power vacuum, in which the Turks swiftly intruded. Yet the de-
tails of this process can hardly be reconstructed and many regions remain in
the dark. We hear of Byzantine rebels handing over their towns to Turkish war-
riors in exchange for military support, as was the case with Nikephoros Melis-
senos in late 1080,54 or of proper conquests, as is mentioned with respect to
Kyzikos, Smyrna, Konya, and Taxara (Aksaray).55 It is highly improbable though
that the Turks at that time would have possessed the necessary equipment and
fighting technique to conduct sieges. We may assume that in most cases take-
overs resulted from agreements between Turkish chiefs and the local aristo-
crats. The detailed account of Anna Komnene yields plenty of useful informa-
tion about the Bithynian city of Nicaea. Sulaymān b. Qutlumush and his
warriors seem to have taken hold of the city in early 1081, whereas the settle-
ment of women and children, the appointment of a local governor, and the
establishment of a proper residence occurred after Kılıç Arslān i’s takeover in
52 Karpozilos, Ιστορικοί, vol. 3, pp. 357–370, 397–425; Neville, Anna Komnene, pp. 4–5.
53 For the author and his work, see Karpozilos, Ιστορικοί, vol. 3, pp. 357–370; Neville, Heroes
and Romans.
54 Nikephoros Bryennios, History 4.31, ed. Gautier, pp. 300–303. Melissenos seems to have
gathered supporters primarily from the western fringes of the Anatolian plateau in the
provinces of Phrygia and Galatia and used the city of Dorylaion as his main stronghold.
55 Anna Komnene, Alexias 2.3.1, ed. Reinsch, p. 60 (Kyzikos in about 1080); ibidem 6.13.1, ed.
Reinsch, p. 197, mentions a certain Elchanes as lord of Kyzikos and Apollonias; ibidem
7.8.7, ed. Reinsch, p. 225 mentions the rise of Tzachas, who had achieved the rank of pro-
tonobelissimos at the court of Nikephoros iii but lost his position after Alexios i’s takeover
and became lord of Smyrna in about 1081/1082. Konya and other towns of Lycaonia are
hardly mentioned in Byzantine sources after the attack of 1069. The Muslim tradition
speaks about a conquest of Konya and Taxara: Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, vol. 6, p. 293, trans.
Richards, Annals, p. 216; Tārīkh-i Āl-i Saljūq, ed. F. N. Uzluk, p. 36 and pp. 23–24 (Turkish
translation).
178 Beihammer
1093.56 We may assume that the Turks followed similar patterns in other cities
and areas. Initially they seem to have been content with establishing small gar-
risons, which gradually attracted families and other groups of settlers. In the
course of time, this brought about an increase and diversification of Turkish
elements permeating the social fabric of Anatolian urban settlements. This
also implies the creation of a Turkish residence area or district within the
walled town, including the erection of mosques or the adoption of pre-existing
sacred spaces. The changes of urban spaces resulting from the establishment
of Turkish elites and Muslim institutions can be studied more systematically
from the second half of the 12th century onwards, i.e., the time from which the
oldest monuments of Seljuk art in Anatolia survive. Nevertheless, the garrison-
like character of the earliest Turkish settlements is still recognizable in the spa-
tial setting of the earliest architectural monuments, which are mainly concen-
trated on citadel hills and frequently built in or near sacred areas of the
pre-existing Christian substrate, thus visualizing military predominance in
conjunction with a local memorial culture of sacredness. The best-known ex-
ample certainly is the Alaeddin Mosque of Konya (1155), which along with the
tomb of Kılıç Arslan ii was erected on the city’s acropolis near the now de-
stroyed Byzantine church of Hagios Amphilochios.57 Likewise, the oldest sur-
viving mosque of Ankara dating from 1178 was constructed just below the peak
of the citadel hill, overlooking the whole town and the surrounding steppe
land of the Anatolian plateau.58
In the 1080s and 1090s, in western, central, and parts of eastern Anatolia
between the Halys (Kızılırmak) basin and the Armenian highlands, Turkish
emirs began to develop rudimentary structures of independent lordships.
Pieces of evidence are scarce and unevenly distributed, but taken together
they reveal a number of recurring patterns that contributed to the transforma-
tion of Turkmen raiders into potentates and state builders. Generally speaking,
there is a clearly recognizable divide between the Turks in western Anatolia,
who were exposed to strong political and ideological influences of their Byzan-
tine cultural environment and the imperial government, and the Turks farther
east, who were attached to the Great Seljuk sultanate and other political
powers in Azerbaijan and western Iran. Among the most crucial factors foster-
ing the crystallization of state-like entities in western Anatolia we may mark
out: (1) alliances with the Byzantine government and local aristocrats; (2) trea-
ties between Turkish chiefs and the imperial government providing for a
56 Anna Komnene, Alexias 6.12.8, ed. Reinsch, p. 197.

57 Redford, “Alaeddin mosque reconsidered”, 54–74; Tekinalp, “Palace Churches”, pp. 154–160.
58 Çam/Ersay, Ankara Muhyiddin Mesud (Alâeddin Camii)nin İlk Şekli, pp. 9–42.
r ecognition of certain privileges, territorial rights, or spheres of influence;59 (3)

diplomatic contacts between the two sides accompanied by tributes, gifts, and
the bestowal of court titles strengthening the ideological ties with the Byzan-
tine ruling elite;60 (4) political coalitions between Turkish lords, which were
partly consolidated by intermarriages;61 (5) successful forms of accommoda-
tion and collaboration with the indigenous population;62 (6) firm control over
land, agricultural produce, taxes, and other resources in towns and rural ar-
eas.63 At first, nascent lordships consisted of a number of strongholds along
with a highly fluctuating radius of influence stretching over the surrounding
areas. Yet there were still no clearly defined territorial or administrative units.
The creation of extended realms being under the sway of Turkish emirs re-
sulted from an intricate process, which lasted several decades and was contin-
gent upon changing political constellations in Anatolia in the time before and
after the First Crusade as well as upon the balance of power among competing
Byzantine, Frankish, Armenian, and Turkish lords. At the same time, the con-
solidation and expansion of these new domains was closely related to a
strengthening of the internal cohesion between the new Turkish ruling elite
and the indigenous Christian population. To this end, the Turks offered incen-
tives for local groups to stay and keep on pursuing their professions and
economic activities. These included temporary tax exemptions, the protection
of their subjects’ lives, property rights, and religious freedoms, effective forms
of communication and interaction in administrative and judicial matters, and
mechanisms providing a sense of lawfulness and legitimacy by combining
59 Anna Komnene, Alexias 3.11.4–5, ed. Reinsch, p. 116 (treaty between Alexios i and
Sulaymāb b. Qutlumush in 1081), ibidem 6.10.8–9, ed. Reinsch, pp. 191–192 (treaty between
Alexios i and Apelchasem of Nicaea); ibidem 9.3.4, ed. Reinsch, p. 265 (renewal of the
treaty with Qilij Arslān after the assassination of the Emir of Smyrna Tzachas).
60 Anna Komnene, Alexias 6.10.8–9, ed. Reinsch, pp. 191–192 (amusements, rich gifts, and the
title of sebastos for Apelchasem during his sojourn in Constantinople); ibidem 6.12.8, ed.
Reinsch, p. 197 (embassy to Poulchases in Nicaea with rich gifts); ibidem 9.3.2, ed. Reinsch,
p. 264 (letter by Alexios i to Kılıç Arslān i stirring him up against the Emir of Smyrna
Tzachas).
61 Anna Komnene, Alexias 9.3.2 and 4, ed. Reinsch, p. 264, 265 (Qilij Arslān is married to a
daughter of the Emir of Smyrna Tzachas in 1093).
62 Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, vol. 6, p. 293, trans. Richards, Annals, p. 218; Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Mir’āt al-
zamān, ed. Sevim, p. 229 (Sulaymān granted amnesty to the people of Antioch, allowed
them to repair damaged buildings and protected their property rights).
63 Anna Komnene 6.12.8, ed. Reinsch, p. 197 (appointment by Kılıç Arslān of a supreme gov-
ernor in Nicaea called the archisatrapes Mouchoumet).
180 Beihammer
newly imported Muslim and pre-existing Byzantine practices and concepts of

political authority.64
The First Crusade (1096–1099) brought about a sudden and violent rupture
in this development. The hosts of armed pilgrims arriving from France and It-
aly constituted not only a strong military force that enabled the Byzantines to
regain large parts of western Asia Minor and wiped the Turks out of Cilicia and
the regions of Antioch and Edessa. They also initiated a new and unexpected
migration movement that channeled large numbers of Europeans through
Asia Minor to the crusader states in Palestine, northern Syria, and Upper Meso-
potamia. The crossing of Anatolia by crusading armies caused an unprece-
dented scale of devastation that resulted from acts of warfare and the scorched
earth strategy applied by the Turks, on the one hand, as well as from the cru-
saders’ enormous demand for supplies and foodstuff, on the other.65 It can be
safely assumed that in the years 1096–1101 parts of Bithynia and Paphlagonia as
far as Amaseia (Amasya) and Merzifon, western Phrygia and Pisidia between
Dorylaion (Eskişehir) and Lake Eğridir, sections of the Anatolian highlands in
Galatia and the southern parts of Lycaonia and Cappadocia, as well as parts of
Cilicia and the region around Antioch suffered serious damages in their agri-
cultural zones and economic structures. At the same time, the Byzantine cen-
tral government extended its sway over substantial parts of western Asia Mi-
nor and the southern coastland as far as Seleukeia (Silifke). Those Turks who
refused to submit to Byzantine rule managed to gain new footholds in Lycao-
nia, Cappadocia, and the regions east of the Halys River.66 The towns of Poly-
botos (Bolvadin) and Philomelion (Akşehir) near the Sultandağları Mountains
formed the easternmost points of advance for the Byzantine army and hence-
forth became nodes in a newly emerging frontier and contact zone where
Byzantine and Turkish spheres of influence overlapped.67
64 Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, Mir’āt al-zamān, ed. Sevim, 217 (Sulaymān b. Qutlumush appoints a judge
from Tripoli in the city of Tarsus); Anna Komnene, Alexias 11.8.2, ed. Reinsch, p. 346 (the
Greek inhabitants of a town near Amaseia act as autonomously amidst a Turkish-held
region); William of Tyre, Chronicle 5.11, ed. Huygens, 285–286 (relations between the peo-
ple of Antioch and their Turkish overlords in the time before and during the siege by the
crusaders of 1098).
65 For a recent summary of the current state of knowledge about the crossing of Anatolia by
the First Crusade and ensuing crusading hosts, see Asbridge, Crusades, pp. 41–61; for
the Byzantine involvement, see Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, pp. 28–41; for the
so-called Lombard crusade in 1101 and its implications on the situation in Anatolia, see
Gate, “The Crusade of 1101”, pp. 343–367.
66 Turan, Türkiye, pp. 98–108.
67 Turan, Türkiye, pp. 103–104; Demirkent, Sultan I. Kılıç Arslan, pp. 32–33.
The events of 1101 made plain that the Turks on the Anatolian plateau were
able to recover from the setbacks of 1097–1098 and to put up effective resis-
tance against invading crusading hosts. Since their first arrival in the 1070s, the
Turks had become increasingly familiar with the geography and population of
central Anatolia. After their retreat in 1098, they were forced to develop a de-
fensive strategy in order to survive. This prompted them to forge alliances and
to increase their control over towns, strongholds, and road networks. One may
say that the challenges posed by the First Crusade accelerated the sedentariza-
tion and consolidation of the Turks in central Anatolia. Indicative of this pro-
found change is that during the Second Crusade in 1147 both the French and
the German contingents failed to fight their way through Turkish-held territo-
ries.68 It was not before the Third Crusade in 1190 that another crusading host,
the German army of Frederick I Barbarossa, managed to cross the territories
subject to the sultanate of Konya.69 They even seized and ransacked the Seljuk
capital during their advance, but this was in a time of fierce infighting among
Kılıç Arslan ii’s sons just a few years before the old sultan’s death. It is also
noteworthy that after 1101 Kılıç Arslan i was on a friendly footing with the Byz-
antine emperor and even lent him military support against the Norman inva-
sion of Bohemond in 1107.70 At the same time, Kılıç Arslan i turned his entire
attention to his ambitions to extend his sway from the recently acquired city of
Melitene and the Euphrates region to the Diyār Bakr province and northern
Iraq as far as Mosul.71 In May 1107, he paid with his life for his far-reaching plans
and the surviving members of his family were thrown into a new crisis.72 As a
result, the western frontier zone in Anatolia enjoyed a significant respite and
could further solidify.
In the years 1109–1116, new waves of Turkish invasions occurred in Bithynia,
Mysia, and the western river valleys in the provinces of Lydia and Caria, but
Emperor Alexios i successfully warded off these threats by establishing a chain
of fortified strongholds and by developing an effective defensive strategy.73 In
this way, he managed to restore centralized control over parts of western and
southern Asia Minor. The imperial government blocked new Turkish advances
and migration movements from the fringes of the Anatolian plateau towards
the western coastland. A peace treaty with the Seljuk lord of Konya, Shāhinshāh,
68 Lilie, Crusader States, pp. 145–163.

69 Eickhoff, Friedrich Barbarossa, pp. 37–78.
70 Ibn al-Athīr, Kāmil, vol. 6, p. 471.
71 Demirkent, I. Kılıç Arslan, pp. 52–58.
72 Demirkent, I. Kılıç Arslan, pp. 58–59.
73 Our only source for these events is Anna Komnene, Alexias 14.1.1–7, 14.3.1–8, 14.5.3–7,
15.1.3–15.6.5, ed. Reinsch, pp. 424–427, 434–438, 443–448, 462–478.
182 Beihammer
in 1116 put a halt to these large-scale invasions.74 Intra-dynastic rivalries

among the sons of Kılıç Arslan i distracted the Turks of Konya from further
pursuing their expansionist efforts. This brought about a further stabilization
of the Turkish-Byzantine frontier zone between the Sangarios Valley and the
Sultandağları Mountains. It was only in the early years of Emperor Manuel i that
we hear of new Turkish raids in Bithynia and the Kaystros Valley.75 Again,
nothing indicates the existence of a clear-cut boundary. The staging area of
Byzantine troops conducting campaigns in the east was situated at a far dis-
tance from the conflict area near Lopadion (Ulubat) in the Rhyndakos Valley,
and the emperor concentrated on the fortification of strongholds near the
Sangarios River, such as Malagina and Pithekas.76 Places situated within the
conflict zone obviously changed hands from time to time, but nobody was able
to exert permanent control over them. When Manuel i in 1146 successfully pro-
ceeded from Akroinon (Afyonkarahisar) to Philomelion (Akşehir), he seized
the town but was not able to keep it. Hence, he burned it down and transferred
the remnants of the Greek population to Bithynia.77 In this campaign, the Byz-
antine troops also fought battles further east and advanced as far as Konya, but
a siege was considered impossible. The imperial troops retreated via Lake
Pousgouse (Beyşehir Gölü) to the eastern extremities of the Maeander Val-
ley.78 First signs of an actual process of Turkification in this area are the Turk-
ish toponyms Andrachman and Tzibrelitzemani as mentioned in the account
of John Kinnamos with respect to places east of Philomelion.79 It must remain
uncertain whether these names were already in use during the 1140s, but they
certainly predate the 1180s.
The central section of the Maeander Valley and regions of Caria and Pisidia
further south as far as the hinterland of Attaleia were also exposed to a more or
less constant influx of Turkish groups. Fortified places, such as Laodikeia (near
Denizli) and Sozopolis (Uluborlu), and smaller fortresses in Pisidia seem to
have been seized by Turkish emirs already in the last years of Alexios i’s reign
after 1116 and thus constituted targets of John ii’s campaigns in 1119.80 The
Turkish presence in these outposts was apparently confined to movements
of pastoralist nomads and small bands of warriors under the command of
74 Anna Komnene, Alexias 15.6.3–5, ed. Reinsch, pp. 477–478.

75 John Kinnamos, Epitome 2.5, ed. Meineke, pp. 38–39, trans. Brand, Deeds, pp. 38–39.
76 John Kinnamos, Epitome 2.4–5, ed. Meineke, p. 37 (Malagina), p. 38 (Pithekas), trans.
Brand, Deeds, pp. 37, 38.
78 John Kinnamos, Epitome 2.5–6, ed. Meineke, pp. 41–46, trans. Brand, Deeds, pp. 42–44.
79 John Kinnamos, Epitome 2.5, 7, ed. Meineke, pp. 42, 47, trans. Brand, Deeds, pp. 41, 44.
a utonomous chiefs. There is no evidence suggesting any effective control ex-

erted by the sultanate of Konya over them. When Emperor Manuel i in 1146
camped with his troops near the springs of the Maeander River, the Byzantine
soldiers are said to have considered this region in the vicinity of Apameia (Di-
nar) as being far from hostile territory. Yet they were suddenly ambushed by a
considerable number of Turkish troops.81 This indicates that the Byzantines
hardly controlled the region in question and failed to maintain any reliable
defensive structures or a network of scouts and informants there. The same
applies to the region of Lake Pousgouse (Beyşehir Gölü) farther east, which on
the occasion of John ii’s campaign in 1142 is described as being of great impor-
tance for the emperor because of its proximity to Konya.82 The close relations
between the local Christians and the Turkish subjects of the sultanate, how-
ever, formed a serious obstacle for the emperor’s attempts to gain access to the
lake. This incident illustrates another noteworthy aspect of the social changes
resulting from expansionist movements and shifting borderlands. The indige-
nous local population, which came to be attached to the newly emerging
ethnic and political entities, swiftly switched allegiance. The nearby Muslim-
Turkish authorities replaced the remote imperial center of Constantinople as
primary point of reference for the people living in the borderlands.
In the southern coastland a network of ports between Attaleia (Antalya)
and Seleukeia (Silifke) as well as the island of Cyprus as an advanced outpost
in short distance of the northern Syrian shores secured a strong Byzantine na-
val presence in the area between Lycia and the Gulf of Alexandretta.83 Archae-
ological evidence bears witness to Komnenian building activities in the towns
of the Lycian coastland, whereas in adjacent Pamphylia the port of Side seems
to have been deserted because of Turkish pressure and to be replaced by Kalon
Oros (Alanya) as new regional center.84 There are traces of nomadic activity in
the mountainous regions north of the coastland, as ceramic finds in Sagalassos
(Ağlasun) seem to indicate.85
It is difficult to assess the extent of Byzantine control over the Pontus region,
but the overall impression on the basis of the available information is that
after 1086 the coastland east of Sinope remained in the hands of independent
82 John Kinnamos, Epitome 1.10, ed. Meineke, p. 22, trans. Brand, Deeds, p. 26.
83 Lounghis, Byzantium in the Eastern Mediterranean, pp. 31–38.
84 Foss, “Lycian Coast”, pp. 1–51; Hellenkemper/Hild, Lykien und Pamphylien, vol. 2, pp. 587–
594, s.v. Kalon Oros.
85 Vionis et al., “Byzantine Pottery Assemblage”, pp. 459–460.
184 Beihammer
Byzantine and Turkish local lords.86 The region of Trebizond at times was
threatened by Seljuk governors based in the Armenian provinces, while in the
1130s it was mainly the Dānishmand emirate in Cappadocia, which exerted
control over Neokaisareia (Niksar) in the Lykos Valley and beyond the Halys
River as far as Gangra (Çankırı) and Kastamonu.87 Attempts of the Byzantine
army to take possession of these places either failed completely or did not
bring lasting results. The tomb of Karatekin, a legendary Turkish hero, who in
the epical accounts of the Danişmend-name appears as the first Muslim con-
queror of Çankırı and other towns of Paphlagonia, is a figurehead for the estab-
lishment of a Muslim tradition in the region.88 This monument situated in the
castle of Çankırı dates back to the second half of the 12th century and thus be-
longs to the earliest surviving architectural remains of Turkish provenance in
central Asia Minor. The fact that the aforementioned mosques of Konya (1155)
and Ankara (1178) date from about the same period clearly indicates that the
central Anatolian towns in Paphlagonia, Galatia, and Lycaonia east of the
Byzantine-Turkish borderland began to acquire a new character as permanent
dwellings of Muslim-Turkish elites from the mid-12th century onwards. At that
time both the sultanate of Konya and the Dānishmand emirate had already
developed into considerable supra-regional powers covering vast areas as far as
the Upper Euphrates River. The transformation of urban centers and the con-
solidation of political powers were closely intertwined.
The development in western and central Asia Minor during the second half
of the 12th century is marked by a further expansion and solidification of po-
litical and administrative structures established by the Turkish domains, on
the one hand, and by a gradual weakening of the Byzantine defense system
especially after the disaster of Myriokephalon in 1176, on the other.89 In addi-
tion, the troublesome years after 1180 brought a breakdown of pre-existing
bonds of cohesion among Byzantine aristocratic clans and an overall dismem-
berment of the provincial administration.90 These phenomena did not cause
any fundamental shifts in the frontier zone but certainly increased the insta-
bility and insecurity of living conditions for both sedentary people and Turkish
nomads and thus favored new displacements. The Turks resumed their raids
and incursions into Bithynia, Mysia, western Phrygia, as well as the Kaystros
86 Important information can be found in descriptions of the so-called Lombard crusade, a

contingent of which advanced in 1101 as far as Merzifon: Albert of Aachen, Historia Hiero-
solimitana 8.5–21, ed. Edington, pp. 592–615.
87 Anna Komnene, Alexias 11.6.6, ed. Reinsch, p. 340; Turan, Türkiye, pp. 132–136, 167–172.
88 Çakmakoğlu, “Çankırı Fatihi”, pp. 63–84.
89 Lilie, “Myriokephalon”, pp. 257–275.
90 Lilie, “Des Kaisers Macht”, pp. 9–120.
and Maeander Valleys. In the 1180s and 1190s, the situation was exacerbated by
a series of local uprisings aiming at the establishment of autonomous lord-
ships of Byzantine aristocratic clans, as happened in the Bithynian towns of
Nicaea and Prusa (Bursa) under the leadership of the Angeloi family (1184) and
in Philadelpheia (Alaşehir) under Theodore Mangaphas (1188).91 In these cas-
es, Turkish warrior groups became involved in intra-Byzantine conflicts as aux-
iliary forces supporting local rebels. Mangaphas, in particular, developed an
extensive raiding activity in the Maeander Valley.92 Other rebels, such as a
number of Pseudo-Alexioi, i.e., persons pretending to be the murdered son of
Emperor Manuel, Alexios ii, and Michael, the doux of Mylassa, strengthened
their fighting force by mustering Turkish troops with the consent of the lords
of Ankara and Konya.93 In so doing, they formed a serious threat for the peas-
antry in the borderland of Ankara and the Maeander region. These new forms
of cross-border alliances exhibit an unprecedented level of collaboration be-
tween Byzantine and Turkish local lords for the purpose of establishing some
extent of regional authority and gaining wealth at the expense of the local
population. Unruly Turkish nomads roaming about the countryside were in-
volved in these activities as the rebels’ allies but they cannot be regarded as the
driving force underlying the increase of violence in the borderlands after
1180.94 Apparently, the raids were made possible by the progressive inability of
the central government and its representatives to exert effective control over
the peripheries. Seditious movements related to disturbances in the center-
periphery relations fostered the mingling of warrior groups in the borderlands
and had disastrous results for the population living within the radius of action
of these rebels, irrespective of their ethnic or religious identity.
The Byzantine campaigns of the 1130s and 1140s failed to bring lasting results
in terms of territorial gains or to change the balance of power in Anatolia. In
the decades after the Second Crusade, the imperial government concentrated
on forging more peaceful relations with the Turkish neighbors and on fortify-
ing their strongholds in western Asia Minor. In the region of Chliara (Kırkağaç),
Pergamon (Bergama), and Adramyttion (Edremit) in western Mysia, Emperor
Manuel i took effective protective measures by transferring the local popula-
tion from widely dispersed unprotected villages to newly fortified places, the
91 Cheynet, Pouvoir, no. 157, p. 115, no. 168, p. 123, and pp. 427–440; Korobeinikov, Byzantium
and the Turks, pp. 55–57.
92 Niketas Choniates, History, ed. van Dieten, pp. 400–401.
93 Cheynet, Pouvoir, no. 169–170, pp. 123–124, no. 182, p. 130, no. 187, p. 132, no. 190, p. 134; Nik-
etas Choniates, History, ed. van Dieten, pp. 420–422, 461–463, 494–495, 529.
94 Vryonis, “Nomadization”, pp. 46–47, 49–50.
186 Beihammer
so-called Neokastra.95 In addition, Manuel restored the ruined fortresses of

Dorylaion (Eskişehir) and Siblia/Subleon (near modern Evciler).96 Both strong-
holds were situated in highly sensitive areas of the Byzantine defensive system,
the former on the main road leading from the fringes of the Turkish-held re-
gions of Phrygia to Bithynia and the latter in the Upper Maeander Valley at a
short distance from Apameia. The Byzantine defeat of 1176 did not cause a total
collapse of the Byzantine military system in Asia Minor, but it certainly sig-
naled a turn for the worse in that the emperor was compelled to abandon these
strongholds and parts of the Maeander region as far as Tralleis (Aydın) were
once again devastated by invasions from the sultanate of Konya.97 The territo-
rial gains, which the Turks achieved in the years after 1176, were limited but
included places of high strategic significance. Due to a garbled passage in the
manuscripts of Niketas Choniates’ chronicle, it remains unclear whether Dory-
laion actually fell into Turkish hands.98 In 1182 Kılıç Arslan ii was able to drasti-
cally increase his pressure on Byzantine territories in Phrygia and Pisidia by
seizing Sozopolis (Uluborlu) and Kotyaion (Kütahya).99 The Turks even ad-
vanced to the southern coastland of Pamphylia and, in the course of a long
siege, caused heavy damages to Attaleia and its surroundings. In 1190, the cru-
sader army of Frederick Barbarossa was still able to seize and burn down
Philomelion (Akşehir), but a few years later in about 1196 the town seems to
have been under firm Turkish control.100 Overall, in the time span between
1176 and 1196 the Turks of Konya gained a number of advanced strongholds
granting them access to the road system in the central and the southern sec-
tion of the western frontier zone. Moreover, for the first time they were able to
attack the empire’s main port in the coastland of Lycia and Pamphylia, which
in 1216 would eventually surrender to the Seljuk sultan.101
95 Niketas Choniates, History, ed. van Dieten, p. 150.

97 Niketas Choniates, History, ed. van Dieten, pp. 189, 192. Apart from Tralleis, the report ex-
plicitly mentions Antioch of Phrygia, Louma, and Pentacheir as targets of Turkish raids.
The latter two toponyms cannot be identified, see Belke/Mersich, Phrygien und Pisidien,
pp. 185–188, s.v. Antiocheia (near modern Yalvaç), p. 329, s.v. Lunda, pp. 357–358, s.v. Pen-
tadaktylos (Beşparmak Dağı northwest of Lake Acı).
98 Niketas Choniates, History, ed. van Dieten, pp. 520 (some manuscripts list Dorylaion
among the Pontic cities which Qilij Arslān ii granted to his son Masud).
99 Niketas Choniates, History, ed. van Dieten, p. 262; Belke/Mersich, Phrygien und Pisidien,
pp. 312–316, s.v. Kotyaion, pp. 387–388, s.v. Sozopolis (east of Apameia).
100 Niketas Choniates, History, ed. van Dieten, pp. 413, 495; Belke/Mersich, Phrygien und Pisi-
dien, pp. 359–361, s.v. Philomelion.
101 Cahen, Pre-Ottoman Turkey, pp. 120–121; Korobeinikov, Byzantium and the Turks,
pp. 81–91.
The gradual disintegration of the Byzantine central government in the years

after Manuel i’s death in 1180 in conjunction with the concomitant disintegra-
tion of administrative structures and regional insurrections in the provinces of
Asia Minor created a vacuum of power that could be easily filled by potentates
of the adjacent Turkish-held regions. The sultan of Konya and other local emirs
quickly came to form the only powers to guarantee some extent of stability and
security in the region. Unsurprisingly, this situation prompted indigenous
groups to relocate to areas, where they enjoyed more protection and tax privi-
leges. Niketas Choniates mentions a large group of 5,000 captives, who at the
sultan’s behest were transferred from towns of the Maeander Valley to Philome-
lion, where they were granted land, fields, grain, and a five-year tax exemp-
tion.102 This population transfer apparently aimed at an improvement of the
agricultural productivity of the region, something that was highly attractive for
other Byzantine subjects as well, who voluntarily set forth to join their compa-
triots in Philomelion.
Another form of mobility, which in the late 12th century becomes increas-
ingly palpable, results from overland trade between Constantinople and
Konya. Niketas Choniates relates an episode referring to precious horses that
had been sent by the Ayyubid sultan of Egypt along with an embassy to Con-
stantinople but were intercepted by the authorities in Konya.103 In response to
Sultan Kaykhusrau’s offense, Emperor Alexios iii reportedly imprisoned all
merchants from Konya and confiscated their belongings. This account affords
us only an isolated glimpse, yet it points to the existence of a well-established
trading network between Byzantine and Turkish merchants, which must have
been based on safe travel conditions and facilities supporting the transport of
people and goods along the routes connecting Byzantine and Turkish-held re-
gions between Constantinople and the western Anatolian plateau. We may as-
sume that the people involved in these activities deployed various forms of
collaboration and abided by mutual undertakings. The oldest surviving exam-
ple of such agreements is the Cypriot-Seljuk treaty of 1216, which regulated the
seaborne trade between the island and the southern coastland.104 Earlier evi-
dence for Byzantine-Seljuk trade is hardly available, but from the 11th century
onwards, the sources mention large amounts of gifts granted to high-ranking
Turkish dignitaries and fugitive potentates who sought sanctuary in the impe-
rial city.105 This shows that Turkish elites from early on became familiar with

104 Griechische Briefe, ed. Beihammer, no. 20, pp. 171–172, no. 83, pp. 212–213.
105 For examples, see Beihammer, “Defection”, pp. 597–651.
188 Beihammer
and held in esteem all sorts of luxury goods of Byzantine origin. When Konya
in the early 12th century gradually became the Seljuk court’s main residence,
the city must have attracted new economic activities and population groups
and thus turned into a hub for trade between Byzantine territories, the Anato-
lian plateau, and the Muslim lands beyond the Euphrates.106 Moreover, the
nearby Byzantine-Turkish contact zone certainly encouraged commercial ex-
change, as is attested by the reports about the tight links between the Greeks at
Lake Pousgouse and Konya in 1142.107
The influx of Turkish nomads and other ethnic groups from the Muslim cen-
tral lands as well as the gradual emergence of Muslim-Turkish domains on Byz-
antine soil between the 1040s and the end of the 12th century set into motion a
profound process of social and political transformation. With the incoming
migrants, nomadism and pastoralism became predominant modes of living in
parts of the Armenian highlands and the Anatolian plateau. Yet it would be
inaccurate to assume that it was these nomads who were the bearers of change
in Asia Minor by supplanting Byzantine civilization with a Muslim-Turkish
culture, as is frequently implied by the secondary bibliography. A comparison
of the available primary reports demonstrates that practices of expansion and
intrusion observable in Syria, Upper Mesopotamia, and western Iran were also
transplanted to Asia Minor. This is to say that sections of the Turkish warrior
elite, who took hold of larger territorial units and urban centers, swiftly
switched from nomadism to sedentary forms of rule and adapted to the pre-
existing social environment. Newcomers mingled with indigenous groups at
various levels and, in many instances, a mutual process of integration can
be observed. Greek, Armenian, and Syrian Christians forged contacts with
Muslim-Turkish officials and merchants and, conversely, many Turks adopted
Byzantine cultural habits and ideological expressions or became members of
the Byzantine elites. Changing center-periphery relations and the disintegra-
tion of Byzantine central rule in the years 1057–1081 fostered the regionaliza-
tion of political structures so that powerful local factors ousted the influence
of the imperial center. A re-stabilization of central control in western Asia
Minor and the coastlands under the Komnenian emperors between the First
Crusade and 1180 was followed by a new dismemberment of imperial adminis-
tration in the last quarter of the 12th century. This led to increasing activities of
local warrior groups, which included Turkish nomads, troops subject to the
sultanate of Konya, and Byzantine rebels. Again, it is hardly possible to recog-
nize clear-cut boundaries between sedentary and nomadic or Christian and

Muslim groups. It seems more appropriate to talk about local coalitions of mar-
ginalized groups, which frequently assumed the character of Byzantine-Turkish
alliances. Byzantine administrative and political structures were not destroyed
but lost their links with the elite of Constantinople so as to be integrated into
the regional structures of central Anatolia. The events of 1204 and the rise of
the sultanate of Rum in the first half of 13th century created a new equilibrium
in Asia Minor, in which the new center of Konya replaced Constantinople as
focal point of administrative, social, and political structures in Anatolia.
Bibliography
Primary Sources
Albert of Aachen, Historia Ierosolimitana, ed. and trans. Susan B. Edington, Historia
Ierosolimitana: History of the Journey to Jerusalem, Oxford 2007.
Attaleiates, Michael, History, ed. and trans. I. Pérez Martín, Miguel Ataliates, Historia
(Nueva Roma, 15), Madrid 2002.
Bryennios, Nikephoros, History, ed. and trans. P. Gautier, Nicephori Bryennii Histo-
riarum libri quattuor (Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae, 9). Brussels, 1975.
Choniates, Niketas, History, ed. J. van Dieten, Nicetae Choniatae Historia (Corpus Fon-
tium Historiae Byzantinae, 11/1–2), Berlin 1975.
Griechische Briefe und Urkunden aus dem Zypern der Kreuzfahrerzeit: Die Formularsam-
mlung einess könglichen Sekretärs im Vaticanus Palatinus graecus 367, ed. and trans.
A. Beihammer (Quellen und Studien zur Geschichte Zyperns, 57), Nicosia 2007.
Ibn al-ʽAdīm, ed. S. Zakkar, Zubdat al-ḥalab min tārīkh Ḥalab li-l-ṣāḥib Kamāl al-Dīn
ʽUmar b. Aḥmad b. Abī Jarāda al-mutawaffā fī sanat 660 h., 2 vols., Damascus 1997.
Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fī l-tārīkh li-ʽIzz al-Dīn Abī l-Ḥasan ʽAlī b. Abī al-Karam al-Shaybānī
al-maʽrūf bi-Ibn al-Athīr, 9 vols., 4th ed., Beirut 1994; trans. D.S. Richards, The Annals
of the Saljuq Turks: Selections from al-Kāmil fī l-Ta’rīkh of ʽIzz al-Dīn Ibn al-Athīr, Lon-
don 2002.
Ibn al-Qalānisī, Dhayl Tārīkh Dimashq, ed. H. Amedroz, History of Damascus 363–555
a.h. by Ibn al-Qalānisī from the Bodleian Ms. Hunt. 125, being a Continuation of the
History of Hilāl al-Sābi, Leiden 1908.
Kinnamos, John, Epitome, ed. A. Meineke, Ioannis Cinnami Epitome rerum ab Ioanne et
Alexio Comnenis gestarum (Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae), Bonn 1836;
trans. C.M. Brand, Deeds of John and Manuel Comnenus by John Kinnamos (New
York, 1976).
Matthew of Edessa, Chronicle, trans. A.E. Dostourian, Armenia and the Crusades, Tenth
to Twelfth Centuries, The Chronicle of Matthew of Edessa, Lanham/New York/London
1993.
190 Beihammer
Michael the Syrian, Chronicle, ed. and trans. J.-B. Chabot, Chronique de Michel le Syrien,
4 vols., Paris 1899–1910.
Sibṭ b. al-Jawzī, ed. A. Sevim, Mir’âtü’z-zeman fî Tarihi’l-âyan, Sıbt İbnü’l-Cevzî
Şemsüddin Ebû’l-Muzaffer Yusuf b. Kızoğlu (Dil ve Tarih-Coğrafya Fakültesi Yayınları,
178), Ankara 1968.
Skylitzes, John, Synopsis, ed. J. Thurn, Ioannis Scylitzae Synopsis Historiarum (Corpus
Fontium Historiae Byzantinae, 5) Berlin/New York 1973.
Tārīkh-i Āl-i Saljūq, ed. F.N. Uzluk, Anadolu Selçukluları Devleti Tarihi iii: Histoire des
Seldjoukides d’Asie Mineure par un anonyme (Anadolu Selçukluları Gününde Mev-
levi Bitikleri, 5), Ankara 1952.
William of Tyre, Chronicle, ed. R.B.C. Huygens, Chronique (Corpus Christianorum Con-
tinuatio Mediaevalis, 63), 2 vols., Turnhout 1986.
Ẓahīr al-Dīn Nīshāpurī/Rashīd al-Dīn, ed. A. Ateş, Raşīd al-Dīn Fażallāh, Cāmiʽ al-
Tavārīẖ (Metin), ii. Cild, 5. Cüz, Selçuklular Tarihi (Türk Tarih Kurumu Yayınlarından,
iii. Seri, 6) Ankara 1960; trans. K.A. Luther, The History of the Seljuq Turks from the
Jāmiʽ al-Tawārīkh, An Ilkhanid Adaption of the Saljūq-nāma of Ẓahīr al-Dīn Nīshāpūrī,
Richmond 2001.
Angold, M., The Byzantine Empire, 1025–1204: A Political History, 2nd ed., London 1997.
Asbridge, T., The Crusades: The Authoritative History of the War for the Holy Land, New
York 2010.
Beihammer, A.D., “Die Ethnogenese der seldschukischen Türken im Urteil christlicher
Geschichtsschreiber des 11. und 12. Jahrhunderts”, Byzantinische Zeitschrift 102
(2009), 589–614.
Beihammer, A.D., “Feindbilder und Konfliktwahrnehmung in den Quellen zum Auftre-
ten der Seldschuken in Kleinasien (ca. 1050–1118)”, Byzantion 79 (2009), 48–98.
Beihammer, A.D., “Defection across the Border of Islam and Christianity: Apostasy and
Cross-Cultural Interaction in Byzantine-Seljuk Relations”, Speculum 86 (2011),
597–651.
Beihammer, A.D., “Muslim Rulers Visiting the Imperial City: Building Alliances and
Personal Networks between Constantinople and the Eastern Borderlands (Fourth/
Tenth-Fifth/Eleventh Century)”, Al-Masāq: Islam and the Medieval Mediterranean
24 (2012), 157–177.
1130 (Birmingham Byzantine and Ottoman Studies), Abindgon/New York 2017.
Belke, K./Mersich, N., Phrygien und Pisidien (Österreichische Akademie der Wissen-
schaften, Denkschriften der philosophisch-historischen Klasse, 211 = Tabula Imperii
Byzantini, 7), Vienna 1990.
Brand, C., “The Turkish Element in Byzantium, Eleventh-Twelfth Centuries”, Dumbar-
ton Oaks Papers 43 (1989), 1–25.
Cahen, C., “La première pénétration turque en Asie-Mineure”, Byzantion 18 (1946–48),

5–67.
Cahen, C., Pre-Ottoman Turkey: A General Survey of the Material and Spiritual Culture
and History c. 1071–1330, trans. J. Jones-Williams, New York 1968.
Çakmakoğlu Kuru, A., “Çankırı Fatihi Emir Karatekin’in Türbesi”, Bilig 43 (2007),
63–84.
Çam, N., Ersay, A., “Ankara Muhyiddin Mesud (Alâeddin Camii)nin İlk Şekli ve Türk
Mimarisindeki Yeri”, Vakıflar Dergisi 42 (2012), 9–42.
Cheynet, J.-C., Pouvoir et contestations à Byzance (963–1210) (Byzantina Sorbonensia, 9),
Paris 1996.
Demirkent, I., Türkiye Selçuklu Hükümdarı Sultan I. Kılıç Arslan (Türk Tarih Kurumu
Yayınları xxiv. Dizi, 22), Ankara 2006.
Eickhoff, E., Friedrich Barbarossa im Orient: Kreuzzug und Tod Friedrichs i. (Istanbuler
Mitteilungen, 17), Tübingen 1977.
Foss, C., “The Lycian Coast in the Byzantine Age”, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 48 (1994),
1–52, reprint in idem, Cities, Fortresses and Villages of Byzantine Asia Minor,
no. ii.
Foss, C., Cities, Fortresses and Villages of Byzantine Asia Minor (Collected Studies Se-
ries), Aldershot 1996.
Foss, C./Winfield, D., Byzantine Fortifications: An Introduction, Pretoria 1986.
Gate, J.E., “The Crusade of 1101”, in K.M. Setton/M.W. Baldwin (eds.), A History of the
Crusades, vol. 1: The First Hundred Years, Madison 1969, pp. 343–367.
Hillenbrand, C., Turkish Myth and Muslim Symbol: The Battle of Manzikert, Edinburgh
2007.
Hellenkemper, H./Hild, F., Lykien und Pamphylien (Österreichische Akademie der Wis-
senschaften, Denkschriften der philosophisch-historischen Klasse, 320 = Tabula
Imperii Byzantini, 8), 3 vols., Vienna 2004.
Kafali M., “The Conquest and Turkification of Anatolia”, in Celâl, G.H./Cem, O.C./
Osman, K. (eds.), The Turks, vol. 2: Middle Ages, (Ankara, 2002), pp. 401–417.
Karpozilos, A., Βυζαντινοί ιστορικοί και χρονογράφοι, vol. 3: (11ος-12ος αι.), Athens 2009.
Korobeinikov, D., Byzantium and the Turks in the Thirteenth Century (Oxford Studies in
Byzantium), Oxford 2014.
Leveniotis, G.A., Η πολιτική κατάρρευση του Βυζαντίου στην Ανατολή: Το ανατολικό σύνορο και
η κεντρική Μικρά Ασία κατά το β΄ ήμισυ του 11ου αι., 2 vols. (Byzantine Texts and Studies,
43/1–2), Thessalonica 2007.
Lilie, R.-J., “Die Schlacht von Myriokephalon (1176): Auswirkungen auf das byzan-
tinische Reich im ausgehenden 12. Jahrhundert”, Revue des Études Byzantines 35
(1977), 257–275.
Lilie, R.-J., “Des Kaisers Macht und Ohnmacht: Zum Zerfall der Zentralgewalt in Byz-
anz vor dem Vierten Kreuzzug”, in VARIA i: Beiträge von R.-J. Lilie und Paul Speck
(Poikila Byzantina, 4), Bonn 1984, pp. 9–120.
192 Beihammer
Lilie, R.-J., Byzantium and the Crusader States 1096–1204, trans. J.C. Morris and J.E. Rid-
ings, Oxford 1993.
Lounghis, T.C., Byzantium in the Eastern Mediterranean: Safeguarding East Roman
Identity (407–1204) (Texts and Studies in the History of Cyprus, 63), Nicosia 2010.
Neville, L., Heroes and Romans in Twelfth-Century Byzantium: The Material for His-
tory of Nikephoros Bryennios, Cambridge 2012.
Neville, L., Anna Komnene: The Life and Work of a Medieval Historan, Oxford 2016.
Peacock, A.C.S., The Great Seljuk Empire (The Edinburgh History of the Islamic Em-
pires), Edinburgh 2015.
Peker, A.U./Bilici, K. (eds.), Selçukluları ve Beylikler Dönemi Uygarlığı, vol. 2: Mimarlık ve
Sanat, Ankara 2006.
ca. 1000–1200 ad”, Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 65 (2015), 195–242.
Sevim, A., Suriye ve Filistin Selçukluları Tarihi (Türk Tarih Kurumu Yayınları, xix. Dizi,
7a), 2nd ed., Ankara 1989.
Redford, S., “The Alaeddin Mosque in Konya Reconsidered”, Artibus Asiae 51 (1991),
54–74.
Sevim, A., Anadolu Fatihi Kutalmışoğlu Süleymanşah (Türk Tarih Kurumu Yayınları,
xxiv. Dizi, 13), Ankara 1990.
Sevim, A., Ünlü Selçuklu Komutanları Afşin, Atsız, Artuk ve Aksungur (Türk Tarih Kuru-
mu Yayınları, xxiv. Dizi, 14), Ankara 1990.
Sevim, A./Merçil, E., Selçuklu Devletleri Tarihi: Siyaset, Teşkilât ve Kültür (Türk Tarih Ku-
rumu Yayınları, xxiv. Dizi, 19), Ankara 2014.
Tekinalp, M., “Palace Churches of the Anatolian Seljuks: Tolerance or Necessity”, Byz-
antine and Modern Greek Studies 33 (2013), 148–167.
Turan, O., Selçuklular zamanında Türkiye: Siyâsi Tarih Alp Arslan’dan Osman Gazi’ye
(1071–1318), 3rd ed., Istanbul 1993.
Turan, O., Selçuklular Târihi ve Türk-Islâm Medeniyeti (Türk Kültürünü Araştırma En-
stitüsü Yayınları, 7), Istanbul 1965.
Vionis, A./Poblome, J./De Cupere, B./Waelkens, M., “A Middle-Byzantine Pottery As-
semblage from Sagalassos: Typo-Chronology and Sociocultural Interpretation”, Hes-
peria: The Journal of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens 79 (2010),
423–464.
Vlyssidou, V.N. (ed.), The Empire in Crisis (?): Byzantium in the 11th Century (1025–1081)
(Institute for Byzantine Research, International Symposium, 11). Athens 2003.
Vryonis, S., The Decline of Medieval Hellenism in Asia Minor and the Process of Islamiza-
tion from the Eleventh through the Fifteenth Century, Berkeley 1971.
Vryonis, S., “Nomadization and Islamization in Asia Minor”, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 29
(1975), 41–71.
Chapter 7
Migration and Ethnicity in the Venetian Territories

of the Eastern Mediterranean (13th to 15th Century)
Human geographic mobility is a diachronic phenomenon, the goal of which is

the security and/or betterment of life for those on the move.1 Following the
major migrations in Europe in the early Middle Ages, those of the late medi-
eval period were less massive and decisive, and stemmed from different causes.
The group or individual population movements in the period and place under
examination here may be assigned to two large categories: (a) movements
owed to violence (e.g. wars, political persecutions, or natural phenomena and
diseases), which aimed primarily to seek security in a new place, and (b) those
owed to living conditions and the economic environment, which aimed at im-
proving migrants’ living conditions. While there is geographic mobility in both
cases, that in the first category could be characterized in contemporary terms
as “refugee movement” and as more or less massive, while that in the second
may be characterized as “migration”, and is normally by individuals.
Refugees leave their home voluntarily or involuntarily due to life-threatening
political or military violence. The migrant, also compelled by specific (normally,
economic) circumstances, voluntarily leaves his home in search of better liv-
ing conditions and life prospects. However, those who move to further improve
and enrich themselves, even though their living conditions are not as bad, are
also characterized as migrants. One category of displaced persons included by
contemporary scholars among migrants were prisoners of war and slaves
1 The earlier belief that people in the Middle Ages did not easily migrate of their own accord
has now been refuted by many studies and books on migration in medieval Europe. The 11th
to 13th centuries, during which intensified transport on land as well as the major growth of
maritime travel significantly favored human migration, were decisive for this phenomenon.
See indicatively Kleinschmid, People on the move. Attitudes toward and perception of migra-
tion in medieval and modern Europe, with copious bibliography. For a summary of migration
in the Italian peninsula, see Barbero, Le migrazioni medievali. For internal migration during
the Late Middle Ages and its role in economic growth, particularly that of cities, see Goddard,
Lordship and medieval urbanization, esp. the chapter Patterns of migration 1250–1299,
pp. 137–155.
© Charalambos Gasparis, �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_008

194 Gasparis
forced to abandon their homes unwillingly under threat of force, and who in
most cases never returned to them. In both general categories of displaced per-
sons (refugees, migrants), migration may be by group or individual, though
density is the main criterion for whether one speaks of a significant refugee or
migration phenomenon or not in a specific time period and geographic area.
In addition to the usual political and economic reasons, there is also migration
because of chance. This is the case of those who migrated temporarily to an-
other place for various professional or personal reasons, and for various rea-
sons ultimately up and permanently established in their new home.
Obviously, migration also involves the concept of “distance” from the place
the migrant was leaving. As the time required to move from the old to the new
place of residence increased, so did the sense of permanent abandonment or
problematic return, therefore making it possible to speak of migration. This
time is the result of many factors: the distance itself, technical means, geo-
physical characteristics, and political and economic conditions in a greater
region at a specific time. Finally, we should note the important factor of the
sea, which defines the idea of the “Mediterranean” as a historical place, and
which has always linked the regions bordering its waters, facilitating all kinds
of human movement.
As regards direction, movement could involve leaving the political territory
in which the person lived (emigration), or a change of location within the
same territory (immigration). In any case, the return of travelers to their origi-
nal place of residence was possible under some conditions, though it was often
difficult in the historical environment to which we refer. For methodological
reasons we will retain the classification into forced and/or violent migration—
voluntary migration, despite the fact that apart from certain cases, the reasons
for migration cannot be distinguished with certainty, but rather are implied.
Besides, displacement could be a result of life threatening (refugee) and eco-
nomic conditions (migrant) at the same time. Therefore, having defined the
concept of immigrant and of refugee, the study of the migration or refugee
phenomenon proves particularly complex, since one must consider the many
parameters which define it and which are connected with the time, place, and
identity of the individuals involved.
The three centuries encompassed by this study are bookmarked by two cru-
cial events in the history of the Eastern Mediterranean: the fall of Constanti-
nople, the capital of the Byzantine Empire, first to the Crusaders (1204) and
then two and a half centuries later to the Ottomans (1453). Both led either im-
mediately or over time to chain reactions, first at the political and later at the
social and economic levels. Many wars, political and economic conditions, as
well as other, social and even natural phenomena triggered group as well as
individual migration in this large region.
Migration and Ethnicity in the Venetian Territories 195
From this standpoint, each of the three centuries had its own characteris-
tics. In the 13th century, political and economic changes greatly altered the
human landscape of the Eastern Mediterranean. The Fourth Crusade and the
conquest of Constantinople by the Crusaders at the dawn of the century was a
catalyst for these changes. One of the big winners in this era at the political and
economic levels was Venice. The end of this century also signified the final dis-
solution of the last bastions of the Crusaders in the Near East after three cen-
turies of continuous presence there. The fall of Acre in Syria (1291) was another
major milestone of the era.
The 14th century, although more politically stable for the same region, expe-
rienced significant wars with Venice as protagonist as well as a deadly epidem-
ic which split the century in half, so that today we speak of the periods before
and after the Black Death (1348). Parallel to this, the Ottomans made clear both
their intentions and their momentum, chiefly towards the Byzantine Empire
but towards the region’s other states as well.
The 15th century is considered a landmark for European and Mediterranean
history. The Renaissance began to blossom in Italy and the first seeds were
sown for the new way of thinking which would lead to what we conventionally
call the end of the Middle Ages. In the middle of the century, the Fall of Con-
stantinople to the Ottomans was a watershed, which gradually turned the East-
ern Mediterranean into an Ottoman lake in subsequent centuries. For Venice,
the 15th century signified the apogee of its commercial and economic-political
power. At the end of the 15th century, the discovery of America forever changed
the sense of the world and gradually Venice’s longstanding economic and po-
litical power.
Amid these major political, social, economic, and cultural developments
and their consequences, also less significant (though not unrelated) events de-
cisively influenced people’s lives in the Eastern Mediterranean. Political chang-
es, economic decline and growth, and of course wars were major factors in
exacerbating collective and individual human mobility, whether migration or
refugee. All three factors were present during the era and in the region under
examination here.
The political space to which we are confining ourselves here was formed
during the late medieval period. Venice as a city-state was boosted politically
and financially in the early 13th century as the result of the Fourth Crusade,
though strong foundations had already been laid in preceding centuries. Dur-
ing the three centuries under examination, the Venetian territory in the East-
ern Mediterranean was consolidated, enlarged, and strengthened. The “mari-
time state” of Venice, however, was dispersed in space and time, and for this
reason it is difficult to examine comprehensively, particularly to record gener-
alized phenomena, since each acquisition was differently influenced by its
196 Gasparis
respective political circumstances. Venice’s first territories (colonies), that is

those under its direct control, were Crete (1211–1669), Methone, and Korone
(1209–1500, both on the Peloponnese). During the 13th century and the first
half of the 14th century, Kythera was ceded by Venice to the Venier family. In
1363, it passed to direct Venetian rule, under which it continued until 1797. In
Euboea, Venetian presence long remained limited, confined to the city of Ne-
groponte (nowadays Chalcis) and certain other points throughout the 13th and
greater part of the 14th century, with the entire island coming under Venetian
rule between 1390 and 1470. In the Peloponnese, in addition to Methone and
Korone Venice acquired Nauplion (1389–1540) and Argos (1394–1463); in Cen-
tral Greece, it acquired Naupactus (1407–1499); in the Ionian area it acquired
Corfu (1386–1797), and in Macedonia it very briefly acquired Thessaloniki
(1423–1430). Despite simultaneous losses, the Venetian state was strengthened
in the second half of the 15th century by the acquisition of Monemvasia in the
Peloponnese (1460–1540), Cyprus (1489–1571), Zakynthos (1484–1797), and
Cephalonia (1500–1797). We may also situate within the Venetian sphere of in-
fluence (and not the Venetian territory) the Aegean islands, which were held
by families or individuals of Venetian origin; from time to time, one or another
of these islands came under the city’s direct control. Irrespective of whether
Venice controlled them or not, it considered them an area favorable to it, de-
spite occasional disputes with island rulers.
As a major European political and economic powerhouse, Venice opened its
territories for the reception of refugees and migrants. On the one hand, this
was because it provided relative security in a difficult and dangerous period,
and on the other, because it maintained a stable and explicit “immigration
policy” aimed at drawing people to its possessions. This inevitably resulted in
its becoming a pole of attraction for those who decided to migrate, whether of
their own volition (migrants) or by reason of violence (refugees).
The period between the 13th and 15th century in the Eastern Mediterranean
is primarily characterized by migration and less by refugees, although both
phenomena are often difficult to distinguish on the basis of their qualitative
characteristics, mainly due to the lack of relevant information. Thus, a few in-
stances of forced, en masse and organized migration of population groups
clearly fit the refugee phenomenon, while all the others—less massive move-
ments and more of individuals, which comprise the overwhelming majority of
cases, belong to the category of migration.
As in the modern era, so for the Middle Ages one may speak of external and
internal migrants within the context of a state. However, living and mobility
conditions in the Middle Ages may easily define as “internal” migration move-
ment across a much smaller distance than that which would define the
c orresponding phenomenon today. For example, movement with the goal of

permanent or temporary settlement during the 13th and 14th centuries from
one village to another within a relatively large island such as Crete or Euboea,
or a mainland area like the Peloponnese, could be characterized as migration.
In most cases, migrants could not easily remain in contact with the environ-
ment, which they had abandoned. This gives the following classification: (1)
migration from other states to Venetian territories; (2) migration between scat-
tered Venetian territories; (3) migration within a given Venetian territory, and
(4) migration from Venetian territories to non-Venetian ones.
For the phenomenon of migration in the complex society of Venetian pos-
sessions in the Eastern Mediterranean during the late Middle Ages, one must
take into account multiple features of migrants, whether individuals or groups.
These characteristics are connected not only with the reasons for migration,
but also with the prospects for each person in the reception area and the pos-
sibility of them being integrated into local society. These are: (1) origin and citi-
zenship (Venetian, Latin, Greek, other); (2) religion (Catholic, Orthodox, Mus-
lim, other); (3) personal and social status (nobleman, freeman, dependent,
slave, prisoner of war, cleric etc.), and (4) other characteristics such as the aim
of migration (temporary or permanent settlement), personal financial situa-
tion (wealthy or poor), and personal qualifications (professionally specialized
or unskilled).
All the above components of a person’s identity played an important role in
the manner of reception and integration of migrants in a Venetian possession.
Thus, if the prospective immigrant was familiar with the socioeconomic con-
ditions in Venetian possessions and possible prospects these held out to him,
his identity could be a motive for, or, conversely, a deterrent to migration. How-
ever, the causes and needs that led to migration were—and remain—stronger
than any possible prospects in reception areas.
Among the basic parameters, which one must also consider with regard to
our topic, is the “immigration policy” of Venice itself, which was wholly favor-
able to receiving refugees and attracting immigrants. This policy was clear and
targeted: boosting population, increasing the numbers of the workforce, and
strengthening defense in its possessions. To this end, it offered powerful, pri-
marily economic incentives to prospective immigrants to its colonies.
There were some cases of population groups unwelcome in Venetian pos-
sessions, each for a different reason. As a rule, those deemed unwelcome were
Orthodox hierarchs and monks, and Genoese. On Crete, the former were con-
sidered as early as the 13th century to be instigators of revolts against Venetian
rule and in favor of the Byzantine emperor, and for this reason were seen as
undesirable migrants. The spread of even a small number of monks on the
198 Gasparis
island during the early decades of the 14th century worried Venice. In 1334 it
took a special decision in accordance with which the Cretan authorities were
obliged (using all possible discretion) to expel all Orthodox monks who had
arrived as refugees on the island and were inciting locals against Latin Catho-
lics. In the future, authorities were not to permit entry to any monks.2 In later
eras, all monks or church hierarchs who received entry and residence permits
in Crete for a shorter or longer duration were under surveillance. Should any
suspicious activity be found, they were deported immediately. On the other
hand, the Genoese represented a rival power, which could potentially under-
mine key sectors of Venetian activity in their territories. For this reason, and
despite the fact that a small number of Genoese merchants were always active
in Venetian domains, the request by the Genoese families of Chios who had
arrived in Methone in 1455 to settle there and enjoy the privileges of Venetian
citizens found Venice diametrically opposed, and the city ordered their imme-
diate expulsion.3
Local economic conditions, always in combination with political ones,
played an important role in the flow of immigrants to Venetian possessions.
A stable political environment with a developed economy or prospects for
growth was always an ideal destination. Thus, in all Venetian territories these
conditions were less favorable in the 13th than in the 14th century, which in
turn lagged behind in relation to those offered in the 15th century. More spe-
cifically, if we take as a typical example Crete, Venice’s largest and most impor-
tant possession in the Eastern Mediterranean, we can easily recognize all the
above-mentioned factors. The 13th century inaugurated new economic pros-
pects for the island, but at the same time, the political environment was
unfavorable. The slow conquest of the entire island over the course of around
half a century, in conjunction with the constant and long-lasting revolts by
local landowners against their new ruler made migration to the island more
difficult, though it by no means prevented it. On the contrary, despite occa-
sional disruptions Crete’s more stable political environment and continuous
economic growth during the 14th and 15th centuries created an ideal migrant
destination. Something similar may easily be observed for other Venetian
territories as well.
2 According to the decision of the Venetian Senate: Caloieri qui aliunde sunt profugi et in dictam
nostram insulam advenerunt, malam doctrinam et voluntatem contra latinos in suis figmentis
et hortationibus seminarunt… (Thiriet, Sénat, vol. 1, no. 41; Theotokes, Θεσπίσματα, vol. 2/1,
p. 142 no. 31).
3 As was characteristically noted, Venice found this request exceptionally “odd”, and for this
reason rejected it: Thiriet, Sénat, vol. 3, no. 3006.
Another parameter, which formed part of the identity of immigrants and

affected their movement was professional specialization, which was a signifi-
cant determinant of where immigrants went. For example, an unskilled farm
worker who wanted —and was to a certain extent compelled— to continue
farming could in actuality move almost exclusively to Crete and Euboea, where
there were good (if not certain) prospects for finding land and settling in a vil-
lage. Both small and large traders could easily settle even in the smaller Vene-
tian possessions of Methone and Korone. Both these Peloponnesian ports,
which formed important stopovers on commercial maritime routes, offered
many opportunities in commerce and shipping. The islands of the Aegean,
small and as a rule barren but strategically situated, were also poles of attrac-
tion for small traders who could look forward to play a vital role in regional
commerce. There is no doubt that in the end, some of Venice’s possessions like
Crete and perhaps to a lesser degree Euboea had all the features to make them
an attractive destination for migrants and refugees in relation to the city-state’s
other territories.
The ethnic categories migrating during this period in the area we are con-
sidering may be distinguished into three main groups: (1) Greeks, (2) Latins,
and (3) various others. Of these, the Latins could be characterized primarily as
immigrants in search of “better opportunities” and only partly as refugees,
while the Greeks and others equally as immigrants and refugees. The third
group, which included persons from other geographical regions with diverse
ethnic characteristics, normally included slaves, refugees and prisoners of war
forced to leave their place of residence.
Generally speaking, we observe migration flows of both Greeks and Latins
to all the Venetian possessions with greater or lesser intensity and greater or
lesser participation of each of the two groups, depending on era and place.
Recording this phenomenon is not always easy in relation to either individual
places or periods. Crete is the most favored from the standpoint of sources, fol-
lowed in order by Methone, Korone, Euboea and the Aegean islands. The 13th
century is certainly less favored with available information, while sources grad-
ually increase for the next two centuries. As a rule information is indirect, al-
though there are some direct references to both migration and refugee move-
ments. We also have important information on Venice’s policy regarding the
reception or attraction of immigrants. However, this policy forms part of his-
torical circumstances and trends, and ultimately we do not know whether it
produced substantive results.
Although it was much smaller, the opposite movement—migration from
Venetian possessions, specifically from regions like Crete which were a pre-
mier reception site for immigrants—to other, non-Venetian regions occurred
200 Gasparis
for a variety of reasons. These were normally (a) professional, for example to
larger economic centers in the Byzantine Empire and Italy, or places offering
specific prospects, or (b) related with a conviction to exile outside Venetian
territory as a whole, with avoiding punishment following an illegal act, or fi-
nally due to debts.4
1 War Refugees and Migrants
Over the course of the three centuries under consideration, small and large-
scale migrations are observed in the Eastern Mediterranean, which could be
characterized as refugee movements, given that they were the result of warfare
or conquests.
In Crete, ongoing and frequently lengthy revolts by local Byzantine lords
during the 13th century and the first decades of the 14th led to group migra-
tions both within and beyond the island. These were composed either of Greek
landowners who challenged the new regime and rebelled against Venice, or of
dependent farmers who followed and supported the rebels in return for their
freedom, or even of newly-arrived Venetian feudal landlords. The case of Greek
landowners who migrated involved only those who had been defeated and
were forced to abandon the island. Of the revolts in the 13th century, only two
(those of 1213 and 1272–78) failed to achieve their goal, with the result that
small groups of local Greek families who had sided with the rebels abandoned
Crete willingly or unwillingly for other destinations. The accord of 1213 be-
tween the duke of Crete and the “rebel” Marco Sanudo provided the opportu-
nity for twenty Greek lords to leave the island along with Sanudo “of their own
volition and without force”.5 In contrast, following the end of the revolt of the
Chortatzis family in 1278, a group of Greek lords who had contributed to the
revolt was compelled to leave Crete, and we know that they ended up in Byz-
antine Asia Minor.6
4 As a large city and major port, Constantinople continued to attract merchants until the 15th
century both from the West and from the former lands of the Byzantine Empire now under
Venetian rule. These included Crete, since it offered significant financial opportunities.
A typical example is that of the Cretan traders Nikolaos and Georgios Polos, who in the 15th
century left Crete and settled in Byzantine Constantinople. See Ganchou, “La fraterna socie-
tas des Crétois Nikolaos et Géôrgios Pôlos (Polo)”.
5 According to the document containing the agreement: …et xx arcontes de insula cretensi, et
debeant habere potestatem exire de insula cum suis bonis de voluntate ipsorum, et non viol-
enter… (Tafel and Thomas, Urkunden, vol. 2, p. 163). We do not know if in fact these twenty
Greek lords left Crete, or where they ended up (assuming they did leave).
6 Zachariadou, “Cortazzi and not Corsari”.
The 13th-century revolts as a rule caused temporary—though occasionally,

permanent—migrations of groups or individuals within Crete. For the depen-
dent farmers, these revolts provided the chance to obtain their freedom. Thus
at the first opportunity they abandoned the land and their master and followed
the rebels. The normally successful outcome of revolts and subsequent treaties
between the rebels and the Venetian authorities sometimes resulted in the
freeing of these dependent peasants and therefore, the chance to settle where
they wished. At other times, it resulted in their forced return to their place of
origin and their master. These same revolts also resulted in the migration of
Venetian as well as Greek feudal lords, who were forced to abandon their lands
and place of residence either because the rebels controlled these or because
their land was granted to the rebels in the final agreement.7 Another serious
effect of the Cretan revolts was the compulsory abandonment and desolation
of large areas that encompass many villages. In those areas, revolutionary
movements were a usual phenomenon. This preventive measure by the Vene-
tian authorities of Crete had as a result the displacement of a large number of
local peasants.8
At the end of the 13th century, the fall of Acre in Syria (1291), the last bastion
of the western Crusaders in the region to the Mamluks led to a mass exodus of
“Westerners” from the city, including the Venetian community. Some, perhaps
many Venetians established there found refuge in the Venetian territories of
the Eastern Mediterranean or in Byzantine port cities where Venetian com-
munities existed.9 The presence of refugees from Acre is documented in Crete
during the 14th century. Some continued their commercial or other urban
activities in the developing island, while others acquired property and be-
came landowners, though perhaps without entirely abandoning commercial
activity.10
7 For example, during the last revolt by Greek landowners against Venice in 1342, the Vene-
tian Senate confronted the problem of Greek landowners who remaining faithful to Ven-
ice had fled for reasons of safety to Chania, where according to the related document they
had no place to live (de facto Grecorum qui se reduxerunt Caneam ad fidelitatem dominii et
non habent unde vivant). The authorities asked the local rector to provide assistance
(Venezia-Senato, vol. 7, no. 503, p. 255, no. 504 pp. 256–257).
8 About the measure of the compulsive desolation and the desolated areas in Crete see
Gaspares, Φυσικό και αγροτικό τοπίο, pp. 30–33.
9 Most of the refugees from Acre fled to Cyprus, primarily to Famagusta. See Jacoby, “Refu-
gees from Acre in Famagusta around 1300”; Edbury, “Reflections on the Mamluk destruc-
tion of Acre”.
10 In 1304, dama Margarita olim de Suria nunc habitatrix Candide sold one of her slaves to
Matteo Campanario (Pietro Pizolo, no. 815). In 1315, Rugiero Contarini, who declared him-
self a specialis by profession and former resident of Acre now resident in Crete, received
202 Gasparis
The unstable political situation and changes in sovereigns even during the
first half of the 14th century on the Greek mainland resulted in migrations by
individuals of Western origin. This was the case after the conquest of Thebes
by the Catalans (1311), which brought about the departure of its Latin residents
for the Venetian territories in Euboea.11
One of the earliest and lengthiest refugee migrations was that of the Arme-
nians. The occupation of Armenia first by the Byzantines (1045) and subse-
quently by the Seljuks (1064) inaugurated a large migratory wave by its inhabit-
ants, which continued unabated in ensuing centuries (12th–15th). This
migration also resulted in the founding of the kingdom of Lesser Armenia in
Cilicia in southeast Asia Minor (1198). Another emigration probably ensued
after the conquest of Lesser Armenia by the Mamluks in 1375. In Venetian
Crete, an Armenian presence is already attested in the late 13th century, though
we do not know exactly whence they had come, that is, directly from regions
around the Black Sea, or from Lesser Armenia, with which Crete maintained
trade relations. In any event, the fact that an Armenian “quarter” is attested on
the outskirts of Candia in 1271 indicates that their numbers were noteworthy,
and that the migration was in all likelihood relatively en masse.12 This is further
confirmed not only by persons bearing the characteristic nickname (the)
“Armenian”, but also by names of villages and other micro-toponyms related to
Armenians, which are attested since the first decades of the 14th century at
various points in Crete.13 Indeed, one cannot exclude the arrival of Armenians
from the duke of Crete a fief in the Chania region equivalent to one serventaria (Catasti-
cum Chanee, no. 44).
11 In 1340, Nicoletto Tibertino, a resident of Negroponte (Chalcis, Euboea), requested of the
Venetian Senate the renewal of the cittadinanza which his father Domenico had received
from Venice, and which he had lost upon leaving Thebes after it was taken by the Catalans
(Venezia-Senato, vol. 6, no. 155).
12 In 1271, the Orthodox priest Minna Arminiensis in a notarial act declared he was a resident
of the “Armenian village” in the suburb of Candia (Pietro Scardon, no. 196). We have no
further details, but the information is clear and probably refers to a refugee settlement on
the outskirts of the suburb of the Cretan capital. In 1304, thirty-three years later, land was
rented in the village of Armenochorio (i.e. village of Armenians) (Pietro Pizolo, no. 923).
Since the village is referred to as public (casale comunis), this means it was near Candia,
and it may be the same one referred to in the 1271 document.
13 See for example villeins with the following names: Niketas Armenis Sivriteo and Armeno-
poulos (asv = Archivio di Stato di Venezia, Duca di Candia, b. 19, q. ii, fol. 52r). On Crete
the following locations are also recorded in the 14th century: the village Armenoi in the
district of Chania (1314) (Catasticum Chanee, no. 16), the site Armenokampos (1322) and
Armenochorio in the region of Kisamos (1332) (ibid., no. 69, 118).
on Crete even in the 12th century or earlier, when the island was still part of the
Byzantine Empire.14
A second wave of Armenian emigration, which has left clearer traces, is re-
corded for the second half of the 14th century. According to available docu-
ments, this time the Armenians came from the Black Sea, probably due to the
Mongol conquest of Kaffa (nowadays Feodosia, Crimea) (1346), where a signifi-
cant number of Armenians had previously found refuge. Their desire to flee to
Venetian-controlled regions met with a positive response, since Venice dem-
onstrated a particular interest in these people. In 1363, the Venetian Senate
notified the Cretan authorities of its decision, and encouraged them to accept
Armenians in both Crete and Methone to boost their populations.15 We do not
know whether the Armenians who had requested acceptance actually reached
Crete or Methone, as their continuous documented presence on Crete does
not assist us in determining precisely when they arrived. Furthermore, a few
years before this decision (1361), it is attested that Armenians had “recently”
arrived in Candia who were settled in the city’s suburb (burgo), perhaps in the
already-existing Armenian quarter, where they had actually been harassed by
locals, and an assault on an Armenian had already been noted.16
Armenian interest in finding refuge within the secure environment of
Venetian-ruled regions continued, and thus in 1414 another group of around 80
families who were living in the Venetian quarter of Trebizond, as well as in
Sebasteia (Sivas) and “Turkey” due to the imminent Ottoman threat requested
permission to settle on Crete. The Venetian Senate once again granted the re-
quest, this time however proposing that they settle not only in Crete but also in
Euboea.17 While this migration probably took place, once again we do not
know whether they all ended up on Crete or were distributed between the two
Venetian islands. In short, Armenian refugee flows to Venetian possessions in
the Greek region were continuous from the 13th to early 15th century. While
they probably found refuge in various Venetian territories, the sources allow us
14 Armenian troops took part in the Byzantine re-conquest of Crete from the Arabs in 961
and some were also settles on the island afterwards, see Garsoïan, “The Problem of Arme-
nian Integration into the Byzantine Empire”, pp. 56 and 63.
15 Topping, “Armenian and Greek Refugees in Crete and the Aegean World”. In addition to
interest by Venice, an interest was shown in 1365 by the Knights of Rhodes in settling Ar-
menian refugees on the island of Kos. They also counted on receiving around 50 of the
families already on the island of Mytilene. See Topping, “Armenian and Greek refugees in
Crete and the Aegean World”, pp. 373–374.
16 asv, Duca di Candia, b. 15, fols. 82v–83r.
17 asv, Senato Misti, reg. 50, fol. 75v. Sathas, Documents inédits, vol. 3, p. 30; Topping, “Arme-
nian and Greek refugees in Crete and the Aegean World”, pp. 366–367.
204 Gasparis
to speak with confidence of a significant presence only on Crete, where most

likely the largest number settled.
The migration of the inhabitants of Tenedos is a special case, since this was
the result of a war, which ended with diplomatic agreement. According to the
Peace of Torino (1381) between Venice and Genoa, the island of Tenedos was to
be abandoned. In practice, this meant that not only the soldiers billeted there
would leave, but also its residents, whose houses would be destroyed. Accord-
ing to a decision of the Venetian Senate, the Tenedans would be transferred at
Venetian expense to three of its possessions, namely Crete, Euboea, and Ky-
thera, where they would be compensated with land and homes comparable to
those they had lost in their homeland. The transport operation was carried out
during the final months of 1383 and early 1384. Most of the immigrants chose
Crete, with fewer choosing Euboea, while presumably in the end no one was
transferred to Kythera. On Euboea, they were settled near Karystos, which was
controlled by Venice. There, however, conditions were not ideal, which result-
ed in Venice itself proposing their transfer to sites near the capital of Negro-
ponte or to Crete, presuming the Tenedans themselves wished this. It is certain
that some of them ultimately left Euboea on their own accord and fled to the
Duchy of Athens or nearby islands like Tinos. In contrast, it appears that on
Crete things went better for those who ended up there from the beginning. To
avoid creating a cohesive community within the colony, the Tenedans were
scattered throughout the entire island, where most of them received land in
fertile regions. It is estimated that 1.200 Tenedans were transported to Crete
and Euboea. During the 1390s around 400–500 returned to Tenedos, and during
the early decades of the 15th century the island gradually regained most of its
population.18
In the late 14th and the first half of the 15th century especially, the Ottoman
advance in the Balkans and the peninsula of Greece in particular was the lead-
ing cause of forced population movements, as the result of either conquest or
continuous destructive attacks. Those displaced went in search of safe—or at
least, safer—regions, primarily in Venetian possessions, although these too
were suffering from Turkish attacks. However, the political, economic, and
military might of Venice, which was then steadily rising, created a sense of se-
curity in populations confronting the Turkish threat. For the Greek popula-
tions of conquered or threatened regions, the Venetian possessions in the
18 Thiriet, “A propos des personnes ‘deplacées’ au xive siècle”, pp. 521–530 and especially
pp. 526–529.
Greek region constituted a refuge where they found not only a safe but also a
familiar environment (Greek language, Orthodox religion).19
In the 15th century, the Turks had become the sole powerful enemy to Ven-
ice and its territories in the Greek region. Turkish raids, whether by the army in
mainland regions, by its central fleet, or by small pirate fleets supported by the
sultan in the islands and coastal zones undermined Venetian possessions,
causing material damage and above all, human casualties. This situation trig-
gered migrations even within Venice’s own possessions, that is both from vul-
nerable possessions to other, safer ones as well as from weak points in specific
possessions to more secure ones within the same dominion. In the late 14th
century, for example, the residents of Argos were suffering Turkish invasions.
In 1397, the Turks abducted residents of the city and the countryside, and in
1399, the authorities found that many residents had abandoned the city due to
Turkish attacks. These individuals found refuge in neighboring regions like the
Despotate of Morea, the Duchy of Athens, and the castellania of Corinth. The
Venetian Senate normally offered financial incentives to persuade them to
return home.20
The Mongols’ advance in Asia Minor after the battle of Ankara (1402) formed
a brief parenthesis in the Ottomans’ forward movement. This caused small,
temporary migrations by Turkish populations due to fear of the new enemy.
Thus, a significant number of prosperous Turks from the Emirates of Aydin
and Menteshe crossed over to the nearly deserted island of Samos, where they
sought permission to settle under Venetian protection. Venice acceded to their
request and gave the relevant orders to the duke of Crete to take appropriate
actions. We do not know exactly how events unfolded, but it is likely that after
the definitive elimination of the Mongol threat a few years later, the Turkish
refugees on Samos returned to their homeland.21
Upon the Mongols’ retreat and recovery by the Ottomans, attacks at various
points in mainland and island Greece began again, triggering population
movements by all classes to safer regions. In 1412, for example, the Marquis of
Bodonitsa asked the Euboean authorities to see to the return of the villeins in
his territory, which had fled to the island because of Turkish attacks.22 Although
the Venetian Senate granted his request, it is not certain whether these villeins
19 For the migration of Greek populations towards the Venetian regions due to the Turkish
advance see Vacalopoulos, “The flight of the inhabitants of Greece to the Aegean islands,
Crete and Mane”.
20 Thiriet, Sénat, vol. 1, no. 967; Jacoby, “Peasant mobility”, p. 535; Koumanoude, “Η κατάσταση
του αγροτικού πληθυσμού του Άργους”, pp. 130–133.
21 Ducali e lettere ricevute, no. 40. See also Zachariadou, Trade and crusade, pp. 81–82.
22 Thiriet, Sénat, vol. 2, no. 1451.
206 Gasparis
ever returned to their homeland, given that Bodonitsa fell into Ottoman hands
two years later (1414).
The Fall of Constantinople (1453) was a catalytic political event. The Turks,
having now achieved their main objective—the dissolution of the diminished
Byzantine Empire, advanced unimpeded into the Greek peninsula. Venice did
not abandon its established policy of receiving refugees and immigrants into
its possessions, not only for economic reasons as in the past, but also now for
reasons related to the security of its maritime state. Refugees would increase
population in its territories and among other things form a recruitment source
for operating the galleys and maintaining the defensive system. Within this
framework, and of its own initiative Venice urged local authorities in its terri-
tories to attract population and ethnic groups under pressure from the Otto-
mans, for example the Albanians dispersed at many points on the mainland.23
In the past, mercenaries had come from this ethnic group, and later they were
permanent residents prepared for military service. In 1398, the podestà of Nau-
plion informed the Venetian authorities that he had already settled Albanians
and “others” outside Argos, granting them state lands for cultivation with the
aim of reinforcing local defense with their arms and horses. The same official
requested approval for others to settle under the same conditions, and the Ve-
netian Senate approved his request.24 The Venetian authorities tried to apply
the same tactics during the following decades in other regions: in Euboea
(1402) and in even more difficult and threatening circumstances in Methone
and Korone (1455). In both cases, Venice asked local officials to attract “wan-
dering” Albanians, who would be used as soldiers to defend these ports.25
23 There are however exceptions to Venice’s normal stance towards refugees and migrants,
since in some cases there was an issue of political equilibrium. During the first half of the
15th century, as the Ottomans advanced towards Epirus, Albanian populations belonging
to all social classes fled to Venetian Corfu. Venice did not officially favor this move, given
that it was unwilling to disturb its good relations with the region’s Ottomans. At the same
time, it did not actually compel these populations to leave Corfu. See Asonitis, “The regi-
men of Corphoy and the Albanians”, pp. 289–290.
24 Monumenta Peloponnesiaca, no. 200; Koumanoude, “Η κατάσταση του αγροτικού πληθυ-
σμού”, pp. 131–132.
25 In 1402, the Venetian Senate informed the Bailo of Euboea that all those Albanians and
“others” dwelling on the opposite mainland, who desired, could settle in the vicinity of
Negroponte, receiving state lands and exempted from any form of drudgery (Thiriet, Sé-
nat, vol. 2, no. 1051). Similarly, in 1455 following the request of the castellans of Korone and
Methone, Venice gave permission to the settlement of all the Albanians desirous of doing
so in the two Venetian possessions, with the explicitly-stated object of their being em-
ployed for the defense of the two cities (Thiriet, Sénat, vol. 3, no. 2987). On the Albanian
element in Methone and Korone see Major, “Étrangers et minorités ethniques en Mes-
senie vénitienne”, pp. 361–381 and especially pp. 363–365.
The rivalry between the Ottoman Empire and Venice, with the Venetian
possessions as the main stakes, entered a new phase in the second half of the
15th century with the outbreak of a series of lengthy wars between the two
states. During this period, two of the so-called Ottoman-Venetian wars were
waged, namely the first (1463–1479) and second (1499–1503) out of a total of
seven over the course of a century and a half. The result of these two wars was
a loss of territories, including such important ones of Euboea (during the first
war) and Methone-Korone (during the second). Residents of these regions
were displaced to the nearest still-remaining Venetian holdings or to Venice
itself.26 However, during the intervals preceding or following these wars Vene-
tian possessions suffered severe attacks which also caused minor or major
population displacements within the borders of possessions and even beyond.
For example, ongoing Turkish attacks on Crete as early as the 14th century in-
tensified during the 15th, as was to be expected, especially during its second
half. The most vulnerable region was the administrative district of Siteia in the
northeastern part of the island. In continuing reports by the Venetian authori-
ties during the first Ottoman-Venetian war it is noted that the region and its
residents were in straitened circumstances financially, resulting in their leav-
ing it permanently or temporarily for safer regions like that of the island’s capi-
tal Candia and other fortified sites.27 In addition, the Turkish siege of Lesbos in
the same year (1462) prompted a small exit of 150 residents from the island,
who took refuge with the Venetian fleet; some of them at least were transport-
ed to Crete.28
2 Prisoners of War and Slaves
The population movements discussed above were forced by dint of war, but
they were also voluntary to some extent. On the contrary, captivity and slavery,
26 Doumerc, “Les vénitiens confrontés au retour des rapatriés”.

27 A related document of 1462 notes that: …magna pars villanorum, tam ascriptium quam
liberorum, derelictis villis Scithie, se suasque familias traduxerunt et in districtu et in burgis
Candide… (Noiret, Documents inédits, p. 474). A similar document of 1471 records the de-
sertion of villages in the same region: Cum sit quod cavalarie districtus Sitie a principio
huius belli sint graviter percusse a Teucris hostibus nostris, ita quod multe ville sint depre-
date, et multe totaliter destructe et dishabitate… (Noiret, Documents inédits, p. 520).
28 In 1478, Ioannis from Mytilene was appointed a salaried surgeon in the city of Rethym-
non. In the document of his appointment, we read: …tempore obisidionis Mithilini non
solum confugit ad classem nostrum cum personis CLta, relictis nonnullis eius filiis in mini-
bus illius Teucri cum multis aliis… (Noiret, Documents inédits, p. 541).
208 Gasparis
resulting from either war or abduction, while also forced, entailed involuntary
displacements. Such individuals were transported and sold in regions normal-
ly distant from their homeland, so that flight was difficult and daunting. Con-
tinual Venetian-Turkish rivalry in the Eastern Mediterranean resulted in the
periodic transfer of Turkish prisoners of war to Venetian possessions. These
individuals were taken prisoner both during wars as well as during skirmishes
with pirate ships or flotillas. There is not much information available on Turk-
ish prisoners of war, especially regarding their exact fates. With the exception
of some who were probably exchanged or returned within the framework of
some agreement, the rest ended up as slaves. Venice was already taking mea-
sures related to the fate of Turkish prisoners in its possessions during the 14th
century. In 1341, the Venetian Senate decided that Turkish prisoners of war
henceforth transported to Crete could not remain on the island more than six
months, and when evacuated they were to be sent perforce to the West.29 From
the same document, it would appear that prisoners of war were sold or given
to private individuals—in other words, they now became slaves. Accordingly,
in case the owners of Turkish captives already on the island desired to trans-
port them, they were obliged to send them only to the West. Venice did not
dare to increase the number of Turkish prisoners and their concentration
within a possession, probably because there was always the fear of their pass-
ing along information should they manage to escape. Of course, there were
also cases in which Turkish prisoners still in the hands of the state were used
as work force for public works. In 1357, the Venetian Senate, despite the rele-
vant ban noted above, gave permission to the Cretan authorities to keep as
many Turkish prisoners on the island as they deemed necessary to employ on
building projects then being carried out in the port of Candia.30
Modern scholars consider slavery to be “conflict migration”, and as such, it
presupposes force and compulsion.31 It is also considered a form of forced la-
bor migration from regions with abundant work force to those in need of it.32
29 Venezia-Senato, vol. 6, no. 441. Despite the measures taken by the authorities, the number
of Turkish slaves in Crete continued to increase, because according to Venice some of
them were sold as Greeks. That is why a new severe ban was issued in 1363 (Theotokes,
Θεσπίσματα, vol. 2/2, p. 110).
30 Venezia-Senato, vol. 15, no. 60.
31 On slavery from medieval times to the 19th century, with full bibliography, see Brettell/
Hollifield (eds), Migration theory. Talking across disciplines; Lovejoy, Transformations in
slavery. A history of slavery in Africa; Meissner/Mücke/Weber, Schwarzes Amerika: Eine Ge-
schichte der Sklaverei; Patterson, Slavery and social death. A comparative study.
32 From this standpoint, the Venetian Senate’s 1393 decision by which the Venetian authori-
ties provided a 3.000 Cretan yperpera subsidy to traders to transport slaves under the age
of fifty to the island of Crete is representative (Thiriet, Sénat, vol. 1, no. 828). The lack of
The active involvement of Venetian merchants in the flourishing slave trade

resulted in many slaves arriving in Venetian territories. There they were sold
either to locals and remained in the region, or to traders for transport and sale
elsewhere. There is a great deal of information on the presence of slaves in
Venetian possessions. Many remained there permanently, mostly in cities and
to a lesser extent in the countryside. Yet, a fair number were also set free at
some point during their life, either through purchase or the last will of their
master.
In sales contracts for slaves, their ethnic origin (natio or genus) is usually
noted, which offers us interesting evidence about the composition of this
group. According to information provided by contracts from Crete, a major
slave trade center and a place which also absorbed slaves, their ethnic origins
(in descending order) were: Bulgarians, Greeks, Tatars, Russians, Circassians,
Albanians, Serbs, Vlachs, Saracens, Turks, Hungarians, Mongols and Alans. The
first three groups, i.e., Bulgarians, Greeks, and Tatars, were by far the most nu-
merous.33 Slaves are also divided into two major categories: (1) Orthodox
Christians and (2) all other non-Christians, who were always baptized by their
masters as either Orthodox or Catholic. In any case, all slaves, regardless of
ethnic or religious identity, were necessarily absorbed by the environment
where they remained permanently.
Greek slaves, whose place of origin is usually more specifically noted, came
from many regions in the Greek area, primarily the islands and coastal re-
gions.34 A number of them who arrived and remained in Venetian possessions
due to the relatively small distance from their place of origin were found by
their relatives, purchased, and returned back to their homeland. The rest con-
tinued their lives in their new homeland. In contrast, all the non-Greek slaves,
who came from regions far more distant, remained permanently where their
masters lived.
labor hands in the island was the main reason because of which the slaves were
imported.
33 Verlinden, L’esclavage, pp. 802–884 and especially p. 870; Moschonas, “Η αγορά των
δούλων”. About the slaves of Slavic origin see Charalampakes, Σλάβοι στην Κρήτη,
pp. 37–46.
34 From the evidence of sales contracts for slaves, it may be seen that often, the place of ori-
gin of Greek slaves is not identical with their place of descent, but with that where they
were sold. A typical example is the large number of slaves listed as coming from Samos, in
an era in which the island was nearly deserted of permanent residents. There is no ques-
tion that a small slave trading center had sprung up on the island. For this reason, “place
of origin” (particularly of Greek slaves) should always be viewed with reservations.
210 Gasparis
3 Immigrants Due to Plagues
A special factor in this era, which resulted in the displacement of some popula-
tion groups, was the outbreak of lethal contagious diseases. Both the great
plague of 1348, known as the Black Death, which caused enormous demo-
graphic problems, as well as plagues of lesser extent and duration which oc-
casionally erupted in many regions compelled individuals and small groups of
both urban and rural populations to leave their homes to save their lives. Some
probably returned to their homes after the plague had ended, in contrast to
others who may never have returned. As regards Venetian territories, migra-
tion was bi-directional: from these possessions to other regions, and from oth-
er regions to Venetian possessions. At the same time, migration within a pos-
session was important, chiefly from unhealthy cities to the countryside. If
migration was within a possession, then there was no great problem. In con-
trast, leaving a possession for that of another ruler represented a significant
loss for Venice. In either case, the Venetian authorities were interested in the
return of these individuals to their original residence, since permanent depar-
ture created demographic deficits and by extension, a loss of work force. In
1457, the Venetian Senate pointed out that many villeins had left Methone due
to a plague, while in 1459 the Euboean authorities asked that Venice permit the
return of the Jews who had fled to Constantinople due to a plague.35 Other rul-
ers whose own subjects had found refuge in Venetian possessions were equally
interested. In 1357, Venice granted the request of the prince of Achaea for the
return of the villeins who had fled to Venetian Methone and Korone during the
time of the Black Death.36 At the same time, sizable human losses due to
plagues compelled Venetian authorities to offer significant financial incentives
to all those who would be transported for settlement in their territories. These
incentives doubtless attracted immigrants, although it is not always easy to
document this or of course, to estimate the numbers involved.
4 Economic Migrants
The last large category of migrants were economic ones, who can be divided
into two broad categories: (1) wealthy migrants in search of “even better op-
portunities” to enrich themselves (betterment migration) and (2) poor mi-
grants simply in search of “opportunities” for a better life in relation to the
35 Thiriet, Sénat, vol. 3, nos. 3036, 3088.

36 Venezia-Senato, vol. 15, no. 154. See also Jacoby, “Peasant mobility”, p. 533.
harsh conditions under which they were already living. In departing from their
place of residence for another, members of both categories assumed the risk of
failure, though of course each started from an entirely different base and with
wholly different prospects, related to their existing financial prospects, ethnic
origins, and of course personal status (freedom or lack thereof).
The earliest organized movement of persons, who could be characterized as
affluent, was the colonization mission from Venice to Crete. This migration
encompassed the first half of the 13th century in three group undertakings
(1211, 1222, 1253) with a total of 249 participants who acquired land—in other
words, they formed the local feudal class—with the overwhelming majority
remained permanently on the island. We do not know if they were accompa-
nied by other family members upon initial arrival, but it is certain that subse-
quently, wives, prospective wives, or migrants’ children came to Crete. These
individuals not only conquered Crete de facto, but also formed the core around
which the Venetian, and in some extent Italian, ethnic element developed on
the island through continuous individual arrivals throughout the rest of the
13th and the 14th century. In the other Venetian possessions of this age, there
was no comparable organized Venetian movement of people, only individual
migrations, which in some cases were systematic and substantially supported
Venetian domination.37
All the Latin traders and investors who arrived in Venetian dominions and
settled there permanently, or at least for long periods, belong to the same cat-
egory, that of affluent immigrants. Most were Venetian, but their numbers in-
cluded other Italians, such as Genoese and Florentines, and Catalans. All be-
came established in the urban area of port cities like those of Crete, Methone
and Korone, Negroponte and Nauplion, or in the countryside when their in-
vestments involved agricultural production.38 Some Westerners even settled
on the small islands of the Aegean Sea, becoming active in small-medium
commerce in the region; they did not hesitate to change their place of r esidence
37 The first attempt of an organized settlement of Venetian colonists in the new possessions
was in 1207, when the island of Corfu was granted by Venice to ten Venetian noblemen for
its occupation and exploitation (Tafel and Thomas, Urkunden, vol. 2, pp. 54–59). We do
not know whether these ten Venetians ever arrived on Corfu, since the island passed to
the Byzantines a few years later. In Euboea, the Venetians granted incentives in the 13th
and especially the 14th century to Venetians, other Italians, and even Franks from the
middle and upper economic classes to settle in the Venetian quarter of Negroponte, thus
strengthening the Venetian presence and serving its long-term plans for full control of the
island (See Jacoby, “Demographic Euboea”, pp. 140–148).
38 Jacoby, “Migrations familiales et stratégies commerciales vénitiennes”; Idem, “The migra-
tion of merchants and craftsmen”; Stöckly, “Tentatives de migration individuelle dans les
territoires sous domination vénitienne”.
212 Gasparis
for the further expansion of their activities.39 These immigrants were easily
integrated into the new political, social, and economic environment of the Ve-
netian possessions and contributed to boosting trade and the urban economy
generally.
An intermediary category of immigrants was that composed of specific pro-
fessionals in high demand in Venetian territories for their specialist knowl-
edge. These professionals were either entirely lacking, or their level of special-
ization was superior to that of those already active in the possessions. They
came from Venice or other regions in the Italian peninsula, and even from
Constantinople and other large cities of the Byzantine Empire. As a rule, they
ended up in large territories like Crete or Euboea, or busy ports like Methone
and Korone. They included physicians, blacksmiths (mainly horseshoes mak-
ers), doctors for horses (marescalcus), engineers, weavers and many others,
depending on circumstances and the needs in each territory. They were drawn
either by high salaries if they were to be hired by the state or feudal lords, by
prospects for assured work on public projects, or by employment in the private
sector.40 A special category of professionals who emigrated were scribes com-
ing from large urban centers in the Byzantine Empire. Their flow to Venetian
dominions, especially Crete, increased during the 15th century, particularly af-
ter the Fall of Constantinople. Distinguished scribes organized important local
workshops for copying and producing manuscripts in a period when both local
as well as Italian/European interest had begun to grow rapidly.
Diverse categories of individuals (from the West, the Byzantine Empire, or
even from another Venetian possession) who ended up in a Venetian posses-
sion either purposely or randomly for professional or personal reasons could
also be included among migrants. Among them were mercenaries, sailors, can-
didates for a post in the local bureaucracy, and even prospective brides from
Venice or Italy. While most arrived in Venetian territories with the goal of
39 This for example was the case of the Catalan George, who must have settled in the island
of Astypalaia around the mid-13th century. He developed trading activity in the region,
chiefly between Astypalaia and Crete, which was continued by his sons. One of them,
Frangoulis, settled permanently in Candia, boosting his trading activity. Frangoulis’s son
Andreas acquired land in Crete and joined the middle stratum of the local feudal class.
See Gaspares, “Ένας Καταλανός από την Αστυπάλαια”.
40 In 1375, the Venetian Senate gave permission to the local governments of Crete, Euboea,
Methone, and Korone to grant ten-year tax exemptions to master weavers (magistri artis
zanullotorum) who would go and settle in these regions (Thiriet, Sénat, vol. 1, no. 555). In
the same year, master builders and stonemasons (magistri lapidicide) were sent from Ven-
ice to work on projects involving the walls and other public buildings with a yearly salary
and an allowance of grain (ibid., no. 559).
aking money and eventually returning to their homeland, there were some
m
who ultimately remained as permanent residents.41
A sizable and very interesting category of economic migrants to Venetian
possessions was poor unskilled individuals looking for better chances of sur-
vival. Normally they were Greeks coming from various places, including the
Byzantine Empire, Frankish-ruled regions, and even other Venetian posses-
sions and islands belonging to a Venetian ruler. However, while there was no
issue of personal status for Latin immigrants since they were in the position of
“freemen” and were the masters of their fate, the same did not hold true for
Greek immigrants. Upon entering a Venetian possession, the latter were
obliged to declare their arrival and provide their personal information to avoid
circulating illegally. The main purpose of this declaration was to identify de-
pendent individuals who were recorded in special lists as “foreign villeins” (vil-
lani forinseci/forenses) and were at the state’s disposal. Freemen could move
about as they wished and choose whether to settle in the city or countryside.
In contrast, all villeins were sent to the countryside as farm laborers on fiefs
belonging to the state or private individuals.42
The identification of migrants in this category in the sources available today
is normally done based on the surname they themselves declared, which indi-
cates their place of origin. Cases in which they declared their surname as well
as their previous place of residence are less common. The significant presence
of such migrants in the countryside is also partly a result of available evidence.
Most freemen who remained in cities as members of the lower working classes
became lost in the crowd, normally leaving no traces in the written sources.43
41 A rather common phenomenon shown primarily by sources from Crete was the marriage
of mercenary soldiers to local women, resulting in their remaining permanently in the
place where they were serving. Such marriages were forbidden by Venice for defence rea-
sons and normally led to the soldier’s dismissal, as revealed by a related decision by the
Venetian Senate in 1371 for Crete (Venezia-Senato, vol. 20, no. 672). This decision did not
anticipate the phenomenon; it simply noted it and imposed some prohibitions. In 1391, on
the other hand, Venice in promoting resettlement decided to grant tax exemptions to all
the seamen (marinarii) who decided to settle permanently in villages near Korone (Thiri-
et, Sénat, vol. 1, no. 816). See also cases of migration for profession or personal reasons
from one Venetian territory to another in Gaspares, “Κρήτη-Μεθώνη: ένα συνηθισμένο ταξίδι
κατά τον 14ο αιώνα”.
42 See Gaspares, Η γη και οι αγρότες, pp. 70–72; Gaspares, “Οι ξένοι του χωριού”.
43 However, sometimes there is information about such individuals. In 1320, for example,
rooms owned by the Orthodox church of Christ in Candia were rented out to various
persons, many of them from the Aegean islands as is revealed by their names: Georgius
Rodhio (i.e. from the island of Rhodes), Leo Naxioti (i.e. from the island of Naxos), Nichi-
forus de Stimpalia (i.e. from the island of Astypalaia), Costa Amurgino (i.e. from the island
of Amorgos), Sidorus de Chio (i.e. from the island of Chios) (Kατάστιχο εκκλησιών και
214 Gasparis
In contrast, many of both the migrant freemen as well as villeins who ended up
in the countryside left their traces in various sources connected with land own-
ership and cultivation, as well as with trade in agricultural products.
Most of the evidence confirming the migration of the lower social classes
comes from Crete, thanks to sources surviving from the early 13th century.
Even prior to the Venetians’ arrival, the island was a place where migrants pri-
marily coming from small neighboring barren islands in the southern Aegean
ended up and became absorbed into the countryside as farmers. In the surviv-
ing land registries, villeins were recorded in the first half of the 13th century
with names indicating their origin from regions outside Crete, and some may
even have arrived there as early as the late 12th century.44 Certainly, such a
migratory trend towards the new Venetian colonies increased during the
13th century due to political instability in the Aegean and wider Byzantine Em-
pire. This trend continued unabated during both the 14th and 15th centuries,
not only to Crete but also to Euboea, Methone and Korone, and even to less-
favored regions, e.g. Kythera due to specific incentives they provided.45 This
was owed among other things to Venice’s consistent policy of attracting immi-
grants to its possessions, as well as to the better living conditions they offered.
Dependent status, whether of villein or slave, excluded movement without
the permission or initiative of the individual’s master. Abandoning one’s place
of residence and land with the main goal of obtaining freedom and better liv-
ing conditions automatically made an individual a fugitive whom his master
could pursue. However, being sought out and probably punished did not
μοναστηριών του Kοινού, no. 141.Ι). It cannot be ruled out that such complexes of rooms were
usually rented out to migrants and transients arriving in the Cretan capital.
44 For example, in the land registry of the sestiere of Dorsoduro in Crete the following vil-
leins were registered: Petrus Carpathi (i.e. from the island of Karpathos) and Constantinus
Nixioti (i.e. from the island of Naxos) (1234); Leo Carpathio (i.e. from the island of Karpa-
thos), Leo Malvasiotis (i.e. from the city of Monemvasia), and Manuel Totradi Mothoneo
(i.e. from the city of Methone) (1259), and many others whose names indicate that they
came from outside Crete (Catasticum Dorsoduri, nos. 42, 205, 243, 255, 945). The baptis-
mal name Xenos (i.e. foreigner) is no accident, nor is the surname Exomeritis (i.e. coming
from outside), which we frequently encounter in the Cretan countryside. For surnames as
indicators of place of origin and migration see indicatively: Peter McClure, “Patterns of
Migration in the Late Middle Ages”; Konte, “Τα εθνικά οικογενειακά ονόματα στην Κρήτη
κατά τη βενετοκρατία”; Barke, “Migration in medieval Northumberland: The evidence of
surnames”.
45 In the 14th century, for example, the Venier family invited freemen or freed villeins to be
transported from Crete to Kythera, where they were offered farming land. It appears that
some actually responded, perhaps because they were already living under bad conditions
or even because they hoped to find better conditions in a new place. See Koumanoude,
“Illi de ca Venier”, p. 137; Tsiknakes, “Από την Κρήτη στα Κύθηρα. Η οικογένεια Κασιμάτη”.
revent the flight of villeins and slaves, and the phenomenon, even if never
p
engaged in on a wide scale, occurred regularly and was naturally exacerbated
by specific causes. Examples of the latter were the 13th-century revolts on
Crete, excessive debts entailing the risk of imprisonment, and even insecurity
in the region where they lived due to pirate raids or other hostile incursions.
The initiative to seek them out belonged to their masters, though the Venetian
authorities periodically issued relevant decrees to discourage the phenome-
non or offered incentives for their return. The problem when small groups of
villeins fled to one Venetian territory from another or to a Venetian territory
from a foreign hegemony was more complex. The actions of the authorities in
such instances normally followed the typical procedure, i.e. recognizing that
the villeins were obliged to return home. For example, in 1356 the Euboean
authorities requested the Cretan authorities to “facilitate” (in reality, to order)
the villeins who had fled there in returning to their homes.46 In this case, the
fact that the Venetians had major interests in Euboea shortly before the is-
land’s inclusion in Venice’s maritime state made immediate acceptance of the
request easier.47 Comparable requests by other rulers were also granted, but in
some cases, the Venetian authorities imposed certain conditions such as the
villeins’ safety, chiefly from Turkish attacks, which were also frequently a cause
of migration. In 1391, Venice accepted unconditionally the request by the Des-
pot of Mystras for the return of the villeins who had fled to the Venetian pos-
sessions of Nauplion and Argos.48 During the 1350s, the flight of villeins from
the independent hegemonies of the Aegean islands to Crete, which was safer,
was the result of Turkish attacks. Venice accepted their masters’ request for the
villeins’ return, but in each case set as a condition the guarantee of their safety
from the Turks.49 This precondition, in combination with the fact that the

47 The case of the villeins who fled from Kythera to Crete in the 14th century was similar. In
1384, the service responsible for overseeing state villeins in Crete discovered that many
villeins who had been recorded as “foreign” and had passed into public jurisdiction came
from the fiefdoms of the Venier family on Kythera. Now that these fiefs had come into the
possession of the Venetian state, the Cretan authorities wanted to send them back to Ky-
thera to augment the island’s rural population. See Koumanoude, “Illi de ca Venier”, p. 135
note 34.
49 When in 1358 the Duke of the Aegean Sea asked the Duke of Crete to return his territory’s
villeins, who had fled to Crete, the Venetian authorities ordered the latter to refuse. Their
argument was that these villeins had fled to Crete due to Turkish attacks, and that if they
expelled them they would prefer to flee to the Turks rather than return to their former
home (Venezia-Senato, vol. 15, no. 354). In 1361, a similar request was addressed to the
Cretan authorities by John and Thomas Ghisi, the rulers of the island of Amorgos. Venice
216 Gasparis
a uthorities would not evict any villeins, but would permit the departure of
those wishing it concealed Venice’s desire to keep farm laborers within its
possessions.
On the other hand, villeins could migrate and settle in another region at
their master’s initiative, even if they themselves did not want to move. Such
migrations occurred not only within but also between territories, due either to
the joint interests of their owners in two different places or to political circum-
stances. In 1336, for example, the nobleman Marino Barozzi asked Venice to
continue to hold the rights to his villeins, who had fled the island of Santorini
(when it came into the possession of the Sanudo family) and had settled in
Crete.50 After Tinos and Mykonos were subsumed under Venetian sovereignty,
the local Venetian rector abandoned his seat and settled in the island of Astyp-
alaia, which was also Venetian during this period, followed by many villeins
from both islands. In 1413, the Venetian Senate decided that all these villeins
had to return to the islands they had left within a month, and simultaneously
forbade any similar relocation of villeins from one island to another in future.
To demonstrate that he was obeying the generally accepted rule, the rector
explicitly forbade reception of villeins from other possessions in both islands.51
After receiving permission from the authorities, the Venier family also carried
out the transfer of villeins from its fiefs in Crete to ones it owned in Kythera.
Pronounced mobility (refugee or migration) of persons from all social class-
es and economic strata to and between Venetian territories resulted in the
emergence of mixed societies dominated by the Greek and subsequently, the
Venetian ethnic element, although other ethnic groups were not insignifi-
cant.52 While in daily life this comingling of ethnic groups created no p roblems,
allowed the return of their villeins though without compelling them to do so, and on
condition that their safety—once again, against the Turks—would be guaranteed (Thiri-
et, Sénat, vol. 1, no. 379; Theotokes, Θεσπίσματα, vol. 2/2, pp. 90–91; Koumanoude, “Για ένα
κομμάτι γης”, p. 72; Saint-Guillain, “Amorgos au xive siècle”, pp. 114–115).
50 Venezia-Senato, vol. 4, no. 568.
52 One of the most important ethnic elements in the Venetian territories was Jews, about
which however there is no evidence of significant mass migration during the era and ter-
ritory under consideration. Concerning ethnic elements in Venetian territories and the
identities of their inhabitants see Herrin/Saint-Guillain (eds.), Identities and allegiances,
especially the study of S. McKee, “Sailing from Byzantium: Byzantines and Greeks in the
Venetian world”, pp. 291–300. See also Christ et al. (eds.), Union in separation. Diasporic
groups and identities in the eastern Mediterranean (1100–1800), and especially the studies:
G. Saint-Guillain, “Venetian archival documents and the prosopography of the thirteenth-
century Byzantine world: Tracing individuals through the archives of a diaspora”, pp. 37–
80; Α. Osipian, “Practices of integration and segregation: Armenian trading Diasporas in
differences between ethnic elements remained in key areas, including political

rights and inclusion in specific upper-class strata. In possessions under long-
standing and continuous Venetian sovereignty, there emerged together with
others a “mixed” identity, the chief feature of which was locality. With the ex-
ception of the indigenous Greek element, which preserved nearly intact its
identity given that it had not moved, over the course of generations the Vene-
tian element, which also largely preserved its language and religion, together
with a consciousness of its ancestry, gradually became identified with the
place. The other populations, with different characteristics became comingled
with local societies without leaving any traces in the sources, which does not
help us to determine whether they retained some of the characteristics of their
place of origin or were assimilated.
In conclusion, during the final centuries of the middle Ages, the Venetian
possessions in the Eastern Mediterranean served as a reception place for both
refugees and migrants due to the security and economic prospects they of-
fered. Displaced persons (migrants), whether in groups or as individuals, came
from various regions in the Eastern Mediterranean, from different social and
economic strata, and displayed a variety of ethnic characteristics, although the
Greek and Venetian elements remained dominant. Migration in the other di-
rection, from one Venetian territory to another or even to Venice itself, as well
as leaving a Venetian possession for a region outside Venetian territory is also
observed, though to a lesser extent.
Bibliography
Primary Sources
Catastici Feudorum Crete. Catasticum Chanee. 1314–1396, ed. Ch. Gaspares, Athens 2008.
Catastici Feudorum Crete. Catasticum Sexterii Dorsoduri. 1227–1418, ed. Ch. Gaspares,
vol. 2, Athens 2004.
Documents inédits pour servir a l’histoire de la domination vénitienne en Crète de 1380 a
1485, ed. H. Noiret, Paris 1892.
Documents inédits relatifs à l’ histoire de la Grèce au moyen âge, vol. 1–9, ed. C. Sathas,
Athens 1880–1890.
Duca di Candia. Ducali e lettere ricevute. (1358–1360; 1401–1405), ed. F. Thiriet, Venice
1978.
their interaction with the Genoese and Venetian colonies in the Eastern Mediterranean
and the Black Sea (1289–1484)”, pp. 349–362. See also Charalampakes, Σλάβοι στην Κρήτη.
218 Gasparis
Kατάστιχο εκκλησιών και μοναστηριών του Kοινού (1248–1548), ed. Z.N. Tsirpanles, Ioannina
1985.
Μonumenta Peloponnesiaca. Documents for the history of the Peloponnese in the 14th
and 15th centuries, ed. J. Chrysostomides, Camberley, Surrey 1995.
Pietro Pizolo. Notaio in Candia, ed. S. Carbone, vol. 1, 1300, Venice 1978; vol. 2, 1304–1305,
Venice 1985.
Pietro Scardon. Imbreviature (1271). Documenti della colonia veneziana di Creta, ed. A.
Lombardo, Turin 1942.
Tafel, G.L.Fr. and Thomas, G.M., Urkunden zur älteren Handelsund Staatsgeschichte der
Republik Venedig, vol. 2, Vienna 1856.
Theotokes, S.M., Θεσπίσματα της Bενετικής Γερουσίας 1281–1385, vol. 2/1–2/2, Athens
1936–1937.
Thiriet, F., Régestes des Délibérations du Sénat de Venise concernant la Romanie, vol. 1
(1329–1399), Paris 1958; vol. 2 (1400–1430), Paris 1959· vol. 3 (1431–1463), Paris 1961.
Venezia-Senato. Deliberazioni miste: vol 4, Registro xvii (1335–1339), ed. F.-X. Leduc, Ven-
ice 2007; vol. 6, Registro xix (1340–1341), ed. F.-X. Leduc, Venice 2004; vol. 7, Registro xx
(1341–1342), ed. F. Girardi, Venice 2004; vol 15, Registro xxviii (1357–1359), ed. E. Or-
lando, Venice 2009; vol. 20, Registro xxxiii (1368–1372), ed. A. Mozzato, Venice 2010.
Asonitis, Sp.N., “Relations between the Venetian Regimen Corphoy and the Albanians
of Epirus (14th–15th centuries)”, in Ch. Gaspares (ed.), Οι Αλβανοί στο Μεσαίωνα,
Athens 1998, pp. 271–291.
Barbero, A., “Le migrazioni medievali”, in P. Corti/M. Sanfilippo (eds.), Storia d’Italia,
Annali 24: Migrazioni, Turin 2009, pp. 21–39.
Barke, M., “Migration in medieval Northumberland: The evidence of surnames”, in E.
Ashton/M. Barke/E. George (eds.), A Northumbrian Miscellany. Historical essays in
memory of Constance M. Fraser, Berwick upon Tweed 2015, pp. 38–62.
Brettell, C.B./Hollifield, J.F. (eds.), Migration theory. Talking across disciplines, New
York/London 2007.
Charalampakes, P., Σλάβοι στην Κρήτη κατά τον Μεσαίωνα και τους πρώιμους νεότερους
χρόνους, Athens 2016.
Christ, G./Morche, E.-J./Zaugg, R./Kaiser, W./Burkhardt, S./Beihammer, A.D. (eds.),
Union in separation. Diasporic groups and identities in the eastern Mediterranean
(1100–1800), Rome 2015.
Chrysostomidou, J., “Tenedos 1376 revisited”, in D.R. King (ed.), Byzantium and Venice,
1204–1453: Julian Chrysostomides, Variorum Collected Studies, Ashgate 2011, no xi.
Doumerc, B., “Les vénitiens confrontés au retour des rapatriés de l’empire colonial
d’outre-mer (fin xve–debut xvie siècle)”, in M. Balard/A. Ducellier (eds.), Migra-
tions et diasporas méditerranéennes (xe–xvie siècles), Paris 2002, pp. 375–398.
Edbury, P., “Reflections on the Mamluk destruction of Acre (1291)”, in Christ, G./Morche,
E.-J./Zaugg, R./Kaiser, W./Burkhardt, S./Beihammer, A.D. (eds), Union in separation.
Diasporic groups and identities in the eastern Mediterranean (1100–1800), Rome 2015,
pp. 199–206.
Ganchou, Th., “La fraterna societas des Crétois Nikolaos et Géôrgios Pôlos (Polo) entre
Constantinople et Moncastro: affaire, dévotion et humanism”, Θησαυρίσματα 39/40
(2009–2010), 112–227.
Garsoïan, N.G., “The problem of Armenian integration into the Byzantine Empire”, in
H. Ahrweiler/A.E. Laiou (ed.), Studies on the Internal Diaspora of the Byzantine
Empire, Washington, D.C. 1998, pp. 53–124.
Gaspares, Ch., Φυσικό και αγροτικό τοπίο στη μεσαιωνική Κρήτη, Athens 1994.
Gaspares, Ch., H γη και οι αγρότες στη μεσαιωνική Kρήτη, 13ος–14ος αι., Athens 1997.
Gaspares, Ch., “Ένας Καταλανός από την Αστυπάλαια. Η κινητικότητα στο νότιο Αιγαίο και
την Κρήτη τον 14ο αι.”, in G.K. Barzelioti/K.G. Tsiknakes (eds.), Γαληνοτάτη. Τιμή στη
Χρύσα Μαλτέζου, Athens 2013, pp. 195–212.
“Οι ξένοι του χωριού. Κοινωνικά και πληθυσμιακά χαρακτηριστικά των μεσαιωνικών χωριών
της Κρήτης”, in K.E. Lambrinos (ed.), Κοινωνίες της υπαίθρου στην ελληνοβενετική
Ανατολή (13ος-18ος αι.), Athens 2018, pp. 25–50.
Gaspares, Ch., “Κρήτη-Μεθώνη: ένα συνηθισμένο ταξίδι κατά τον 14ο αιώνα”, in Proceedings
of the Symposium “Methoni and its region from the Ancient to Modern Times”, Me-
thoni 16–17 May 2015 (Forthcoming).
Goddard, R., Lordship and medieval urbanisation: Coventry, 1043–1355, Woodbridge, Suf-
folk 2004.
Herrin, J./Saint-Guillain, G. (eds), Identities and allegiances in the eastern Mediterra-
nean after 1204, Farnham 2011.
Jacoby, D., “The migration of merchants and craftsmen: a Mediterranean perspective
(12th–15th century)”, in S. Cavaciocchi (ed.), Le migrazioni in Europa, secc. xiii–
xviii, Florence 1994, pp. 533–560 (repr. in D. Jacoby, Trade, commodities and ship-
ping in the medieval Mediterranean, Variorum 1997, no. i).
Jacoby, D., “Italian migration and settlement in Latin Greece: The impact on the econ-
omy”, in H.E. Mayer/E. Muller-Luckner (eds), Die Kreuzfahrerstaaten als multikul-
turelle Gesellschaft, Einwanderer und Minderheiten im 12. und 13. Jahrhundert, Mu-
nich 1997, pp. 97–127 (repr. in D. Jacoby, Byzantium, Latin Romania and the
Mediterranean, Aldershot 2001, no. xi).
Jacoby, D., “La colonisation militaire vénitienne de la Crète au xiiie siècle: Une nou-
velle approche”, in M. Balard/A. Ducellier (eds.), Le partage du monde. Echanges et
colonisation dans la Méditerranée médiévale, Byzantina Sorbonensia 17, Paris 1998,
pp. 297–313 (repr. in D. Jacoby, Latins, Greeks and Muslims: Encounters in the Eastern
Mediterranean. 10th-15th centuries, Farnham (Ashgate) 2009, no. iv).
Jacoby, D., “Migrations familiales et stratégies commerciales vénitiennes aux xiie et
xiiie siècles”, in M. Balard/A. Ducellier (eds), Migrations et diasporas méditerranée-
nnes (xe–xvie siècles), Paris 2002, pp. 355–374.
Jacoby, D., “Foreigners and the urban economy in Thessalonike, ca. 1150–ca. 1450”,
Dumbarton Oaks Papers 57 (2003), 85–132.
220 Gasparis
Jacoby, D., “The demographic evolution of Euboea under Latin rule, 1205–1470”, in J.
Chrysostomides/Ch. Dendrinos/J. Harris (eds.), The Greek Islands and the Sea.
Proceedings of the First International Colloquium held at the Hellenic Institute, Royal
Holloway, University of London, 21–22 September 2001, Camberley, Surrey 2004,
pp. 131–179.
Jacoby, D., “Peasant mobility across the Venetian, Frankish and Byzantine borders in
Latin Romania. Thirteenth-Fifteenth centuries”, in Chr. Maltezou/A. Tzavara/D.
Vlassi (eds.), I Greci durante la venetocrazia: Uomini, spazio, idee (xiii–xviii sec.).
Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studi, Venezia, 3–7 dicembre 2007, Venice 2009,
pp. 525–539.
Jacoby, D., “Refugees from Acre in Famagusta around 1300”, in M.J.K. Walsh/T. Kiss/N.
Coureas (eds.), The Harbour of all this Sea and Realm. Crusader to Venetian Fama-
gusta, Budapest 2014, pp. 53–67.
Kleinschmid, H., People on the move. Attitudes toward and perception of migration in
medieval and modern Europe, Westport 2003.
Konte, V., “Τα εθνικά οικογενειακά ονόματα στην Κρήτη κατά τη βενετοκρατία (13ος–17ος
αι.)”, Σύμμεικτα 8 (1989), 143–317.
Koumanoude, M., “Για ένα κομμάτι γης. Η διαμάχη Σανούδων-Γκίζη για το νησί της
Αμοργού (14ος αι.)”, Θησαυρίσματα 29 (1999), 45–90.
Koumanoude, M., “Illi de Ca’ Venier: The first Venetian lords of Kythera”, in M.
Koumanoudi/Ch. Maltezou (eds.), Venezia e Cerigo, Atti del Simposio Internazionale,
Venezia 6–7 dicembre 2002, Venice 2003, pp. 87–106.
Koumanoude, M., “Η κατάσταση του αγροτικού πληθυσμού του Άργους στα τέλη του 14ου
αιώνα”, in Chr. Maltezou/Ang. Panopoulou (eds), Άργος: Σημάδια της βενετικής
παρουσίας στο Άργος και την περιοχή του, Πρακτικά Διεθνούς Επιστημονικής Συνάντησης,
Άργος Σάββατο 11 Οκτωβρίου 2008, Venice 2010, pp. 121–133.
Lovejoy, P.E., Transformations in slavery. A history of slavery in Africa, Cambridge Uni-
versity Press 2011.
Major, Α., “Étrangers et minorités ethniques en Messenie vénitienne (xiiie–xve s.)”,
Studi Veneziani 22 (1991), 361–381.
McClure, P., “Patterns of migration in the Late Middle Ages: The evidence of English
place-name surnames”, The Economic History Review, New Series, 32, No. 2 (May,
1979), 167–182.
Meissner, J./Mücke, U./Weber, K., Schwarzes Amerika: Eine Geschichte der Sklaverei,
Munich 2008.
Moschonas, Ν.G., “Η αγορά των δούλων”, in N.G. Moschonas (ed.), Χρήμα και αγορά στην
εποχή των Παλαιολόγων, Athens 2003, pp. 249–272.
Patterson, O., Slavery and social death. A comparative study, Harvard 1982.
Saint-Guillain, G., “Amorgos au xive siècle. Une seigneurie insulaire entre Cyclades
féodales et Crète vénitienne”, Byzantinische Zeitschrift 94/1 (2001), 62–189.
Stöckly, D., “Tentatives de migration individuelle dans les territoires sous domination
vénitienne—une approche”, in M. Balard/A. Ducellier (eds), Migrations et diasporas
méditerranéennes (xe–xvie siècles), Paris 2002, pp. 513–522.
Thiriet, F., “A propos des personnes ‘deplacées’ au xive siècle. Le transfert des Tene-
diotes en Romanie vénitienne. (1381–1385)”, Travaux et Mémoires 8 (1981), 521–530.
Topping, P., “Albanian settlements in Medieval Greece: Some Venetian testimonies”, in
A.E. Laiou-Thomadakis (ed), Charanis Studies: Essays in honor of Peter Charanis,
New Brunswick, NJ 1980, pp. 261–271.
Topping, P., “Armenian and Greek refugees in Crete and the Aegean world (xiv–xv
centuries)”, in Πεπραγμένα του E΄ Διεθνούς Kρητολογικού Συνεδρίου, vol. 2, Erakleio 1985,
pp. 364–374.
Tsiknakes, K., “Από την Κρήτη στα Κύθηρα. Η οικογένεια Κασιμάτη”, in Η΄ Διεθνές Πανιόνιο
Συνέδριο. Κύθηρα, 21–25 Μαΐου 2006. Πρακτικά, vol. 3, Kythira 2009, pp. 574–590.
Vacalopoulos, A., “The flight of the inhabitants of Greece to the Aegean islands, Crete
and Mane, during the Turkish invasions (fourteenth and fifteenth centuries)”, in
A.E. Laiou-Thomadakis (ed.), Charanis Studies: Essays in honor of Peter Charanis,
Verlinden, C., L’esclavage dans l’Europe médiéval, vol. 2, Gent 1977.
Zachariadou, El.A., “Cortazzi και όχι Corsari”, Θησαυρίσματα 15 (1978), 62–65.
Zachariadou, El.A., Trade and Crusade. Venetian Crete and the Emirates of Menteshe
and Aydin. (1300–1415), Venice 1983.
Part 3
Migration in Early Islamic Societies
∵
Chapter 8
Iranians in 9th Century Egypt

Lucian Reinfandt
The Islamic caliphate was an empire of migration, and one is tempted to ask
whether migration was indeed the backbone of Islam. The hijra (lit. “migra-
tion”) of the prophet Muhammad in 622 a.d. from Mecca to Medina became
the blueprint for all later migration.1 During the Arab conquests of the 7th and
early 8th centuries, Arab tribes migrated and settled in all parts of the new
empire as a military and political elite separated by religion from non-Muslim
population majorities.2 Another phenomenon was a long-distance trade with
networks of traders traveling over the Silk Road and the Indian Ocean, the pro-
verbial Sindbad being but a representative for many real ones.3 Thirdly, there
was a zest for learning in Islamic culture, which is summarized by a famous
saying of the prophet Muhammad (“seek knowledge even as far as China!”).4
Migration between the urban intellectual centres of North Africa and the Mid-
dle East was a prevalent phenomenon during the whole era of pre-modern Is-
lam, and celebrities such as Ibn Khaldun of Ibn Battuta (both 14th century) are
only two examples out of many. Finally, there is the obligation for every Mus-
lim to undertake the pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina at least once in a life-
time, which caused the regular movement of many pilgrims on an annual basis
through all parts of the Muslim world.5
1 A variant understanding of the word hijra in the sense of “conversion to Islam”, as is used by
e.g. Lapidus, “Evolution of Muslim Urban Society”, p. 27, is discussed in Crone, “First-Century
Concept of Hiǧra”. – The citation of papyrus editions is following the convention of the isap
Checklist of Arabic Documents https://www.naher-osten.lmu.de/isapchecklist [accessed
6 January 2020], but see also the list of papyrological sources at the end of this chapter. Dates
of events are given according to the Christian era. Dates of papyrus documents are given
both according to the Hijra and the Christian calendar (e.g. 3rd/9th century).
2 For general information on Arab tribal migration in the time of conquests see Ashtor, Social
and Economic History, pp. 10–12; Donner, Early Islamic Conquests, passim; Berger, “Medieval
Era Migrations”, pp. 2254–2256. According to to the 9th century historian al-Kindī, no less
than 3000 families of the Arab tribe of Qays were transferred to Egypt under the rule of
Hishām in 109/727; cf. Gottschalk, “Dīwān”, p. 327. About a possible understanding of the
settlement of Arabs in the course of the conquests as a move of colonisation see Crone,
“Post-Colonialism”.
3 Ashtor, Social and Economic History.
4 Ashtor, “Mouvement migratoire”, p. 194 n. 69.
5 About early pilgrimage in Islam see now Sijpesteijn, “An Early Umayyad Papyrus Invitation”.
© Lucian Reinfandt, �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_009

226 Reinfandt
One has to distinguish between a temporary and a permanent form of mi-

gration, however. Both kinds had differing consequences for migrants and host
societies alike.6 Another distinction should be about the question whether re-
gional movement was politically or militarily motivated, or whether it was in
search of labour. While the former was a trigger of phenomena such as the
Arab conquests during the 7th and 8th centuries, or the Turkish domination of
the empire during the 9th and 10th centuries, the latter was a cause of more
smooth forms of migration, such as that of administrators with a Persian or
Iranian background, such as Khurāsānians or Central Asians who moved from
east to west through the lands of Islam.
In the following will be shown the role of a transregional elite of administra-
tors with an eastern, and possibly Iranian, background during the 9th century
a.d. and with a particular emphasis on aspects of their social and geographic
mobility. Such a moving elite was created not only by the military and the reli-
gious establishment, but also by investing landowners and networks of long-
distance merchants. Their participation in governance and administration is
essential for understanding the intricate workings of the early Islamic Empire
and how the caliphal administration controlled and integrated diverse regions
and populations while securing the interests of the empire at large. It would be
of crucial interest to see how an eastern transregional elite with a specific ad-
ministrative expertise interacted with the local population and how they bal-
anced their relationships with other regional elites in Egypt, on the one hand,
and central caliphal authorities on the other. It would also be of importance to
ask whether a shift from one imperial elite (Arab, Khurāsānian, Central Asian,
and others) to another was a sign of failure or rather an improvement in terms
of stability and efficiency of rule, and which existing networks and emerging
institutions helped elites to connect the empire and its diverse regions in terms
of tribal affiliation, family policies, clientelism, and strategic appointments.
Arabic papyri from Egypt display an eastern cultural influence on a local
society along the Nile during the 9th and 10th centuries. They may even wit-
ness a physical presence of humans belonging to an administrative elite of Ira-
nian origin in Egypt as well. This presence was not restricted to the urban cen-
tre of al-Fustat but may be traced along the find places in the Egyptian
hinterland and thus give a profile of settlement unattainable by other sources.
There is an occasional mentioning of individuals in the papyri with Persian
6 Still today migrants from Egypt who live in Europe would distinguish between safar (mean-
ing “travel”, i.e. the temporary residence) and hijra (meaning “migration”, i.e. the permanent
residence and the “leaving behind” of a previous life). I am grateful to Lea Müller-Funk
(Amsterdam) for this information.
Iranians in 9th Century Egypt 227
(and Turkish) personal names. Some of them were located in the offices of
high-level administration in al-Fustat, but others were from more regional cen-
tres.7 Moreover, the language of official papyri from Egypt show changes in the
administrative terminology in this province of the caliphate which may have
been caused by a presence of officials with an Iranian background on more local
levels of administration already in pre-Tulunid Egypt, i.e. before the early 9th
century. And finally yet importantly, the mentioning of a few luxury goods with
a non-Egyptian but seemingly eastern provenance in papyri may be taken as
evidence for a presence of communities of an eastern, and possibly Iranian,
origin inside Egypt.
1 Migration during the Abbasid Caliphate
The subject of migration in the pre-modern Islamic lands seems understudied

and has only recently gained attention as an analytical concept. This is of
course a response to the fact that the present age has become a world of migra-
tion and scholars themselves have turned into a society of migrants more than
ever before. Prior to this, the phenomenon has not found much interest, nor
has the word migration itself appeared in titles of older literature.8
While the Arab conquests of the 7th and 8th centuries had been a move-
ment of Arabian tribes from their core regions on the Arabian Peninsula and
the Fertile Crescent into Asia and North Africa, the 9th century witnessed a
swing back of easterners to the west. Notably a military elite of Turkish origin
made its way to western lands of the caliphate and took leading military and
political positions there, including Syria and Egypt.9 At about the same time,
Iranian-born administrators followed the trend and settled in Syria and Egypt.
This happened, partly at least, in the wake of a political collapse of central gov-
ernment in Iraq especially during the 860s a.d. anarchy of Samarra that brought
7 The search for names is not without pitfalls: Karabacek, Papyrus Erzherzog Rainer. Führer
durch die Ausstellung, p. 182 had read in a Vienna papyrus now published as P.RagibPressoir
= Chrest.Khoury i 65 (perf 698) a Persian name Shahrzār, but Rāġib, “Contrat d’affermage”,
and after him Khoury, Chrestomathie, p. 121 have convincingly corrected the reading to the
non-Persian name Nimrān instead. For the westernmost extent of Persian migrations in the
Islamic world, see now Dold-Ghadar, Pers-Andalus.
8 Few possible exceptions are Ashtor, “Mouvement migratoire”; Berger, “Medieval Era Migra-
tions”; Lapidus, “Evolution of Muslim Urban Society”; idem, Islamic Societies; Naqvi, “Islam
and Migration”; Netton, Golden Roads.
9 Berger, “Medieval Era Migrations”, p. 2257 speaks of “migrant soldiers”. See also the chapter by
Lutz Berger in this volume.
228 Reinfandt
occupational insecurity and physical turmoil for many.10 From narrative sourc-
es we learn that, once in Egypt, they occupied central posts of administration
there.11 Families of specialists such as the al-Mādharāʾī, the Ibn Bistam, the
Banū Māhujīr and the Banū al-Furāt families managed to keep their influence
on the local society in Egypt for generations.12 The long-term consequences of
this trend found their way into Islamicate collective memory that holds that
culture comes from the east, and administrators have to be of Persian origin.
Arabic literary sources, such as chronicles and collections of biographies
but also administrative manuals, mention the presence of considerable num-
bers of “Persian” administrators already in 9th century Egypt.13 They also men-
tion theologians and other intellectuals who came to Egypt as entourage of
high administrative officials.14 From slightly later documents from the Cairo
Genizah is known that high military men also brought to Egypt their entourage
of courtesans and counsellors and that the latter took high posts in the admin-
istration of Egypt themselves. The new elites attracted still others in the hope
for money and employment, and literary sources mention more common en-
tourage, such as workers and domestics, who came to Egypt as well.15
We are not informed, however, about numbers or circumstances of the lat-
ter phenomenon, and whether they brought their own families and peers
along. In addition, the question is whether the more common immigrants
10 Ashtor, “Mouvement migratoire”, p. 194; Brett, “Egypt”, p. 567.

11 The heads of the Umayyad chancery of Egypt were of Mesopotamian background, e.g. the
cases of Ibn Abdkan and Isḥāq b. Nuṣayr (cf. for both Hassan, “Les Tulunides”, pp. 280–
283). The important 9th century chronicler of Egypt, Ibn ad-Dāya, was of Mesopotamian
background as well; cf. Hassan, Les Tulunides, p. 11, citing Guest, “Relations Between Persia
and Egypt”, pp. 170–171.
12 The al-Mādharāʾī family is attested in the papyrus cpr iii 184 = P.Cair.Arab. 33. Among the
families the Banū al-Furāt eventually became the most influential one in Egypt, see Ash-
tor, “Mouvement migratoire”, pp. 190–191; Brett, “Egypt”, p. 567. About the Mādharāʾī
and Banū Māhujīr families see Hassan, Les Tulunides, pp. 284–287 and Gottschalk,
“Māḏarāʾiyyūn”, passim.
13 The pioneer study is Guest, “Relations Between Persia and Egypt”, which has been com-
pleted by Yarshater, “Persian Presence”. Both are monumental compilations of all infor-
mation obtainable from literary sources about Persian migrants to Egypt during the 9th
century but do not sufficiently take into consideration the actual social processes that
stood behind their migration. The important recent study by Berger, “Muslim Era Migra-
tions”, on the other hand, provides an abundance of details about Arab and Turkic mili-
tary migration and the role of slavery during the 8th and 9th centuries but passes over the
migration of civil administrators, which shows very well the lack of sources scholars have
to face when working about this subject.
14 Ashtor, “Mouvement migratoire”, p. 192.
15 Ashtor, “Mouvement migratoire”, p. 190.
stayed in urban centres like Fustat or Alexandria or settled in villages as well,

and how the local population reacted to newcomers. Arabic literary sources
focus on the provincial centre of al-Fustat, however, and remain silent on the
situation outside the capital. They follow an elite-based view and confine a
majority of examples to higher levels of society. In addition, they depict events
in an episodic manner, and it is difficult to say how representative the informa-
tion is for the general situation. Documentary sources, on the other hand, are
rare. The enormous potential of an archaeology of early Islam is still in its be-
ginnings.16 The important Judaeo-Arabic documents on paper from the Cairo
Genizah archive, on the other hand, had not been produced before the 10th
century and thus tend to be too late for the present purpose.17 Arabic papyri
from 9th century Egypt, however, have a special value for tracing migration
flows, since they have been found outside urban centres and from among less
high-ranking milieus of society.
Arabic papyri from 9th century Egypt in fact feature inventions that had
come into use in more eastern parts of the caliphal empire already about a
century earlier. These concerned a general change from papyrus to paper as
support of writing;18 the establishment of a script that was significantly more
cursive than previous forms of writing;19 formulaic changes in documents;20
but also the introduction of Arabic numeral letters and a specific Persian cal-
endar.21 It is of course possible that documents from Egypt followed a general
trend of their time; but one cannot rule out the possibility that the new features
were introduced by clerks of eastern origin working in Egyptian chanceries.
16 Cf. Guérin/Al-Na’imi, “Territory and Settlement Patterns” with exemplary research about
settlement patterns in 9th century Qatar.
17 Ashtor, “Mouvement migratoire”, who has made use of biographical collections and docu-
ments from the Cairo Geniza alike. Main findings are repeated in Ashtor, Social and Eco-
nomic History, pp. 149 and 170.
18 Paper was a Chinese invention that found its way first into eastern Muslim lands in the
mid-8th century but came into use in more western lands such as Syria and Egypt not
before the 9th and 10th centuries. See Youssef-Grob, “Earliest Paper Documents” about
the oldest Arabic documents on paper from Egypt.
19 Paragrapher Khan, Arabic Documents, pp. 28–29 with examples of Arabic documents
from 8th century Khurasan.
20 Reinfandt, “Empireness”, p. 286. An example of the new formulary in the papyri is cpr xxi
74 = perf 884.
21 Early attestations of Arabic numeral letters in the documents are cpr xxii 15; P.Prag.
Arab. Beilage ii = P.World p. 136; P. Vind.inv. A.P. 1255 = perf 830 (unpublished); P. Vind.
inv. A.Ch. 11 = perf 927 (unpublished). For the introduction and use of Arabic numeral
letters see Abbott, “Arabic Numerals”; Irani, “Arabic Numeral Forms”; Kunitzsch, “Trans-
mission of Hindu-Arabic Numerals”; Levi della Vida, “Appunti e questi”.
230 Reinfandt
2 Textual Evidence for a Presence of Transregional Elites in 9th

Century Egypt
Arabic papyri provide evidence in three different ways. First, the appearance
of Persian or Turkish personal names in the documents allows locating a fac-
tual presence of individuals in the region and may give some information
about their professional occupation and social role. Secondly, the use of ad-
ministrative terminology different from local habits in the papyri may reflect
the presence of newcomers in middle and lower levels of administration and
in more peripheral parts of Egypt. Thirdly, the mentioning of luxury goods
with a specific non-Egyptian background in the papyri may testify some cul-
tural impact from outside.
2.1 Onomastics
Personal names of Persian origin begin to appear in Egyptian papyri during the
earlier 9th century. Members of the financial administration but also traders
and administrators of agricultural domains in rural centres like the Faiyum,
al-Bahnasā (Oxyrhynchus), and al-Ushmūnayn (Hermopolis) have apparently
Persian names, such as Salmān and Rastān.22 Others were marking their origin
from more eastern parts of the caliphal empire by a nisba (geographical desig-
nation) in their name such as al-khurasānī (“the one from al-Khurāsān”).23
Suggestive is also the use of Persian personal names in a writing exercise from
the 9th century.24 From the early 10th century at the latest is attested a perma-
nent settlement of persons with Persian names who seem to have had become
members of the local Egyptian society.25 Similarly, persons with Turkic names
22 Traders with possible Persian names are mentioned in papyri from 3rd/9th century
Faiyum, al-Bahnasā, and al-Ushmūnayn: P.Marchands v/1 1 (Salmān); 2 (Rastān or
Raysān); 7 (Salmān ibn Dāwūd); 11 (Salmān); 12 (Rastān or Raysān); P.Cair.Arab. 94 (Aḥmad
ibn Salmān); iv 234 (Salmān ibn al-Mufaḍḍal); 243 (Salmān); v 383 (Ḥamūd ibn Salmān).
23 Cf. the example of an Abū l-Ḥasan al-Khurasānī and his brother Abū al-Layth al-Khurasānī,
both mentioned in a papyrus from 3rd/9th century Faiyum (P.Berl.Arab. i 15r). I am
grateful to Petra Sijpesteijn (Leiden) for having drawn my attention to this particular
document.
24 P.Vind.inv. A.P. 3004 = perf 786 (unpublished). Josef von Karabacek for his part even
suggested a specific Persianized grammatical construction in another Arabic papyrus:
P.Vind.inv. A.P. 3800 = perf 785 (unpublished).
25 One of them was the tax-official Yālawayh who was working in the southern Egyptian
provincial centre of al-Ushmūnayn during the year 291/903–04 (P.GrohmannUrkunden
12). A similar case seems to have been another tax-official, a certain Abū l-Faḍl Hibatallāh
b. al-Muhtadī billāh, who was in office in the Egyptian periphery during 297/909–10
(P.GrohmannGrundsteuerquittung). From 293/905–06 is mentioned a certain Ismāʿīl (or
Yishmāʿēl) ibn Fatḥ as tax-official in the Faiyum, his patronym perhaps pointing to a
appear in Egyptian papyri as early as the year 172–73/789.26 The first Turkish
governor of Egypt, al-ʿAbbās ibn ʿAbdallāh, is mentioned in a papyrus from
242/856.27 Other individuals with a Turkic background, however, are attested
in 9th century documents as well.28 There are also attestations to people from
southern Mesopotamia in the papyri.29
Moreover, there are other indicators used in combination with personal
names that may have marked an origin from outside Egypt. This is the case
with epithets such as naṣrānī, ʿajamī, or fārisī. The epithet an-naṣrānī (“the
Christian”) was uncommon among 9th century Christian Egyptians who would
have preferred an-nabaṭī (“the indigene”) instead, while a Christian from Syria
and Anatolia would have been called ar-rūmī (“the one from Byzantium”).
The epithet an-naṣrānī, on the other hand, may have been an indicator for
a more eastern origin of a person.30 The name affix al-ʿajamī (“the non-Arab”)
ersian or Turkish father, whereas the personal name Yishmāʿēl (as may be read from the
P
document) would suggest his Jewish background (cpr xxi 74).
26 A certain Bakīsh (or Tikīsh/Tégish) freedman of Ṭulayb ibn Abī Ṣāʾim is mentioned who
sold an amount of wheat for the price of one gold dinar to a woman named ʿAqīla bint
Yūsuf (cpr xxvi 16 = perf 617). Josef von Karabacek in his day considered it the earliest
attestation to a person of Turkish descent in Arabic papyri from Egypt (Karabacek, Papy-
rus Erzherzog Rainer. Führer durch die Ausstellung, p. 159). The provenance of the papyrus
is unclear but has most probably been found in the Faiyum, Ihnās (Heracleopolis), or
al-Ushmānayn (Hermopolis). The mentioning of the first Turkish governor of Egypt,
al-ʿAbbās ibn ʿAbdallāh, is much later, on the other hand: P.GrohmannAperçu p. 27 =
P.World p. 119 (perf 763) from 242/856.
27 P.GrohmannAperçu p. 27 = P.World p. 119.
28 P.Vind.inv. A.P. 9014 = perf 855 unpublished (Bughā); cpr xxi 77 with emendations in
Diem, “Philologisches”, p. 99 (Aḥmad ibn Abī al-Lawḥ ibn Sīmā); P.Prag.Arab. 40, Faiyum
(Takin); P.Prag.Arab. Beilage i, al-Ushmūnayn (Sankar?). Both P.GrohmannUrkunden 2
from 328–33/939–44 and the unpublished P.Vind.inv. A.Ch. 7816 mention a Turkic ruler
(ʾamīr) from the later Egyptian local Ikhshīdid dynasty (Abū l-Muẓaffar al-Ḥasan ibn
Ṭuqaj/Ṭughj/Thogaj). The content of P.Harrauer 61 is dealing with agricultural domains in
Egypt that were in the possession of a caliph’s mother and a Turkish chief armourer; see
Frantz-Murphy, “Record of Tax”, p. 246.
29 P.Vind.inv. A.P. 8744R = perf 671 unpublished is mentioning members of the family of the
governor of Ahwāz possessing large estates in the Faiyum but is ambiguous as to whether
these family members actually resided inside Egypt. cpr xvi 19 has a female slave of
apparently eastern European, or Slavic, origin (khādim ṣaqlabiyya) from the market in
al-Fustat.
30 Cf. the example of Mūsā an-Naṣrānī who is mentioned in an Egyptian papyrus from as
early as the 2nd/8th century and in the context of ships belonging to long-distance trad-
ers (P.Khalili i 7 = P.Khalili ii 4 with unclear provenance). Later evidence is Qīriqah(?) ibn
Thiyudur ibn Samawīl an-Naṣrānī (P.AbbottMarriageContracts 2 = Chrest.Khoury i 15,
Aswan, 378/989); Isiṭōrās ibn Bīyisa at-Tinnīsī (i.e., from the city of Tinnīs in the Nile Del-
ta) an-Naṣrānī (P.Cair.Arab. 68, al-Ushmūnayn, 459/1067); Abū as-Sarī ibn Hiliya ibn
232 Reinfandt
is commonly used for Iranians in Arabic literary sources but is rarely found in
papyri and in the latter case always designating a Coptic or Nubian back-
ground.31 The epithet al-fārisī (“the one from Persian”), on the other hand, is
conspicuously absent in papyri.32 Likewise absent in the papyri are name af-
fixes designating an origin from regions or large cities in the eastern lands of
Islam, such as al-Farghānī or al-Wāsiṭī, that appear in Arabic literary sources.33
Relatively common in 9th century papyri, however, are Persian names with the
specific ending -wayh (as is the case in Sībawayh or Dāshway). The majority
seems to have belonged to higher officials residing in the provincial centre of
al-Fustat, but at least one example of a simple taxpayer having such a name is
preserved from al-Ushmūnayn.34 Although small in number, the evidence
points to a presence, and perhaps even settlement, of Iranians in Egypt outside
al-Fustat already from the earlier 9th century on.
2.2 Administrative Terminology

In the course of the 9th century, Arabic papyri display a reform in the use of
administrative terminology. Older terms were making way for equivalents
from the Persian language in the technical language of administration in Egypt.
An example is the Persian word daftar (“register, account book”) as a substitute
for the older equivalents ṭabl and sijill, which were Arabized loan words from
the Greek.35 Another example is the Persian word dihqān (“village headman”)
in preference to the older māzūt or ṣāḥib al-qarya.36
Rafrafīl an-Naṣrānī (P.Cair.Arab. 54 = P.World p. 203, Faiyum, 448/1056); Sāra bint Qulta
al-qazzāz (“the silk-mercer”) an-Naṣrāniyya (P.Cair.Arab. 69, al-Ushmūnayn, 459/1066–
67); Yuḥannis ibn Buqtur ibn Yuḥannis an-Naṣrānī (P.AbbottMarriageContracts 1 = Chrest.
Khoury i 10, Aswan, 336/948); Qulta ibn Kayl ibn Jurayj an-Naṣrānī al-qazzāz (P.Cair.Arab.
65, al-Ushmūnayn, 441/1050).
31 P.RagibPressoir = Chrest.Khoury i 65; P.RagibColombine; P.Terminkauf 1; P.Marchands i 7;
8; P.David-WeillContrat; P.Cair.Arab. 89; 96 = P.World p. 208 = Chrest.Khoury i 61; P.Cair.
Arab. 97; 369. For the use of ʿajam to denote either slaves from Nubia or the Coptic lan-
guage, cf. P.Vente 6; P.Frantz-MurphyComparison i 1; 2; P.FahmiTaaqud 9. See also Coo-
person, “Arabs and Iranians” about the often misleading meaning of this epithet.
32 Evidence for a use of al-fārisī denoting administrators of a Persian background in literary
sources is given in Ashtor, “Mouvement migratoire”, p. 189.
33 Attestations from literary sources for officials in Egypt with such names are collected in
Ashtor, “Mouvement migratoire”, p. 189.
34 P.Cair.Arab. 173 (Khumārawayh ibn Aḥmad ibn Ṭūlūn); P.Cair.Arab. 247 (Tamīm ibn
Jubbawayh/Ḥabbawayh/Ḥannawayh); P.GrohmannUrkunden 12 clay seal, al-Ushmūnayn
(Yalawayh); P.Prag.Arab. Beilage 1, al-Ushmūnayn (ʾ…swayh).
35 Frantz-Murphy, “Corpus and Context”, p. 222. For attestations in the papyri cf. P.Cair.Arab.
285; 309; 419; P.GrohmannUrkunden 9.
36 Lev, “Coptic Rebellions”, p. 332.
The substitution of an established terminology by new words from the Per-

sian language is also evident in the case of the word for “tax-collector”. This was
an official central to the demands of caliphal administration but in the same
time very close to the local tax-paying population. In papyri from the 9th cen-
tury, the older term qusṭāl is gradually substituted by the term jahbadh.37
37 The following papyri mention qusṭāls: P.GrohmannQorra-Brief (Faiyum, 90/709, Qusta/

Kostas); P.World p. 130 = P.DiemAphrodito p. 261 (Kawm Ishqawh, 91/710, Buṭrus/Petros
Jirja/Georgios); P.Cair.Arab. 285 (2nd–3rd/8th–9th century, Ibīmak/Abīmak/Epimak);
P.GrohmannUrkunden 8 (al-Ushmūnayn, 223/838, Isḥāq/Isaak ibn Simʿūn/Shimon);
P.Steuerquittungen 4 (al-Ushmūnayn, 227/841–42, [Ibrāh?]īm); P.Cair.Arab. 181 with
emendations in Diem, “Philologisches”, pp. 62–63 (al-Ushmūnayn, 233/847–48, Mīnā/
Menas ibn Ibrāhīm); cpr xxi 41 with emendations in Diem, “Philologisches”, p. 76
(al-Ushmūnayn, 224/839, Mīnā/Menas [ibn Ibrāhīm?]); cpr xxi 42 with emendations
in Diem, “Philologisches”, pp. 76–77 (al-Ushmūnayn, 225/840, Mīnā/Menas [ibn Ibrāhīm?]);
P.Cair.Arab. 261 (al-Ushmūnayn?, 3rd/9th century, Mīnā/Menas [ibn Ibrāhīm?]);
P.GrohmannUrkunden 13 (al-Ushmūnayn, 241/855, ʿĪsā ibn ʿAlī); P.Philad.Arab. 11 (255/
868–69, ʿĪsā ibn ʿAlī); P.GrohmannProbleme 11 (244/858–59, Qūrīl/Kyrillos ibn ʿĪsā);
P.GrohmannProbleme 16 (248/862, Qūrīl/Kyrillos [ibn ʿĪsā?]); P.GrohmannProbleme 11
(244/858–59, Ibrāhīm ibn Mīnā/Menas); P.Cair.Arab. 198 (246/860, Dāwūd); P.Cair.Arab.
184 (249/863–64, N.N. ibn Apaheu); cpr xxi 55 (248/862) and cpr xxi 57 (251/865) and
P.Steuerquittungen 5 (252/866) and cpr xxi 58 (253/867) and cpr xxi 59 (253/867)
and cpr xxi 65 with emendations in Diem, “Philologisches”, pp. 91–93 (264/878) and
P.GrohmannUrkunden 14 (265/878) and P.Vind.inv. A.P. 3498 unpublished (270/883–84)
(all from al-Ushmūnayn; Andūna/Antonius ibn Qūrīl, perhaps identical with the tax of-
ficial Andūna mentioned in cpr xvi 6 from the 3rd/9th century); cpr xxi 56 = P.Berl.
Arab. i 6 (al-Ushmūnayn, 259/872–73, Muḥammad ibn Jaʿfar); P.Cair.Arab. 185 (261/875)
and P.Vind.inv. A.P. 3498 unpublished (270/883–84) and P.Vind.inv. A.P. 11234 (perf 676)
unpublished (3rd/9th century) (all from al-Ushmūnayn; Baqām/Pachom ibn Buqṭur/
Viktor, probably identical with the qusṭāl Baqām mentioned in P.Cair.Arab. 421 from
al-Ushmūnayn, 3rd/9th century and in cpr xvi 21 from the 3rd/9th century and perhaps
the brother of the qusṭāl Iṣṭifān/Stephanos ibn Buqṭur/Viktor mentioned in P.Prag.Arab.
14 from 261/874–75); P.Cair.Arab. 196 (Faiyum, 262/875, ʿAlī ibn Sulaymān); P.Philad.
Arab. 12 (al-Ushmūnayn, 275/889, Ḍimād b. Ziyād); P.GrohmannUrkunden 11 (287/900,
Yuḥannis/Ioannes ibn Kayl/Chael); P.GrohmannUrkunden 12 (al-Ushmūnayn, 291/903–
04, Shanūda/Senouthios); P.Giss.Arab. 2 (Madinat al-Fayyūm, 3rd/9th century, Bisbinūda/
Pespnute); P.Hamb.Arab. ii 12 (al-Bahnasā?, 3rd/9th century, Aḥmad, probably identi-
cal with the qusṭāl Aḥmad ibn Jarīr in P.Cair.Arab. 277 from the 3rd/9th century); cpr
xvi 19 (3rd/9th century, Yaʿqūb); P.Prag.Arab. 26 (Mūsā ibn Ayyūb). –– Other papyri
mention the jahbadh: P.GrohmannProbleme 14 (249/863, Sahl ibn Dāwūd); P.Harrauer
61 (Faiyum, 253/867, Aḥmad ibn ʿĪsā ibn Manṣūr; Isrāʾīl/Israel ibn Mūsā/Moses; Kayl/
Chael; Sulaymān/Salomo ibn Zakariyāʾ/Zacharias); P.Steuerquittungen 6 (Faiyum,
257/870–71, Abū Buqṭur/Viktor ibn Thiyudūr/Theodoros); cpr xxi 70 with emenda-
tions in Diem, “Philologisches”, pp. 94–95 (Faiyum, 286/899–900, Sawirus/Severos
ibn Jirja/Jurayj/Georgios); P.Cair.Arab. 189 (287/900, Apaheu ibn Māʿa); P.Ryl.Arab. ii 3
(al-Ushmūnayn?, 292?/904–05, Menas/Minyā/Mīnā ibn Shanūda/Senouthios); P.Cair.
Arab. 190 (293/906, Menas/Minyā/Mīnā ibn Shanūda/Senouthios); P.DietrichTopkapi 2
234 Reinfandt
The loan word qusṭāl had been borrowed from Greek ζυγοστάτης and had the
meaning of “tax-collector”.38 The word jahbadh, on the other hand, was of Per-
sian origin and had the meaning of “paymaster”.39 Arabic administrative man-
uals and papyri give the impression that both terms were used indiscriminate-
ly for the same field of duties.40 The emergence of the Persian term jahbadh in
(al-Ushmūnayn, 294/906–07, Menas/Minyā/Mīnā ibn Shanūda/Senouthios, apparently

identical with the jahbadh Mīnā ibn Shanūda mentioned in P.Vind.inv. A.P. 12916 (perf
893) unpublished from 301/913–14); P.Cair.Arab. 190 (293/906, Sawīrus ibn Zakariyyā);
P.Ryl.Arab. ii 2 (al-Ushmūnayn?, 295/907–08, Niqla/Nicholas ibn Andūna/Antonios);
P.Cair.Arab. 278 (al-Ushmūnayn, 3rd/9th century, Iṣṭifān/Stephanos ibn Jurayj/Geor-
gios); P.Cair.Arab. 43 (al-Ushmūnayn?, 306/918, Ḥamdān ibn ʿUmar ibn Muhājir); P.Cair.
Arab. 193 (314/926, Yuḥannis ibn Mīnā); P.Cair.Arab. 19 (318/930) and P.Cair.Arab. vii 446
(319/931, Marqūra/Merkure ibn Mīnā, probably identical with the jahbadh Abū Jamīl
Marqūra ibn Mīnā mentioned in P.Cair.Arab. 199 from 347/958); P.Steuerquittungen
28 (Faiyum or al-Ushmūnayn, 311–99/923–1008, Jurayj ibn Marqūra); P.Cair.Arab. 194
(al-Ushmūnayn, 405/1015, Baqām/Pachom ibn Shanūda); P.KarabacekPapier 5 with

emendations in Diem, “Philologisches”, p. 58 (427/1036); P.Prag.Arab. 47 (al-Ushmūnayn,
440/1048–49) and P.Prag.Arab. 48 (Faiyum, 447/1055, Abū al-ʿAlāʾ); P.Prag.Arab. 48
(Faiyum, 447/1055, Yāsir); P.Prag.Arab. 48 (Faiyum, 447/1055) and P.Prag.Arab. 49
(al-Ushmūnayn, 449/1057, Jirja ibn Isiṭūrus); P.Prag.Arab. 48 (Faiyum, 447/1055, Marqūra);
P.Prag.Arab. 49 (al-Ushmūnayn, 449/1057, Ṣubḥ ibn ʿAbdalmasīḥ); P.Prag.Arab. 49
(al-Ushmūnayn, 449/1057, Ṣāliḥ ibn ʿImrān); P.Ryl.inv. Arabic Add. no. 351 unpublished
(al-Ushmūnayn, 292/904) and P.Cair.Arab. 290 (3rd/9th century) and P.Hamb.Arab. ii 14
(Edfu?, 3rd/9th century) and P.Cair.Arab. 280 (342/953–54) and P.Ryl.Arab. i, ii 2.
38 The same term also appears in variants, such as qustāl, jusṭāl, qusṭār, as for example the
unnamed jusṭāl in P.Beckernpaf 3 = P.Cair.Arab. 149 (Kawm Ishqawh, 90–96/709–14). For
a differing explanation of this term as being derived not from Greek ζυγοστάτης but either
from αὐγουστάλιος or κυαίστωρ, see however Dietrich, “Arabische Briefe”, p. 79.
39 Frantz-Murphy, “Arabic Agricultural Leases”, pp. 121–123, and idem, “Corpus and Context”,
p. 222 is translating qusṭāl as “receiver” and jahbadh as “cashier”. For the meaning of
jahbadh see Dietrich, Arabische Briefe, p. 87 with reference to research literature. Accord-
ing to Dietrich, Arabische Briefe, p. 66 and Grohmann, “Beamtenstab”, p. 132 jahbadhs in
the 9th century mostly had a Christian background.
40 Under the Abbasid caliphate, the qusṭāl was part of the office of the financial director
(ʿāmil) of an administrative district (kūra) and appears in the documents as an issuer of
tax-quittances; see Dietrich, Arabische Briefe, p. 80. Morimoto, Fiscal Administration of
Egypt, pp. 214–215 and 243 understands both terms as being synonymous, the Persian
term jahbadh having emerged during the earlier Abbasid era and gradually coming to
supersede the term qusṭāl. Grohmann, “Verwaltungstermini”, p. 279 remarks that the ad-
ministrative manual of Ibn Mammātī (6th/12th century) describes the tasks of the
jahbadh as identical to those of the qusṭāl. Dietrich, Arabische Briefe, p. 66, on the other
hand, does not commit himself to whether the term jahbadh entirely substituted the term
qusṭāl in the documents. According to Grohmann, “Beamtenstab”, 127 and 132 qusṭāls took
the tax-money that had been collected from (Christian) local heads of districts (pagarchs),
and weighed and rated them. Similarly, they collected the taxes paid in grain and for-
warded them to the state granaries. In return, they were responsible for the assignment of
tax payments to administrative districts. Insofar Grohmann understood the qusṭāls, at
Arabic papyri from the 9th century may have been a consequence of an Irani-
sation of the administration of Egypt in this era, be it either in terms of docu-
ments or real persons.
Arabic literary sources explicitly state that “ethnic Persians had come to
dominate Egypt’s agrarian fiscal administration by the mid-9th century”.41 Per-
sian administrators of this kind were primarily holding high-ranking positions
in the central administration in al-Fustat, to be sure, but the appearance of the
term jahbadh in papyri may reveal their presence in the Egyptian periphery as
well. According to the evidence in datable documents, there was a temporary
parallel use of both terms during the second half of the 9th century, the latest
attestation of the older term qusṭāl being from 919 a.d. and the earliest attesta-
tion of the younger term jahbadh being from 863 a.d.42 It seems as if a new
generation of specialists entered the middle-level administration in the Egyp-
tian province that had until then been reserved for elites of a more local
background.
From the documents, we get the impression that jahbadhs first appeared in
the Faiyum and only afterwards made an advance to the more southern dis-
trict city of al-Ushmūnayn (Hermopolis).43 Such a gradual spread from north
to south would have been no surprise but indeed to be expected. More surpris-
ing is the fact that jahbadhs, as can be concluded from the documents, were by
their majority Coptic Christians, as had been the qusṭāls before.44 There seems
to have been a continuity of Christians on the middle level of administration
least for the Umayyad period (661–750), as being superior to the local pagarchs, while
Foss, “Egypt under Muʿāwiya”, p. 12 maintains that the qusṭāls were subordinate to the
pagarchs. There is reason, however, to follow the latter opinion on the basis of P.BeckerN-
PAF 3 = P.Cair.Arab. 149 and P.World p. 130 = P.DiemAphrodito p. 261. For an explanation
of the meaning of jahbadh on the basis of Mesopotamian sources, see Løkkegaard, Is-
lamic Taxation, pp. 158–160; Cahen, “Quelques problèmes économiques”.
41 Frantz-Murphy, “Corpus and Context”, p. 222 with relevant references.
42 The latest attestation of a qusṭāl is P.Vind.inv. A.P. 13986 (perf 896) unpublished
(306/918–19); see Grohmann, “Verwaltungstermini”, p. 278. The earliest evidence for
jahbadh is P.GrohmannProbleme 14 (249/863).
43 G. Frantz-Murphy was the first to mention the fact that jahbadhs are only attested in
documents from al-Ushmūnayn and the Faiyum. Cf. Frantz-Murphy, “Record of Tax”, p. 247.
44 Examples for qusṭāls with a Muslim background are ʿĪsā ibn ʿAlī in al-Ushmūnayn in 855
and 869; Muḥammad ibn Jaʿfar in al-Ushmūnayn in 872; ʿAlī ibn Sulaymān in the Faiyum
in 875; Ḍimād b. Ziyād in al-Ushmūnayn in 889; Aḥmad ibn Jarīr in al-Bahnasā; moreover
a certain Yaʿqūb and a Mūsā ibn Ayyūb, both with unclear provenance and time. Exam-
ples for jahbadhs with a Muslim background are Sahl ibn Dāwūd in 863; Aḥmad ibn ʿĪsā
ibn Manṣūr in the Faiyum in 867; Ḥamdān ibn ʿUmar ibn Muhājir in al-Ushmūnayn in 918;
Abū al-ʿAlāʾ in both al-Ushmūnayn in 1049 and the Faiyum in 1055; Yāsir in the Faiyum in
1055; Ṣubḥ ibn ʿAbdalmasīḥ and Ṣāliḥ ibn ʿImrān in al-Ushmūnayn in 1057. The fact that
236 Reinfandt
during the 9th century. This is all the more remarkable since the caliphal em-
pire had had reorganised its provincial administration a century earlier by a
replacement of non-Muslim local elites by Arab Muslims in Egypt. It seems
that during the 9th century, the process of Arabisation was reversed and the
personnel on the middle level of administration adapted by the needs of a
new Iranian-born elite in Egypt in quest of reliable allies among the local
population.
2.3 Luxury Goods

There are a few attestations of luxury textiles from eastern lands of Islam in 9th
century Arabic papyri from Egypt. All are from 9th century Faiyum.45 As can be
concluded from the names used, these textiles were of a specific Persian style.
They were too prestigious and high-cost to serve a rural market in Egypt but
presumably met the needs of an Iranian population living and working in
Egypt. Especially when based outside the provincial capital of al-Fustat these
specialists of administration and their entourage were feeling culturally alien
and at the same time may have been in demand of symbols of a social distinc-
tion from a more established local population.
The same applies to food products. While Egyptian apples were proverbial
for their low quality, those from Syria and Iranian lands were purportedly
sweet and juicy.46 Apples of a distinguished quality appear in Egyptian papyri
both qusṭāls and jahbadhs were by their majority Christians has already been suggested
by Dietrich, Arabische Briefe, p. 66 and Grohmann, “Beamtenstab”, p. 132.
45 P.Vind.inv. A.P. 2112; 5583; 5584 (all unpublished). Another unpublished papyrus, P.Vind.
inv. A.P. 15045 (perf 642) mentions the arrival of 40 trading ships from Syrian Antiochia
bringing different kinds of consumer goods to Egypt. Both P.GrohmannProbleme 3r and
P.Vind.inv. A.P. 11416v (unpublished) mention perfume and drinking glasses of a possible
non-Egyptian production. For other products with a possible luxury background see
P.GrohmannWirtsch. 16; P.Vind.inv. A.P. 7718r (unpublished). Another unpublished papy-
rus, P.Vind.inv. A.Ch. 3637 (perf 975) from the 4th/10th century, contains Persian desig-
nations such as jafneh (platter, dish) and tābūt (coffin, wooden box). P.Vind.inv. A.Ch.
7333 (perf 1190) from the 4th–5th/10th–11th century (unpublished) contains products
made of silk and perhaps of a Persian background.
46 See both Dietrich, “Tuffāḥ”, p. 587 and Müller-Wodarg, “Landwirtschaft”, p. 71 for the supe-
rior quality of eastern apples. The comprehensive study by Watson, Agricultural Innova-
tion, on the other hand does not mention apples at all. The Arabic world for apple (tuffāḥ)
is derived from Hebrew tappūḥ and Old Egyptian dpḥ; see Hehn, Kulturpflanzen, p. 628.
Felix Dahn’s popular novel Ein Kampf um Rom (Leipzig 1877), here p. 44 is but one exam-
ple of how the trope of “Persian apples” has eventually found its way into 19th century
Professorenliteratur.
from the 9th century.47 They did not replace the local products but were traded
for a specific clientele that had an interest in social distinction and that had the
material means to consume luxury products. Both food and clothing had an
eye-catching effect on the surrounding society and served an ostensive marker
of exclusivity and distance. The more sophisticated the distinction, the stron-
ger it was an indicator for social stratification and the presence of new elites.48
In the case under consideration an affinity of eastern, Iranian culture may have
been put on display that served a social capital in an Egyptian environment
outside of al-Fustat.
Horses (ḥiṣān; haǧīn) and their breeding was also an important issue that
begins to appear in papyri from 9th century Egypt. Turks and Khurāsānians
fought on horseback, whereas the Egyptian military (maghāriba) formed part
of the infantry.49 Contingents of foot soldiers from Egypt belonged to the ca-
liphal army and were as such committed to other regions of the empire, such
as Iraq and the Ğazīra (northern Mesopotamia).50 In Caesarea, Jaffa, Ramla,
and Yahweh-Yam a specific kind of Egyptian pottery has been found that was
unsuitable as a container for transporting foodstuff or other goods but was in
use for food preparation in a specific Egyptian way.51 These so-called Egyptian
coarse ware basins (ecwb) give reason to the fact that foot soldiers from Egypt
(maghāriba) had also permanently settled in Palestine.52 Such pottery may
hint at a more permanent settlement of Egyptian wives, children and all kind
of entourage as well as civilian merchants alongside Egyptian warriors in Pal-
estine during the 9th century.53 While Egyptian soldiers settled in Palestine,
Syria and Mesopotamia, “Iranians” and Turks on the other hand were sent to
Egypt and permanently settled there from the earlier 9th century on.54 Their
47 P.Vind.inv. A.P. 1029; 8031 = perf 805; 8992; 11186 = perf 873 (all unpublished); P.Berl.inv.
15150; P.Cair.Arab. 427; P.Heid.Arab. ii 55; P.Khalili i 17 = P.Khalili ii 74; P.Marchands ii 24;
P.Prag.Arab. 78.
48 Van der Veen, “When is Food a Luxury”, p. 408. I am indebted to Hagit Nol (Hamburg) for
having drawn my attention to this article.
49 Kennedy, Armies of the Caliphs, p. 126 with reference to the 9th century Arabic historian
aṭ-Ṭabarī (Ta’rikh ar-rusul wa-l-mulūk).
50 Kennedy, Armies of the Caliphs, p. 125.
51 Taxel/Fantalkin, “Egyptian Coarse Ware”, p. 94. I am indebted to Hagit Nol (Hamburg) for
having drawn my attention to this article.
52 Vroom, Medieval and Post-Medieval Ceramics, p. 74.
53 Taxel/Fantalkin, “Egyptian Coarse Ware”, pp. 95–96 and ibid., n. 66 and 67.
54 Kennedy, Armies of the Caliphs, p. 126. Numbers were quite high: When the caliph sent
troops to Egypt in 214/829–30 to quell a local tax revolt, he sent 4000 Turkish soldiers. On
the other hand the caliphal army stationed in Samarra comprised a rather large contin-
gent of Egyptians consisting of 2000 maghāriba (next to 5000 Turks and Ferghanians).
Kennedy (ibid.) speculates that the men captured during these raids may well have been
238 Reinfandt
need of horses is documented by a group of eight deeds of sales of horses

(haǧīn) edited by Youssef Ragheb and dated by him to the later 9th century.55
Turkish personal names become more common in Egyptian papyri from the
slightly later Umayyad period (868–905).56 From this evidence alone, it is not
easy to conclude about their exact settlement in Egypt, but their presence in
principle is a fact. Arabic literary sources mention that the Abbasid imperial
centre in Samarra and Baghdad lost control over large areas in Syria, Palestine,
Egypt and northern Iran after the civil war following the death of Harun ar-
Rashid (809–27). For their reconquest a new army was built that was made up
of Turkish soldiers but contained also important contingents from the Iranian
principalities of Transoxania. In this new army, there was no room for recruits
from Iraq, the Ğazīra (northern Mesopotamia), Syria, Palestine, and the Ara-
bian Peninsula. Except for the Egyptian foot soldiers (maghāriba), all the
troops came from Iran or from beyond the borders of the Muslim world.57 It is
understood that the caliphal army in Egypt was dominated by a strong Central
Asian contingent as well.
3 Migration and State Building: A View from the Province
Arabic literary sources draw a picture of a noteworthy migration of administra-

tive personnel from eastern lands of Islam to Egypt during the 9th century.
Egyptian documents on papyrus from a local production seem to corroborate
the scenario, albeit based on a few indicators, namely personal names, admin-
istrative terms and the mentioning of specific goods. Iranians took key posi-
tions in the high administration of al-Fustat, but others settled in district cen-
tres such as the Faiyum or al-Ushmūnayn in Middle Egypt. They were either
administrators of agricultural domains in the caliphal possession or traders,
but in both cases they must have brought their families and peers along.
It remains unclear from the sources how the local population in Egypt re-
acted to the developments. One can also only guess about what held translocal
families together over long distances and what were the sets of values shared
among migrants and between newcomers and host societies. In addition, the
role of space in migration is important and not least all the kinds of ambiguity
the maghāriba that are recorded in later years as fighting in the ranks of the caliphal army
in other parts of the empire.
55 P.Vente 16–23, with purchasers having Turkish names such as Muḥammad ibn Bulghāq,
ʿAlī ibn Bulghāq. Cf. also Vanthieghem, “Maquignon”, p. 289.
56 Rāġib, Actes de vente d’esclaves, p. 47.
57 Kennedy, Armies of the Caliphs, pp. 118–119.
and in-betweenness that is connected to migration. It should be possible, how-

ever, to say something about the motives of migration and about the conse-
quences of this trend in a larger imperial perspective. The matter is framed by
two events on the macro-level of 9th century history. One is the Abbasid recon-
quest of Egypt after the civil war between al-Amīn and al-Maʾmūn during the
820s. The other one is the takeover of Egypt under Aḥmad ibn Ṭūlūn half a
century later. During this period, Egypt had an essential role for guaranteeing
imperial coherence due to its resources and its strategic role as a link between
North Africa and the eastern Mediterranean.58
The control of Egypt was not possible without a cooperation of local elites.
It had, on the other hand, to be managed by agents loyal to the caliphal centre
in Samarra and Baghdad as well. A new generation of administrators with an
Iranian background met this demand, being a type of household officials de-
void of local bonds but loyal to the imperial centre. First taking over high posi-
tions in al-Fustat as delegates of imperial control, they gradually gave way to a
local elite (families) of landowners and office holders. These latter got a more
and more aristocratic appearance similar to former non-Muslim (Coptic) local
elites and therefore had to be filled up with new personnel from the caliphal
household. The continuous arrival of new personnel prevented tendencies of a
local self-awareness and the grip to power by local aristocracies of whatever
ethnic groups. Still Aḥmad ibn Ṭūlūn, in his alleged move towards political in-
dependence from the caliphate, had to balance between the supra-regional
interests of empire and the power of local notables and resources. The out-
come was a “politics of deference”.59 In other words, his was a strategical op-
tion for compromise: all his local Egyptian management notwithstanding he
remained a loyal governor of the caliph. Even his intent of moving the seat of
the caliph from Samarra to Fustat was in the end a commitment to imperial
legacy rather than pragmatic regionalism.60
Egyptian papyri also show that a first generation of Iranian-born adminis-
trative elites had arrived in Egypt already before the tumultuous 860s a.d. and
others continued to do so long after. The migration affected host societies and
was a key factor for provincial politics of the empire. The staffing of the finan-
cial administration of Egypt with experts from eastern lands took place at the
same time when the civil administration was taken over by members of the
Turkish military elite. In an effort to maintain the control over Egypt’s agricul-
tural revenues, the caliphal imperial centre appointed Iranians on key positions
58 See for political events Kennedy, “Egypt as a Province of the Caliphate”; Brett, “Egypt”.
59 Gordon, “Politics of Deference”, p. 229.
60 Gordon, “Politics of Deference”, p. 244.
240 Reinfandt
both in the offices of al-Fustat and as overseers of caliphal estates in the coun-
tryside. The latter settled in large agricultural centres such as the Faiyum and
al-Ushmūnayn, while the core-business of tax-collection on the ground level
remained in the hand of Coptic Egyptians. These proved to be trustful allies,
and the continuous Coptic tax-revolts of the 8th and early 9th centuries now
ended.61 The renewed social influence of Coptic elites found its expression in a
renaissance of the Coptic language in Egyptian papyri from the 9th and 10th
centuries. It was also the mainspring for a new local Egyptian identity that is
reflected in the blooming genre of local histories from Egypt from the 9th cen-
tury on.62
Bibliography
Papyrological Sources
Chrest.Khoury i = Khoury, R.G., Chrestomathie de papyrologie arabe. Documents relatifs
à la vie privée, sociale et administrative dans les premiers siècles islamiques (Hand
buch der Orientalistik. Ergänzungsband 2: Zweiter Halbband), Leiden/New York/
Cologne 1993.
CPR iii = Grohmann, A., Protokolle (Corpus Papyrorum Raineri, 3), Vienna 1924.
CPR xvi = Diem, W., Arabische Briefe aus dem 7.–10. Jahrhundert (Corpus Papyrorum
Raineri, 16), Vienna 1993.
CPR xxi = Frantz-Murphy, G., Arabic Agricultural Leases and Tax Receipts from Egypt
(Corpus Papyrorum Raineri, 21), Vienna 2001.
CPR xxii = Morelli, F., Documenti greci per la fiscalità e la amministrazione dell’Egitto
arabo (Corpus Papyrorum Raineri, 22), Vienna 2001.
61 For alleged Coptic tax-revolts during the years a.d. 725, 739, 749, 752, 767, 783, 810, 819, 829,
831–832 as well as the rebellion of Arabs in 866 a.d. see Lev, “Coptic Rebellions”.
62 For local histories of 9th and 10th century Egypt (especially Ibn ʿAbdalḥakam, but also
al-Kindī, al-Balawī, and Ibn ad-Dāya) in their function as documents of a specific local
consciousness, see Haarmann, “Regional Sentiment”; Sijpesteijn, “Building an Egyptian
Identity”; and especially Kennedy, “Egypt as a Province”. Local reactions on migrations
from Iraq itself, in this case Turkish military slaves, find their expression also in al-Jāḥiẓ’
famous Epistle of the Turks (9th century); see Hutchins, Nine Essays of al-Jahiz, pp. 175–218
(in English); Pellat, Arabische Geisteswelt, pp. 148–158 (in German). Another effect of the
Persian immigration to more western lands of the caliphate was a local increase in Islami-
sation. This is at least evident from the case of Egypt where the immigration of Persian
and Turkish elites (and their entourage) resulted in a growth of the Muslim sector of soci-
ety; see Brett, “Egypt”, p. 556.
CPR xxvi = Thung, M.H., Arabische juristische Urkunden aus der Papyrussammlung
der Österreichischen Nationalbibliothek (Corpus Papyrorum Raineri, 26), Munich/
Leipzig 2006.
P.AbbottMarriageContracts = Abbott, N., “Arabic Marriage Contracts Among Copts”,
Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 95 (1941), 59–81.
P.BeckerNPAF = Becker, C.H., “Neue arabische Papyri des Aphroditofundes”, Der Islam
2 (1911), 245–268.
P.Cair.Arab. = Grohmann, A., Arabic Papyri in the Egyptian Library, 6 vols., Cairo
1934–62.
P.David-WeillContrat = David-Weill, J., “Contrat de travail au pair. Papyrus Louvre 7348”,
in Études d’orientalisme dédiés à la mémoire de Lévi-Provencal, Leiden 1962, pp.
509–515.
P.DiemAphrodito = Diem, W., “Philologisches zu den arabischen Aphrodito-Papyri”,
Der Islam 61 (1984), 251–275.
P.DietrichTopkapi = Dietrich, A., “Die arabischen Papyri des Topkapı Sarayı-Museums
in Istanbul”, Der Islam 33 (1958), 37–50.
P.FahmiTaaqud = Fahmī, ʿA. [Fahmy, A.], “Waṯāʾiq li-t-taʿāqud min faǧr al-Islām [Early
Islamic contracts from Egypt]”, Bulletin de l’Institut d’Egypte 54 (1972–1973), 1–58.
P.Frantz-MurphyComparison = Frantz-Murphy, G., “A Comparison of Arabic and Ear-
lier Egyptian Contract Formularies”, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 40 (1981) (= Ara-
bic and Islamic Studies in Honor of Nabia Abbott, 2), 203–225; 355–356; 44 (1985),
99–114; 47 (1988), 105–112; 269–280; 48 (1989), 97–107.
P.Giss.Arab. = Grohmann, A., Die Arabischen Papyri aus der Giessener Universitätsbib-
liothek. Texte aus den Sammlungen Papyri bibliothecae universitatis Gissensis, Papyri
Gissenses und Papyri Iandanae (Abhandlungen der Giessener Hochschulgesell-
schaft, 4.1 = Nachrichten der Giessener Hochschulgesellschaft, 28), Giessen 1960.
P.GrohmannAperçu = Grohmann, A., “Aperçu de papyrologie arabe”, Études de papy-
rologie 1 (1932), 23–95.
P.GrohmannGrundsteuerquittung = Grohmann, A., “Eine arabische Grundsteuerquit-
tung vom Jahre 297 H. (909/910 n.Chr.) aus dem Amtsbereich eines ʿAbbasi
denprinzen”, in Mélanges Maspero, Cairo 1934, 9–13.
P.GrohmannProbleme = Grohmann, A., “Probleme der arabischen Papyrusforschung”,
Archiv Orientální 3 (1931), 381–394; 5 (1933), 273–283; 6 (1934), 125–149; 377–398.
P.GrohmannQorra-Brief = Grohmann, A., “Ein Qorra-Brief vom Jahre 90 H”, in E.F.
Weidner (ed.), Aus fünf Jahrtausenden morgenländischer Kultur. Festschrift Max
Freiherr von Oppenheim, Berlin 1933 (repr. Archiv für Orientforschung: Beiband 1,
Osnabrück 1977), pp. 37–40.
P.GrohmannUrkunden = Grohmann, A., “Einige bemerkenswerte Urkunden aus der
Sammlung der Papyrus Erzherzog Rainer an der Nationalbibliothek zu Wien”,
Archiv Orientální 18 (1950), 80–119.
242 Reinfandt
P.GrohmannWirtsch = Grohmann, A., “Texte zur Wirtschaftsgeschichte Ägyptens in

arabischer Zeit”, Archív Orientální 7 (1935), 437–472.
P.Hamb.Arab. ii = Dietrich, A., Arabische Briefe aus der Papyrussammlung der Ham-
burger Staats- und Universitäts-Bibliothek (Veröffentlichungen aus der Hamburger
Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, 5), Hamburg 1955.
P.Harrauer = Palme, B. (ed.), Wiener Papyri als Festgabe zum 60. Geburtstag von Her-
mann Harrauer (P.Harrauer), Vienna 2001.
P.KarabacekPapier = Karabacek, J.v., “Das arabische Papier”, Mitteilungen aus der
Sammlung der Papyrus Erzherzog Rainer 2–3 (1887), 87–178.
P.Khalili i = Khan, G., Arabic Papyri. Selected Material from the Khalili Collection (Stud-
ies in the Khalili Collection, 1), Oxford 1992.
P.Khalili ii = Khan, G., Bills, Letters and Deeds. Arabic Papyri of the 7th to 11th Centuries
(The Nasser D. Khalili Collection of Islamic Art, 6), Oxford 1993.
P.Marchands = Rāġib, Y., Marchands d’étoffes du Fayyoum au iiie/ixe siècle d’après leurs
archives (actes et lettres), 4 vols. (Suppléments aux Annales Islamologiques: Cahiers
2; 5; 14; 16 = Publications de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, 586; 631; 727;
768), Cairo 1982–1996.
P.Philad.Arab. = Levi della Vida, G., Arabic Papyri in the University Museum in Philadel-
phia (Pennsylvania) (Atti della Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei, 378 = Memorie
Classe di science morali, storiche e filologiche Serie viii, 25.1), Rome 1981.
P.Prag.Arab. = Grohmann, A., “Arabische Papyri aus der Sammlung Carl Wessely im
Orientalischen Institute zu Prag”, Archív Orientální 10 (1938), 149–162; 11 (1940), 242–
289; 12 (1941), 1–112; 14 (1943), 161–260.
P.RagibColombine = Rāġib, Y., “Une vente à livrer de colombine en 320/932”, Res Orien-
tales 6 (1994) (= R. Curiel, R. Gyselen (eds.), Itinéraires d’Orient. Hommages à Claude
Cahen. Textes réunies, Bures-sur-Yvette 1995), pp. 133–141.
P.RagibPressoir = Rāġib, Y., “Contrat d’affermage d’un pressoir à huile en 205/821”, Stu-
dia Iranica 11 (1982) (= Mélanges offert à Raoul Curiel), 293–299.
P.Ryl.Arab. i = Margoliouth, D.S., Catalogue of Arabic Papyri in the John Rylands Library
Manchester, Manchester 1933.
P.Ryl.Arab. ii = Smith, G.R./al-Moraekhi, M., The Arabic Papyri of the John Rylands Uni-
versity Library of Manchester (Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of
Manchester, 78.2), Manchester 1996.
P.Steuerquittungen = Diem, W., Arabische Steuerquittungen des 8. bis 11. Jahrhunderts
aus der Heidelberger Papyrussammlung und anderen Sammlungen (Documenta
Arabica Antiqua, 5), Wiesbaden 2008.
P.Terminkauf = Diem, W., Arabischer Terminkauf. Ein Beitrag zur Rechts- und Wirtschafts-
geschichte Ägyptens im 8. bis 14. Jahrhundert, Wiesbaden 2006.
P.Vente = Rāġib, Y., Actes de vente d’esclaves et d’animaux d’Egypte médiévale (Cahiers
des Annales Islamologiques, 23), vol. 1, Paris 2002.
P.World = Grohmann, A., From the World of Arabic Papyri, Cairo 1952.
PERF = Karabacek, J. von, Papyrus Erzherzog Rainer. Führer durch die Ausstellung,
Vienna 1894.
Abbott, N., “Arabic Numerals”, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and
Ireland 70 (1938), 277–280.
Ashtor, E., “Un mouvement migratoire au haut Moyen Age. Migrations de l’Irak vers les
pays méditerranéens”, Annales. Histoire, Sciences Sociales 27 (1972), 185–214 (repr. in
idem, The Medieval Near East. Social and Economic History (Variorum Series, 4),
London 1978).
Ashtor, E., A Social and Economic History of the Near East in the Middle Ages, London
1976.
Berger, L., Art. “Muslim World, Medieval Era Migrations”, in I. Ness et al. (eds.), The
Encyclopedia of Global Human Migration. Vol. 4: Ind-Rem, Chichester 2013,
pp. 2253–2261.
Brett, M., “Egypt”, in C.F. Robinson (ed.), New Cambridge History of Islam. Vol. 1: The
Formation of the Islamic World, Sixth to Eleventh Centuries, Cambridge 2011,
pp. 541–580.
Cahen, C., Quelques problèmes économiques et fiscaux de l’Iraq buyide (Annales de
l’Institut d’Études Orientales de la Faculté des Lettres d’Alger, 10), Algiers 1952.
Cooperson, M., “‘Arabs’ and ‘Iranians’. The Uses of Ethnicity in the Early Abbasid Peri-
od”, in B. Sadeghi et al. (eds.), Islamic Cultures, Islamic Contexts. Essays in Honor of
Professor Patricia Crone (Islamic History and Civilization, 114), Leiden/Boston 2015,
pp. 364–387.
Crone, P., “The First-Century Concept of Hiǧra”, Arabica 41 (1994), 352–387.
Crone, P., “Post-Colonialism in Tenth-Century Islam”, Der Islam 83 (2006), 2–38.
Diem, W., “Philologisches zu arabischen Steuerquittungen”, Wiener Zeitschrift für die
Kunde des Morgenlandes 95 (2006), 55–111.
Dietrich, A., Arabische Briefe aus der Papyrussammlung der Hamburger Staats- und
Universitäts-Bibliothek (Veröffentlichungen aus der Hamburger Staats- und Univer-
sitäts-Bibliothek, 5), Hamburg 1955.
Dietrich, A., Art. “Tuffāḥ”, in P.J. Bearman et al. (eds.), The Encyclopaedia of Islam. New
Edition. Vol. 10: T-U, Leiden 1999, p. 587.
Dold-Ghadar, G., Pers-Andalus: iranische Kulturdenkmäler in “al-Andalus al-aqṣā”: Be
wertung der Forschungsergebnisse für das 8.–12. Jahrhundert, Berlin 2016.
Donner, F.M., The Early Islamic Conquests, Princeton 1981.
Foss, C., “Egypt under Muʿāwiya. 1: Flavius Papas and Upper Egypt. 2: Middle Egypt,
Fusṭāṭ and Alexandria”, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 72
(2009), 1–24; 259–278.
244 Reinfandt
Frantz-Murphy, G., “Record of Tax from Imperial Estates in Ushmūnayn”, in B. Palme,

(ed.), Wiener Papyri als Festgabe zum 60. Geburtstag von Hermann Harrauer
(P. Harrauer), Vienna 2001, pp. 243–248.
Frantz-Murphy, G., Arabic Agricultural Leases and Tax Receipts from Egypt (Corpus Pa-
pyrorum Raineri, 21), Vienna 2001.
Frantz-Murphy, G., “The Corpus and Context. Agrarian Fiscal Administration and State
Formation in Early Islamic Egypt, 717–1035 a.d./99–427 a.h”., in B. Palme (ed.), Ak-
ten des 23. Internationalen Papyrologen-Kongresses, Wien, 22.–28. Juli 2001 (Papyro-
logica Vindobonensia, 1), Vienna 2007, pp. 221–231.
Gordon, M.S., The Breaking of a Thousand Swords. A History of the Turkish Military of
Samarra (a.h. 200–275/815–889 c.e.) (SUNY Series in Medieval Middle East Histo-
ry), Albany 2001.
Gordon, M.S., “Aḥmad ibn Ṭūlūn and the Politics of Deference”, in B. Sadeghi et al.
(eds.), Islamic Cultures, Islamic Contexts. Essays in Honor of Professor Patricia Crone
(Islamic History and Civilization, 114), Leiden/Boston 2015, pp. 229–256.
Gottschalk, H.L., Die Māḏarāʾiyyūn. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte Ägyptens unter dem Is-
lam, Berlin/Leipzig 1931.
Gottschalk, H.L., Art. “Dīwān. ii. Egypt”, in B. Lewis et al. (eds.), The Encyclopaedia of
Islam. New Edition. Vol. 2: C-G, Leiden/London 1965, pp. 327–331.
Grohmann, A., “Griechische und lateinische Verwaltungstermini im arabischen Ägyp-
ten”, Chronique d’Égypte 7 (1932), 275–284.
Grohmann, A., “Der Beamtenstab der arabischen Finanzverwaltung in Ägypten in
früharabischer Zeit”, in H. Braunert (ed.), Studien zur Papyrologie und Antiken
Wirtschaftsgeschichte, Friedrich Oertel zum Achtzigsten Geburtstag gewidment,
Bonn 1964, pp. 120–134.
Guérin, A./Al-Na’imi, F., “Territory and Settlement Patterns During the Abbasid Period
(Ninth Century ad). The Village of Murwab (Qatar)”, in Proceedings of the Seminar
for Arabian Studies. Vol. 39, Papers from the Forty-Second Meeting of the Seminar for
Arabian Studies Held in London, 24–26 July 2008, Oxford 2009, pp. 181–196.
Guest, R., “Relations Between Persia and Egypt Under Islam up to the Fāṭimid Period”,
in T.W. Arnold/R.A. Nicholson (eds.), A Volume of Oriental Studies, Presented to Ed-
ward G. Browne on his 60th Birthday (7 February 1922), Amsterdam 1922, pp. 163–174.
Haarmann, U., “Regional Sentiment in Medieval Islamic Egypt”, Bulletin of the School of
Oriental and African Studies 43 (1980), 55–66.
Hassan, Z.M., Les Tulunides. Étude de l’Égypte musulmane à la fin du ixe siècle, 868–905,
Paris 1933.
Hehn, V., Kulturpflanzen und Haustiere in ihrem Übergang aus Asien nach Griechenland
und Italien sowie in das übrige Europa (Historisch-Linguistische Studien), Berlin 1911
(repr. Hildesheim 1963).
Hodgson, M.G.S., The Venture of Islam. Conscience and History in a World Civilization.
Vol. 1: The Classical Age of Islam, Chicago 1974.
Hoerder, D., Cultures in Contact. World Migrations in the Second Millennium, Durham
2002.
Hutchins, W.M. (transl.), Nine Essays of al-Jahiz (American University Studies. Series
vii: Theology and Religion, 53), New York et al. 1989.
Irani, R.A.K., “Arabic Numeral Forms”, Centaurus 4 (1955), 1–12 (repr. in M.H. Kennedy/
D.A. King (eds.), Studies in the Islamic Exact Sciences, Beirut 1983, pp. 710–721).
Karabacek, J.v., Papyrus Erzherzog Rainer. Führer durch die Ausstellung, Vienna 1894.
Kennedy, H., “Egypt as a Province of the Caliphate”, in C. Petry (ed.), The Cambridge
History of Egypt. Vol. 1: Islamic Egypt, 640–1517, Cambridge 1998, pp. 62–85.
Kennedy, H., The Armies of the Caliphs. Military and Society in the Early Islamic State,
Abingdon 2001.
Kennedy, H., “The Decline and Fall of the First Muslim Empire”, Der Islam 81 (2004),
3–30.
Khan, G., Arabic Documents from Early Islamic Khurasan (Einstein Lectures in Islamic
Studies, 3), Berlin 2014.
Khoury, R.G., Chrestomathie de papyrologie arabe. Documents relatifs à la vie privée, so-
ciale et administrative dans les premiers siècles islamiques (Handbuch der Oriental-
istik. Ergänzungsband 2: Zweiter Halbband), Leiden/New York/Cologne 1993.
Kunitzsch, P., “The Transmission of Hindu-Arabic Numerals Reconsidered”, in
J.P. Hogendijk/A.I. Sabra (eds.), The Enterprise of Science in Islam. New Perspectives
(Dibner Institute Studies in the History of Science and Technology), Cambridge
Mass. 2003, pp. 3–21.
Lapidus, I.M., “The Evolution of Muslim Urban Society”, Comparative Studies in Society
and History 15 (1973), 21–50.
Lapidus, I.M., Islamic Societies to the Nineteenth Century. A Global History, Cambridge
et al. 2012.
Lev, Y., “Coptic Rebellions and the Islamization of Medieval Egypt (8th–10th Century).
Medieval and Modern Perceptions”, Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 39 (2012),
303–344.
Levi della Vida, G., “Appunti e questi di storia letteraria araba. 7: Numerali grechi in
documenti arabo-spagnoli”, Rivista degli Studi Orientali 14 (1934), 281–283.
Løkkegaard, F., Islamic Taxation in the Classic Period, with Special Reference to Circum-
stances in Iraq, Copenhagen 1950.
Morimoto, K., The Fiscal Administration of Egypt in the Early Islamic Period (Asian His-
torical Monographs, 1), Kyoto 1981.
Müller-Wodarg, D., “Die Landwirtschaft Ägyptens in der frühen ʿAbbasidenzeit”, Der
Islam 31 (1954), 174–227; 32 (1955), 141–167; 35 (1958), 310–321.
246 Reinfandt
Naqvi, T.H., Art. “Islam and Migration”, in I. Ness et al. (eds.), The Encyclopedia of Global
Human Migration. Vol. 4: Ind-Rem, Chichester 2013, pp. 1873–1875.
Netton, I.R. (ed.), Golden Roads. Migration, Pilgrimage and Travel in Mediaeval and
Modern Islam, Richmond 1993.
Pellat, C., Arabische Geisteswelt. Ausgewählte und übersetzte Texte von al-Ǧāḥiẓ (777–
869), unter Zugrundelegung der arabischen Originaltexte aus dem Französischen
übertragen von Walter W. Müller (Bibliothek des Morgenlandes), Zurich 1967.
Rāġib, Y., “Contrat d’affermage d’un pressoir à huile en 205/821”, Studia Iranica 11 (1982)
(= Mélanges offert à Raoul Curiel), 293–299.
Rāġib, Y., Actes de vente d’esclaves et d’animaux d’Egypte médiévale (Cahiers des Annales
Islamologiques, 23), vol. 1, Paris 2002.
Reinfandt, L., “Empireness in Arabic Letter Formulae”, in S. Procházka/L. Reinfandt/
S. Tost (eds.), Official Epistolography and the Language(s) of Power. Proceedings of
the 1st International Conference of the NFN Imperium and Officium, Vienna 2014
(Papyrologica Vindobonensia, 8), pp. 333–346.
Sijpesteijn, P.M., “Building an Egyptian Identity”, in A.Q. Ahmed/B. Sadeghi/M. Bonner
(eds.), The Islamic Scholarly Tradition. Studies in History, Law, and Thought in Honor
of Professor Michael Allan Cook (Islamic History and Civilization, 83), Leiden/Bos-
ton 2011, pp. 85–105.
Sijpesteijn, P.M., “An Early Umayyad Papyrus Invitation for the Ḥajj”, Journal of Near
Eastern Studies 73 (2014), 179–190.
Taxel, I./Fantalkin, A., “Egyptian Coarse Ware in Early Islamic Palestine, Between Com-
merce and Migration”, Al-Masāq 23 ( 2011), 77–97.
Van der Veen, M., “When is Food a Luxury?”, World Archaeology 34 (2003), 405–427.
Vanthieghem, N., “Les archives d’un maquignon d’Égypte médiévale”, Analecta papyro-
logica 26 (2014), 291–315.
Vroom, J.A.C. (ed.), Medieval and Post-Medieval Ceramics in the Eastern Mediterranean –
Fact and Fiction. Proceedings of the First International Conference on Byzantine and
Ottoman Archaeology, Amsterdam, 21–23 October 2011 (Medieval and Post-Medieval
Mediterranean Archaeology Series, 1), Turnhout 2015.
Watson, A.M., Agricultural Innovation in the Early Islamic World. The Diffusion of Crops
and Farming Techniques, 700–1100 (Cambridge Studies in Islamic Civilization), Cam-
bridge et al. 1983.
Yarshater, E., “The Persian Presence in the Islamic World”, in R.G. Hovannisian/G. Sa-
bagh (eds.), The Persian Presence in the Islamic World (Giorgio Levi Della Vida Con-
ference, 13), Cambridge 1998, pp. 4–125.
Youssef-Grob, E.M., “The Earliest Paper Documents in the Vienna Collection Revisit-
ed”, Chronique d’Égypte 90 (2015), 431–443.
Chapter 9
The Last Revolt of Bashmūr (831 a.d.) in Coptic and

Syriac Historiography
Myriam Wissa
In 831 A.D., parts of the Muslim and Coptic population in Egypt undertook a
major uprising against Abbasid domination and against an oppressive caliphal
tax regime in the provinces. The rebellion was aggressively put down by the
Abbasid governor in most of Egypt with the exception of the region of Bashmūr.
Here, in the northern Nile Delta, Copts were to continue to heavily resisting
central rule for a long period. The conflict had revolved around temporal and
spiritual powers and was the religious-political issue of the time.
Earlier studies devoted to the events have invariably dealt with the onerous
Abbasid tax regime as a main reason for the rebellion, which in its aftermath
resulted in sizeable conversions to Islam in all of Egypt. In the following, I will
focus on another aspect, which is the role of arbitration by the Coptic and Syr-
iac patriarchs, Yūsāb i and Dionysius, in the handling of the conflict. My object
of study is the processes of conciliation and the post-conflict outcome (forced
migration, deportations and displacements?) as depicted in the Coptic and
Syriac narratives of two central historiographical works, the History of the
Patriarchs of Alexandria on the one hand, and the History of Dionysius of Tell
Mahre on the other.1
1 Coptic and Syriac Historiography: A Note on the Sources
Historical accounts written in Coptic or Syriac contribute important details on

the situation of individuals, non-Muslims (dhimmīs) and Muslims alike, under
caliphal rule. In contrast to a more dominant Arabic historiography, however
Christian sources consist only of a scanty corpus since they were cultivated by
monks, deacons and bishops, and were merely ecclesiastically and r eligiously
1 This article is part of a broader research, see M. Wissa, The Last Revolt of Bashmur, 831–832
a.d.: Event, Narrative, and Transformation in the Medieval Delta (in preparation). I owe a debt
of gratitude to Sebastian Brock (Oxford) and Dorothea Weltecke (Frankfurt am Main) for
their feedback on the Syriac sources.
© Myriam Wissa, �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_010

248 Wissa
prompted. This literature is a combination of historical, religious, sociographic

and ethnographic studies including such subjects as topography, religious in-
stitutions (churches and monasteries), economic, cultural and social life along
with political groups from within and without. How do these works offer an
insight into the historical events and their outcome? Indeed Coptic and Syriac
chroniclers adopted a theocentric view of the devastating events such as fam-
ine and persecutions. This should not undermine the importance of histori-
cism and context in Christian literature that can contribute to our understand-
ing of the situation of non-Muslims (dhimmīs) under 9th century Muslim rule.2
1.1 The Coptic Tradition: History of the Patriarchs of Alexandria

The History of the Patriarchs of Alexandria, which is not known in the “primi-
tive” authorial recension edition but is available in a “vulgate” version, was
transmitted in a considerable number of manuscripts scattered throughout li-
braries and archives in both Europe and Egypt.3 The History of the Patriarchs
had originally been compiled and translated from Coptic sources into Arabic
by the Alexandrian notable Mawhūb ibn Manṣūr ibn Mufarrij (c. 1025–1100).4
Mawhūb had utilised five Coptic historical texts, with the exception of the first
one all others are now lost: (1) the so-called History of the Church in Sahidic
Coptic, covering the early period from 60 to 451;5 (2) another chronicle written
by an early 8th century writer with the name George the Archdeacon which
must have covered the period from 412 to approximately 700; (3) a third chron-
icle written by a monk called John, from the middle of the 8th century; (4) a
fourth chronicle that had been written by another monk called John, during
the years 865–866; (5) and finally a fifth chronicle written by Mikhail, bishop of
Tinnīs, in 1051 or 1058. Alongside these five main Coptic source texts, Mawhūb
2 Debié, L’écriture de l’histoire, p. 147 supports this evidence: “Les sources chrétiennes donnent
ainsi une image ‘de terrain’ des relations entre le pouvoir central et celui des provinces”.
3 The first part of the primitive recension of the History of the Patriarchs was identified by
C. Brockelmann and has been edited separately by Ch. Seybold in 1912. The second and third
parts were identified by Den Heijer, “L’Histoire des Patriarches d’Alexandrie”. On a new con-
ceptualisation of the transmission and the dichotomy between a primitive edition and a
“vulgate” version, see Pillette, “L’Histoire des Patriarches d’Alexandrie”.
4 Den Heijer, Mawhub ibn Manṣur; idem, “History of the Patriarchs of Alexandria”. The Arabic
text produced by Mawhūb using the earlier versions is arranged in a series of sixty five Coptic
patriarchs’ biographies.
5 The first part of this History of the Church relies on Eusebius of Caesarea’s Greek Historia Ec-
clesiastica. The second part is an original composition produced entirely in a Coptic milieu
and attributed to an unknown author called Menas who may have had been a monk at the
monastery of Saint Shenoute in Sohag.
The Last Revolt of Bashmūr (831 a.d.) 249
had occasionally resorted to additional sources.6 The inside story of the

Bashmūric rebellion is reported in the Coptic Chronicle of John ii (767–880),7
the author of Lives 47–55 of the History of the Patriarchs.8 John makes it clear
that the material coverage of the events in 9th century Egypt stands to provide
a literary-historical information on local Abbasid history. His, John’s, writing
strategy on the unrest that hit Egypt from below in the last years of the reign of
Hārūn al-Rashīd (ruled 786–809) provides a good insight into the context of
the early Abbasid caliphate.
1.2 The Syriac Tradition: History of Dionysius of Tell Mahre

Syriac historiographical tradition, on the other hand, had produced some vi-
brant chroniclers such as Jacob of Edessa (684–687/88), Dionysius of Tell
Mahre (818–845), Michael i (1166–1199), and the maphrian Bar ʿEbroyo (1264–
1286). Dionysius wrote a history of the period between 582 and 842 in two
parts: a Church history, which most likely came first; and a World history, mak-
ing sixteen books in all. His work almost entirely being lost (with the exemp-
tion of a single folio page9), it can only partly be reconstructed from material
common to later chronicles. Extant fragments of his work can be found in the
Chronicle of Michael the Syrian.10 Even more significant is the anonymous
Chronicle of 1234, which also contains some of the material known from Michael
the Syrian.11 The Chronicle of 1234 retains the narrative structure of the original
but remains the principal source for the History of Dionysius of Tell Mahre.12
Dionysius tells the story of the uprising in eloquent words, highlighting his so-
cial status, his good relationship with the Abbasid caliph, and the wickedness
of local governors as well as his role as a mediator.13
6 An outline of Mawhūb’s additional sources is given in Heijer, Mawhub ibn Manṣur,

pp. 3–7; 117–156.
7 While evidence for author’s name is not decisive, it has become standard in den Heijer,
Mawhub ibn Manṣur to refer to this author as “John ii”. Swanson, Coptic Papacy, p. 27, on
the other hand, chose to call him “John the Writer”.
8 Evetts, History of the Patriarchs.
9 Vatican, bav, vat. Syr. 144.
10 The fragments are published in Brooks, Historia Ecclesiastica.
11 Cf. Chabot, Chronicon, pp. 16–20 (the pagination of the Syriac text is given in the margins
of the translation).
12 For a critical analysis of the chronicles of Michael the Syrian, the anonymous Chronicle
of 1234, and Bar ʿEbroyo see Weltecke, “A Renaissance in Historiography”. For Dionysius’
history and reconstitution see Palmer, Seventh Century, pp. 85–221. Abramowski, Diony-
sius von Tellmahre, pp. 130–144 has edited and translated these fragments. See also Wita-
kowski, Chronicle of Pseudo-Dionysius, passim.
13 This is discussed at length in Wissa, “Yusab of Alexandria”. See also Debié, L’écriture de
l’histoire, 2015, pp. 148–149. About the story of the uprising see Debié, L’écriture de l’histoire,
250 Wissa
2 The Land of Bashmūr
As has been previously mentioned, a growing body of literature offers accounts

of events from non-Arab Islamic perspective. Of particular interest are the so-
cial revolts that spread in the early caliphate, namely the Kharijite (“extrem-
ist”) rebellions, the Abbasid revolution, and Alid uprisings. These revolts were
prompted by religious and military-political motivations. Under the Umayy-
ads, several rebellions were triggered by heavy taxation incumbent upon
dhimmis.
During the first decades of their rule (i.e. the second half of the 8th century
a.d.), the Abbasids, who had periodically supported revolts against the govern-
ment of Umayyad Cordoba, faced serious problems in Baghdad later in the 9th
century a.d. Indeed, they could no longer indulge in operations to destabilise
the Umayyads. This internal tension raised doubts about the survival of a cen-
tralized Abbasid government. The turning point came under the reign of the
Abbasid caliph al-Maʾmūn (ruled 813–833). Well prior to his arrival in Baghdad,
al-Maʾmūn’s main concerns had been the suppression of internal rebellion and
the reassertion of control over provinces such as Qom, Yemen, Syria and Egypt
which continued to rebel.14 This process turned out to be less than successful.
Ethnic Arab governors ruled Egypt as a province until the middle of the 9th
century. These governors were appointed by firstly the Umayyad and later by
the Abbasid caliphs.15 During more than two hundred years of Arab-Islamic
rule there was a high turnover of governors whose involvement in Egypt was
mostly exploitative by nature. Income was generated from both.16 Over years,
the fiscal burden increased incrementally to reach a breaking point and by the
mid-8th century wholesale dissatisfaction with Muslim tax officers increased
as evidenced by papyri.17 The Coptic patriarchs steadily lost authority to ad-
minister the affairs of the Church and people. Some accounts clearly depict
p. 148. The Syriac narrative of the Bashmūric revolt in 9th century Egypt is to be found in
the Chronicle of 1234, pp. 266–267; Michael the Syrian xii, 16, pp. 522–524; Michael the
Syrian xii, 17, p. 527.
14 Rebellions in the early Abbasid period are discussed in Abou El Fadl, Rebellion and Vio-
lence, pp. 76; 85–87. See also Kennedy, “Egypt as a Province”, pp. 79–83.
15 For the beginnings of Umayyad rule, see Foss, “Egypt under Muʿāwiya”.
16 Frantz-Murphy, Arabic Agricultural Leases; idem, “Economics of State Formation”; Sijpe
steijn, “The Arab Conquest”; idem, “Profit Following Responsibility”; idem, “Landholding
Patterns”, especially p. 130 n. 49 for the Muslim tax officers.
17 For a discussion of the value of the Arabic documentary material for research on Coptic
and Arab Egypt, see among other authors Reinfandt, “Arabic Papyrology”. See also Rein-
fandt, “Administrative Papyri”.
plunder by tax officers and local governors alike.18 Such grievance was moti-
vated by the desire for self-enrichment but also the need to finance the Arab-
Byzantine wars at the northern borders of the caliphate. Inevitably between
725 and 832 both Copts and Muslims revolted repeatedly and on a number of
occasions, but all revolts were speedily suppressed.
The History of the Patriarchs describes Bashmūr as swampy marshes of nar-
row sandy banks with thickets and reeds. In pharaonic times, the country of
the H3w Nbwt extended eastward to Lake Burullus across the Northern Delta.
The land was a wet jungle of trees, reeds and papyrus where fishermen, h unters,
shepherds and cattle pastoralists lived.19 Wild boar, antelopes, gazelles, variet-
ies of deer, ibex, countless numbers of birds, fish, crocodiles and hippopotami
thrived in this wild environment. Evidence from the Ancient Egyptian Old,
Middle and New Kingdom tomb paintings suggest that hunting in the marshes
included fowling, fishing and possibly the killing of hippopotami.20 Textual
evidence from the early pharaonic times until the Pharaoh Apries (589–570
b.c.e.) refers to the H3w Nbwt as a ruthless population arriving by sea and
settling in the coastal banks of the Delta.21 During the Greco-Roman period,
the H3w Nbwt came to be known as Bukoloi, an aggressive population of herds-
men of cows, and their lands being given the Greek name of Elearchia. To El-
earchia corresponds the Coptic Picharôt and the Arabic al-Bashrūd, both de-
noting a large area of wetland and marshes extending to the east of Rosetta
where the Bashmūrites were living in their boats or among the reeds which
18 For a Coptic account of this see Evetts, History of the Patriarchs, p. 486. Documentary
sources for the practice of collecting taxes under Muslim rule are discussed in Trombley,
“Documentary Background”. An example for Abbasid taxation practice is recorded in the
seven Arabic tax receipts of a Christian tax payer from Madīnat al-Fayyūm in the late 9th
century A.D.; see Reinfandt/Vanthieghem, “Archives fiscales”.
19 Butzer, “Delta”.
20 For the Old Kingdom, see Montet, Scènes de la vie privée. As for the Middle and New King-
doms, depictions of hunting and fishing in the marshes of the Delta are recurrent themes
in the Middle and Upper Egypt’s necropoleis. For the New Kingdom Theban tombs of
Menna, Nakht and Rekhmira see Davies, Tomb of Rekh-mi-r’, pl. lxxxii.
21 For a more detailed insight into the H3w Nbwt see Wissa, “Yusab of Alexandria”. An ex-
ample in Coptic for the ancient Egyptian word H3w in the term H3w Nbwt, meaning “near
by”, comes from the Coptic manuscripts in the John Rylands collection, which Crum also
translated in his Coptic Dictionary as “beyond”; see Crum, Coptic Dictionary, p. 735 and, for
the Coptic manuscripts, Crum/Crawford, Catalogue of the Coptic Manuscripts, p. 48. On
the term Nbwt, which was non-ethnic, cf. Dussaud, “Les Haou-Nebout”, 175–177; Vercoutter,
“Les Haou-Nebout”.
252 Wissa
covered the marshy banks, selling papyrus or fishing.22 This wilderness pro-
vided natural protection from invasions for several centuries.23
3 The Uprising
By 831 a.d., the Copts in the marshlands of Bashmūr were the only insurgents.24
Whilst uprisings spread in Bashmūr, the Abbasid caliph al-Maʾmūn had dis-
patched an army led by the Persian-Muslim leader al-Afshīn to quash the re-
volts.25 Later on, he sought the mediation of the Coptic patriarch Yūsāb i and
his Syrian counterpart Dionysius of Tell Mahre.26 In the end, the social revolt
had achieved little, and the Bashmūrites were heavily defeated.27 Their villages
and churches were burnt and their people crushed.28
An aftermath of this violent event was the first wave of mass conversions to
Islam.29 In Egypt, conversion to Islam had been a long and complex process,
22 Hogarth, “Three Delta Nomes”, p. 13, s.v. Picharôt = Elearchia; Carrez-Maratray, Paralia
with a detailed study of the toponym of Elearchia; Maspero/Wiet, Matériaux, s.v.
al-Bachrud and its Coptic equivalent Picharôt. On the Arabic toponym of al-Bashrūd cf.
Cooper, Medieval Nile; Timm, Das christlich-koptische Ägypten, s.v. Bashrud. For the
marshy nature of the terrain and the bellicose nature of its herdsmen-inhabitants, see
Tagher, Christians in Muslim Egypt, p. 81; Gabra, “Revolts of the Bashmuric Copts”, p. 114. In
view of the alphabetic nature of Dialect G, “Bashmūric” or “Manṣūric”, which reflects a
reduced version of the Coptic alphabet with remarkable absence of the majority of the
Coptic uncials, it is highly likely that these Bashmūrites were exposed to both Coptic and
Greek cultural and linguistic influences. See Kasser, “L’idiome de Bashmour”; idem, “Pro-
légomènes”, pp. 102–103; Kasser/Shisha-Halevy, “Dialect G”. See also Kasser, “KAT’ASPE
ASPE”, p. 41.
23 “Bashmuric Revolts”, p. 350: “The Bashmuric region was the only part of Egypt where the
Arabic authorities could not apply their policy of settling Arabic tribes among the native
population to prevent revolts”.
24 The 9th century Egyptian Muslim historian al-Kindī in his Kitāb al-Wulāt wa-kitāb al-
quḍāt mentions the Arab and Coptic rebellion of Jumādā I 216/June-July 831; see Guest,
Governors and Judges of Egypt, pp. 189–192. On this rebellion see also Mikhail, From Byz-
antine to Islamic Egypt, pp. 75–76; Gabra, “Revolts of the Bashmuric Copts”; Megally,
“Bashmuric Revolts”; Quatremère, Recherches critiques.
25 Evetts, History of the Patriarchs, pp. 487–488.
26 Chabot, Chronique de Michel le Syrien, pp. 76–77.
27 Al-Kindī in his 9th century Kitāb al-Wulāt wa-kitāb al-quḍāt claims that “al-Ma’mūn went
to Bashrūd and ordered Afshīn to execute captured Copts and to sell children and women
into slavery. He left a long trail of blood behind him, leaving the country after 49 days”; cf.
Guest, Governors and Judges of Egypt, pp. 189–192.
28 Evetts, History of the Patriarchs, p. 494.
29 On the Islamisation of Egypt see Lapidus, “Conversion of Egypt”, pp. 257 and 260;
Mikhail, From Byzantine to Islamic Egypt, pp. 68–70; Décobert, “Sur l’arabisation”; Bulliet,
Conversion; Becker, Beiträge zur Geschichte Ägyptens, pp. 81–148; Dennet, Conversion,
but the 9th century events and the last Bashmūric revolt turned things upside
down. Often enough the jizya is considered to have been the main factor for
conversion to Islam by many Copts. There were more reasons, however, one
being a general ostracization of the Coptic Church in that era.30 Another one
was a spread of Muʿtazili teaching (the official caliphal Muslim dogma) in
Egypt that had a strong push back effect on local Christian teaching.31
4 Death, Destruction and Displacement: Abbasid Handling of the

Last Bashmūric Rebellion
In their stories, literary choices of both their Coptic and Syriac authors can be
spotted. Narrative mediation in the Coptic and Syriac historiographical tradi-
tions is introduced as a supplemental approach to more conventional efforts at
transforming the conflict: it carries with it a certain perspective and methodol-
ogy. The first tripartite negotiations are well documented as showing words of
peace and destruction. Here, from historiography, it is possible to evaluate the
lexicon in which politics and religion have a common history. By considering
some of the similarities between the two patriarchs, who emerged as promot-
ers of conciliation we shall see the deployment of this idea as best understood
by a conservative response to Muslim intimidation of the Bashmūrites in the
Syriac account. The language usage and other elements of the Coptic narrative
in the History of the Patriarchs show dialectical variants and a different strategy
from the Syriac chronicle.
There is a tendency in the History of the Patriarchs to underline the obedi-
ence of the Coptic Church’s hierarchy to its Muslim rulers.32 Thus the descrip-
tion of the caliph al-Maʾmūn, the image of a caliphal authority in John’s text,
serves religious and political purposes.33 Equally, the rhetoric of al-Maʾmūn
pp. 85–88 and 115; Frantz-Murphy, “Conversion”. On conversion specifically during the
Abbasid period see Brett, “Population and Conversion”; Lev, “Coptic Rebellions”.
30 Together with the Syriac and Armenian churches, the Coptic Church was viewed as a
non-Chalcedonian Miaphysite (sometimes wrongly mistakenly referred to as Monophy-
site) church.
31 Swanson, Coptic Papacy, p. 38.
32 Evetts, History of the Patriarchs, pp. 487–506.
33 Evetts, History of the Patriarchs, p. 488: “When the father patriarch, Abba Joseph, learnt
that al-Maʾmūn had arrived, and in his company the patriarch of Antioch, he gathered the
bishops together and journeyed to Fusṭāṭ–Miṣr, to salute the caliph according to the re-
spect which is due to princes”. Swanson, Coptic Papacy, p. 10 explains that the encounter
and verbal exchanges between the Coptic Patriarch (as the church authority) and the ca-
liph (here as the supreme civil authority) later became part of the story of the Egyptian
church.
254 Wissa
functions as a means to indicate the patriarchal legitimate authority. In subse-

quent excerpts, John issued an illustration of the Bashmūrites that reveals em-
pirical evidence. He considers the causes and offers his own opinion on a num-
ber of matters with an axe to grind and a message to send, and he provides an
extended description of how the Bashmūrites break from both the church and
Abbasid administration. The contested patriarchal authority alienated the
Bashmūrites from both their civil and religious leaders. John shows how patri-
arch Yūsāb i interacted with his community as a medium of religious ideology
and power and how his call to the insurgents remained unanswered. Yūsāb
emphasised his various forms of rhetoric, using his spiritual leadership as a
tool to achieve conciliation. Through his correspondences Yūsāb even quoted
passages of the Holy Scriptures with allusions to St Paul. Whilst Yūsāb’s termi-
nology in relation to the vocabulary for “peace” is not explicit, his reasoning is
evident in his view, destruction is the antithesis to pacification. There can be
nothing in-between. Thus, the author of the History of the Patriarchs presents
theviolent consequences, such as death, deportation, and enslavement, of the
Bashmūrites’ disobedience.34
5 Consequences: Forced Migration, Deportation, and Enslavement
The Syriac chronicle History of Dionysius of Tell Mahre has some similarities
with its Coptic counterpart in depicting the Syriac patriarch’s good relations
with the Abbasid caliph al-Maʾmūn. The Syriac author Dionysius’ style and
narrative are authoritative. This can be explained by the fact that the Syriac
writer had not been captivated by the rebellion, providing him with the free-
dom to develop an assertive discourse. Information about events, the psychol-
ogy and conditions of the Bashmūrite community is encoded in Dionysius’
diction and is enriched by its associations with a form of verbalisation and a
mode of expression.
No doubt, Dionysius did strive for vividness in his narrative. He initiates the
reader into a dynamic story by using the first-person plural “We”, because he
was a member of a group himself and thus a direct witness and participant.
This is in contrast to John ii, the Coptic author who tells the story of the patri-
arch Yūsāb i and the Bashmūrites. Meanwhile the Bashmūric episode in Dio-
nysius account is slightly different.35 The story contains additional informa-
tion, for example, how the Abbasid army seized a Coptic woman and tried to
34 Evetts, History of the Patriarchs, pp. 488–489; 494.

35 In Dionysius’ account Faḍl ordered Dionysius to go with Yūsāb to the Bashmūrites.
ravage her.36 Dionysius’ phraseology and rhetoric in respect of conciliation are

explicit: he uses the word “peace” in opposition to “war”. He also gives an ac-
count of a violent aftermath of the events. In contrast to the Coptic account,
the Syriac narrative provides additional information on the fate of surviving
Bashmūrites, describing how prisoners among the Bashmūrites were subse-
quently deported to Iraq and thereat enslaved as a consequence of their
rebellion.37
6 Conclusion
In 1940, Rudolf Abramowski provided a first analysis of the Syriac chronicle His-
tory of Dionysius of Tell Mahre. Half a century later, in 1987, Witold Witakowski
presented another historiographical study of Dionysius’ history by sketching
the origins of the genre he pursued. He analysed the author’s historiographical
organisation: short chronicle scheme, chronologically arranged date lemmata,
with material from sources of non-chronicle character. In 1993, eventually, An-
drew Palmer advanced a new interpretation of Syriac historiography and con-
tributed to a rehabilitation of Dionysius as a trustworthy historical source.38
The episode of Bashmūr, however, goes unmentioned in any of these three
studies. The historiographical tradition of the last revolt of Bashmūr, as reflect-
ed in the accounts of John ii and Dionysius respectively, is meant to emphasize
the strategic role that the church had in the early Islamic state. Christian lead-
ers appealed historiography as a means for hewing out their own destiny.
The rebellion of Bashmūr represents a singular and tragic moment in the
memory of Egypt. The Bashmūrite natural propensity for rebellion against any
ruling elite, as is highlighted earlier in this chapter, is a prominent theme. Their
implication as inveterate troublemakers is acknowledged in the Coptic narra-
tive. The Syriac source, in contrast, highlights that the Bashmūrites dared to
stir, and not to fight against the rulers; only as a supplicant for the fiscal bur-
den, they approached the Muslim administrators begging for conciliation. The
Abbasids for their mass deportation took drastic measures. Viewing in its en-
tirety the tale of the Bashmūric woe in the Coptic and in the Syriac narratives
becomes an interesting case study, irrespectively of the incomplete account of

38 Abramowski, Dionysius von Tellmahre; Witakowski, Chronicle of Pseudo-Dionysius; Palmer,
Seventh Century. The question of intertextuality, the reliability of the information, and the
problems of copying are thoroughly discussed in Weltecke, Beschreibung der Zeiten;
Debié, L’écriture de l’histoire.
256 Wissa
deportation. The literary challenge was to create a monolithic “Bashmūr” from

two source materials where raw brutality, pillage, forced migration, enslave-
ment, and more significantly, death were common practice.
An intertwining sequence of events in the last Bashmūric rebellion provides
us with a view of Coptic–Muslim relations in early Islamic Egypt, which promi-
nently features society with sectarian fiscal politics. This steered Egypt to so-
cial fragmentation, financial ruin and revolts which may have prompted the
displacement and enslavement of the population of Bashmūr. Because of this
particular pressure, the response of Yūsāb i, the Coptic patriarch, contrasted
sharply with the efforts of Dionysius to mediate the escalation of the situation.
The Bashmūrites cast their actions as a defence of Coptic Christians from the
vehicle of Arabisation and Islamisation. The discourse around “peace”, which
is not directly explicit in Yūsāb’s vocabulary, shaped the development of a
chronic resistance whereas the Syriac patriarch Dionysius had made claim to
this language. Yūsāb exhorts from destruction while Dionysius, as one of the
three actors, is at the heart of the story of peace and war.
Recent developments in the Middle East have generated a renewed concern
for conciliation and stability. The last rebellion of Bashmūr, its possible solu-
tions of peace and reconciliation, and ultimately its consequences associated
with displacements in 9th century Egypt may serve a standard of comparison.
Indeed, current uprisings in the Middle East are echoed in Medieval Islam. The
9th century a.d. marks a turning point in the history of revolts with more reso-
nance today.
Bibliography
Primary Sources
Brooks, E.W. (ed. and transl.), Historia Ecclesiastica Zachariae Rhetori Vulgo Adscripta,
Part ii (Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, 84/Syr 39 T; 88/Syr 42 v),
Paris 1921–24.
Chabot, J.-B., Chronicon ad annum Christi 1234 pertinens. Vol. 2, Paris 1917.
Chabot, J.-B., Chronique de Michel le Syrien, Patriarche Jacobite d’Antioche (1166–1199).
Éditée pour la première fois et traduite en français, tome iii, Paris 1905 (repr. Brux-
elles 1963).
Evetts, B.T.A. (ed. and transl.), History of the Patriarchs of the Coptic Church of Alexan-
dria. Part iv: Mennas i to Joseph (849) (Patrologia Orientalis, x, fasc. 5), Paris, 1910,
pp. 473–665.
Guest, R. (ed.), The Governors and Judges of Egypt (E.J.W. Gibb Memorial Series, 19),
Leiden 1912.
Maqrīzī, Taqī al-dīn Abū al-ʿAbbās al-, Kitāb al-Mawāʿiẓ wa-li-ʿtibār fī dhikr al-khiṭaṭ wa-
l-āthār, ed. A.F. Sayyid, 5 vols., London 2002–2005.
Moosa, M., The Syriac Chronicle of Michael Rabo (the Great). A Universal History from
the Creation, Teaneck NJ 2014.
Palmer, A., The Seventh Century in the West-Syrian Chronicles (Translated Texts for His-
torians, 15), Liverpool 1993.
Abou El Fadl, K., Rebellion and Violence in Islamic Law, Cambridge 2001.
Abramowski, R., Dionysius von Tellmahre, jakobitischer Patriarch von 818–845. Zur Ge-
schichte der Kirche unter dem Islam (Abhandlungen für die Kunde des Morgenlan-
des, 25.2), Leipzig 1940.
Becker, C.H., Beiträge zur Geschichte Ägyptens unter dem Islam. Zweites Heft, Strasbourg
1903.
Brett, M., “Population and Conversion to Islam in Egypt in the Medieval Period”, in
U. Vermeulen/J. van Steenbergen (eds.), Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and
Mamluk Eras. iv: Proceedings of the 9th and 10th International Colloquium organized
at the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven in May 2000 and May 2001, Leuven 2005,
pp. 1–32.
Bulliet, R.W., Conversion to Islam in the Medieval Period. An Essay in Quantitative His-
tory, Cambridge MA 1979.
Butzer, K.W., Art. “Delta”, in: W. Helck/E. Otto (eds.), Lexikon der Ägyptologie, vol. 1,
Wiesbaden 1975, pp. 1043–1052.
Carrez-Maratray, J.Y., Paralia. Recherches sur la côte du Delta égyptien d’après la
documentation grecque et latine (viième s. av. / viième s. apr. J.C.). Étymologie et To-
ponymie liées au littoral, unpubl. Ph.D. diss., François Rabelais University Tours
2005.
Cooper, J.P., The Medieval Nile. Route, Navigation, and Landscape in Islamic Egypt, Cairo
2014.
Crum, W.E.A., Coptic Dictionary, Oxford 1939.
Crum, W.E.A./Crawford, J.L.L., Catalogue of the Coptic Manuscripts in the Collection of
the John Rylands Library, Manchester 1909.
Davies, N. de G., The Tomb of Rekh-mi-r’ at Thebes, New York 1943, pl. lxxxii.
Debié, M., L’écriture de l’histoire en syriaque: transmissions interculturelles et construc-
tions identitaires entre hellénisme et Islam (Late Antique History and Religion, 12),
Leuven 2015.
Décobert, C., “Sur l’arabisation et l’islamisation de l’Égypte médiévale”, in: idem (ed.),
Itinéraires d’Égypte: Mélanges offerts au père Maurice Martin, S.J., Cairo 1992,
pp. 273–300.
Dennet, D., Conversion and the Poll-Tax in Early Islam, Cambridge MA 1950.
258 Wissa
Den Heijer, J., Art. “History of the Patriarchs of Alexandria”, in: A.S. Atiya (ed.), The
Coptic Encyclopedia, vol. 4, New York 1991, pp. 1238–1242.
Den Heijer, J., Mawhub ibn Manṣur ibn Mufarriğ et l’historiographie copto-arabe: étude
sur la composition de l’Histoire des Patriarches d’Alexandrie (Corpus Scriptorum
Christianorum Orientalium, Subsidia, 83), Leuven 1989.
Den Heijer, J., “L’Histoire des Patriarches d’Alexandrie, recension primitive et Vulgate”,
Bulletin de la Société d’Archéologie Copte 2 (1985), pp. 1–29.
Dussaud, R., Review of J. Vercoutter, “Les Haou-Nebout”, Syria 27 (1950), pp. 175–
177.
Foss, C., “Egypt under Muʿāwiya”, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 72
(2009), pp. 1–23; 259–278.
Frantz-Murphy, G., “The Economics of State Formation in Early Islamic Egypt”, in:
P.M. Sijpesteijn/L. Sundelin/S. Torallas Tovar/A. Zomeño (eds.), From al-Andalus
to Khurasan. Documents from the Medieval Muslim World, Leiden/Boston 2007,
pp. 101–114.
Frantz-Murphy, G., Arabic Agricultural Leases and Tax Receipts from Egypt, 148–427
ah/765–1035 ad: Arabic Texts, Vienna 2001.
Frantz-Murphy, G., “Conversion in Early Islamic Egypt: The Economic Factor”, in:
Y. Ragib (ed.), Documents de l’Islam médiéval, Cairo 1991, pp. 11–17.
Gabra, G., “The Revolts of the Bashmuric Copts in the Eighth and Ninth Centuries”,
Hallesche Beiträge zur Orientwissenschaft 36 (2003), pp. 111–119.
Hogarth, D.G., “Three Delta Nomes”, Journal of Hellenistic Studies 24 (1904), pp. 1–19.
Kasser, R., “KAT’A SPE ASPE. Constellations d’idiomes coptes plus ou moins bien con-
nus et scientifiquement reçus, aperçus, pressentis, enregistrés en une terminologie
jugée utile, scintillant dans le firmament égyptien à l’aube de notre troisième mil-
lénaire”, in: L. Painchaud/P.-H. Poirier (eds.), Coptica, Gnostica, Manichaica: Mélang-
es offerts à Wolf-Peter Funk, Québec 2006.
Kasser, R., “Prolégomènes à un essai de classification systématique des dialectes et sub-
dialectes coptes selon les critères de la phonétique, iii, Systèmes orthographiques
et catégories dialectales”, Le Muséon 94 (1981), pp. 91–152.
Kasser, R., “L’idiome de Bashmour”, Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale
75 (1975), pp. 401–427.
Kasser, R./Shisha-Halevy, A., Art. “Dialect G (or Bashmuric or Mansuric)”, in The Coptic
Encyclopedia, vol. 8, pp. 74–75.
Kennedy, H., “Egypt as a Province in the Islamic Caliphate, 641–868”, in: C. Petry (ed.),
The Cambridge History of Egypt. Vol. 2: Islamic Egypt, 640–1517, Cambridge 1998,
pp. 62–85.
Lapidus, I., “The Conversion of Egypt”, Israel Oriental Studies 2 (1972), pp. 248–262.
Lev, Y., “Coptic Rebellions and the Islamization of Medieval Egypt (8th–10th century):
Medieval and Modern Perceptions”, Jerusalem Studies of Arabic and Islam 39 (2002),
pp. 303–344.
Maspero, J./Wiet, G., Matériaux pour servir à la géographie de l’Égypte (Mémoires pub-
liés par les membres de l’Institut français d’archéologie Orientale du Caire, 36),
Cairo 1919.
Megally, M., Art. “Bashmuric Revolts”, in A. Suryal Atiya (ed.), The Coptic Encyclopedia,
vol. 2, New York 1991, pp. 349–351.
Mikhail, M.S.A., From Byzantine to Islamic Egypt. Religion, Identity and Politics after the
Arab Conquest, London 2014.
Montet, P., Les scènes de la vie privée dans les tombeaux égyptiens de l’Ancien Empire,
Paris 1924.
Pillette, P., “L’Histoire des Patriarches d’Alexandrie: Une nouvelle évaluation de la con-
figuration du texte en recensions”, Le Muséon 126/3–4 (2013), pp. 419–450.
Quatremère, É., Recherches critiques et historiques sur la langue et la littérature de
l’Egypte, Paris 1808.
Reinfandt, L., “Arabic Papyrology and Early Islamic Egypt”, Journal of Juristic Papyrolo-
gy 43 (2014), pp. 209–239.
Reinfandt, L., “Administrative Papyri from the Abbasid Court in Samarra (ad 836–892):
A First Report”, in P. Schubert (ed.), Actes du 26e Congrès international de papyrolo-
gie. Genève, 16–21 août 2010, (Recherches et Rencontres 30). Genève: Librairie Droz
S.A., 2012, pp. 639–645.
Reinfandt, L./Vanthieghem, N., “Les archives fiscales de Mīnā, fils de Damarqūra, un
contribuable copte du ixe siècle”, in J.L. Fournet/A. Papaconstantinou (eds.), Mé-
langes Jean Gascou. Textes et études papyrologiques (P.Gascou) (Travaux et m émoires,
20/1), Paris 2016, pp. 52–58.
Sijpesteijn, P.M., “The Arab Conquest of Egypt and the Beginning of Muslim Rule”, in
R.S. Bagnall (ed.), Egypt in the Byzantine world, 300–700, Cambridge 2009, pp.
437–459.
Sijpesteijn, P.M., “Landholding patterns in early Islamic Egypt”, Journal of Agrarian
Change 9 (2009), pp. 120–133.
Sijpesteijn, P.M., “Profit Following Responsibility. A Leaf from the Records of a Third/
Ninth Century Tax-Collecting Agent”, The Journal of Juristic Papyrology 31 (2001),
pp. 91–132.
Swanson, M.N., The Coptic Papacy in Islamic Egypt, 641–1517, Cairo/New York 2010.
Tagher, J., Christians in Muslim Egypt. An Historical Study of the Relations between Copts
and Muslims from 640 to 1922 (Arbeiten zum spätantiken und koptischen Ägypten,
10), Altenberg 1998.
Timm, S., Das christlich-koptische Ägypten in arabischer Zeit. Vol. 1: A-C (Tübinger Atlas
des Vorderen Orients. Reihe B, 41/1), Wiesbaden 1984.
Trombley, F.R., “The Documentary Background to the History of the Patriarchs of ps.-
Sawīrus ibn al –Muqaffaʿ ca. 750–969 c.e”., in: P.M. Sijpesteijn/L. Sundelin/S. Toral-
las Tovar/A. Zomeño (eds.), From al-Andalus to Khurasan. Documents from the Me-
dieval Muslim World, Leiden/Boston 2007, pp. 131–152.
260 Wissa
Vercoutter, J., “Les Haou-Nebout”, Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Arcéologie Orientale 46

(1947); 48 (1948).
Weltecke, D., “A Renaissance in Historiography? Patriarch Michael, The Anonymous
Chronicle ad 1234 and Bar ʿEbroyo”, in H. Teule (ed.), The Syriac Renaissance, Leu-
ven 2010, pp. 95–111.
Weltecke, D., Die “Beschreibung der Zeiten” von Mor Michael dem Großen (1126–1199).
Eine Studie zu ihrem historischen und historiographiegeschichtlichen Kontext (Cor-
pus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, 594, Subs. 110), Leuven 2003.
Wissa, M., “Yusab of Alexandria, Dionysius of Tel-Mahre, Al-Ma’mun of Baghdad, the
Bashmurites and the Narrative of the Last Rebellion in ʿAbbasid Egypt. Re-consider-
ing Coptic and Syriac Historiography”. in P. Buzi/A. Camplani/F. Contardi (eds.),
Coptic Society, Literature and Religion from Late Antiquity to Modern Times. Proceed-
ings of the Tenth International Congress of Coptic Studies, Rome, September 17th–22th,
2012 (Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, 247), Leuven 2016, pp. 1045–1062.
Witakowski, W., The Syriac Chronicle of Pseudo-Dionysius of Tel-Mahrē. A Study in the
History of Historiography (Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, Studia Semitica Upsalien-
sia, 9), Uppsala 1987.
Chapter 10
The Migration of Syrian and Palestinian

Populations in the 7th Century: Movement of
Individuals and Groups in the Mediterranean
In 602, the Byzantine emperor Maurice was dethroned and executed in a mili-
tary coup, leading to the takeover of Phokas. In response to that, the Sasanian
Great King Khosrow ii (590–628), who had been helped by Maurice in 591 to
regain his throne from the usurper Bahram, launched a war of retribution
against Byzantium. In 604 taking advantage of the revolt of the patrikios Nars-
es against Phokas, he captured the city of Dara. By 609, the Persians had com-
pleted the conquest of Byzantine Mesopotamia with the capitulation of Edes-
sa.1 A year earlier, in 608, the Exarch of Carthage Herakleios the Elder rose in
revolt against Phokas. His nephew Niketas campaigned against Egypt while his
son, also named Herakleios, led a fleet against Constantinople. Herakleios
managed to enter the city and kill Phokas. He was crowned emperor on Octo-
ber 5, 610.2
Ironically, three days later on October 8, 610, Antioch, the greatest city of the
Orient, surrendered to the Persians who took full advantage of the Byzantine
civil strife.3 A week later Apameia, another great city in North Syria, came to
terms with the Persians. Emesa fell in 611. Despite two Byzantine counter at-
tacks, one led by Niketas in 611 and another led by Herakleios himself in 613,
the Persian advance seemed unstoppable. Damascus surrendered in 613 and a
year later Caesarea and all other coastal towns of Palestine fell as well. How-
ever, undoubtedly the most shocking event of the Persian conquest was the
brutal capture of the Holy city, Jerusalem, in 614. The population of Jerusalem
was slaughtered and many of its historical buildings were extensively dam-
aged.4 In 615, the Persian menace reached Asia Minor, with the Sasanian army
reaching as deep as Chalcedon. The Persian army invaded Egypt in 616/7; its
1 Howard-Johnston, Witnesses to a World Crisis, p. 68.

2 Kaegi, Heraclius, p. 50.
3 Foss, “The Persians in the Roman Near East”, pp. 151–152.
4 Ibid., pp. 152–153.
© Panagiotis Theodoropoulos, �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_011

262 Theodoropoulos
conquest was completed with the capture of Alexandria in 619.5 Within 17

years from the beginning of the war, the Byzantines had lost almost all of their
Eastern provinces.
While the Sasanian army advanced into Byzantine territory, many of the
inhabitants of these provinces fled their cities and towns in order to save their
lives and escape the Persian yoke. The life of St. John the Almsgiver, patriarch
of Alexandria (610–619), attests the arrival of numerous refugees in Egypt due
to the Persian advance. “At that time the Persian armies invaded and laid waste
the whole country of the Syrians and the inhabitants of all the towns there came
in great numbers with bishops and other clergy and governors and sought refuge
in Alexandria”.6 Their number appears to have been considerable and caused
food shortage as well as overcrowding which the Patriarch tried to solve by
importing grain from Sicily and constructing hostels respectively.7 Besides dis-
tributing food to the refugees, the Church also provided financial aid to the
clergy that had fled there.8 Another indication of their great number is the fact
that throughout the Life of St. John, refugees appear as the constant back-
ground of Alexandria’s everyday life.
Many of the refugees who appear in the sources are connected with Pales-
tine. In the Life of John the Almsgiver, one finds a mention to the bishop of
Tiberias who took refuge there along with his family.9 Additionally, John Mos-
chos fled Alexandria when he was informed of the Persian sack of Jerusalem by
refugees who came to Egypt.10 The arrival of Palestinian refugees in Egypt can-
not be surprising, given the geographical proximity of these two regions.
However, there is mention of people coming to Egypt from even farther
away. The 7th century chronicle of James of Edessa (written around 692) re-
cords that “the Bishops of the eastern region took flight to Egypt, and the monks
and many people went with them to escape from the Persian advance.”11 This
might indicate the destination of the first group of refugees who fled Mesopo-
tamia in 604 according to the almost contemporary chronicle of Thomas the
5 Ibid., p. 153.
6 Anonymous, Life of John the Almsgiver, trans. Dawes, p. 202.
7 Leontios of Neapolis, Life of John the Almsgiver, ed. Festugière, pp. 350–351 and 357–
359; For a discussion of this food shortage: Stathakopoulos, Famine and Pestilence,
pp. 344–345.
8 Anonymous, Life of John the Almsgiver, trans. Festugière, p. 324; Leontios of Neapolis, Life
of John the Almsgiver, ed. Festugière, pp. 350–351.
9 Anonymous, Life of John the Almsgiver, trans. Festugière, p. 327.
10 Booth, Crisis of Empire, p. 98.
11 James of Edessa, Chronicle, trans. Palmer, p. 38.
priest composed around 640.12 These people were mostly Chalcedonians, since
the Persians openly discriminated against them in favor of the Monophysites.13
This means that Chalcedonians from other parts of Syria might have fled to
Egypt too.
Nevertheless, Egypt soon ceased to be a safe haven, since the Sasanian forc-
es began the region’s conquest in 616/7. The refugees from Syria and Palestine
were once again on the run, this time accompanied by some of the people who
had aided them until that point. Unfortunately, no extant source describes the
fate of the main bulk of refugees, as is the case of the Life of John the Alms-
giver. The available evidence, though, suggests that they moved westwards
towards Carthage, whereas some of them crossed the sea arriving in Sicily and
even Rome. Cyprus too was a refuge for those who could afford fleeing aboard
ships.
Some of the few recorded escape routes are those of the Patriarch John, the
governor of Alexandria and cousin of Herakleios Niketas, a general named
Isaac and the famous monks John Moschos and Sophronios who were possibly
accompanied by Maximos the Confessor and other monks. Shortly before the
fall of Alexandria, they all moved to Cyprus.14 The general was murdered there
under obscure circumstances and the patriarch died of natural causes.15 Nike-
tas probably continued to Constantinople, whereas Moschos and the other
monks sailed to Carthage via the islands of the Aegean.16 There is, however, a
possibility that these monks also traveled to Constantinople only to realize
that the city was facing a serious food shortage and the imminent threat of the
Persians.17 When the monks arrived in Carthage, they established a monastic
community possibly under the patronage of the eparch of Africa, George, who
was a Syrian from Apameia.18 It seems that an important number of clerics and
monks arrived in North Africa founding new monastic communities. They ap-
pear to have remained there even after the end of the war, since communities
of Alexandrian nuns and other Syrian, Palestinian and Egyptian clerics and
12 Thomas the Priest, Chronicle, trans. Palmer, p. 16.

13 See below.
14 For Moschos, Sophronios and Maximos: Booth, Crisis of Empire, p. 100 and pp. 142–150.
For John the Almsgiver, Isaac and Niketas: Anonymous, Life of John the Almsgiver,
trans. Festugière, p. 328; Leontios of Neapolis, Life of John the Almsgiver, ed. Festugière,
pp. 402–403.
15 Anonymous, Life of John the Almsgiver, trans. Festugière, pp. 328–329.
16 Booth, Crisis of Empire, pp. 98–110.
17 Ibid., pp. 109–110.
18 John Moschos, Spiritual Meadow, PG 87:3, p. 3080D.
264 Theodoropoulos
monks are mentioned as living there in the letters of Maximos the Confessor
who certainly resided in North Africa in the late 630s.19
After North Africa Moschos, Sophronios and other Palestinian monks trav-
eled to Italy and Rome in particular.20 Their presence in the eternal city was to
have long-lasting effects, since they established a link between the Papacy and
Palestinian-Syrian monastic communities, which reached its peak with the
anti-monothelete synod of 649.21 Either at the same time or a little earlier a
group of Cilician monks founded one of the first “Greek” monasteries in Rome
at a place called Aquae Salviae.22 They probably kept very close bonds with
Palestine, since it was to this Roman community that Palestinian monks
brought one of their most sacred relics, the head of St. Anastasios the Persian
along with a manuscript written by the hand of Modestos, Patriarch of Jerusa-
lem and previously abbot of the monastery of St. Theodosios.23 Among the
people who arrived in Rome at this period there was probably a certain Theo-
dore who was a bishop from Palestine together with his son, also named Theo-
dore. The latter would become the first of a series of Oriental Popes (642–752)
and the instigator of the Lateran council of 649.24
In 627/8, Herakleios accomplished the unthinkable. He formed an alliance
with the powerful Turkic Khaganate and led a Byzantine army to the heart of
the Persian state where he defeated the armies of Khosrow. The war was over
by 628 when Khosrow was overthrown and murdered by his own son. The Per-
sians agreed to vacate all conquered provinces re-establishing the borders that
had existed during the reign of Maurice.25 However, peace would not last long.
In 629, the Arabs launched their first organized attack against Byzantine terri-
tory, but were defeated near the village of Mu’tah on the east side of the Jordan
19 For the presence of Syrian and Alexandrian monastic communities in North Africa: Maxi-
mos the Confessor, Letter 12, PG 91, p. 460C. For the presence of Palestinian monks who
were related to the circle of Moschos and Sophronios in North Africa: Booth, Crisis of
Empire, p. 257.
21 The synod was convened by the Palestinian Pope Theodore, whereas Maximos the Con-
fessor and his monastic circle contributed enormously to the council with their selection
of patristic texts or florilegia. The council was originally conducted in Greek and later its
acts were translated into Latin: Ekonomou, The Greek Popes, pp. 235–240; Jankowiak,
“Essai d’histoire”, pp. 246–252.
22 Booth, Crisis of Empire, p. 111. For a later date of the foundation of the monastery, but still
in the first half of the 7th century: Sansterre, Les Moines Grecs, pp. 13–17.
23 Flusin, St. Anastase, vol. ii p. 356.
24 Liber Pontificalis, ed. Duchene, p. 331; pbe s. v. Theodoros 49.
25 For an extensive discussion of these events: Kaegi, Heraclius, pp. 156–185.
River.26 In 634, however, they managed to inflict a decisive defeat on imperial

forces at the battle of Ajnadayn, which left Palestine at the mercy of the Ar-
abs.27 Between 634 and 636, the two sides fought a number of skirmishes with
the Arabs being victorious. Important Byzantine cities such as Bostra, Damas-
cus, Emesa (Homs) and Tiberias were captured by the Arabs along with
numerous others cities and towns.28 In 636 Herakleios mustered substantial
forces in order to repel the invaders. However, when the two armies met near
the river Yarmuk, the imperial forces were crushed, and withdrew from Syria
for more than three centuries.29 The fate of the eastern provinces had been
sealed. By 638 Antioch and Jerusalem had surrendered to the Arabs, Caesarea
fell in 640 and Alexandria along with the whole province of Egypt in 642.30
Arab and Syrian chronicles provide evidence for the migration caused by
the Arab conquest. It needs to be emphasized that it is not always clear when
our sources refer to the retreat of soldiers or the flight of citizens. It is highly
possible, though, that even when only troops are mentioned, a number of civil-
ians followed their retreat. Moreover, there is evidence that Byzantine garrison
soldiers dwelled with their families in the cities they protected which means
that a number of civilians was de facto attached to the army.31 The citizens of
Damascus were among the first to be recorded fleeing their hometown. Al-
Baladhuri mentions that after the capitulation of the city “a great number of its
inhabitants fled to Herakleios who was then at Antioch, leaving many vacant
dwellings behind that were later occupied by the Muslims.32” The citizens of the
coastal cities of Sidon, Arca (Irkah), Byblos (Jubail), and Beirut (Bierut) are
recorded to have left their towns too.33
From the same work, we are informed that, while under siege, Tripoli was
evacuated by an imperial fleet.34 A similar report comes from Michael the Syr-
ian regarding Caesarea. He mentions that part of the 7,000 defenders of the
city fled on ships.35 The citizens of Emesa (Hims) are also, albeit implicitly,
reported to have left their city, since an Arab commander distributed to Arab
26 Kaegi, Early Islamic Conquest, pp. 71–74

27 Ibid. pp. 98–101.
28 Moshe, History of Palestine, pp. 43–45.
29 For an extensive discussion of the battle of Yarmuk: Kaegi, Early Islamic Conquest,
pp. 119–145.
30 Ibid., p. 146.
31 Ibid., p. 95.
32 Al-Baladhuri, Kitab Futuh al-Buldan, trans. Hitti, p. 189.
33 Ibid., p. 194.
34 Ibid., p. 194.
35 Michael the Syrian, Chronicle, trans. Chabot, p. 431.
266 Theodoropoulos
Muslims the houses and land of those who had fled.36 Romans from littoral
towns, such as Baldah, Jabalah (Gabala/Jableh) and Antartus (Tartus) also de-
serted their cities ahead of the arrival of the Arab army.37 When the city of
Antioch capitulated, its inhabitants were given the choice either to stay and
pay the poll tax or to leave, which is what some of them did.38 The same goes
for the inhabitants of Barbalissos, who in their majority chose to leave for the
Empire.39 Moreover, Herakleios is said to have vacated Cilicia, in an attempt to
form a no man’s land between Syria and Asia Minor, transferring the entire
population elsewhere.40 The fact that the Cilician city of Mopsuestia was to-
tally abandoned adds plausibility to this information.41
Archeological evidence suggests that after the Arab conquest certain areas
were depopulated, possibly because a considerable portion of its population
fled. Caesarea is a telling example, for its urban surface reduced by eighty per
cent in the second half of the 7th century, which the archeologists link with a
significant wave of migration during the Arab conquest.42 As we have seen, a
portion of the city’s population had been transferred away by a Byzantine fleet,
which might indicate the effectiveness of the aforementioned naval undertak-
ing. The fact that Caesarea appears as a normally functioning city in the life of
St. Anastasios the Persian (627) indicates that the deterioration of the city
started under the initial phase of the Arab dominion.43 In fact, the entire lit-
toral of the Levant seems to have been severely depopulated due to the depar-
ture of its inhabitants and perhaps the activity of the Byzantine navy.44
Although in Palestine a relatively smooth continuity of urban life and activ-
ity seems to have been the case, some Syrian cities were considerably reduced
in size.45 It should be mentioned that scholars have shown that changes of ur-
ban life such as the decrease of public space and city surface was a long-term
Mediterranean evolution.46 However, the reduction of urban surface in some
Syrian cities exceeds the normal pattern, which can be linked to the flight of

37 Ibid., p. 204.
38 Ibid., p. 227.
39 Ibid., pp. 331–332.
40 Ibid., p. 253.
41 Ibid., pp. 255–256.
42 Avni, The Byzantine-Islamic Transition, pp. 42–49.
43 Foss, “The Persians in the Roman Near East”, pp. 159–63.
44 Kennedy, “Syrian Elites”, pp. 189–191. Haldon, “Citizens of Ancient Lineage”, p. 95.
45 For the continuous prosperity of Palestinian cities: Avni, The Byzantine-Islamic Transition,
pp. 71–93 (for Tiberias); pp. 113–127 (for Jerusalem).
46 Kennedy, “From Polis to Madina”, pp. 3–27. For a thorough introduction to views on urban
change in Palestine, see Avni, The Byzantine-Islamic Transition, pp. 13–23.
large sections of their population. Antioch and Apameia, two major cities of
Syria, were reduced considerably in size never to recover their 6th century
glory. Although their decline had already begun in the 6th century and it was
closely connected to warfare with the Persians, the Arab conquest might have
triggered a further deterioration of their condition.47 Archeological evidence
from Apameia indicates that changes of urban life patterns commenced in the
mid-7th century, which could be interpreted as a result of the Arab conquest
and the departure of a part of its population.48 Moreover, both cities demon-
strate evidence for the flight of Syrian aristocracy. A luxurious villa in Antioch
was abandoned at the beginning of the 7th century, whereas the majestic man-
sions of Apameia fell in disuse in the course of the 7th century with some of
them being abandoned precisely during the Arab conquest.49 Moreover, exca-
vations near Apameia have shown a considerable deterioration of rural settle-
ments in the mid-7th century. Furthermore, a specific site was completely and
systematically abandoned by its inhabitants probably during the first half of
the 7th century.50 One can argue given the plethora of evidence for deteriora-
tion of settlements and urban change from the mid-7th century, that the evac-
uation of the site took place during the Arab invasion rather than during the
Persian one.51
Several factors make the migration of Syrians and Palestinians from the Per-
sian invasion different from their migration during the Arab conquest. Firstly,
the refugees followed different routes. The Persian conquest of the Middle
East caused a migration wave towards Egypt, North Africa and Italy, whereas
the refugees of the Arab conquest fled northwards towards Asia Minor. A pos-
sible explanation is that the Persians invaded Syria from the North East con-
quering Antioch and Apameia; thus, blocking the way to Asia Minor. Then the
Persians invaded Palestine from the North leaving Egypt as the only possible
destination. Moreover, Asia Minor had become a battlefield since 611 and it
continued to be one almost until the end of the war. Therefore, the only safe
destination for those fleeing the Persians was the western provinces of the
Empire.
47 Foss, “Syria in Transition”, pp. 90–97 and p. 264 (for Antioch); pp. 205–217 (for Apamea).
48 Ibid. p. 209.
49 For the fate of the mansions of Apamea: Foss, “Syria in Transition”, pp. 218–225, especially
p. 119 for the mansions abandoned after the Byzantine re-occupation of Syria in the 630s.
For Byzantine elites fleeing Syria after the Arab conquest: Kennedy, “From Polis to Madi-
na”, pp. 23–24.
50 Foss, “Syria in Transition”, pp. 227–229.
51 See below for further supporting arguments of this view.
268 Theodoropoulos
On the contrary, the Arabs launched their attack from the South East invad-
ing Palestine first where they defeated the Byzantines near Jerusalem and at
Yarmuk, which is located east of the Sea of Galilee. The Arabs then chased the
retreating Byzantine forces invading Syria from the South completing its con-
quest with the capture of Antioch. Although Jerusalem fell three years after the
decisive battle of Ajnadayn, its inhabitants could not flee to Egypt as they had
done two decades earlier, for the countryside was controlled by the Arabs
blocking the available escape routes.52 Thus, it seems that during the Arab con-
quest the only route of escape was northwards.
Another major difference was the involvement of the Byzantine state in the
migration crisis. During the Persian invasion, the Byzantine state was in disor-
der, because of continuous civil strife. Even after the end of the civil war (610)
the continuous military disasters and the immediate Avar and Persian threat
to Constantinople (626), rendered the state unable to deal with the migration
problem. On the contrary, it seems that in these difficult moments the state
took measures that could be seen as acting against the refugees, since a novel
of Herakleios from 617 aimed at restricting food distribution by the Church of
Constantinople in order to secure enough supplies for the city.53 Similarly, in
Egypt it was the Patriarch, John, who tried to accommodate the refugees, while
the governor, Niketas, envisaged covering the needs of the state with Church
funds like Herakleios had done in Constantinople.54
During the Arab conquest of the Levant, however, the Byzantine state played
a crucial role at channeling refugees to the Empire. As shown above, many
Byzantine citizens fled towards Herakleios who, when he realized that the war
had been lost, carried out a careful evacuation of Syria, as the case of Baldah,
Gabala (Jableh) and Antartus (Tartus) indicates, since these cities were tacti-
cally evacuated after the loss of Emesa.55 Moreover, the Empire carried out two
expensive naval expeditions in order to evacuate Caesarea in Palestine and
Tripoli in Phoenicia. Herakleios also withdrew both troops and civilians from
Cilicia to such an extent that the region and its greatest city, Tarsus, were left
almost uninhabited as later sources indicate.56 These examples show that the
state had both the means and the will to relocate to its soil as many people as
possible.57
52 Kaegi, Early Islamic Conquest, p. 100.

53 Booth, Crisis of Empire, pp. 109–110.
54 Ibid., 109.
56 Bosworth, “The City of Tarsus”, pp. 270–271.
57 The Byzantines aimed at depriving the areas that would fall into Arab hands from man
power. For parallels from the 7th and 8th centuries: Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen,
pp. 162–163.
Most importantly, the Persian conquest seems to have been considerably

more violent and brutal. Although recent scholarship tries to emphasize pat-
terns of continuity within the conquered provinces, it appears that the con-
quest, especially at its initial phase, caused havoc, anxiety and insecurity.58
There were certain Persian policies that must have spread waves of fear to the
souls of the citizens of the remaining Byzantine provinces. Firstly, they brutally
slaughtered the population of and pillaged the cities that resisted. The best-
known examples are the cities of Dara, Jerusalem and Alexandria. Archeologi-
cal evidence, apart from confirming the massacre in Jerusalem, revealed a layer
of destruction at Pella dated to the time of the Persian invasion.59
Secondly, they systematically attacked monasteries and massacred monas-
tic communities and individual monks. In Palestine, several monasteries fell
victims of the Persian wrath including the well-known monastery of Mar Saba
where the invaders killed forty-four monks.60 The monastery of Choziba was
also attacked with some of its monks being killed or taken captives.61 A worse
fate befell upon the monastery of St. Martyrios, which was completely aban-
doned after a Persian raid.62 Equally brutal was the raid at the monastery of St.
John the Baptist where the attackers massacred both monks from the monas-
tery and civilians who had fled there. Their bodies, numbering from 300 to 400,
had been exposed for several days to the elements, until they were buried in a
mass grave by the survivors of the attack.63
Similarly, the Persians ravaged numerous monasteries in Egypt. The monas-
teries of Pelusium were ferociously attacked, whereas monks from the area of
Nikiu were persecuted and killed.64 Those who survived hid themselves in the
desert and other inaccessible areas. Near Alexandria, the Persians killed monks
and destroyed several monasteries, which were never to recover from the
58 For a revised view of the destructiveness of the Persian conquest and also a discussion of
previous scholarship: Avni, The Byzantine-Islamic Transition, pp. 302–311.
59 For the slaughter in Dara: Sebeos, History, trans. Thomson, p. 58. For the massacre in Jeru-
salem: Antiochos Strategos, Sack of Jerusalem, trans. Conybeare, pp. 505–515. For the
events in Alexandria: Foss, “The Persians in the Roman Near East”, p. 165. Archaeological
evidence for destruction in Jerusalem: Avni, “The Persian Conquest of Jerusalem”, pp.
36–40. Archaeological evidence for destruction in Pella: Avni, The Byzantine-Islamic Tran-
sition, p. 217.
60 Flusin, St. Anastase, vol. ii, pp. 177–180; Antiochos Letter to Eustathios, PG 89, col.
1421–1428.
61 Antony of Choziba, Life of George of Choziba, ed. House, pp. 129–130.
62 Flusin, St. Anastase, vol. ii, p. 21 and especially footnote 30.
63 Zias, “Death and Disease in Ancient Palestine”, pp. 150–152.
64 History of the Coptic Patriarchs, ed. Evetts, p. 486; Abu Salih, Churches and Monasteries,
trans. Evvets, pp. 167–168.
270 Theodoropoulos
catastrophe.65 Moreover, the historical Monastery of St. Menas and the settle-
ment surrounding it were burnt and temporarily abandoned providing us with
another incident of Persian anti-monastic violence.66
Thirdly, the Persians did not hesitate to deport the entire population of a
city and even use its inhabitants as slaves. Jerusalem stands again as a great
example. Those who survived the slaughter were gathered in improvised
camps and some of them were deported to Persia in order to work in construc-
tion.67 Forced labor is also attested in the Life of St. Anastasios the Persian at
Caesarea.68 Captivity was the fate for the survivors of the castle Erginay and 33
villages around it in Mesopotamia.69 In Armenia, the citizens of the important
city of Karin were forcibly moved to Ahmatan, whereas many of the inhabit-
ants of Edessa were deported to Persia.70
Lastly, a Persian policy that had probably caused great upheaval was the
persecution of the Chalcedonians. The chronicle of 1234 records that “When
Khosrow conquered Mesopotamia and expelled the Romans from it he ordered at
the same time the Chalcedonian bishops to be expelled from their churches and
those churches to be given to the Jacobites”.71 Similar accounts are provided by
other primary sources such as the chronicle of James of Edessa, Michael the
Syrian and others.72 It is evident that during the Persian occupation numerous
Churches and dioceses were delivered to non-Chalcedonians. In Antioch, the
patriarchal see was occupied by the Monophysite Patriarch Athanasios who in
616 traveled to Egypt to achieve union of the Churches with the homodoxous
Patriarch of Alexandria.73 The above-mentioned factors must have caused the
departure of a great number of citizens, especially of the Chalcedonian Byzan-
tine aristocracy.74
On the other hand, the Arab conquest seems to have been less destruc-
tive and disruptive. No major city bears marks of destruction.75 Apparently,
important urban centers such as Damascus, Emesa, Jerusalem and Antioch
65 History of the Coptic Patriarchs, ed. Evetts, p. 485.

66 Foss, “The Persians in the Roman Near East”, p. 165.
67 Antiochos Strategos, Sack of Jerusalem, trans. Conybeare, pp. 507–510.
68 Flusin, St. Anastase, vol. i, p. 63.
69 Sebeos, History, trans. Thomson, p. 60.
70 For Karim: Sebeos, History, trans. Thomson, p. 64. For Edessa: Chronicle up to 1234, trans.
Palmer, pp. 134–135.
71 Chronicle up to 1234, trans. Palmer, p. 125.
72 James of Edessa, Chronicle, trans. Palmer, p. 38; Michael the Syrian, Chronicle, trans.
Chabot, p. 379.
73 History of the Coptic Patriarchs, ed. Evetts, pp. 480–482.
74 Foss, “The Persians in the Roman Near East”, p. 165.
75 Avni, The Byzantine-Islamic Transition, pp. 311–317.
c apitulated avoiding bloodshed and securing their existing way of life.76 Addi-
tionally, apart from some sporadic incidents, like the raid that killed the broth-
er of Thomas the priest and his fellow monks, there is no evidence for system-
atic violence against religious institutions.77 Furthermore, the Arab conquest
was completed at an unprecedented speed. Within three years, Syria and Pal-
estine were under Arab control, whereas the Persians had needed twelve years
of warfare to achieve it. The fast completion of the conquest meant that there
was less time for the inhabitants to react. The fact that only five hoards of coins
dating to the Arab conquest were found in contrast to the eighteen hoards dat-
ing to the Persian one seems to reinforce this thesis. It also implies a relatively
smoother transition from one regime to another than what it had been the
case twenty years earlier during the Persian conquest.78 Moreover, the con-
querors did not have enough time to involve themselves in provincial adminis-
tration and life. Most of Syrian and Palestinian cities remained predominately
Christian, whereas in the countryside there was very little Muslim presence for
the greater part of the 7th century.79 Provincial administration retained its
Byzantine structures and its Byzantine personnel as papyrological evidence
from Egypt show.80
Additionally, the Arabs respected the existing ecclesiastical status quo at
the time of the conquest. That gave advantage to the Chalcedonians who were
the most dominant Christian group in the Byzantine Empire. It could not be
summarized in a better way than in the following extract from the chronicle of
1234:
The cathedral churches, which had been unjustly confiscated from our
people by Herakleios and given to his co-religionaries, the Chalcedo-
nians, have continued to languish in their possession until the present
day. For at the time when they were conquered and made subject to the
Arabs the cities agreed to terms of surrender, under which each confes-
sion had assigned to it those temples which were found in its possession.
76 For the capitulation of major cities: Al-Baladhuri, Kitab Futuh al-Buldan, trans. Hitti,
pp. 186–193 (Damascus), pp. 200–201 (Emesa), pp. 113–114 (Jerusalem), pp. 226–227
(Antioch). For archeological evidence for the absent of destruction during the Arab con-
quest of Syria: Foss, “Syria in Transition”, p. 264.
77 Thomas the priest, Chronicle, trans. Palmer, p. 16.
78 Avni, The Byzantine-Islamic Transition, p. 324.
79 For evidence for the Christian population in Jerusalem: Avni, The Byzantine-Islamic Tran-
sition, pp. 113–127. For cities and the countryside of Syria: Foss, “Syria in Transition”, p. 236
and p. 258.
80 Papaconstantinou, “Administrating the Early Islamic Empire”, pp. 61–63.
272 Theodoropoulos
In this way the Orthodox were robbed of the Great Church of Edessa and
that of Harran; and this process continued throughout the west, as far as
Jerusalem.81
Moreover, in the first decades of Arab rule Chalcedonians held the most
prominent positions in state administration, at least those destined for non-
Muslims.82 They sometimes appear to have used their power and influence
against other Christian groups continuing in many respects an ecclesiastical
situation familiar from the Byzantine era.83 Thus, it could be argued that the
Chalcedonians of the early Islamic state had fewer reasons to flee than a few
decades earlier under the Persians.
Overall, the relatively smooth transition from Byzantine to Arab rule must
have created an environment of security and stability inviting local popula-
tions to remain in place. On the other hand, the Byzantine state seems to have
implemented a methodical withdrawal of troops and citizens from the con-
quered areas relocating them in the remaining realms of the Empire. Scholars
have shown that the location of the 7th century strategiai in Asia Minor indi-
cates that the withdrawal from the Levant to Asia Minor was carefully planned,
since the armies were placed in areas of sufficient fiscal capacity for the main-
tenance of the troops.84
1 Population Management Policies
In the previous part I argued that the Byzantine state was actively involved in
the migration caused by the Arab conquest of the East, and that the Arabs
caused less destruction than the Persians did, producing an environment of
relevant security, which could allow life to continue as before. In fact, it seems
that the two states competed for the populations of Syria and other regions of
the Eastern Mediterranean. They both implemented a variety of population
management policies in order to populate their cities and provinces in a peri-
od when wars and repetitive waves of plague had decreased the population of
the region to a considerable extent.85 Population management was essential
81 Chronicle of 1234, trans. Palmer, p. 141.

82 Mikhail, From Byzantine to Islamic Egypt, p. 39.
83 Ibid., pp. 39–40.
84 Haldon, Byzantium, p. 227; Hendy, “East and West”, p. 1353.
85 For population decrease in connection to plague in the 6th and 7th centuries: Stathako-
poulos, Famine and Pestilence, pp. 163–169.
for the maintenance of tax revenue, since the economy of both states was pre-
dominately agricultural and based on manpower.86
The most telling evidence for the existence of a population management
policy is the case of population transfers, which was a practice used by both
the Byzantines and the Arabs. As such, I understand all transfers of population
within the borders of a state, which could be either state-motivated or oc-
curred under state coercion. Already from the first decades after the Arab con-
quest, the Caliphate used this practice extensively. Muʿāwiya populated the
coastal areas of Syria with Persians and some Arab tribes after their conquest;
he used the same practice in the case of Antioch as well.87 He also followed a
similar policy after the fall of Tripoli, which he “made a dwelling- place for a
large body of Jews”.88 In the case of the region of Balis, Muʿāwiya covered the
demographic gap, which had been created by the departure of its inhabitants
for the Byzantine Empire, with desert tribes and Arab tribes that had been
newly converted to Islam.89
At the other side of the border, Constans ii transferred Slavs from the Bal-
kans to Asia Minor,90 whereas Justinian ii transplanted some decades later
Slavs to the area of the Opsikion, as well as people from South East Asia Minor
to Thrace, among whom was the family of the future emperor Leo iii.91 Leo
iii’s son, Constantine v, tried to increase the population of Constantinople,
which had suffered severely from an outbreak of plague, by moving to the city
people from the Aegean islands, the region of Hellas and other southern re-
gions.92 A similar way to cope with the depopulation caused by a wave of
plague was followed in the Caliphate, where ar-Rashid tried to attract new
dwellers by distributing gifts and privileges.93 One more example of repopula-
tion of a deserted city is the case of Mopsuestia. The Caliph transferred not
only Arab fighters to the city but also Persians, Slavs and Christians.94
86 Hendy, “East and West”, p. 1308.

87 Al-Baladhury, Kitab Futuh al-Buldan, trans. Hitti, p.180 and p. 227.
88 Ibid. p. 195.
89 Ibid. p. 232.
90 Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen, p. 211.
91 Theophanes, Chronicle, ed. Mango, p. 508 and p. 542. The transfer of Slavs aspired to
strengthen militarily the Empire against the Arabs, whereas the transfer of people
from Germanikeia to Thrace aimed at preventing these people from falling into Arab
hands after the loss of the province. Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen, pp. 221–223 and
pp. 161–162.
92 Ibid. p. 593. Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen, pp. 318–328.
93 Al-Baladhury, Kitab Futuh al-Buldan, trans. Hitti, p. 244.
94 Ibid. p. 256.
274 Theodoropoulos
Another indicator of the importance of manpower at the time is the eager-

ness with which the two states tried to attract certain peoples to live within
their borders. The most important cases were these of the Ghassanids and the
Mardaites. The Ghassanids who were a group of Arab peoples allied to Byzan-
tium through their leading elites, the Jafnids, appear to have struck an agree-
ment with Herakleios, which secured their retreat to imperial soil in case they
were defeated at the battle of Yarmuk.95 The Muslims, though, immediately
after their victory were involved in negotiations with the Ghassanids aiming at
convincing them to choose the Caliphate over the Empire. The first round of
negotiations ended with the departure of an important number of Ghassanids,
30,000 according to the sources, for the Empire, for Caliph Umar did not grant
them their request to keep their religion and yet be taxed like Muslims. In 643,
according to Al-Baladhuri, Umar sent an official to offer better terms to the
Ghassanids asking them to return to the Caliphate’s territory. This offer includ-
ed the satisfaction of their initial appeal for exemption from the kharāj.96
However, the Ghassanids rejected the offer and decided to remain in Byzan-
tine Anatolia.
The other important ethnic group was the Mardaites, whom the Arabs
called al-Jarajimah.97 They were Christians living in Northern Syria enjoying an
autonomous status.98 In 674, they revolted against the Arabs after a series of
Byzantine victories and the arrival of Byzantine elite troops in Syria. Their
joined military action resulted in a treaty favorable for Byzantium, which, how-
ever, included the withdrawal of the Mardaites from Arab territory. Thus under
Justinian ii’s orders a large number of Mardaites, 12,000 according to Theo-
phanes, left Syria for the Empire in 686.99 Although there is no mention of how
and where these people were accommodated, later sources attest the presence
of large communities of Mardaites in Attaleia and Southern Asia Minor in gen-
eral, in Nikopolis in Epirus, the Peloponnese and Kephalonia.100 The remain-
ing Mardaites continued to be a source of problems for the Caliphate until
95 Ibid. p. 207. For a thorough discussion about the problems of defining the Ghassanids:
Fisher, Between Empires, pp. 1–14.
96 Al-Baladhuri, Kitab Futuh al-Buldan, trans. Hitti, 209.
97 Moosa, “Mardaites”, p. 608.
99 Theophanes, Chronographia, ed. Mango p. 507; Howard-Johnston, “Mardaites”, p. 35 esti-
mates that the figure given by Theophanes (12,000) does not include children and women,
thus the total number of Mardaites who left Syria must have been considerably larger.
100 Howard-Johnston, “Mardaites”, p. 35; For a detailed analysis of the movement of Mar-
daites within the Empire, see Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen, pp. 148–158.
Caliph Al-Walid campaigned against them in 707.101 The Arabs concluded a

treaty with them offering the option of either remaining under Arab control or
leaving for the Empire. To those who chose to remain the Arabs offered the
choice to settle wherever they wanted in Syria. They also promised to provide
every family with 8 dinars and a fixed portion of certain goods. Moreover, the
Mardaites would have the right to be dressed and taxed like Muslims, without
being asked to change their religion. Despite these terms, nonetheless, the
leader of the Mardaites together with a body of men chose the path to the
Empire.102
One can easily observe the similarities of the way these two peoples were
treated. Both the Ghassanids and the Mardaites were offered equally favorable
terms in order to remain in and serve the Caliphate. Unlike other Christian
populations, they were given the privilege to be taxed like Muslims, while
keeping their faith. This fact demonstrates the importance of these tribes for
the Arab state, and the intensity of its efforts to win them over to their side. At
the same time, one can suppose that the Byzantines followed a similar policy
of distributing privileges, since both the Ghassanids and the Mardaites chose
to move to and serve the Empire. Moreover, both cases show that Byzantium
had the ability to receive and settle populations, making it possible that earlier
migrations had been dealt with in the same way. As seen above, these people
appear concentrated in specific areas, which is difficult to be explained as re-
sulting from private initiative. Thus, one can argue that they were allocated in
pre-selected places that could be the pattern of accommodating Syrians d uring
the Arab conquest.
Forced population transfer through raids or campaigns in enemy territory
was a common tactic for both the Byzantine Empire and the Islamic state. At
first glance, the majority of the sources speak about the enslavement of the
captured population, without giving prominence to the role of these raids as
parts of a population-management policy. However, there are several men-
tions, which shed new light in this matter, rendering possible to approach oth-
er sources critically and to read between the lines. During the major campaign
of Caliph Sulaymān ibn Abd al-Malik against the Empire, which ended with
the siege of Constantinople in 717/8, the Arabs after capturing Pergamon and
Sardis transferred back to Syria the Syrians who had been living there.103

102 Ibid. p. 249.
103 Chronicle up to 819, trans. Palmer, p. 80 “capturing two cities, Sardis and Pergamum, as well
as other fortresses. They killed many and took many captive. As for the Syrians who had been
exiled there, he set them free in safety.”
276 Theodoropoulos
In fact, the author of the chronicle uses the phrase “set them free in safety”
which makes it more than clear that these people were not enslaved by the
Arabs, neither had been in captivity before; since the author describes them as
exiles, not as prisoners or captives.104
In the same manner, Constantine v taking advantage of the instability in the
Caliphate, where a civil war was raging, attacked Germanikeia in 744 and after
capturing it he took back to the Empire along with his maternal relatives many
Syrians, whom he placed in Thrace.105 In 750 he campaigned anew against the
Caliphate capturing the cities of Theodosioupolis and Melitene.106 Thereafter,
he transferred their population to Thrace as well.107 I would include into the
same framework the naval raid carried out by the Byzantines in 718/19, which
reduced Laodicea and seized its population.108 The Arab source claims that the
inhabitants were taken prisoners, but the information specifying that the Ca-
liph paid ransom only for the Muslim prisoners might mean that there were
Christians as well who did not return to the Caliphate. In fact, a few lines ear-
lier in the same text the author describes how the people of Laodicea capitu-
lated and remained in their city. Thus, a great part of the population was cer-
tainly Christian, which means that the purpose of the naval raid was partly to
relocate Christian populations from the Caliphate to the Empire.
The island of Cyprus, which often changed hands between the Byzantines
and the Arabs in the 7th century, experienced almost all types of population
management tactics. When Muʿāwiya invaded Cyprus for a second time in 654,
he transferred a large number of men to the island, where he built a city and
several mosques. He distributed land to his soldiers, who were meant to stay
there permanently. Consequently, they must have brought their families with
them, which means that the population, which arrived in Cyprus must have
been significant. Later, though, Al-Walid withdrew them probably as part of
the treaty that he had concluded with Justinian ii in 686.109 A few years later,
with all probability before the resumption of warfare in 692, both sides
104 Palmer, West Syrian Chronicles, p. 84 argues that these Syrians had been exiled there by
one of the Byzantine emperors, because of their religious beliefs.
105 Theophanes, Chronicle, ed. Mango, p. 584.
106 Ibid. p. 590.
107 Ibid. p. 593.This population transfer was multipurpose, since it strengthened the Empire
against the Bulgars, it removed valuable manpower from the Caliphate and repopulated
areas which had suffered from plague. Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen, pp. 189–190 and
p. 320.
109 Theophanes, Chronicle, ed. Mango, p. 506 mentions that the two states would share the
revenue of Cyprus, Armenia and Iberia. Al-Baladhuri, Kitab Futuh al-Buldan, trans. Hitti,
pp. 236–237, reports the withdrawal of the Arabs from the island.
r emoved local population from the island that was later returned though.110
The Cypriots, who went to the Byzantine Empire, were re-located in a settle-
ment built by the orders of the emperor Justinian ii in the area of Hellespont
and named after him.
Cyprus might reflect the realities of other regions of the Mediterranean for
which unfortunately the sources are less forthcoming. The military expedition
of Muʿāwiya against Cyprus and the transfer of large numbers of new dwellers
could be a parallel to the Italian expedition of Constans and his stay in Sicily,
as I will discuss later. Moreover, the way the Cypriots were settled in the Em-
pire might suggest how the Syrian refugees had been handled, even if there is
not any mention of such settlements in the sources.111
2 Places of Settlement and Patterns of Migration
Syrian and Palestinian immigrants could be found in various provinces of the

Empire, from Rome in the West to the borders of the Empire with the Caliph-
ate in the East. As seen above, Syrian populations were located in Asia Minor,
where Caliph Sulaymān ibn Abd al-Malik found them after capturing Pergam-
on and Sardis.112 One can argue that as in the case of the Mardaites and the
Ghassanids, Syrians were allocated by the state in specific regions after their
migration. Most probably many refugees settled in Constantinople, where it
seems that there was knowledge of Syriac in the late 7th century.113 The capital
also attracted the fleeing Syrian elites who rose to high offices both in the civic
and ecclesiastical administration. Some characteristic examples of high-rank-
ing Syrians in the civil administration include the logothetes of the genikon,
George,114 and the count of the Opsikion Isoes.115 Syrians with a d istinguished
career in the clergy are undoubtedly Patriarch Anastasios,116 who replaced
110 For the Byzantine side: Theophanes, Chronicle, ed. Mango, pp. 509–510. For the Arab side:
Al-Baladhuri, Kitab Futuh al-Buldan, trans. Hitti, p. 238. Ditten believes that the return of
Cypriots to their island was possibly the result of an agreement between the two sides.
Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen, p. 315.
111 Haldon, “Citizens of Ancient Lineage”, p. 99.
112 Chronicle up to 819, trans. Palmer, p. 80.
113 Haldon, “Citizens of Ancient Lineage”, p. 99.
114 Theophanes, Chronicle, ed. Mango, p. 528; Haldon, “Citizens of Ancient Lineage”, p. 96;
Auzepy, “Le Rôle des Émigrés Orientaux”, p. 480; pbe s. v. Georgios 3.
115 Theophanes, Chronicle, ed. Mango, p. 552; Haldon, “Citizens of Ancient Lineage”, p. 95;
Auzepy, “Le Rôle des Émigrés Orientaux”, p. 481; pbe s. v. Isoes 1.
116 Haldon, “Citizens of Ancient Lineage”, p. 95; pbe s. v. Anastasios 3.
278 Theodoropoulos
Germanos in 730, and Andrew the hymnographer, Bishop of Gortyna.117 More-

over, a prominent Syrian refugee was Kallinikos from Helioupolis, the inventor
of the Greek fire (circa 672), which contributed considerably to the war effort
against the Arabs.118
More evident is the existence of Syrian populations in the western part of
the Empire, especially in Sicily and Rome. As seen above, the West had already
attracted Syro-palestinian migrants since the 620s. In the late 7th and early 8th
centuries, many of the pontiffs were of Syrian origin, namely John v (685–686)
who came from the province of Antioch,119 Sergios (687–701) also from
Antioch,120 Sisinnios (708),121 Constantine (708–715)122 and Gregory iii (731–
741).123 As already mentioned, there was also a pope of Palestinian origin,
namely Theodore (642–649). Moreover, in 7th-century Rome there were at
least four “Greek” monasteries, founded by eastern immigrants. The first two
oriental houses were the Cilician monastery of St. Anastasius ad Aquas Salvias
and the monastery of Renati founded in the first half of the 7th century; where-
as the monastery of St. Saba, which was also called Cella Nova, was founded
later by the fellow-monks of Maximos the Confessor, who arrived in Rome in
646.124 There was also a Syrian monastery called Boetiana, which was founded
in the third quarter of the 7th century and was dissolved by Pope Donus (676–
678) on charges of heresy.125
At the same time, the city witnessed the arrival of the cult of numerous
eastern saints highly venerated in Syria and Palestine as well as religious prac-
tices of the East. Eastern saints such as Theodore Stratelates and Anastasios
the Persian were introduced in the Roman calendar along with the Palestinian
cult of the beheading of St. John the Baptist.126 Finally, a change in local an-
throponyms also indicates an influx of eastern population, since in the second
117 Auzepy, “Le Rôle des Émigrés Orientaux”, pp. 489–490; pbe s. v. Andreas 3.
118 Theophanes, Chronicle, ed. Mango, p. 494; Auzepy, “Le Rôle des Émigrés Orientaux”,
p. 486; pbe s. v. Kallinikos 1.
119 Liber Pontificalis, ed. Duchesne, p. 366 “Iohennes, natione Syrus, de provintia Antiochia, ex
patre Cyriaco”; pbe s. v. Ioannes 31.
120 Liber Pontificalis, ed. Duchesne, p. 371 “Sergius, natione Syrus, Antiochiae regionis, ortus ex
patre Tiberio in Panormo Siciliae”; pbe s. v. Sergios 30.
121 Liber Pontificalis, ed. Duchesne, p. 388 “Sisinnius, natione Syrus, patre Iohanne”; pbe
s. v. Sisinnios 35.
122 Liber Pontificalis, ed. Duchesne, p. 389 “Constantinus, natione Syrus, ex patre Iohanne”; pbe
s. v. Constantinos 136.
123 Liber Pontificalis, ed. Duchesne, p. 415 “Gregorius, natione Syrus, ex patre Iohanne”; pbe
s. v. Gregorios 7.
124 Sansterre, Les Moines Grecs, pp. 11–17; Sansterre, “Le Monachisme Byzantin a Rome”,
p. 704.
125 Liber Pontificalis, ed. Duchesne, p. 348.
126 Ekonomou, The Greek Popes, p. 254.
half of the 7th century a considerable portion of the Roman clergy appear to
bear eastern names, which had never been popular in Rome before.127
Despite the scarcity of the sources, which provide only indirect evidence, it
seems that in Sicily there were numerous communities of Syro-palestinian im-
migrants. After an Arab raid on the island, probably after the murder of Con-
stans ii in 668, the captives chose to disembark in Damascus, which might be
a hint that they were Syrians.128 In 681 Theophanes, a monk from the Syracusan
monastery of Baias, became patriarch of Antioch replacing the excommuni-
cated Makarios.129 This fact implies strong links between the monastery and
Syria.
Additionally, scholars such as McCormick, Sansterre and Prigent have
pointed to links between Sicily and Syria-Palestine. McCormick highlights that
Sicily followed for centuries the liturgical tradition of Syria and Palestine,
which can be attested by the liturgical manuscripts that survived. There is a
striking difference between the traditions of Sicily and Apulia, which followed
the tradition of Constantinople. He dates the tradition of Sicily in the 7th cen-
tury and he links it with the migration of easterners.130 Sansterre notes that
even up to the 9th century there were close relations between the monks of
Sicily and those of Jerusalem.131 He also adds that the Greek hymnographic
tradition of Italy shares many attributes with the tradition of the Holy city.132
On the other hand, Prigent stresses the fact that Syrian sources are well in-
formed about events in Sicily and sometimes they are the only sources about
them. For instance the revolt of John, son of Mzez, against Constantine iv, is
attested only in the chronicle of Michael the Syrian.133 Moreover, there is evi-
dence that the Arab coinage in North Syria and upper Mesopotamia before the
reform of Abd al-Malik followed as a model the folleis of Constantine iv that
were minted in Sicily.134 Finally, he has traced links between silk production in
Sicily and the arrival of Syrian immigrants in the island in the 7th century.135
127 Llewellyn, “The Names of the Roman Clergy”, pp. 360–366.

128 Theophanes, Chronicle, ed. Mango, p. 487; Sansterre, Les Moines Grecs, p. 18.
129 Liber Pontificalis, ed. Duchesne, pp. 351–354.
130 Mc Cormick, “The Imperial Edge”, pp. 37–38.
131 Sansterre, Les Moines Grecs, p. 18.
132 Sansterre, Les Moines Grecs, p. 18.
133 Michael the Syrian, Chronicle, trans. Chabot, p. 455; Prigent, “La Sicile de Constant ii”,
p. 179.
134 Prigent, “La Sicile de Constant ii”, p. 180.
135 Prigent, “La Siberia dell’Impero”, p. 42. A similar phenomenon occurred in Thrace where
the Syrian and Armenian populations transferred by Constantine v were responsible for
the development of carpet production in the region: Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen,
pp. 189–190.
280 Theodoropoulos
Examining this evidence carefully, one can note differences in the pattern
that Palestinians and Syrians appear in the West. The presence of Palestinians
is more evident in the first half of the 7th century, and has a predominately
monastic character. I have already mentioned Pope Theodore and his father,
John Moschos and Sophronios, Maximos the Confessor and his circle of Pales-
tinian monks who founded St. Saba in Rome; the monasteries of Renati and St.
Anastasius that were founded in the first half of the 7th century and had strong
bonds with Palestine. Moreover, the evidence for links between Sicily and Pal-
estine is also of monastic nature. A possible explanation for this phenomenon
is the Persian violence against clerics and monasteries. The apparently system-
atic persecution of monks and clerics contributed to an enhanced presence of
Palestinian monks in the West.
As for the Syrians, their presence becomes more evident in the second half
of the 7th century. The evidence suggests the existence of a large community
of Syrians both in Rome and Sicily, and that this community comprised of lay-
men as well as clergymen. As already seen, there is an indication for Syrian silk
workers in Sicily, whereas the incident with the Syrians captured in Sicily ren-
ders highly possible that large numbers of Syrians resided on the island. Ti-
verios, the father of Pope Sergios who dwelled in Palermo is perhaps an ex-
ample of the presence of Syrian elites on the island.136 In Rome between 685
and 741 five out of nine popes were of Syrian origin, which speaks for a Syrian
community in the city. The Syrian monastery of Boetiana founded between
650 and 676 is another case of Syrians arriving in Rome in the second half of
the 7th century. Furthermore, the increase in the same period of the popularity
of names traditionally associated with Syria in Rome, such as Georgios, Sisin-
nios and Sergios, might also be an indication for the existence of a strong Syr-
ian community in the West.137
If the interpretation of the evidence is correct then one can assume that
there was a relatively large-scale migration of Syrians, along with other Greek-
speaking easterners to the West which became more evident in the second half
of the 7th century. On the other hand, the main migration of Palestinians to
the West occurred in the first half of the 7th century. Moreover, the migration
of Palestinians seems to have been a small-scale movement, whereas the Syri-
ans appear to have arrived in larger numbers. Before I suggest a possible model
of migration to the West, I would like to discuss briefly the migration patterns
of different social classes hoping that it will add plausibility to my argument.
136 Haldon, “Citizens of Ancient Lineage”, pp. 92–94.

137 Llewellyn, “The Names of the Roman Clergy”, pp. 360–366, especially pp. 360–361.
Looking thoroughly into the sources, one can discern two different patterns
of migration or reaction to foreign invasions in general. On the one hand ordi-
nary people appear to have had limited means of fleeing as well as short hori-
zons. They concentrated on escaping the invading troops rather than going to
a specific pre-decided place. They tended to migrate in neighboring provinces,
to flee to fortified cities or to hide in mountain caves and other inaccessible
areas.
During the Persian invasion some of the monks of the monastery of Chozi-
ba decided to flee to the desert of Arabia, whereas the rest, among whom St.
George of Choziba hid in caves and among reeds.138 The survivors of the attack
on the monastery of Mar Saba sought refuge at an abandoned monastery close
to Jerusalem, whereas the people of the city hid in cisterns and caves in order
to escape the menace of the Persians who had breached the walls.139 In Egypt
St. Pisentius along with one of his disciples found refuge at an ancient tomb
full of mummies.140 Some decades later people in Cyprus fled to mountainous
caves in order to survive the Arab invasion.141 Other Cypriots rushed to the
fortified city of Lapethos, which the Arabs besieged.142 A similar account
comes from Palestine where the citizens of unfortified villages sought safety at
the walls of Jerusalem.143 Regarding migration to neighboring provinces, I have
already mentioned the migration of Palestinians and other populations from
the Middle East to Egypt during the Persian invasion. According to some ac-
counts, large parts of the population of entire cities moved to a nearby area
during the Arab conquest only to return after their safety was guaranteed. A
telling example is the case of Laodicea whose citizens temporarily fled to a
neighboring place called al-Yusaiyid, and the population of Aleppo, which ac-
cording to one version of the fall of the city had gone to the region of Antioch
until they came to terms with the Arabs and returned to their city.144
On the other hand, the most privileged social classes followed different pat-
terns of movement and migration. It is apparent that people of high social and
economic standing followed different routes of escape. In contrast with com-
mon people who fled on foot, Byzantine elites could flee aboard ships. This
gave them the ability to migrate to distant provinces or the capital itself
138 Antony of Choziba, Life of St. George of Choziba, ed. Smedt et al., p. 129.
139 For the monks of Mar Saba monastery: Flusin, St. Anastase ii, pp. 177–180. For Jerusalem:
Antiochos Strategos, Sack of Jerusalem, trans. Conybeare, p. 506.
140 Moses of Coptos, Life of St. Pisentius, ed. Amélineau, pp. 137–151.
142 Ibid. p. 176.
144 Al-Baladhuri, Kitab Futuh al-Buldan, trans. Hitti, p. 203 and p. 226.
282 Theodoropoulos
ithout risking falling into enemy hands on the way. It will suffice to recall the
w
examples of John the Almsgiver, Moschos, Sophronios, and Niketas who fled
on ships from Alexandria ahead of the Persian advance. Similarly, when the
city was about to fall into Arab hands the patriarch of Alexandria, Kyros, along
with the governor of the province left the city boarded on a ship.145
A further confirmation of this assumption comes from the Chronicle of 1234
whose author describes the second invasion of the Arabs in Cyprus and
claimed that only the rich could afford fleeing on ships. Moreover, modern
scholarship has shown that it was mostly wealthy, upper class individuals who
could afford overseas traveling. Crossing the Mediterranean was rather expen-
sive even in time of peace, as McCormick has shown in his important work The
Origins of European Economy; this would have made it impossible for common
people to afford such a journey.146
It seems that the only way large numbers of citizens could cross the sea was
under imperial subsidy. It is worth recalling the cases of Tripoli in Phoenicia
and Caesarea in Palestine, which were evacuated by imperial fleets, and were
the only instances were a considerable number of people was transferred by
ships during the Arab conquest of the East. Cyprus too, as already mentioned,
is another example of transferring overseas populations with imperial spon-
sorship. Thus, one can argue that the presence of large Syrian communities in
the West is to be partially attributed to a similar practice, which can be con-
nected to the Italian campaign of Constans ii.
In 662, Constans began his Italian campaign probably aiming at stabilizing
the West, which had already witnessed two rebellions since the beginning of
his reign, and was under the direct threat of the Lombards and the Arabs.147
After wintering in Athens, he disembarked in Taranto in 663 engaging the
Lombards with considerable success. He concluded a peace treaty with terms
favorable to Byzantium. Thereafter, he marched through Naples to Rome where
he spent twelve days and was received by the Pope and the people of the eter-
nal city. After this short stay, he moved to Syracuse where he established his
headquarters. The emperor in all likelihood aspired to use Sicily as a base
against the Arabs who threatened North Africa, and the Lombards who men-
aced the remaining Italian possessions of the Empire. He also wanted to
re-establish order in his rebellious western provinces.

146 McCormick, Origins of the European Economy, pp. 224–227; Sansterre also believes that
the poor had limited resources, and that they could not migrate overseas: Sansterre, Les
Moines Grecs, p. 17.
147 Zuckerman, “Learning from the Enemy”, p. 80.
It is evident that Constans had planned a long-term stay in Sicily from the
fact that while still at Constantinople he wanted to take his family with him,
but he was stopped by the people of the city.148 A Syriac source records that the
emperor exhorted the aristocrats of his retinue to acquire cattle, fields and
houses in Sicily, which is another indication that the duration of the campaign
had been designed to be longer than usual.149 In this sense, such an action
would be parallel to the transfer of Arabs to Cyprus under Muʿāwiya, which
I have already mentioned, or the transfer of Pontians, Armenians and Slavs
to South Italy under Basil i (867–886) and Leo vi (886–912) during the re-
conquest of the region and the establishment of the theme of Longobardia.150
Moreover, Constans might have transferred populations to the West in order to
increase the military capacity of the province, as both Justinian ii and Con-
stantine v later did in the East to enhance the defense of the capital.151 Thus, it
is possible that Constans along with his numerous troops brought civilians to
Italy and Sicily, among whom there must have been a considerable Syrian
element.
Given the instability of the region, it is plausible that Constans might have
wanted to transfer populations loyal to the crown and its religious policies.152
It is worth mentioning that both rebellions used doctrine rhetoric opposing
the monothelete policy of the Heraklian dynasty.153 I believe one should see
under this light the foundation of the Syrian monastery of Boetiana in Rome
which was later dissolved as heretical. Constans might have brought with him
adherents of Monotheletism some of whom were Syrians. Syrian support to
Monotheletism became apparent during the Sixth Ecumenical Council (680/1)
where the only high-ranking clergyman supporting Monotheletism was
Makarios, the patriarch of Antioch.154 The fact that he resided permanently in
Antioch, implies that his opinion mirrored the beliefs of a significant part of
the people of his province. It is noteworthy that the clergy of Syria rejected the
148 Theophanes, Chronicle, ed. Mango, p. 486.

150 Βυζαντινά Στρατεύματα στην Δύση, p. 306 and pp. 329–330.
151 Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen, pp. 162, 189, 221–223 and 313.
152 It has been suggested that Constantine v implemented a similar policy by removing
population from the troublesome and pro-iconophile province of Hellas and placing
them in Constantinople where he could control them. Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen,
pp. 326–327.
153 Jankowiak, Essai d’histoire, pp. 228–231 and pp. 277–280.
154 pbe s. v. Makarios 1.
284 Theodoropoulos
acts of the Council, which proclaimed Dyotheletism, remaining faithful to

Monotheletism for several decades.155
3 Conclusion
The migration of Syrians and Palestinians in the 7th century is a complex and
multifaceted phenomenon, which spanned several decades. Its first phase
started with the Persian invasion of the Levant, which caused a migration wave
towards Egypt, North Africa and Italy. The Persians used considerable violence
against monastic institutions and clerics, which had as a result the migration
of large numbers of such men to the West. As shown, their presence in Sicily
and Rome left deep traces and exerted tremendous influence on papal affairs.
The second phase of this phenomenon began with the Arab conquest of the
East, which caused a migration wave towards Asia Minor and Constantinople.
As I have argued, the Arab conquest was less disruptive, and the Arabs made
an effort not to alter patterns of life in the conquered areas. At the same time,
the Byzantine state conducted a careful withdrawal from Syria and the Medi-
terranean coast channeling considerable numbers of civilians to the remain-
ing parts of the Empire. Thus, the migration during the Arab conquest seems
more like a retreat than a desperate flight. Moreover, the Byzantines imple-
mented a variety of strategies to enhance the demographics of their remaining
provinces. That brought Byzantium in competition with the Caliphate, which
also tried in a similar way to attract people to its soil for contiguous purposes.
I have stressed the importance of population transfers as part of a general pop-
ulation management policy followed by both states, and I have suggested that
Constans might have taken Eastern populations to his Italian campaign, which
could have contributed to the strong presence of Syrians in both Rome and
Sicily. As seen, it was impossible for common people to migrate overseas unless
under imperial subsidy.
Bibliography
Primary Sources
Abu Salih, ed. B.T. Evetts, The Churches and Monasteries of Egypt and Some Neighbour-
ing Countries, Oxford 1895.
155 Jankowiak, Essai d’histoire, pp. 511–514.

Al-Baladhuri, Kitab Futuh Al-Buldan, trans. P.K. Hitti, The Origins of the Islamic State,
London 1916.
Anonymous, Life of John the Almsgiver, ed. H. Delehaye “Une vie inédite de saint Jean
l’Aumonier” Analecta Bollandiana 45 (1927), 5–74. A French translation by Fes-
tugière can be found in eds. A-J. Festugière and L. Rydén, Vie de Siméon le Fou et Vie
de Jean de Chypre, Paris 1974, pp. 321–329 and an English one by Dawes in Dawes, E.,
Three Byzantine Saints. Contemporary Biographies of St. Daniel the Stylite, St. Theo-
dore of Sykeon and St. John the Almsgiver, London 1948, pp. 199–206.
Antiochos Strategos, Account of the sack of Jerusalem, ed. F. Conybeare, “Notes and
Documents: Antiochus Strategos’ account of the sack of Jerusalem in a.d. 614”, Eng-
lish Historical Review 25 (1910), 502–517.
Antiochos Strategos, Letter to Eustathios, PG 89, pp. 1421–1428.
Antony of Choziba, Life of George of Choziba, ed. C. House, “Sancti Georgii Chozebitae
confessoris et monachi vita auctore Antonio eius discipulo”, Analecta Bollandiana 7
(1888), 95–144 and 336–359.
Chronicle of 1234, trans. A. Palmer, The Seventh Century in the West-Syrian Chronicles
(Translated texts for Historians, 15), Liverpool 1993, pp. 111–221.
Chronicle up to 819, trans. A. Palmer, The Seventh Century in the West-Syrian Chronicles
(Translated texts for Historians, 15), Liverpool 1993, pp. 75–84.
James of Edessa, Chronicle, trans. A. Palmer, The Seventh Century in the West-Syrian
Chronicles (Translated texts for Historians, 15), Liverpool 1993, pp. 36–42.
History of the Coptic Patriarchs, ed. B. Evetts, “History of the Patriarchs of the Coptic
Church of Alexandria. Peter i to Benjamin i (661)”, Patrologia Orientalis (1907),
pp. 381–518.
John Moschos, Spiritual Meadow, PG 87:3, pp. 2852–3112.
Leontios of Neapolis, Life of John the Almsgiver, eds. A-J. Festugière and L. Rydén, Vie de
Siméon le Fou et Vie de Jean de Chypre, Paris 1974, pp. 343–409.
Liber Pontificalis, ed. L. Duchesne, Le liber pontificalis. Texte, introduction et commen-
taire (volume 1), Paris 1886.
Maximos the Confessor, Letter 12, PG 91, pp. 460C-509B.
Michael the Syrian, Chronicle, ed. J.B. Chabot, Chronique de Michel le Syrien, Patriarch
Jacobite d’Antioche (volume 2), Paris 1901.
Moses of Coptos, Life of St. Pisentius, ed. E. Amélineau, Étude sur le Christianisme en
Égypte an septième siècle, Paris 1887.
Sebeos, History, trans. R.W. Thomson, The Armenian History Attributed to Sebeos
(Translated Texts for Historians, 31), Liverpool 1999.
Theophanes, Chronicle, eds. C. Mango and R. Scott, The Chronicle of Theophanes the
Confessor. Byzantine and Near Eastern History ad 284–813, Oxford 1997.
Thomas the Priest, Chronicle, trans. A. Palmer, The Seventh Century in the West-Syrian
Chronicles (Translated Texts for Historians, 15), Liverpool 1993, pp. 5–24.
286 Theodoropoulos
Auzepy, M.-F., “Le Rôle des Émigrés Orientaux à Constantinople et dans L’Empire
(634–843). Acquis et Perspectives”, Al-QanṬara 32 (2012), 475–503.
Avni, G., “The Persian Conquest of Jerusalem (614). An Archaeological Assessment”,
Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research, No. 357 (2010), 35–48.
Avni, G., The Byzantine-Islamic Transition in Palestine. An Archeological approach,
Oxford 2014.
Booth, P., Crisis of Empire. Doctrine and Dissent at the End of Late Antiquity, California
2014.
Bosworth, E., “The City of Tarsus and the Arab-Byzantine Frontiers in Early and Middle
ʿAbbāsid Times”, Oriens (1992), 268–286.
Ende des 6. bis zur zweiten Hälfte des 9. Jh., Berlin 1993.
Ekonomou, A., Byzantine Rome and the Greek Popes. Eastern Influences on Rome and the
Papacy from Gregory the Great to Zacharias, a.d. 590–752, Plymouth 2007.
Flusin, B., Saint Anastase le Perse et l’histoire de la Palestine au début du viie siècle (Tome
i, Les textes; Tome ii, Commentaire), Paris 1992.
Foss, C., “The Persians in the Roman Near East (602–630 ad)”, Journal of the Royal Asi-
atic Society, Third Series, Vol. 13, No. 2 (2003), 149–170.
Haldon, J., Byzantium in the Seventh Century. The Transformation of a Culture, Cam-
bridge 1997.
Haldon, J., “Citizens of Ancient Lineage? The Role and Significance of Syrians in the
Byzantine Elite of the Seventh and Eighth Centuries”, in W. Van Bekkum (ed.), Syri-
ac Polemics. Studies in Honour of Gerrit Jan Reinink (Orientalia Lovaniensia A nalecta),
Leuven 2007, pp. 91–102.
Howard-Johnston, J., Witnesses to a World Crisis. Historians and Histories of the Middle
East in the Seventh Century, Oxford 2010.
Howard-Johnston, J., “The Mardaites”, in T. Goodwin (ed.), Arab-Byzantine coins and
History, London 2012, pp. 27–38.
Hendy, M., “East and West. The Transformation of Late Roman Financial Structures”, in
Roma fra Oriente e Occidente (Settimane di studio del Centro italiano di studi
sull’alto medioevo, 49), Spoleto 2002, pp. 1307–1370.
Jankowiak, M., Essai d’histoire politique du monothélisme à partir de la correspondance
entre les empereurs byzantins, les patriarches de Constantinople et les papes de Rome,
Paris 2009.
Kaegi, W.E., Byzantium and the Early Islamic Conquest, Cambridge 1992.
Kaegi, W.E., Heraclius Emperor of Byzantium, Cambridge 2003.
Kennedy, H., “From Polis to Madina: Urban Change in Late Antique and Early Islamic
Syria”, Past & Present 106 (1985), 3–27.
Kennedy, H., “Syrian Elites from Byzantium to Islam. Survival or Extinction?”, in J. Hal-
don (ed.), Money, Power and Politics in Early Islamic Syria. A Review of Current De-
bates, Farnham 2010, pp. 181–200.
Lampakis, St./Leontsini, M./Lounghis, T./Vlyssidou, V., Βυζαντινά Στρατεύματα στην Δύση
(5ος -11ος αι.) Έρευνες πάνω στις χερσαίες και ναυτικές επιχειρήσεις. Σύνθεση και αποστολή
των Βυζαντινών στρατευμάτων στην Δύση, Αthens 2008.
Llewellyn, P.A.B., “The Names of the Roman Clergy, 401–1046”, Rivista di Storia della
Chiesa in Italia 35 (1981), 335–370.
McCormick, M., “The Imperial Edge, Italo-Byzantine Identity, Movement and Integra-
tion, a.d. 650–950”, in H. Ahrweiler/A. Laiou (eds.), Studies on the Internal Diaspora
of the byzantine Empire, Washington DC 1997, pp. 17–52.
McCormick, M., Origins of the European Economy. Communications and Commerce ad
300–900, Cambridge 2001.
Mikhail, M., From Byzantine to Islamic Egypt, New York 2014.
Moosa, M. “The Relation of the Maronites of Lebanon to the Mardaites and Al-Jaraji-
ma”, Speculum 44 (1969), 597–608.
Moshe, G., A History of Palestine, 634–1099, Cambridge 1992.
Papaconstantinou, A., “Administering the early Islamic Empire: Insights from the pa-
pyri”, in J. Haldon (ed.), Money, Power and Politics in early Islamic Syria. A Review of
Current Debates, Farnham 2010, pp. 57–70.
PBE: Martindale, J., et al., Prosopography of the Byzantine Empire (641–867). London
2001 and 2015 Online edition available at <http://www.pbe.kcl.ac.uk>.
Prigent, V., “La Sicile byzantine, entre papes et empereurs (6ème-8ème siècle)” in
D. Engels/L. Geis/M. Kleu (eds.), Zwischen Ideal und Wirklichkeit: Herrschaft auf
Sizilien von der Antike bis zur Frühen Neuzeit, Stuttgart 2009, pp. 201–230.
Prigent, V., “La Siberia dell’Impero. Notes sur l’économie de la province byzantine de
Sicile”, in B. Dominique/J.-M. Martin (eds.), Richesse et croissance au Moyen Âge. Ori-
ent et Occident (Centre d’histoire et civilisation de Byzance, Monographie 43), Paris
2014, pp. 31–55.
Sansterre, J.M., Les moines grecs et orientaux à Rome aux époques byzantine et carolingi-
enne (milieu du vie s. – fin du ixe s.), Brussels 1983.
Sansterre, J.M., “Le Monachisme Byzantin a Rome”, in Settimane di Studio del Centro
Italiano di Studi Sull’ Alto Medioevo, Spoleto 1988, pp. 701–775.
Stathakopoulos, D., Famine and Pestilence in the Late Roman and Early Byzantine Em-
pire a Systematic Survey of Subsistence Crises and Epidemics, Birmingham 2004.
Zias, J., “Current Archaeological Research in Israel: Death and Disease in Ancient Isra-
el”, The Biblical Archaeologist 54, No. 3 (1991), 146–159.
Zuckerman, C., “Learning from the Enemy and More. Studies in Dark Centuries Byzan-
tium”, Millenium. Jahrbuch zu Kultur und Geschichte des ersten Jahrtausends (2005),
pp. 79–135.
Part 4
Diasporas and Migrations across the Medieval
Afroeurasian Transition Zone
∵
Chapter 11
The Aksumites in South Arabia: An African

Diaspora of Late Antiquity
George Hatke
1 Introduction
Much has been written over the years about foreign, specifically western, colo-
nialism in sub-Saharan Africa, as well as about the foreign peoples, western
and non-western alike, who have settled in sub-Saharan Africa during the
modern period. However, although many large-scale states rose and fell in sub-
Saharan Africa throughout pre-colonial times, the history of African imperial
expansion into non-African lands is to a large degree the history of Egyptian
invasions of Syria-Palestine during Pharaonic and Ptolemaic times, Carthagin-
ian (effectively Phoenician) expansion into Sicily and Spain in the second half
of the first millennium b.c.e, and the Almoravid and Almohad invasions of
the Iberian Peninsula during the Middle Ages. However, none of this history
involved sub-Saharan Africans to any appreciable degree. Yet during Late
Antiquity,1 Aksum, a sub-Saharan African kingdom based in the northern Ethi-
opian highlands, invaded its neighbors across the Red Sea on several occasions.
Aksum, named after its capital city, was during this time an active participant
in the long-distance sea trade linking the Mediterranean with India via the
Red Sea. It was a literate kingdom with a tradition of monumental art and ar-
chitecture and already a long history of contact with South Arabia. The history
of Aksumite expansion into, and settlement in, South Arabia can be divided
into two main periods. The first lasts from the late 2nd to the late 3rd century
1 Although there is disagreement among scholars as to the chronological limits of “Late Antiq-
uity”—itself a modern concept—the term is, for the purposes of the present study, used to
refer to the period from ca. 200 A.D. until the fall of the Umayyad Dynasty in 750. It should be
noted that the period within which the Ethiopian kingdom of Aksum held sway only par-
tially overlaps with the timeframe for Late Antiquity adopted here, while the period within
which Aksum was active in South Arabia began sometime before 200 and ended nearly two
centuries before 750.
© George Hatke, �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_012

292 Hatke
a.d.2 and witnessed Aksum’s entry into direct contact, for better or worse, with
the South Arabian kingdoms of Sabaʾ and Ḥimyar. The second began around
the turn of the 6th century and is characterized by the appointment of local
vassal kings, brought to power through military invasions, to rule Ḥimyar on
Aksum’s behalf. Although the period of direct Aksumite rule of Ḥimyar ended
sometime between 531 and 540, Ethiopians of Aksumite origin maintained an
importance presence in South Arabia. Only with the conquest of South Arabia
by the Sāsānid Persians ca. 570 was Ethiopian rule brought to an end.
In addition to their military and political activities in South Arabia, the Ak-
sumites were also active in the region as merchants. Of such commercial ac-
tivities South Arabian inscriptions have nothing to say, though it must be
stressed that direct references to commerce are relatively rare in such inscrip-
tions during all periods. As we shall see,3 ceramic evidence from Qāniʾ, located
on the southern coast of Yemen, indicates an Aksumite presence there. Apart
from Qāniʾ, however, archaeology has until now brought to light little data per-
taining to the Aksumite presence in South Arabia at large. Even Ẓafār, the capi-
tal of Ḥimyar and a town at which the Aksumites are known to have estab-
lished a significant presence, has yielded no more than a single potsherd of
(possible) Aksumite origin.4
Before proceeding, a few words about the terms used for the Aksumites and
their settlements in South Arabia are in order. Inscriptions in the Sabaic lan-
guage, left by both Sabaeans and Ḥimyarites, refer to the African subjects of
Aksum as either “Aksumites” ʾks1mn (*ʾAksūmān) or as “Ethiopians” ʾḥbs2n
(*ʾAḥbūshān), Ḥbs2n (*Ḥabashān), and Ḥbs2tn (*Ḥabashatān). The nisba Ḥbs2y
(*Ḥabashī) “Ethiopian” is also attested.5 It is likely that the former ethnonym
designates specifically the Geʿez-speaking inhabitants of the city of Aksum
and its environs, while the latter refers to the various other groups dwelling in
the northern highlands of Ethiopia who were subject to Aksum. In addition,
armed divisions of Aksumites are designated in Sabaic by the term ʾḥzb
(*ʾaḥzāb), which is derived from Geʿez ḥəzb “people, tribe, crowd, nation” but
is attested in Sabaic only in the plural form (cf. Geʿez pl. ʾaḥzāb). The singular
form is, however, used in a 6th century Syriac text, the Letter of Pseudo-Simeon
of Bēth Arsham, which in one instance seems to refer to the Aksumite resi-
dents in South Arabia as ḥezbā.6 A number of Sabaic inscriptions allude to the
2 Except where otherwise noted, all dates mentioned henceforth refer to years of the Common
Era (a.d.).
3 See §4.
4 Yule, Late Antique Arabia, pp. 104; 105.
5 Ja 576+Ja 577/28 (Jamme, Sabaean Inscriptions, pp. 77; 78–79 [line 12]).
6 Shahid, Martyrs, p. iii (Syriac text).
The Aksumites in South Arabia 293
settlements established by the Aksumites in South Arabia, specifically in the

Tihāma region, as ʾʿṣdn (ʾaʿṣādān).7 Like ʾḥzb, this term is also attested exclu-
sively in the plural form in Sabaic and is derived from Geʿez (ʿaṣad “village,
farm, enclosed area, field”; pl. ʾaʿṣād). To date, these Aksumite settlements are
known only from Sabaic inscriptions and might well have been of an ephem-
eral nature—perhaps camps, or at most small villages, rather than towns. If
and when it becomes possible once more to conduct research in Yemen, ar-
chaeological surveys of the Tihāma may well locate such settlements. In Syriac
sources, Aksumites are generally referred to as Kūšāyē (sg. Kūšāyā), literally
“Kushites”,8 a term derived from the Hebrew name for the Nubians (Kūšîm <
Egyptian K3š), but at times as Hendwāyē (sg. Hendwāyā), literally “Indian”, the
latter a very fluid term that occasionally designates South Arabians, in addition
to people from India proper. Greek sources, though at times referring to the
Aksumites as Ἀξωμιτῶν, more commonly calls them simply Aἰθιoπῶν “Ethiopi-
ans”. The latter ethnonym, like Syriac Kūšāyē, referred originally to the Nubians
but was adopted by the Aksumites in the mid-4th century as the equivalent of
Geʿez Ḥabaśat (> Sabaic Ḥbs2t)9 and is used for the first time by the ecclesiasti-
cal historian Philostorgius (d. 433) as a generic term for the Aksumites.10
Finally, medieval Arabic authors designate the Aksumites by the generic term
for Ethiopians, al-Ḥabasha, less commonly al-Sūdān “the blacks”. A few such
authors knew of a town or region called Aksūm or Akhshūm—the latter form
reflecting the Tigrinya pronunciation11—and were even vaguely aware of its
ancient past12 but, while Aksūm is attested as a personal name in Arabic
sources,13 the Aksumites are never referred to as such in Arabic.
7 For an extended discussion of such settlements, see Shitomi, “Note”.

8 Only once in Syriac literature, in the Ecclesiastical History of John of Ephesus (d. 586/8),
are the Aksumites referred to as ʾAḵsīmīṭōn, a calque on Greek Ἀξωμιτῶν (Hatke, Aksum
and Nubia, p. 161 [n. 681]). Since the relevant passage deals with a group of Aksumite visi-
tors to the Nubian kingdom of Alodia, it has no bearing on the present discussion.
9 Hatke, Aksum and Nubia, p. 52.
10 Murray, “Review: East of Suez”, p. 80.
11 Hayajneh, “Abessinisches”, p. 505.
12 The Egyptian historian Aḥmad bin ʿAlī al-Maqrīzī (d. 1442) and the 16th-century Yemeni
scholar Shihāb al-Dīn bin ʿAbd al-Qādir ʿArabfaqīh are both aware that Aksum was an
ancient city (Hayajneh, “Abessinisches”, pp. 502–503; ʿArabfaqīh, Tuḥfat al-zamān, ed.
Shaltūt, p. 322), while Muḥammad bin ʿAbd Allāh al-Azraqī (d. ca. 865) mentions “the land
of Aksum” (bilād Aksūm) as the place where the Ethiopian king resided (al-Azraqī, Akhbār
makka, ed. al-Ṣāliḥ Malḥas, p. 137).
13 E.g. al-Aksūm bin Aswad bin Yāsir in the genealogy of the South Arabian tribe of
Dhū-Manākh preserved by al-Ḥasan bin Aḥmad al-Hamdānī (d. 950s) in his Kitāb al-Iklīl
(Müller, “Aksum”, p. 220).
294 Hatke
2 Historical Background: Pre-Aksumite and Early Aksumite Times
The African and Arabian sides of the Red Sea have been in contact since pre-
history. One of the most significant long-term results of this contact was the
diffusion of Semitic speech from South Arabia to the Horn of Africa. Attempt-
ing to determine a precise date for this development is all but impossible and,
since the diffusion of Semitic speech was undoubtedly a long process, inap-
propriate. Whatever the case, a turning point in relations between the two
sides of the Red Sea came in the first half of the first millennium B.C. when
South Arabia, in particular the kingdom of Sabaʾ, began exerting a significant
cultural impact on northern Ethiopia, one aspect of which was the use of the
Sabaic language and the South Arabian musnad script in inscriptions. That a
pre-Sabaean Semitic language or group of languages already existed in Ethio-
pia at this time is evident from the lexical and morphological idiosyncrasies
which occur in Sabaic inscriptions from Ethiopia but are absent in the ancient
inscriptions from South Arabia.14 Likewise, the Ethiopian branch of Semitic,
which includes such languages as Geʿez, Amharic, Tigrinya, and Tigre, is char-
acterized by numerous morphological features not attested in any of the writ-
ten languages of ancient South Arabia, which strongly suggests that an older
form of Semitic was introduced to the Horn of Africa well before the first mil-
lennium b.c.
The Sabaic inscriptions that have come to light in northern Ethiopia pre-
serve the names of several kings who reigned during the first half of the 1st
millennium B.C. What their polity was called is unknown, and while scholars
have long assumed that this early Ethiopian kingdom was called Diʿmat, this
name, while attested in some Sabaic inscriptions from Ethiopia, does not
occur in all of the attested royal titles. The same corpus of inscriptions indi-
cates that several South Arabian deities were worshipped in Ethiopia during
this period, namely ʾĪlmuquh, ʿAthtar, Hawbas, and Dhāt-Ḥimāyim, together
with such local deities as Yāfiʿum, Naraw, ʿAybas, Shayḥān, and Ṣādiqān. From
these inscriptions, we also learn of the presence in Ethiopia of a community of
South Arabian expatriates hailing from the Sabaean capital of Mārib and from
the town of Ḥadaqān, the capital of the small kingdom of Samʿī based in the
Yemeni highlands. A number of these resident South Arabians bear the title of
grby, which translates as “stonemason” but which also designates a cadre of
specialist who at times, at least in South Arabia, occupied ministerial positions
at the royal court.15 In Ethiopia, such individuals were effectively agents of
14 Robin in Robin/de Maigret, “Grand Temple”, pp. 784–787; Kropp, “Sabäisch”, p. 333.
15 Maraqten, “Inschrift aus Mārib”, p. 244.
South Arabian cultural influence. Although one might assume the presence of
a parallel community of Ethiopians in South Arabia, no trace of such a com-
munity survives in the archaeological or epigraphic record in the first half of
the first millennium b.c.
In the second half of the 1st millennium B.C., northern Ethiopia entered an
obscure period during which the South Arabian cultural influence gradually
diminished. Although it is impossible to discern any semblance of a coherent
history during this period, it is likely that the region became divided between
several small-scale polities. The picture becomes clearer when Aksum emerged
as the dominant polity sometime around the turn of the Common Era, a devel-
opment that led to a revival—indeed an expansion—of Ethiopian contact
with the outside world. The Periplus of the Erythraean Sea, a Greek text dating
from the mid-1st century which served as a guide for merchants conducting
business in the Red Sea and the western Indian Ocean, describes the Aksumite
town of Adulis, located near the Red Sea coast in what is now Eritrea, as a bus-
tling center of trade at which ivory, tortoise shell, and rhinoceros horn were
exchanged for cloth, garments, tools, weapons, and iron from places as far
afield as the Roman Empire and northwestern India.16 According to the Perip-
lus, the Aksumite king of the time was literate in Greek,17 and indeed Greek
continued to be used in royal inscriptions, side by side with Geʿez, down to the
4th century. Thus, far from being barbarian marauders, the Aksumites who in-
tervened militarily—and at times settled—in South Arabia hailed from an
affluent, cosmopolitan kingdom that engaged in long-distance trade. Material
evidence of this affluence survives in the form of large-scale elite residences
and tombs at Aksum,18 as well as archaeological and numismatic evidence for
trade with the Roman Empire and India.19
3 The Aksumite Presence in South Arabia, ca. 170–270
Although Aksumite merchants were undoubtedly present in South Arabia

from at least the 1st century, it is not until the second half of the 2nd century
that the Aksumites make an appearance in South Arabian inscriptions. They
entered the South Arabian political arena during a period of intense warfare
between the kingdoms of Sabaʾ, Ḥimyar, Qatabān, and Ḥaḍramawt. Of these,
16 Casson, Periplus, §6.2.23–§6.3.4.

17 Casson, Periplus, §5.2.16–22.
18 Phillipson, Foundations, pp. 90; 124–125; 139–157.
19 Phillipson, Foundations, pp. 49–50; 197–200.
296 Hatke
Qatabān was the first to collapse, its territories in the southwest having been
gradually annexed by Ḥimyar until the deathblow was finally dealt by
Ḥaḍramawt ca. 150–160. In the 220s, however, the western part of Ḥaḍramawt
was attacked by Sabaʾ. Although a Ḥaḍramī regime managed to survive, Sabaʾ
and Ḥimyar were the only South Arabian polities with which the Aksumites
are known to have had direct relations. Throughout the 3rd century, down to
the eventual conquest of Sabaʾ by Ḥimyar ca. 275, the Aksumites allied them-
selves alternately with one or other of these two polities depending on the
political climate of the time,20 all the while seeking to establish a sphere of
influence in the Tihāma region, the “wild west” of South Arabia, referred to in
Sabaic inscriptions by the name Sahratān. A poor and relatively peripheral re-
gion, much of the Tihāma, apart from Red Sea ports in the south like al-Mukhāʾ
(controlled by Ḥimyar), lay beyond the direct rule of either Sabaʾ or Ḥimyar. As
late as the first half of the 4th century, the Ḥimyarites, despite having by then
overcome all remaining pockets of resistance in Ḥaḍramawt,21 were obliged to
undertake military operations against the Tihāma.22 Here, too, the Aksumites
established alliances with local tribes like ʿAkkum and Dhū-Sahratim, often act-
ing in concert with these groups against Sabaʾ or Ḥimyar.
Exactly why the Aksumites chose to involve themselves in the political af-
fairs of South Arabia at the time they did is not a question that can be easily
answered. There are, however, indications that the Romans established some
sort of sphere of influence in South Arabia at the end of the 1st century b.c.e,
and even posted troops there.23 From two Latin inscriptions in the Farasān
Archipelago, one dating from ca. 120, the other from 143–144, it is known that a
Roman legionary detachment was stationed there during the 2nd century,
most likely to protect shipping lanes against pirates.24 What exactly happened
after the mid-2nd century is not clear, owing to lack of evidence. Not long after
the record of the Roman presence in the southern Red Sea falls silent, we find
the earliest known reference to the Aksumites in South Arabia in Robin-Umm
Laylā 1, a Sabaic inscription dating from ca. 160–190.25 By this time, so the in-
scription tells us, the Aksumites already penetrated the Yemeni highlands and
had started threatening the local tribes, who in response formed an alliance for
mutual protection. If it is true that the Romans withdrew their military forces
20 Still useful as a summary of Aksumite activities in South Arabia during the 3rd century is
Robin, “Intervention abyssine”.
21 Robin, “Ḥimyar au ive siècle”.
22 ʿAbadān 1/5.24–7 (Müller, Sabäische Inschriften, pp. 51; 52).
23 Speidel, “Almaqah”.
24 Speidel, “Außerhalb des Reiches”.
25 Robin-Umm Laylā 1/1–6 (Robin, “Sabaʾ et la Khawlān”, p. 18).
from South Arabia after the mid-2nd century, the Aksumites might have sought
to take advantage of the situation by seeking to establish a sphere of influence
of their own in the region. What Robin-Umm Laylā 1 does not explain is how
the Aksumites had gotten this far this early. One would assume that they could
only have reached the Yemeni highlands having already established some base
on the Red Sea coast, though it is not clear whether any significant number of
Aksumites had settled permanently in South Arabia at this time. The earliest
epigraphic evidence to that effect appears in the mid-3rd century.
3.1 Sabaean Relations with Aksum under ʾĪlsharaḥ Yaḥḍub and Yaʾzil
Bayyin
A number of important Sabaic inscriptions documenting the Aksumite con-
flict with Sabaʾ date from the coregency of the Sabaean king ʾĪlsharaḥ Yaḥḍub
and his brother Yaʾzil Bayyin (r. ca. 245–260). Of these, several allude to Ak-
sumite settlements in the Tihāma region (ʾʿṣd). The relevant inscriptions all
come from the Sabaean capital of Mārib.
3.1.1 Ir 69
One of the inscriptions in question, Ir 69, was dedicated at the Barʾān Temple
by three officers of the royal brothers, Wahabʾawwām Yiʾdhaf, and Khadhwat
and Karibʿathat ʾAsʿad. According to the text:
ḍbʾ mrʾy-hmw ʾls2rḥ Yḥḍb w-ʾḫy-hw Yʾzl Byn mlky S1bʾ w-Ḏ-Rydn b-ʿly ʾʿṣd
Ḥbs2t w-Ḏ-S1hrtm w-wkb-hmw b-ws1ṭ S1hrtn b-ʾkdn ʿrn ḏ-Wḥdt.26
Their two lords, ʾĪlsharaḥ Yaḥḍub and his brother Yaʾzil Bayyin, the two
kings of Sabaʾ and Dhū-Raydān, waged war against the villages of the
Ethiopians and Dhū-Saharatim, and they came upon them in the middle
of Sahratān in the foothills of the mountain of Waḥdat.
A few lines later in the same inscription, we read that:
s1bʾ w-ḍbʾ mrʾ-hmw ʾls2rḥ Yḥḍb mlk S1bʾ w-Ḏ-Rydn drm ṯntm ʿdy S1hrtm
b-ʿly ʾʿṣd Ḥbs2t w-Ḏ-S1hrtm w-s2wʿ-hw ḫms1-hw ḫms1 S1bʾ w-ḏ-bn ʾqwl
w-ʾs2ʿb Ḥmyrm w-wkbw ʾʿṣd-hmw b-Mqrfm b-s1flt ʾrḍ ʿkm.27
Their lord, ʾĪlsharaḥ Yaḥḍub, king of Sabaʾ and Dhū-Raydān, campaigned
and waged war a second time against the villages of the Ethiopians and
26 Ir 69/20–24 (Bron, “Nouvelle inscription sabéenne”, pp. 79; 80).

27 Ir 69/27–32 (Bron, ibid.).
298 Hatke
hū-Sahratim, and his main army division, the army division of Sabaʾ, and
D
some of (those armed divisions) of the tribal leaders and tribes of Ḥimyarum
served under him, and they came upon their villages in Maqrafum on the
plain of the land of ʿAkkum.
Two points are worthy of note here. One is that no distinction is made between
the villages inhabited by the Ethiopians (Ḥbs2t) and those inhabited by the
indigenous Tihāma tribe of Dhū-Sahratim. Whether this means that both
groups inhabited the same settlements is difficult to say for lack of further de-
tails, though the fact that the term used for village is of Geʿez derivation sug-
gests that those settlements designated as ʾʿṣd were established by the Aksum-
ites, even if they came in time to attract indigenous peoples. Significantly,
when the origins of the inhabitants of the ʾʿṣd are given, Ethiopians are invari-
ably among said inhabitants, and in fact Ja 574, another inscription, which we
shall examine in greater detail shortly,28 links one group of ʾʿṣd exclusively with
the Ethiopians, with no reference to tribes from the Tihāma. Contrasted with
villages of this type are settlements designated qr, ʾdwr, and ʾdyr in Sabaic. Al-
though such settlements, as we shall see below, are at times associated with
Aksumites together with local tribes, the terms used to designate them, while
absent from Geʿez, are attested in Arabic, e.g. qarya “village” and dār “territory,
domain”. Perhaps, then, those settlements designated qr, ʾdwr, or ʾdyr were vil-
lages established by the indigenous peoples of the Tihāma at which Aksumites
later took up residence.
3.1.2 Ja 575
The attack on the Ethiopians at the mountain of Waḥdat is documented an-
other inscription, Ja 575, dedicated at the ʾAwwām Temple by several members
of the tribe of Sukhaymum, the names of whom are not preserved. In this
inscription, we are told that:
wrdw S1hrtn b-ʿly ʾʿṣd dllw l-hmw w-hḏrw hmt ʾʿṣdn bn kfl ʿrn Wḥdt w-ẓʿnw
l-bḥrn w-hdrk-hmw b-ʾṯr-hmw w-ḥrbw h[mt … … h]mt ʾḥbs2n w-ʿkm w-ḏ-
kwn kwn-hmw Ḏ-S1hrtm mwṯbtm bʿd ʾwld-hmw w-qny-hmw w-yʾttmw w-
tqdmn w-rtḍḥn b-ʿm hmt ʾḥbs2n w-[… … w-ʾ]wld-hmw w-ʾʾnṯ-hmw f-hrgw
w-s1byw w-bn-hw f-tʾwlw w-ḥrbw b-ʿynm w-hʿn l-ḏ-mḫrm b-ʿly-hmw ḏ-s1ʾr
bn hmt ʾḥbs2n w-ʿkm w-ḏ-s1tṣrw b[n … …]ʾwm b-ḥs1m w-hrg w-hs1ḥtn ʿnt
hmt ʾḥbs2n w-ʿkm w-kl ḏ-kwn kwn-hmw bn ḏ-ʾs2ʿb Ḏ-S1hrtm.29
28 §3.1.3.
29 Ja 575/4–7 (Jamme, Sabaean Inscriptions, p. 64).
They (i.e. members of Sukhaymum) descended upon Sahratān, against

the villages about which they had been informed. And they threatened
those villages from the flank of the mountain of Waḥdat. And they shifted
their position to the seacoast and followed them (i.e. the enemy) by their
tracks. And they made war on th[ose … … th]ose Ethiopians and ʿAkkum
and those who supported them among Dhū-Sahratim, the sedentary folk,
after their children and their possessions. And they regrouped and fought
and did battle with those Ethiopians and [… … And] their children and
their wives were killed or taken prisoner. And from there they returned.
And they made war at ʿAynum and those who remained of those Ethiopi-
ans and ʿAkkum and those who had sought help fr[om … …] mounted an
attack against them on the following day […] with a decisive defeat and a
killing and a routing of a contingent of those Ethiopians and ʿAkkum and
all those who supported them among Dhū-Sahratim.
Although Ja 575 provides a few details not given in Ir 69, it sheds no light on
the question of Aksumite settlement patterns in South Arabia. Once again, the
Aksumites are said to have operated in concert with the local tribes of ʿAkkum
and Dhū-Sahratim. Perhaps significantly, each time the coalition is mentioned,
the lists of its constituent elements are invariably headed by the Ethiopians
(ʾḥbs2n), while Dhū-Sahratim—and even then, so it appears, only some of
them—merely provided support of an undisclosed nature. This suggests that
the resistance movement in the Tihāma was led by the Aksumites, perhaps at-
tracted to the region because local tribes had sought out their aid in the strug-
gle against the Sabaean state. In the 6th century, disenfranchised elements in
South Arabian society would again seek military aid from Aksum,30 and while
they were prompted to do so by primarily religious—rather than political—
factors, it is not implausible that, already in the 3rd century, marginalized
groups in the Tihāma saw in Aksum a powerful ally. One final point connected
with the portion of text presented above that bears mentioning are the refer-
ences to women and children among those groups whom the Sabaeans at-
tacked. Despite the lacunae in the inscription and the somewhat ambiguous
wording of what text survives, it is likely that the women and children in ques-
tion were affiliated with all three groups in the coalition, rather than with the
Aksumites alone. Insofar as the Aksumites are concerned, two scenarios are
possible. One is that the Aksumite soldiers brought their families with them, in
which case it would seem that they planned to settle permanently in the
Tihāma. Alternatively, such soldiers might have married local women—a not
implausible scenario if, as suggested above, Aksumites and local tribal groups
30 On this, see §5.1.

300 Hatke
occupied the same settlements. In fact, both the relocation of Ethiopian fami-
lies and marriage with local women are likely to have occurred.
3.1.3 Ja 574
Another relevant inscription from the ʾAwwām Temple, Ja 574, is dedicated by
ʾĪlsharaḥ Yaḥḍub and his brother Yaʾzil Bayyin themselves and claims that the
Sabaean god ʾĪlmuquh intervened in Sabaean military operations against the
Aksumites.
ḫmr w-hws2ʿn ʿbd-hw ʾls2rḥ Yḥḍb mlk S1bʾ w-Ḏ-Rydn b-nqm ʾḥbs2n w-Ḏ-
S1hrtm b-ḥrbt ḥrbw b-qr-hmw b-s1rn ḏ-S1hm w-bʿd-hw f-yḍbʾ ʾls2rḥ Yḥḍb
mlk S1bʾ w-Ḏ-Rydn w-b-ʿm-hw ḏ-bn ḫms1-hw w-ʾqwl-hw b-ʿly ʾḥzb Ḥbs2t
w-ʾʿṣd-hmw ʿdy ʾgnw s1rn S3rdd w-yḥrbw hmt ʾḥbs2n w-Ḏ-S1hrtm b-kdnn
ḏ-Wdftn w-Wdyfn w-frs2t Lqḥ w-ḥrbw b-hmyt ʾkdnn ḫms1t w-ʿs2ry ʾdwrm
bn ʾdwr ʾks1mn w-Gmdn w-ʿkm w-ḏ-bn ʾdwr Ḏ-S1hrtm.31
He (i.e. ʾĪlmuquh) bestowed upon and granted to his servant ʾĪlsharaḥ
Yaḥḍub, King of Sabaʾ and Dhū-Raydān, the punishment of the Ethiopi-
ans and Dhū-Sahratim in a battle which they waged in their village(s) in
the valley of Sihām. And after that, ʾĪlsharaḥ Yaḥḍub, King of Sabaʾ and
Dhū-Raydān, and with him some of his main army and his tribal leaders,
waged war against the armed bands of the Ethiopians and their villages,
up to the cultivated area of the valley of Śurdud. And they made war
on those Ethiopians and Dhū-Sahratim at the hill of Wadfatān and (at)
Wadayf ān and (at) the cultivated field of Liqaḥ. And in those hills they
made war on twenty-five villages among the villages of the Aksumites
and Gumdān and ʿAkkum, and some of the villages of Dhū-Sahratim.
As with those villages designated ʾʿṣd in Ir 69 and Ja 575, the villages referred
to as ʾdwr are associated with Ethiopians, here designated specifically as Ak-
sumites (ʾks1mn), as well as with local tribes. In this instance a new group,
Gumdān, joins the ranks with the by now familiar ʿAkkum and Dhū-Sahratim.
Nothing is said of the families of the Aksumites, however, though Gumdān is
said to have sent a delegation to Ṣanʿāʾ—at that time a secondary capital of
Sabaʾ—where they gave their children as hostages (whbw ʾwld-hmw ʾwṯqm).32
31 Ja 574/3–8 (Jamme, Sabaean Inscriptions, p. 60).

32 Ja 574/10–11 (Jamme, Sabaean Inscriptions, pp. 60–61).
3.2 Ḥimyarite Conflict with Aksum

Our final text that refers to Aksumite settlement in the Tihāma, MAFRAY-al-
Miʿsāl 5, is a Sabaic inscription from al-Miʿsāl in southwestern Yemen, dating
from the reign of the Ḥimyarite king Yāsirum Yuhanʿim (ca. 265–287). Dedicat-
ed in honor of the sun-goddess ʿĀliyat by a military leader named Ḥaẓiyyān
ʾAwkan, the inscription documents a military conflict that affected Aksum at
the highest level.
wqh-hmw mrʾ-hmw Ys1rm Yhnʿm mlk S1bʾ w-Ḏ-Rydn b-ywm ʿdyw mlky
Ḥbs2t Dtwns1 w-Zqrns1 w-Ḏ-Mʿfrm w-ḫms1 Ḥbs2t ʿdy ʾrḍ Ḥmyrm w-hs2rʿw
ws3ʿ-hmw b-tḥt Ḏ-Ṣhbm ḏ-b-s1rn Ḫbn w-ts3bbw w-tndfw b-ʿm-hmw ṯlṯt
ʾwrḫm ḏ-rtʿw ḥrtm ʿbrn ḥrtm f-s2rgw b-s1rn Bnʾ w-ts3ʿw b-ʿm-hmw b-tḥt Byt
ḏ-ʾrtʿ w-ts1bṭw b-ʿm-hmw w-s1bṭw-hmw ʿdy hʿdyw-hmw ḥrt-hmw b-s1ḥtm
w-qlmw ḏ-ḫb bn mqtwt w-ʾrgl mlkn w-mns3rtn ḏ-b-ʿm-hmw.33
Their lord, Yāsirum Yuhanʿim, King of Sabaʾ and Dhū-Raydān, com-
manded them on the day when the two kings of the Ethiopians, Datwa-
nas and Zaqarnas and Dhū-Maʿāfirim and the main army of the Ethiopi-
ans advanced into the land of Ḥimyarum and they prepared to fight them
below Dhū-Ṣuḥabim, which is in the valley of Khubān.34 And they en-
gaged, and exchanged arrow-fire, with them for three months, (during)
which they set up one camp against the other. Then they gathered in the
valley of Banaʾ and they (i.e. the Ḥimyarites) engaged in battle with them
below Bayt Dhū-ʾArtaʿ and fought with them and beat them back until
they caused them to fall back to their camp with a routing. And they cut
off those who had acted unjustly against the lieutenants and infantry of
the king and the vanguard that was with them.
That this was a major conflict is evident from the fact that two Aksumite kings,
most likely coregents, got involved.35 As before, the Aksumites allied them-
selves with Dhū-Maʿāfirim. Once the Ḥimyarites overcame this combined force,
they pursued what remained of the Aksumite force, together with several local
tribes that stood in their way.
33 MAFRAY-al-Miʿsāl 5/9–11 (Müller, Sabäische Inschriften, pp. 29–30).

34 This can be identified with Wādī Khubān, located to the east of Ẓafār.
35 The vocalization of the names Datwanas and Zaqarnas is hypothetical. That the individu-
als bearing this name were indeed reigning monarchs rather than simply the sons of kings
is evident from the fact that other Sabaic inscriptions specifically designate other indi-
viduals as sons of the Aksumite king (wld ngs2yn). For attestations of this phrase, see Ja
576+Ja 577/19.22 (Jamme, Sabaean Inscriptions, pp. 77; 78 [line 3]); Ja 631/21 (Jamme, ibid.,
pp. 132; 133).
302 Hatke
tʿbdw w-hbrrn b-ʿly bʿbʿt ʾḥbs2n w-ʿly s2ʿbn ʿrybn w-s2ʿbn Ḥbrn w-s2ʿbn
Yhgmn w-wḍʿ-hmw w-hs1bʿn w-ʾwlw kl ʾqdm-hmw w-ʾwṯq-hmw w-ʾwlw
s3dʿn-hmw w-mdd-hmw w-s2ʿbn Yhgmn f-ʿdyw b-ḫyl-hmw w-ʿdyw w-hbʿln
w-dhr kl mṣnʿ-hmw ḫms1 mṣnʿm w-kl ʾlwd-hmw w-bnt-hmw w-ʾqny-hmw
w-ʾʿṣd-hmw.36
They brought to submission and went forth against the roaming bands
of Ethiopians and the tribe of ʿArībān and the tribe of Ḥubrān and the tribe
of Yuhgamin, and they humiliated them and forced their capitulation.
And they brought back all of their leaders and hostages. And they brought
back their comrades-in-arms and their military aids and (members of)
the tribe of Yuhagmin. Then they advanced and plundered and burned
all of their forts—five forts (in t otal)—and (seized) all of their sons and
their daughters and their possessions and their villages.
As with the other inscriptions which we have examined thus far, it is not pos-
sible to determine what portion of those taken captive were Aksumites. Judg-
ing from the reference to ʾʿṣd, however, it is likely that the Aksumites were rep-
resented among the prisoners-of-war. That children were taken captive
indicates that some of the Aksumites had started families in South Arabia,
whether with Ethiopian spouses who might have accompanied them to their
new home or with local women. MAFRAY-al-Miʿsāl 5, it should also be noted,
contains the last known 3rd-century reference to the Aksumite presence in
South Arabia. Although Ḥimyar maintained relations with Aksum during the
4th century, as we shall see shortly,37 it is not until the early 6th century that we
again find allusions in Sabaic inscriptions to Aksumite settlement in South
Arabia. This suggests that Yāsirum Yuhanʿim was the ruler who succeeded in
expelling the Aksumites from South Arabia.
3.3 Aksumites in Peripheral Areas of South Arabia

Although the epigraphic material analyzed thus far indicates Aksumite settle-
ment only in the Tihāma during the 3rd century, there are hints of an Aksumite
presence in other, more peripheral, parts of South Arabia during the same
period.
3.3.1 Ja 576+Ja 577

One indication of this is a passage in Ja 576+Ja 577, a Sabaic inscription on two
blocks of stone from the ʾAwwām Temple at Mārib. Like most of the Sabaic
inscriptions treated above, it, too, dates from the coregency of ʾĪlsharaḥ Yaḥḍub
36 MAFRAY-al-Miʿsāl 5/12–13 (Müller, Sabäische Inschriften, p. 30).

37 See §4.
and Yaʾzil Bayyin and, in fact, was dedicated by the two kings themselves. At
one point, we are told that the people of Najrān, an oasis located north of the
Yemeni highlands, had rebelled against Sabaʾ and made common cause with
the Aksumites. The latter had even appointed a governor over the town, sup-
ported by an armed contingent.
ys1mʿw k-nblw hmw ʾgrn b-ʿbr ʾḥzb Ḥbs2t l-hʿnn ʿqb ngs2yn b-hgrn Ngrn
w-s2ʿbn Ngrn w-hmw f-nẓrw mwʿd ʾgrn l-tẓryn b-ʿbr ʾmrʾ-hmw ʾmlk S1bʾ
w-hḫw-hw b-mwʿd-hmw l-nṣr ʿnt ʾḥbs2n.38
They (i.e. Sabaeans) had heard that those Najrānīs had sent a mission
to the armed bands of the Ethiopians to aid the nagāśīʼs governor in the
town of Najrān and the tribe of Najrān. And they were aware of the (Ethi-
opians’) promise to the Najrānīs to guarantee protection against their
lords, the kings of Sabaʾ, but they thwarted it through (their knowledge
of) their (i.e. the Najrānīs’) promise to help the contingent of the
Ethiopians.
There is much in this passage that remains obscure. If, however, one accepts
the interpretation presented here, it would seem that the Aksumites had taken
on the Najrānīs as vassals, hence the appointment of a governor who adminis-
tered the town on behalf of the Aksumite king himself, but that the Sabaeans
managed to intervene and reassert control. That this is what happened is evi-
dent a few lines later, where we read:
w-ʿqb-hmw Ḥbs2yn S1bqlm s1[… …h]w w-ʾs1d hbʾs1w w-hs2tʾw qs1dtn f-

nblw b-ʿm-hw w-whbw bny-hmw w-bnt-hmw ʾwṯqm w-ḥmlw ʿdy hgrn
Ẓrbn ʿqb wqh mrʾ-hmw mlkn ʾls2rḥ Yḥḍb l-ʿqb b-hyt hgrn Ẓrbn w-s1ry-hw
Ngrn.39
And as for their Ethiopian governor, Sabqalum [… …h]is […]. And those
who had acted wrongfully and had staged the rebellion sent a mission
with him and they gave their sons and their daughters as hostages. And
they admitted into the town of Ẓirbān a governor whom their lord, the
king ʾĪlsharaḥ Yaḥḍub, commanded to govern in that town of Ẓirbān and
their two valleys of Najrān.
Here the name of the Ethiopian governor is given, though the nature of his in-
volvement in the events surrounding the reassertion of Sabaean control re-
main obscure, owing to the lacuna in the text. Regarding the place-names
38 Ja 576+Ja 577/26 (Jamme, Sabaean Inscriptions, p, 77 [line 10]).

39 Ja 576+Ja 577/28–29 (Jamme, Sabaean Inscriptions, p. 77 [lines 12–13]).
304 Hatke
mentioned in the text, the town of Ẓirbān is most likely to be identified with
the site of al-Ukhdūd,40 located not far from the town of Najrān. The latter had
given its name to the valley in which both towns were located. In view of the
presence of an Ethiopian governor and an armed force of Ethiopians at Najrān,
it is clear that the oasis had a community of Aksumite expatriates during the
mid-3rd century. That Sabqalum is referred to as “the nagāśīʼs governor” (ʿqb
ngs2yn) nagāśī being the title for king in Geʿez indicates that this community
was essentially there to maintain Aksumite control, albeit in the guise of aid-
ing the Najrānīs against the Sabaeans. How long the Aksumite occupation of
Najrān lasted is hard to say, though there is nothing in Ja 576+Ja 577 to suggest
a timeframe of more than at most a few years. Those said to have “acted wrong-
fully and had staged the rebellion” (hbʾs1w w-hs2tʾw qs1dtn) were probably the
Najrānīs. The Aksumites gave aid to the effort and even occupied Najrān, but
since they were not Sabaean subjects, they cannot be said to have rebelled
against Sabaʾ, only to have supported those who did. As a result, it is likely that
the sons and daughters who were handed over as hostages were the children
of local Najrānīs, not Aksumites, though the possibility that at least some of
these children were the offspring of local women by Aksumite troops cannot
be dismissed.
3.3.2 Geʿez Graffiti from the Grotto of Ḥōq (Soqoṭrā)

To date, the only trace that the Aksumites themselves have left of their pres-
ence in South Arabia comes not from the mainland but from the island of
Soqoṭrā. The Periplus of the Erythraean Sea refers to the island as Dioskouridēs
(Διoσκoυρίδης), a name probably derived from a putative Ḏ-S3krd (*Dhū-
Sakūrid),41 and reports that it was a colony of the kingdom of Ḥaḍramawt and
was populated by a mixture of Arabs (i.e. South Arabians), Indians, and Greeks
who had gone there to trade.42 This statement is confirmed by the discovery of
Roman, Ḥaḍramī and Indian pottery on Soqoṭrā.43 Although the Periplus says
nothing about an Aksumite presence on the island, a Belgian team of speleolo-
gists exploring the grotto of Ḥōq at the northern end of Soqoṭrā between De-
cember 2000 and January 2001 came across a series of inscriptions and graffiti
in not only Palmyrene, Ancient South Arabian, Sanskrit, and Middle Indic, but
also Geʿez. Given the timeframe for the corpus, it is clear that the Geʿez graffiti
are of Aksumite date. To be sure, only six Geʿez graffiti can be confidently iden-
tified, together with two that are probably Geʿez and three that could be either
40 Schiettecatte, “Najrān”, pp. 28–29.

41 Robin 2012: 445.
42 Casson, Periplus, §30.10.9–11.
43 Biedermann, Soqotra, p. 33.
Geʿez or Ancient South Arabian.44 Needless to say, this is not a significant num-
ber, particularly when compared to the 193 Indian graffiti and inscriptions,
which make up the majority of the corpus. Nevertheless, it does indicate that
Aksumites were present on Soqoṭrā. To focus just on the six definitively Geʿez
graffiti, three appear to be of Christian origin and shall be treated below,45
while the other three may well date from an earlier period, most probably the
3rd century, when Aksumite influence on mainland South Arabia was at its
height. However, as we shall see in the following section, there is evidence of
continued Aksumite commerce with South Arabia during the 4th century, in
which case Aksumite visits to Soqoṭrā at that time are also conceivable. Of the
three pre-Christian graffiti, two consist of what are probably names: ʾArtaḥ
(ʾrtḥ)46 and Sǝmūr/Samr (Sm[r]).47 The other reads [ʾ]ḥfʿygns[ʿ]t[ś],48 of which
no sense can be made. Although the Periplus alludes to foreign settlers on
Soqoṭrā, there is no hard evidence that the individuals—whatever their ori-
gin—who left written records of their visits to Ḥōq were permanent residents,
and it is likely that this applies to the Aksumites as well. It remains unknown
what relationship the Aksumite visitors to the island had with other foreigners,
as well as with the indigenous inhabitants.
4 Aksumite Relations with South Arabia in the 4th Century
Following the withdrawal of Aksumite military forces from South Arabia after
ca. 270, the kings of Aksum, in particular Ousanas (r. ca. 310–330) and his
brother and successor ʿĒzānā (r. ca. 330–370), continued to lay claim to South
Arabia in their royal titles, which designate as vassals of Aksum both Ḥimyar
and the by now defunct kingdom of Sabaʾ, as well as their respective capitals of
Ẓafār and Mārib. The latter are alluded to by the names of their respective royal
palaces: Raydān at Ẓafār and Salḥīn at Mārib. These claims of dominion over
South Arabia are political fictions through and through,49 but nevertheless in-
dicate that the memory of past Aksumite occupation of South Arabia retained
a certain degree of ideological importance for the kings of Aksum.
It must be emphasized, however, that the cessation of Aksumite occupation
in South Arabia in no way implies a cutting of ties between Aksum and Ḥimyar,
44 Robin, “Sudarabiques et Aksūmite”, p. 439.

45 See §5.4.4.
46 Graffito 2:20 (Robin in Strauch, “Catalogue”, pp. 48–49).
47 Graffito 2:31 (Robin in Strauch, “Catalogue”, p. 60).
48 Graffito 2:30 (Robin in Strauch, “Catalogue”, p. 59).
49 Hatke, Aksum and Nubia, pp. 68–69 [n. 276].
306 Hatke
by now the unquestioned superpower in South Arabia. For one thing, Ḥimyar
maintained diplomatic ties with Aksum during the 4th century, as we learn
from a Sabaic inscription from Mārib (Ir 28) documenting a diplomatic mis-
sion to Aksum dispatched by the Ḥimyarite king Karibʾīl Watar Yuhanʿim (r. ca.
312–316) under the leadership of one Sharaḥʿathat ʾAshwaʿ Dhū-Ḥubāb. The
Aksumites responded with a mission of their own, led by two diplomats named
ʾAḥēqum (ʾḥ[y]qm) and Zalnas (Zlns1) respectively.50 Archaeology also yields
evidence of Aksumite contact with Ḥimyar during the 4th century. For this, we
turn to Qāniʾ, a port founded by the kingdom of Ḥaḍramawt towards the 1st
century b.c.e some 100 km southwest of al-Mukallā. After the fall of Ḥaḍramawt,
Qāniʾ continued to serve as South Arabia’s chief important outlet to the Indian
Ocean. Towards the end of the so-called Middle Period (BA-ii), Aksumite ce-
ramics appear for the first time at the site.51 Since the Middle Period at Qāniʾ
has been dated to the 2nd to 5th century, the appearance of such ceramics can
be dated to sometime not earlier than the 4th century. Sherds similar to, and
possibly to be identified with, Red Aksumite Ware and Gray and Black Ak-
sumite Ware have been also been found at Qāniʾ.52
5 Aksumite Relations with South Arabia in the 6th Century
The 6th century witnessed a renewal of Aksumite military intervention in

South Arabia. Yet the nature of this intervention differed considerably from
that of Aksumite intervention during the 2nd and 3rd centuries. Whereas in
earlier centuries the Aksumites had for the most part occupied relatively pe-
ripheral regions in South Arabia and had formed alliances with such regional
powers as were deemed political useful, their intervention in the early 6th cen-
tury was far more organized and systematic and was driven by a much clearer
agenda. This second period of intervention in South Arabia is characterized by
a policy of appointing sympathetic Christian members of the local elite to rule
Ḥimyar on behalf of Aksum, supported by Aksumite troops and a cadre of
Aksumite officials. Ostensibly, Aksum’s intervention in the early 6th century
50 Ir 28 (al-Iryānī, Fī Taʾrīkh al-Yaman, p. 147). In his transcription of the inscription, al-Iryānī

divides the text into two sections but does not indicate the divisions between the lines of
text as they would have appeared in the original inscription. As with the names of Kings
Datwanas and Zaqarnas in MAFRAY-al-Miʿsāl 5, the vocalization of the names of the Ak-
sumite diplomats is hypothetical. For a discussion of their names, see Müller, “Abessinier”,
pp. 163–164.
51 Sedov, “Stratigraphy and Development”, p. 375.
52 Sedov, “Synagogue”, p. 107 (Fig. 46/442, 444–445), 110.
was prompted by the persecution of Christians—specifically Christians of the

Miaphysite sect to which the Aksumites belonged53—by Jewish Ḥimyarites.
While it might well have been the case that the Aksumites simply used this
bout of persecution as a pretext for establishing a sphere of political influence
in South Arabia, the evidence from the Geʿez records left by the Aksumites—
not to mention the Syriac and Greek sources that document South Arabian
affairs in the 6th century—present this period of Aksumite intervention in un-
abashedly religious terms.54
5.1 Historical Background

While some details remain obscure, the general course of events in 6th-century
South Arabia is reasonably clear. During the reign of the Ḥimyarite king
Marthadʾīlān Yanūf (r. ca. 500–518?), the Aksumites seem to have established a
diplomatic presence at the Ḥimyarite capital of Ẓafār.55 Although some schol-
ars have gone so far as to posit that Marthadʾīlān Yanūf was actually brought to
power by the Aksumites,56 the extant documentation for his reign does not
yield any concrete data bearing on the manner in which he came to the
throne.57 If the presence of Aksumite diplomats at Ẓafār indicates amicable
relations between Aksum and Ḥimyar—whatever the religion of king
Marthadʾīlān Yanūf might have been—this state of affairs seems not to have
lasted for long, for at some point during the second decade of the 6th century
a systematic persecution of South Arabia’s Christian community was initiated.
In response to this persecution, the Aksumite king Kālēb (r. ca. 510–540) dis-
patched a punitive campaign to South Arabian under the command of a
Ḥimyarite named Ḥayyān ca. 518.58 In the process, the Aksumites brought to
53 Nestorians, the other major Christian sect represented in South Arabia, appear to have
not only been left alone during the persecutions, but are even charged in Miaphysite
sources with having acted as collaborators with Ḥimyarite Jews in the persecutions
(Arzhanov, “Zeugnisse”).
54 For a detailed discussion, see Hatke, Africans in Arabia Felix. Although the corpus of 6th-
century Geʿez inscriptions found in Yemen (Hatke, ibid., pp. 355–384; Müller, “Äthiopische
Inschriftenfragmente”, passim) implies the presence of Aksumites in Ḥimyar, they have
been omitted from the present study on the grounds that, in terms of their actual content,
they yield little or no information about Aksumite settlement in South Arabia.
55 See §4.
56 Robin, “Ḥimyar et Israël”, pp. 871; 873.
57 That Marthadʾīlān Yanūf did not come to power through royal succession is evident from
the fact that he never bears a patronym, as all Ḥimyarite rulers born of a king were in the
habit of doing.
58 Moberg, Book of the Himyarites, p. 3b (Syriac text). This individual’s name appears in
the form Ḥywnʾ in the Syriac text. He is most likely to be identified with the Ḥyn who,
according to Kālēb’s victory inscription from Aksum, RIÉth 191/35 (Drewes/Schneider,
308 Hatke
power a Ḥimyarite Christian named Maʿdīkarib Yaʿfur. Although this king man-
aged to establish a degree of stability in South Arabia and embarked on a cam-
paign of military expansion into Central and North Arabia that took Ḥimyarite
troops as far as central Mesopotamia,59 his reign was brought to an abrupt end
ca. 522, when the Ḥimyarite Jewish rebel Yūsuf ʾAsʾar Yathʾar declared himself
king and reinitiated the persecution of South Arabia’s Christians. The first tar-
get in Yūsuf’s campaign was the Aksumite community in Ẓafār, after which the
Christians of the Tihāma were attacked.60 Then, after the Tihāma was fortified
as a precaution against Aksumite incursions, Najrān was besieged and its
Christian inhabitants were given the choice of converting to Judaism or the
sword. When most of Najrān’s Christians refused to recant their faith, they
were slaughtered en masse by Yūsuf’s forces. In response to these aggressions,
Kālēb invaded South Arabia once more in 525, this time leading the invasion
force in person. Following his defeat of Yūsuf, Kālēb set about restoring those
churches that had been destroyed in the conflict and welcoming back within
the fold those Christians who had converted to Judaism under duress, after
which he placed another South Arabian Christian, Sumūyafaʿ ʾAshwaʿ, on the
Ḥimyarite throne.
However, as before, the reign of this Aksumite vassal was not to last long, for
at some point between 531 and 540 a new potentate came to power—not a
Ḥimyarite Jew this time but in fact a Christian Ethiopian general in the Ak-
sumite army named ʾAbrǝhā, who had come to South Arabia during the inva-
sion in 525 and had stayed on, rising through the ranks until he seized power
and declared himself an autonomous king of Ḥimyar. After two punitive cam-
paigns sent by Kālēb failed to remove ʾAbrǝhā from power, Aksum begrudg-
ingly accepted his rule over Ḥimyar on condition that he paid tribute.61 While
there is no indication as to how long he maintained his end of the bargain,
ʾAbrǝhā maintained diplomatic relations with Aksum, as well as with the Ro-
mans and the Sāsānids, as well as with the Ghassānids and the Lakhmids, who
were clients of the Romans and Sāsānids respectively.62 Like Maʿdīkarib Yaʿfur,
ʾAbrǝhā undertook a program of military expansion in the Arabian Peninsula,
and managed to extend Ḥimyar’s sphere of political influence as far as the oa-
sis of al-Hufūf in East Arabia and the frontier of the Roman Empire in the
“Inscriptions guèzes”, p. 273) had been sent by the king to Ḥimyar with the Aksumite army.
For a detailed discussion of Ḥayyān’s identity, see Hatke, Africans in Arabia Felix,
pp. 124–137.
59 Robin, “Royaume hujride”, pp. 686–691.
60 See below.
61 Procopius, History of the Wars, trans. Dewing, §1.20.8.
62 cih 541/87–92 (Müller, Sabäische Inschriften, p. 115).
north.63 Yet under the brief, ineffectual reigns of his sons Yaksūm (r. ca. 560–
565) and Masrūq (r. ca. 565–570) this pan-Arabian empire quickly crumbled,
and South Arabia was itself conquered by the Sāsānids in the 570s.64
5.2 Gar antichità 9 d

Our first text pertaining to the Aksumite presence in 6th-century South Arabia
is the Sabaic inscription Gar antichità 9 d. Originally erected at the Ḥimyarite
capital of Ẓafār, it was moved at some point to Bayt al-Ashwāl, where it was
reused in the structure of a modern house. The text reads as follows:
1.[b-rdʾ w-]b-ḥmd Rḥmnn bʿl s1myn w-b-2.[nṣr] mrʾ-hmw mlkn Mrṯdʾln

Ynwf 3.S2gʿ w-bny-hw Wdfh w-ʾṣbḥh tn4.bltn brʾw w-hqs2bn w-ṯwbn 5.byt-
hmw Ws2bʿn bn mwṯr-hw ʿd6.y tfrʿ-hw w-qs2bw b-hw mbhʾtm b-m7.nhmtm
w-mwglm b-zkt Rḥmnn wrḫ-h8.w Ḏ-Mʿn ḏ-l-ts1ʿt ʿs2r w-s1ṯ mʾtm.65
1.[With the aid of, and] with praise to, Raḥmānān, Lord of Heaven, and
with 2.[the help] of their lord, King Marthadʾīlān Yanūf:66 3.Shegāʿ and his
sons Wadfā and ʾAṣbeḥā, the am4.bassadors, built, completed, and reno-
vated 5.their house of Washbaʿān from its foundations to 6.its roof, and
finished off therein the entrance with polished ma7.sonry and alabaster,
by the grace of Raḥmānān; the month 8.of Dhū-Maʿūn of 619 (of the
Ḥimyarite Era=March 509).
Since the dedicants of this inscription are described as “ambassadors” (tnblt),

it is clear that they had come from abroad.67 Müller identifies their names
as Ethiopian,68 in which case we can assume that they came from A ksum.
63 Robin/Ṭayrān, “Soixante-dix ans”.

64 See §6.
65 Müller, Sabäische Inschriften, p. 92.
66 Here, the use of “lord” (mrʾ) in reference to Marthadʾīlān Yanūf should be understood as a
term of respect rather than an expression of political submission. This is paralleled else-
where in the South Arabian epigraphic corpus by instances in which foreigners dedicat-
ing an inscription will invoke the local ruler as “lord”. Thus in res 2999, a Minaic inscrip-
tion from Barāqish (ancient Yathill), the dedicant, Yishraḥʾīl bin ʾAlbāʾ, himself a Minaean,
invokes the names of the Minaean king Waqahʾīl Yithaʿ and his son and coregent ʾĪlyafaʿ
Yishūr, as well as the name of the Qatabānian king Shahr Yagill Yuhargib, referring to all
three as “lord” (Robin, “Royaume de Maʿīn”, pp. 180–181). Similarly, Ja 931, a Ḥaḍramitic
inscription from al-ʿUqla (ancient ʾAnwādum) dedicated by a group of foreign envoys hail-
ing from Palmyra, Chaldaea, and India, invokes the Ḥaḍramī king ʾĪlīʿazz Yaluṭ, referring
to him as “their lord” (mrʾ-s1m) (Jamme, al-ʿUqlah Texts, pp. 44–45).
67 For the sake of comparison, it bears mentioning that the Sāsānid diplomatic mission
which ʾAbrǝhā had received in the 540s is referred to as tnblt mlk Frs1 “the ambassadors of
the king of Persia” in cih 541/89–90 (Müller, Sabäische Inschriften, p. 115).
68 Müller, “Abessinier”, pp. 163–164.
310 Hatke
lthough a number of Sabaic inscriptions dating from the 5th and 6th centu-
A
ries were dedicated by family groups,69 nothing is said about the extended
family (or families) of Shegāʿ and his sons. It can hardly be doubted, however,
that the residence which they built at Ẓafār was intended to accommodate
wives and children as well.
5.3 The Aksumite Invasion of 518

The period between Marthadʾīlān Yanūf’s reign and the Aksumites’ appoint-
ment of Maʿdīkarib Yaʿfur as king of Ḥimyar remains obscure, though if the
Syriac Book of the Ḥimyarites is to be believed, it witnessed the persecution of
South Arabia’s Christian community by Ḥimyarite Jews. Documentation for
the Aksumite invasion of South Arabia in 518, which brought Maʿdīkarib Yaʿfur
to power, is similarly scant. The chapters that dealt with this invasion in the
Book of the Ḥimyarites are missing from the sole extant manuscript of the text
and our knowledge that they existed at all is based solely on the surviving table
of contents, while RIÉth 191, a Geʿez inscription from Aksum dating from the
reign of Kālēb, preserves only a very laconic mention of the invasion and says
nothing of the settlement of Aksumites in South Arabia, nor even of the Ak-
sumites’ having brought Maʿdīkarib Yaʿfur to power.70 Rather, it is in the far
more abundant and detailed documentation of the Aksumite invasion of 525
that we find references to the presence of Aksumites in South Arabia at the
time when Yūsuf seized power. It can be safely assumed that most members of
this community settled in South Arabia following the invasion of 518. They in-
cluded a military contingent, presumably acting as an armed guard for
Maʿdīkarib Yaʿfur, as well as religious leaders and no doubt administrators as
well. From the number of Aksumite casualties of Yūsuf’s agressions, as record-
ed in Syriac and Sabaic sources, it is even possible to gain a rough idea of the
size of the Aksumite community of Ẓafār.
5.4 The Aksumite Community in South Arabia in the Early 520s

The Martyrium Arethae, a 6th-century Greek text documenting Yūsuf’s perse-
cution of South Arabian Christians, is, while useful in many regards, not
69 These include inscriptions dedicated by men with their wives and children (Gar nuove
iscrizioni 4; Ibrahim al-Hudayd 1; res 5094); by a man with his wife, sons, and daughters
(ZM 5+8+10); by a man with his brothers, his wife, and his children (res 4109); and by a
man with his mother, wife, and children, together with all of the members of his house-
hold (cih 543). For the full text of these inscriptions, see the Corpus of Late Sabaic In-
scriptions in the University of Pisa’s Digital Archive for the Study of Pre-Islamic Arabian
Inscriptions (http://dasi.humnet.unipi.it/).
70 RIÉth 191/34–6 (Drewes/Schneider, “Inscriptions guèzes”, p. 273).
articularly helpful in terms of data on South Arabia’s Aksumite community,

p
as it states only that Yūsuf’s forces killed all the men left by Kālēb in South
Arabia, without furnishing any details.71 Instead, Syriac and Sabaic sources
provide most of the information on the Aksumite presence in South Arabia
following the invasion of 518. It is to these sources that we now turn.
5.4.1 Simeon of Bēth Arsham

To begin with the Syriac sources, the Miaphysite bishop Simeon of Bēth Arsh-
am (d. 540s) preserves a letter sent to the Lakhmid ruler al-Mundhir iii
(r. 503/5–554) from Yūsuf himself in the autumn of 523. In it, the Ḥimyarite
king states that the attack on the Aksumites residing in South Arabia consti-
tuted the first stage in his anti-Christian campaign.
W-qadmāyaṯ l-kūllhōn Kūšāyē ḏa-šḇīqīn (h)waw b-aṯran d-nāṭrīn (h)waw

ʿīttā hāy d-sabbar(w) (h)waw l-hōn da-ḇnaw b-aṯran eštaḵḥeṯ d-ešaggeš
w-elbūḵ ennōn w-qeṭleṯ l-kūllhōn d-hāwīn (h)waw māṯēn wa-tmānēn
gaḇrē ḇnay qyāmā w-ʿālmāyē. Hāy dēn ʿīḏaṯhōn ʿḇaḏtāh bēṯ knūštā
dīlan.72
First I was able to throw into disorder and seize all those Ethiopians
who remained in our country, who were guarding that church which they
had published abroad that they had built in our country, and I killed
them all, 280 men—monks and laymen. That church of theirs I converted
into a synagogue for us.
Based on this passage, we can conclude that the Aksumite invasion of South
Arabia in 518 was aimed at more than bringing the Christian Ḥimyarite
Maʿdīkarib Yaʿfur to power, for the construction of a church in Ḥimyar73 and
presence there of Aksumite monks (gaḇrē ḇnay qyāmā) indicates an effort to
promote Christianity in the country. As for the resident Aksumite laymen
(ʿālmāyē), it is likely that this group included an armed contingent as well as
administrators and advisers to Maʿdīkarib Yaʿfur. Although the text states that
the monks and laymen together numbered 280, it is quite possible that this
number does not take into account the wives and children of the laymen, who
71 Martyrium Arethae §3.11–12.

72 Simeon of Bēth Arsham, Lettera, ed. and trans. Guidi, p. 2 (Syriac text).
73 The church alluded to in this passage might be the structure which Kālēb claims in RIÉth
191/35 to have built in Ḥimyar (Drewes/Schneider, “Inscriptions guèzes”, p. 273), though
this is by no means certain. As we shall see below (§5.4.3), there was at least one other
church associated with, and possibly built by, the Aksumites at the port of al-Mukhāʾ dur-
ing this period.
312 Hatke
are more likely to have been taken prisoner than killed. The Book of the
Ḥimyarites and the Letter of Pseudo-Simeon of Bēth Arsham provide additional
data, giving Abābūt as the name of the leader of the local Ethiopian communi-
ty.74 Müller identifies this name with Old Amharic Abbabūt or Abbabat, a
name which survives in Modern Amharic in the form Abbabačč.75 Although
Yūsuf’s letter does not specify where this massacre took place, the Letter of
Pseudo-Simeon of Bēth Arsham notes that Abābūt was the archbishop of the
Ethiopians (rīšā dh-qaššīšē Ḵūšāyē) in Ẓafār (Ṭaypar)76 and states that three
hundred men (tlāṯmā garē;77 “three hundred warriors” tlāṯmā ʿaḇday qrāḇā, ac-
cording to the Book of the Ḥimyarites78) accompanied him when he went forth
to meet Yūsuf in person.
5.4.2 Ry 508
Further information on Yūsuf’s attack on the Aksumites took place in Ẓafār is
provided by Ry 508, a Sabaic inscription from the site of ʿān-Halkān 1 in the
Jabal Kawkab region of southwestern Saudi Arabia, dating from June 523 (Dhū-
Qiyāẓān in Year 633 of the Ḥimyarite Era). In this inscription we read:
Qyln S2rḥʾl Yqbl bn S2rḥbʾl Ykml bnw Yzʾn w-Gdnm w-Ḥbm w-Ns1ʾn w-Ġbʾ
ts1ṭrw b-ḏn ms1ndn d-s2mw b-s1bʾtm ʾwd-h k-hm ʿm mrʾ-hmw mlkn Ys1f
ʾs1ʾr ʿly ʾḥbs2n b-Ẓfr w-dhrw qls1n w-wrd mlkn ʾs2ʿrn w-ḏky-hw b-gys2m
w-ḥrb Mḫwn w-hrg 4.kl ḥwr-hw w-dhr qls1n.79
The tribal leader Sharaḥʾīl Yaqbul bin Shuraḥbiʾīl Yakmul of the Banū
Yazan and the Gadanum and Ḥabbum and Nasīʾān and Ghubaʾ wrote in
this inscription, which they set up during the campaign against the Ethi-
opians in Ẓafār with which they were charged, when they were with their
lord, the King Yūsuf ʾAsʾar. And they burned the church and the king came
down to the ʾAshʿar (tribe) and sent him (i.e. Sharaḥʾīl Yaqbul) with a de-
tachment and he made war on Mukhāwān and he killed all of its inhabit-
ants and he burned the church.
From this portion of the inscription we learn that the attack on the Aksumites
in Ẓafār was followed by an attack on southwestern Yemen, targeting the port
of al-Mukhāʾ (Sabaic Mḫwn *Mukhāwān). Of the enemy forces, some 13,000 are
74 Moberg, Book of the Himyarites, p. 7a (Syriac text); Shahid, Martyrs, pp. iii–iv (Syriac text).
75 Müller, “Abessinier”, p. 164.
76 Shahid, Martyrs, pp. iii–iv (Syriac text).
77 Shahid, Martyrs, ibid.
78 Moberg, Book of the Himyarites, p. 7a–b (Syriac text).
79 Ry 508/1–4 (Müller, Sabäische Inschriften, p. 98).
said to have been slain and 9500 taken prisoner,80 though the inscription says
nothing about how many of these enemies were Aksumite.
5.4.3 Ry 507
For further information on Yūsuf’s military campaigns and the manner in
which they affected the Aksumite community of South Arabia, we turn to Ry
507 from Biʾr Ḥimā, also located in southwestern Saudi Arabia and dating from
July 523 (Dhū-Madhraʾān in Year 633 of the Ḥimyarite Era), which presents cer-
tain details relating to the activities of Yūsuf’s forces not included in Ry 508:
4.dhrw qls1n w-hrgw ʾḥbs2n b-Ẓfr w-k-w[rd mlkn ʾs2ʿrn ….]ḍh Rʿwm […]
w-hrg-h[m]w ṯlṯ mʾtm [……]mw w-kl-ḏky b-ʿ[l]y [ʾs2ʿr]n 5.w-mṣnʿ S2mr w-
Rkbn w-Rmʿ w-M[ḫwn …]bnḥ[…]ny w-mtw b-ʾs2ʿr[n] w-[dh]rw qls1n w-
hrgw w-ġ[n]mw [ʾḥbs2n] b-Mḫwn b-[ḥw]r-hw Frs1nytm.81
4.they burned the church and killed the Ethiopians in Ẓafār, and when
the king ca[me down in force upon the ʾAshʿarān ….] Raʿwum […] and he
killed 300 of them […]. And when he sent (an expedition) against [ʾAshʿar]ān
5.and the fortresses of Shamīr82 and Rimaʿ83 and Mukhāwān … … …]
and they died in ʾAshʿar[ān]; and they [bur]ned the church and killed and
plundered [the Ethiopians] in Mukhāwān, together with its (other) [inhab]
itants, the Farasān.84
Of particular interest here is the allusion to 300 enemy casualties. Although the
identity of this enemy is obscured by the lacunae in the text, the number given
here is close enough to the 280 Ethiopian monks and laymen whom Yūsuf
boasts of killing in the letter quoted by Simeon of Bēth Arsham to suggest that
they were Aksumites. Ry 507 is also of importance for the history of the Ak-
sumite diaspora in South Arabia as it indicates that, in addition to Ẓafār, the
Aksumites had by the early 6th century established a presence at the port of
al-Mukhāʾ, and that the town had a church, possibly built by the Aksumites.
That al-Mukhāʾ attracted Aksumite settlers is undoubtedly due to the port’s
location on the Red Sea, which made it an ideal center for trade with Africa, as
80 Ry 508/5 (Müller, Sabäische Inschriften, p. 98).

81 Müller, Sabäische Inschriften, pp. 103–104.
82 Present-day Shamīr in the Yemeni Tihāma.
83 Rimaʿ is regarded by al-Hamdānī as part of the territory of the ʿAkk tribe (al-Hamdānī,
Ṣifat jazīrat al-ʿarab, ed. al-Ḥawālī, p. 107).
84 This tribe appears to have given its name to the Farasān Islands, located off the southern
Red Sea coast of Saudi Arabia.
314 Hatke
indeed it was since at least the 1st century.85 It is likely that many of the Ak-
sumite residents of al-Mukhāʾ were merchants, as most of those resident at
Qāniʾ are likely to have been. Since, however, Qāniʾ seems never to have been
targeted by Yūsuf’s campaigns, nor to have been directly affected by Kālēb’s
campaigns in South Arabia, its Aksumite community never merits mention in
written sources. If ceramic evidence is any indication, the Aksumite commu-
nity at Qāniʾ would seem to have passed its prime by the 6th century.
5.5 Other Aksumite Communities in 6th-Century South Arabia

Thus far, we have seen that there were Aksumite communities at both Ẓafār
and al-Mukhāʾ during the early 6th century. What about elsewhere in South
Arabia? As in the 3rd century, there is evidence of an Aksumite presence at
Najrān as well as on Soqoṭrā. The Book of the Ḥimyarites states that there was at
least one Ethiopian deacon (mšamšānā) named Yōnan in residence at Najrān.86
He and several other foreign clergymen—two priests from the Lakhmid capi-
tal of al-Ḥīra in south-central Mesopotamia, a priest and a deacon of Roman
origin, and a priest of Persian origin—are said to have been interrogated by
Yūsuf during his occupation of Najrān.87 What happened in the immediate
aftermath of this interrogation is not clear, for an entire leaf is missing from the
manuscript. When the text resumes, we find Yūsuf announcing that these for-
eign clergymen were to be burned alive like the other Christians of Najrān.88 At
this point there follows another large lacuna in the text, and it is not until the
beginning of the following chapter that the text can be reconstructed, though
by then the narrative has moved on to the unrelated issue of a woman martyr
named Ṭrwybʾ (=Ẓarwība?). Textual lacunae aside, it is likely that Yōnan was
martyred together with his fellow clergymen. Whether other Aksumites resid-
ed in Najrān at this time, as they appear to have during the mid-3rd century,89
is not clear from what survives of the Book of the Ḥimyarites.
That the Aksumites maintained ties with Soqoṭrā during the 6th century is
evident from the account of Cosmas Indicopleustes, a merchant who, during
his visit to Ethiopia ca. 518 met Greek-speaking merchants from Soqoṭrā.90
85 According to the Periplus of the Erythraean Sea (Casson, Periplus, §16.6.8-13), the mer-
chants of Mouza, the name by which the anonymous author designates al-Mukhāʾ, con-
ducted commerce with the port of Rhapta, located somewhere on the coast of what is
now Tanzania.
86 Moberg, Book of the Ḥimyarites, p. 14b (Syriac text).
87 Moberg, Book of the Ḥimyarites, ibid.
88 Moberg, Book of the Ḥimyarites, p. 15a.
89 See §3.3.1.
90 Cosmas Indicopleustes, Topographie chrétienne, ed. and trans. Wolska-Conus, §3.65.12–13.
That Aksumites, in turn, traveled to Soqoṭrā is evident from three Geʿez graffiti
from the grotto at Ḥōq, which, according to Robin, are probably of Christian
origin and of 6th-century date.91 The first of these (2:25) reads ṣḥ[f] Bḍʿ “He has
written: Blessed!”,92 the second (2:27) Bḍ[ʿ] ṣḥ[f] “‘Blessed!’ he has written”,93
the third (2:34) ṣḥf Bṣʿ “He has written: Blessed!”.94 Robin draws attention to
parallel phrases in Geʿez literature in hagiographies of the Aksumite-period
saint Lībānōs, according to which the saint had written the Beatitudes in the
country of Degsā (hallawa ṣǝḥīfō Bǝḍūʿān ḫaba mǝdra Dǝgsā).95 As with the
Geʿez graffiti from earlier periods that have become known at Ḥōq,96 however,
these three graffiti constitute a rather dubious foundation on which to base the
hypothesis of a permanent Aksumite colony on Soqoṭrā. While Christianity is
known to have established a presence on the island by the 6th century,97 the
fact that Soqoṭrī Christians adhered to the Nestorian Church, as opposed to the
Miaphysite Church to which the Aksumites belonged,98 suggests that the Ak-
sumites had little influence on the island. Indeed, it is not even clear whether,
following the invasions of Ḥimyar in 518 and 525, the Aksumite sphere of influ-
ence even encompassed Soqoṭrā.
91 Robin, “Sudarabiques et Aksūmite”, p. 440.

92 Robin in Strauch, “Catalogue”, pp. 54–55.
93 Robin in Strauch, “Catalogue”, p. 57.
96 See §3.3.2.
97 In his description of Soqoṭrā, Cosmas Indicopleustes, Topographie chrétienne, ed. and
trans. Wolska-Conus, § 3.65.6–13, alludes to the presence on the island of clerics ordained
in Persia, i.e. the Sāsānid Empire, and a multitude of Christians. Such a community can
only have formed over a period of several decades, if not generations, in which case the
origins of Soqoṭrī Christianity would date back to at least the 5th century.
98 On the history of Soqoṭrī Christianity, see Beckingham, “Some Notes”, passim; Bieder-
mann, Soqotra, pp. 39–63. Although the chronicler João de Barros (d. 1570) claims that the
Christians of Soqoṭrā belonged to the same sect of Christianity as the Ethiopians, i.e. Mi-
aphysite Christianity (Beckingham, “Some Notes”, p. 174), this idea is likely to have arisen
from a lack of awareness on the part of his informants of the doctrinal nuances of eastern
Christianity. Of de Barros’ statement that Soqoṭrī Christians chanted in “Chaldaean” (cal-
deu), Beckingham (ibid., p. 180 [n. 5]) states that “[t]his would normally mean Syriac, but
the word is sometimes used by the Portuguese for Geʿez”. Since, however, the Ethiopian
Church is not known to have exerted its influence on Soqoṭrā during any period, it is
highly unlikely that the indigenous Christians of the island knew Geʿez. The “Chaldaean”
in which they chanted is therefore likely to have been either Syriac—regardless of wheth-
er or not the locals still understood it—or even, perhaps, the Soqoṭrī language, which the
Portuguese categorized as “Chaldaean” for the sake of convenience. That a significant lan-
guage barrier separated the Portuguese from the indigenous Soqoṭrīs should not be
forgotten.
316 Hatke
5.6 The Ethiopian Community under ʾAbrǝhā

With the reign of ʾAbrǝhā (ca. 531/5–560) we come to the final period of the
history of the Aksumite diaspora in South Arabia. Where this period differs
from those that preceded it is that now the Aksumites residing in South Arabia
were the subjects of a regime that had effectively cast off the yoke of Aksumite
rule. In fact, it is by no means clear to what extent—if at all—the members of
this diaspora continued to self-identify as Aksumite once ʾAbrǝhā had achieved
independence from Aksum. For this period, we are primarily dependent on
Sabaic inscriptions dating from his reign as well as early medieval Arabic
sources, together with a brief summary of his reign supplied by the Roman
historian Procopius (d. 554). That Arabic sources show particular interest in
ʾAbrǝhā is due primarily to the Islamic tradition of his having led an ill-fated
campaign to destroy Mecca’s Kaʿba shrine.99 Our concern here, however, shall
be with the way in which the documentation for ʾAbrǝhā’s reign presents the
Ethiopian community in South Arabia at the time.
5.6.1 Sabaic References: cih 541

Only once, in his famous inscription from the dam at Mārib, cih 541, does Sa-
baic documentation from ʾAbrǝhā’s reign allude to Aksum, and then only indi-
rectly, in connection with the reception of a diplomatic delegation from the
nagāśī, i.e. the Aksumite king (mḥs2kt ngs2yn).100 When the Ethiopian follow-
ers of ʾAbrǝhā are mentioned elsewhere in the same inscription, they are re-
ferred to as “Ethiopians” (Ḥbs2t or ʾḥbs2n) rather than as “Aksumites” (ʾks1mn).
Thus in one passage, ʾAbrǝhā’s armed forces are said to have been comprised of
both “Ethiopians and Ḥimyarites by the thousands” (Ḥbs2t [w-]Ḥmyrm
b-ʾʾlfm).101 Ethiopians and Ḥimyarites are paired in another passage recording
their participation in repair work at the Mārib dam. The passage in question
states that, when a plague (ḍll) struck the region and caused deaths among the
tribes, ʾAbrǝhā “dismissed them, his Ethiopians and his Ḥimyarites” (ʾḏnw l-
hmw l-ʾḥbs2-hmw w-ʾḥmr-hmw), until the plague subsided.102 Apart from
ʾAbrǝhā himself, the dam inscription also refers to four other Ethiopians by
name. The first was one Gerā Dhū-Zabānir (Grh Ḏ-Zbnr),103 whose name
99 al-Ṭabarī, Annales, ed. de Goeje, vol. 2, pp. 936–945. Traditions about ʾAbrǝhā’s campaign
against Mecca are based on Sūrat al-Fīl “The Chapter of the Elephant”, the 105th chapter
of the Qurʾān, though that text, which consists of only five verses, contains no mention of
ʾAbrǝhā, the Kaʿba, or Mecca.
100 cih 541/88 (Müller, Sabäische Inschriften, p. 115).
103 cih 541/19 (Müller, Sabäische Inschriften, p. 111).
üller associates with the masculine personal and tribal name of Gerā, attest-
M
ed in Tigre.104 This Gerā, so cih 541 informs us, had been sent by ʾAbrǝhā to
suppress a rebellion in the region of Mashriqān, located in southern Yemen
between the Yemeni highlands and the Ḥaḍramawt, only to be killed himself
by the rebels.105 Two other Ethiopians are reported to have served as governors
(ḫlyf) during ʾAbrǝhā’s reign, one named Waṭṭā (Wṭh) and the other ʿAwīdā
(ʿwdh).106 Although Müller identifies both as Ethiopian by origin, the inscrip-
tion states that they were affiliated with Gadanum,107 a Sabaean tribe which
probably had its homeland in the area around Mārib but also had members at
Ṣanʿāʾ, Jiḥāna, and Najrān, as well as in Wādī al-Jawf.108 It is possible that Waṭṭā
and ʿAwīdā were associated with Gadanum because they exercised some form
of political authority over this tribe or, alternatively, because they had been
clients of the tribe—in the same way, perhaps, that non-Arab converts to Islam
became clients (mawālī) of Arab tribes during the early Islamic period.109 An-
other Ethiopian affiliated with a South Arabian tribe—and the fourth Ethio-
pian besides ʾAbrǝhā to be mentioned by name in cih 541—was one of
ʾAbrǝhā’s own sons, referred to in the inscription as ʾAksūm Dhū-Maʿāhir (ʾbrh
Ḏ-Mʿhr), who headed some sort of entourage (ʾlmtm) that accompanied ʾAbrǝhā
to Mārib.110 This individual is undoubtedly the Yaksūm identified in Arabic
sources as a son and successor of ʾAbrǝhā, the Arabic form of his name perhaps
deriving from Amharic *Ya-Aksūm “He of Aksum”.111 Maʿāhir, with which he
was affiliated, was a Ḥimyarite princely lineage based 150–200 km southeast of
Ṣanʿāʾ. Once again, the nature of this affiliation is not entirely clear.
Among the Ethiopians mentioned in cih 541 there would no doubt have
been those who, like ʾAbrǝhā, had arrived in Ḥimyar with the Aksumite inva-
sion of 525, if not before. Others might have been among the two armed forces
which, according to Procopius,112 Kālēb had sent to Ḥimyar in a vain effort to
remove ʾAbrǝhā from power. Unfortunately, neither the extant Sabaic sources
nor Procopius give us any sense of the size of the Ethiopian community in

108 Robin, “Matériaux”, p. 160.
109 Crone, Slaves on Horses, pp. 49–57 and passim.
111 Cf. Amharic Yāmlāk (< *ya + Amlāk), “he of God”, and Yāmrōt (< *ya + amrōt) “he of love/
pleasure”. Worthy of note in this regard is a 10th-century Coptic text in which the Queen
of Sheba is called Iesaba, a name which Vycichl (“Amharisme”) derives from the Amharic
*ya-Sabā “she of Sheba”.
112 Procopius, History of the Wars, trans. Dewing, §1.20.2.
318 Hatke
South Arabia during ʾAbrǝhā’s time. As we have seen, there were some 300 Ak-
sumites who had settled at Ẓafār alone in the aftermath of the invasion of 518.
Although most of these are likely to have been killed by the forces of Yūsuf
ʾAsʾar Yathʾar, the number of Aksumites residing in South Arabia would un-
doubtedly have been replenished because of the invasion led by Kālēb in 525.
When one considers as well the deserters from the two subsequent invasions
sent by Kālēb, it is likely that several thousand Ethiopians resided in South
Arabia in ʾAbrǝhā’s day.
5.6.2 Arabic References: al-Ṭabarī

Turning to the Arabic sources, the most detailed—if perhaps apocryphal—
account of ʾAbrǝhā’s coming to power is preserved by Muḥammad bin Jarīr al-
Ṭabarī (d. 923) and is based on a tradition related by Muḥammad ibn Isḥāq (d.
767?). According to this account, ʾAbrǝhā seized power as a result of a single-
combat encounter with one Aryāṭ, a general in the Aksumite army who re-
mained in authority in South Arabia for several years after what was appar-
ently the invasion of 525. Aryāṭ was rather treacherously put to death by a slave
of ʾAbrǝhā’s named ʿAtwada, after which “the army of Aryāṭ flocked to ʾAbrǝhā
and all of the Ethiopians in Yemen gathered together (around him)” (inṣarafa
jund Aryāṭ ilā Abraha fa-jtamaʿat il-Ḥabasha bil-Yaman).113 Aryāṭ, it should be
noted in passing, is known solely from Arabic sources.114 It is possible that the
story of his demise preserves some vague memory of ʾAbrǝhā’s overthrow of
Sumūyafaʿ ʾAshwaʿ, an individual who is otherwise unknown to Arabic tradi-
tion. Alternatively, it is possible that Aryāṭ was the leader of one of the two
punitive campaigns, which Kālēb had sent against ʾAbrǝhā, according to Pro-
copius, but that, with the passage of time, he came to be associated in Arabic
tradition with the invasion of 525. The account of Hishām bin Muḥammad al-
Kalbī (d. 819), also preserved by al-Ṭabarī, follows more or less the same narra-
tive, but gives a different name to ʾAbrǝhā’s slave, which in the extant manu-
scripts of al-Ṭabarī appears in the form ʾrnjdh or ʾrbjdh, the vocalization of
which is uncertain.115
113 al-Ṭabarī, Annales, ed. de Goeje, vol. 2, p. 932.

114 ʿAlī bin al-Ḥusayn al-Masʿūdī (d. 956) gives the full name of Aryāṭ as Aryāṭ bin Aṣḥama
(al-Masʿūdī, Murūj, ed. Dāghir, vol. 2, p. 52). It is possible, though, that the Aṣḥama ele-
ment was borrowed from Arabic traditions about the 7th-century Ethiopian king al-
Aṣḥama, who supposedly granted asylum to the Muslims when the latter were faced with
persecution by the pagan Quraysh. Accounts of al-Aṣḥama may preserved memory of the
seventh-century Aksumite king ʾƎlla-Ṣaḥām (Fiaccadori, “Ǝllä Ṣäḥam”).
6 The End of Ethiopian Rule
Whatever the origins or historicity of the story of the clash between ʾAbrǝhā
and Aryāṭ, the regime which ʾAbrǝhā established in South Arabia was not to
last for long. According to Arabic sources, it was brought to an end through the
combined efforts of disenfranchised Ḥimyarites and their Sāsānid allies ca.
570. Once again, al-Ṭabarī, drawing on earlier sources, preserves the most de-
tailed account. Citing Ibn Isḥāq and Hishām bin Muḥammad, al-Ṭabarī states
that a Ḥimyarite nobleman named Sayf bin Dhī Yazan appealed to Kisrā, i.e.
the Sāsānid emperor Khusraw Anushiruvān (r. 531–579), for aid in expelling the
Ethiopians from his country. Eventually, the emperor sent an invasion force to
South Arabia under the command of one Wahriz,116 which succeeded in killing
Masrūq and bringing Sayf to power.117 Once in power, Sayf launched what
amounted to an all-out slaughter of South Arabia’s Ethiopian population.
ʿAdā ʿalā l-Ḥabasha fa-jaʿala yaqtuluhā wa-yabquru l-nisāʾahā ʿammā fī

buṭūnihā idhā afnāhā illā baqāyā dhalīla qalīla fa-ttakhadhahum
khawalan.118
He attacked the Ethiopians and began to kill them and ripped out (the
fetuses) which their women had in their bellies, until he had annihilated
all but a few wretched remnants of them, whom he seized as slaves.
It was not long, however, before a few of these slaves rose up and killed Sayf.
Angered by the assassination of his client, Kisrā dispatched Wahriz once more
to South Arabia. This time, the punishment meted out to what remained of the
Ethiopian community was harsher still.
Ammarahu an lā yatruk bil-Yaman aswada wa-lā walad ʿArabiyyatin min

aswad illā qatalahu ṣaghīran aw kabīran wa-lā yadaʿ rajulan jaʿdan qaṭaṭan
qad sharika fīhi l-Sūdān.119
He (i.e. Kisrā) commanded him not to leave in Yemen a black or the
child of an Arab woman by a black without killing him, young or old; nor
to let live a single curly- or crispy-haired man with whom the blacks had
been involved.
116 Wahriz is in fact a title rather than a personal name (Potts, “Sasanian Relationship”,
p. 207).
117 al-Ṭabarī, Annales, ed. de Goeje, vol. 2, pp. 945–957.
119 Ibid.
320 Hatke
It would appear from this passage that there was a certain degree of inter-
marriage between Ethiopians and local South Arabian women during the 6th
century. Whether the women alluded to in connection with the slaughter un-
leashed by Sayf were also the South Arabian spouses (or concubines) of resi-
dent Ethiopians or were themselves of Ethiopian extraction is not clear.
As a caveat, it must be stressed that the Arabic accounts of the fall of the
Ethiopian regime in Ḥimyar undoubtedly contain a large amount of spurious
material, as a result of the passage of time between the events they describe
and the time when they were written down, coupled with the introduction of
hyperbolic and legendary elements. Nevertheless, the Sāsānid invasion—and
eventual conquest—of Ḥimyar was an event known to late 6th-century Ro-
man historians. This development is treated, if only briefly, by the late 6th-
century historians John of Epiphania120 and Theophanes of Byzantium.121 Al-
though neither author has anything to say about the fate of South Arabia’s
Ethiopian community in the aftermath of the Sāsānid takeover, it is striking
that the Arabic accounts of the Muslim wars of conquest in the 7th and early
8th centuries say nothing about the participation of South Arabia-based Ethio-
pian troops. This is despite the well-documented participation of indigenous
South Arabian tribes in these wars,122 including groups like Mahra,123 which
had been relatively unimportant in the context of late pre-Islamic history. Al-
though it is not impossible that some Ethiopians were subsumed anonymously
within the ranks of South Arabian tribes, one would not expect such a scenario
had they constituted a large community which cohered as a self-contained
block, as the Ethiopians had in South Arabia during the 3rd and 6th centuries.
Likewise, while the Meccan tribe of Quraysh is known to have traded with
South Arabia,124 contact with the Ethiopians does not seem to have taken
place in the context of trade with South Arabia.125 More likely, Qurashī mer-
chants encountered Ethiopians either in the course of visits to Ethiopia
itself,126 or through transactions with Ethiopians who had traveled to Mecca.127
120 Theophylact Simocatta, History, trans. Whitby/Whitby, p. 85 (iii.9.3–6).

121 Photius, Bibliothèque, ed. and trans. Henry, vol. 1, p. 78 (64.15–17).
122 Al-Medej, Yemeni Relations, pp. 110–139; Smith, “Yemenite History”.
123 Hence the settlement of Mahra tribes in the conquered provinces following the Muslim
invasions (al-Medej, Yemeni Relations, pp. 162; 165; 166).
124 Crone, Meccan Trade, pp. 120–124; 141–144; 149; 150; 152; 163.
125 Crone, Meccan Trade, pp. 126–128.
126 Crone, Meccan Trade, pp. 124–129. The nature of Meccan trade with Ethiopia is unclear,
not least because, in contrast to other regions with which Mecca traded in late pre-Islamic
times, Arabic sources fail to mention any place-names within Ethiopia (ibid., p. 125).
127 Crone, Meccan Trade, pp. 125–126.
The most plausible conclusion, then, is that South Arabia’s Ethiopian popula-
tion was indeed drastically reduced in number following the overthrow of the
regime established by ʾAbrǝhā in the 570s, whether through slaughter of the
sort described in Arabic sources, by a mass exodus of Ethiopians from the re-
gion, or, most probably, by a combination of both factors.
7 Conclusion
Sabaic inscriptions, supplemented by Syriac, Greek, and Arabic texts, provide

a record of Aksumite Ethiopian contact with, and settlement in, South Arabia
from the late 2nd century down to the mid-sixth. To be sure, there are some
noteworthy gaps in this textual record. Thus, only one relevant text, the Sabaic
inscription Ir 28, dates from the 4th century, and even this inscription docu-
ments diplomatic relations between Aksum and Ḥimyar rather than Aksumite
settlement in Ḥimyar. As for the textual record for the 5th century, this remains
completely silent on the issue of either a possible Aksumite presence in South
Arabia or Ḥimyarite relations with Aksum at that time. The most abundant
and detailed documentation of the Aksumite community in South Arabia
dates from the 6th century.
It must be stressed that the textual data on which this study is largely based
represents what must have been only a portion of the Aksumite expatriate
community in South Arabia during late pre-Islamic times. Not surprisingly,
those Aksumites who warranted mention by name in the textual sources were
almost entirely of elite status, including such individuals as community or re-
ligious leaders, governors, ambassadors, and kings. Ceramics from Qāniʾ sup-
plement this record by providing evidence of the (at least seasonal) presence
of Aksumite merchants in South Arabia, a group not represented in textual
sources. As in medieval and modern Yemen, there would undoubtedly have
been Ethiopian slaves and laborers in late pre-Islamic South Arabia though, for
obvious reasons, such low-status individuals are absent from both the textual
and, so far as we can tell, the archaeological record—barring the case of
ʾAbrǝhā’s slave ʿAtwada, who might never have existed.
Despite the incompleteness of the extant data, it can be confidently stated
that no country is known to have maintained relations with South Arabia over
as long a stretch of time as Ethiopia. This is hardly surprising, given the close
geographical proximity of Ethiopia and South Arabia. As observed at the be-
ginning of this study, Aksum was the only sub-Saharan state known to have
expanded outside Africa at any point in history. The record of its activities in
South Arabia are equally unique in that they provide the only extensive corpus
322 Hatke
of written material documenting the presence of sub-Saharan Africans in the

pre-Islamic Near East.128
Bibliography
Primary Sources
ʿArabfaqīh, Shihāb al-Dīn, Tuḥfat al-zamān aw futūḥ al-ḥabasha. Al-ṣirāʻ al-ṣūmālī
al-ḥabashī fī l-qarn al-sādis ʿashar al-mīlādī, ed. F.M. Shaltūt, Cairo 1971.
al-Azraqī, Muḥammad bin ʿAbd Allāh, Akhbār makka wa-mā jāʾa fīhā min al-āthār, ed.
R. al-Ṣāliḥ Malḥas, 2 vols., Mecca 1965.
Casson, L., The Periplus maris Erythraei: Text with Introduction, Translation, and Com-
mentary, Princeton 1989.
Cosmas Indicopleustes, Topographie chrétienne, ed. and trans. W. Wolska-Conus,
3 vols., Paris 1968–73.
al-Hamdānī, al-Ḥasan bin Aḥmad, Ṣifat jazīrat al-ʿarab, ed. M. al-Ḥawālī, al-Riyāḍ 1974.
al-Masʿūdī, ʿAlī bin al-Ḥusayn, Murūj al-dhahab wa-maʿādin al-jawāhir, ed. Y.A. Dāghir,
4 vols., Beirut 1965.
Moberg, A. (ed. and trans.), The Book of the Himyarites. Fragments of a Hitherto Un-
known Syriac Work, Lund 1924.
Photius, Bibliothèque, ed. and trans. R. Henry, 9 vols., Paris 1959.
Procopius, History of the Wars, trans. H.B. Dewing, Cambridge, Massachusetts 2006.
Rufinus, The Church History of Rufinus of Aquileia, Books 10 and 11, trans. P.R. Amidon,
New York 1997.
Simeon of Bēth Arsham, La lettera di Simeone vescovo di Bêt Arsâm sopra i martiri omer-
iti, ed. and trans. I. Guidi, Rome 1881.
128 One could add, of course, the references to Africans, specifically Ethiopians, in pre-
Islamic Arabic poetry, though such references tend on the whole to be made only in pass-
ing, and there is at times some doubt as to how authentically pre-Islamic this corpus is.
Similarly, although early Islamic sources in Arabic allude to the Ethiopian presence in the
Ḥijāz in pre-Islamic times, such sources post-date the events they describe by several cen-
turies, in contrast to the Sabaic, Greek, and Syriac sources treated in this study, which are
either contemporary with the events they describe or post-date such events by at most a
few decades. It should also be noted that, although the Aksumite community of South
Arabia is the only African diaspora community in the ancient Near East of which we can
meaningfully speak, Graeco-Roman texts and art have left a fairly substantial documenta-
tion of a sub-Saharan African presence in the Mediterranean world in Classical Antiquity
(Snowden, Blacks in Antiquity). The main difference there, however, is that sub-Saharan
Africans were never in a position of political power in the Mediterranean, as the Aksum-
ites were in South Arabia.
al-Ṭabarī, Muḥammad bin Jarīr, Annales quos scripsit Abu Djafar Mohammed ibn Djarir
at-Tabari = Taʾrīkh al-rusul wal-mulūk, ed. M.J. de Goeje, 15 vols., Beirut 1965.
Theophylact Simocatta, The History of Theophylact Simocatta. An English Translation
with Introduction and Notes, trans. M. Whitby/M. Whitby, Oxford and New York
1986.
Arzhanov, Y., “Zeugnisse über Kontakte zwischen Juden und Christen im vorislami
schen Arabien”, Oriens Christianus 92 (2008), 79–93.
Beckingham, C.F., “Some Notes on the History of Socotra”, in R.L. Bidwell/G.R. Smith
(eds.), Arabian and Islamic Studies. Articles Presented to R.B. Serjeant on the Occasion
of his Retirement from the Sir Thomas Adam’s Chair of Arabic at the University of
Cambridge, London and New York 1983, pp. 172–181.
Biedermann, Z., Soqotra: Geschichte einer christlichen Insel im Indischen Ozean vom Al-
tertum bis zur frühen Neuzeit, Wiesbaden 2006.
Bron, F., “Sur une nouvelle inscription historique sabéenne”, Studi Epigrafici e Linguis-
tici 10 (1993), 79–83.
Crone, P., Slaves on Horses. The Evolution of the Islamic Polity, Cambridge 1980.
Crone, P., Meccan Trade and the Rise of Islam, Princeton 1987.
Drewes, A.J./Schneider, R., “Les inscriptions de la période pré-axoumite”, in
E. Bernand/A.J. Drewes/R. Schneider (eds.), Recueil des inscriptions de l’Éthiopie des
périodes pré-axoumite et axoumite. Tome i: Les documents, Paris 1991, pp. 65–213.
Drewes/R. Schneider, “Les inscriptions de la période axoumite. A. Les inscriptions
guèzes”, in E. Bernand/A.J. Drewes/R. Schneider (eds.), Recueil des inscriptions de
l’Éthiopie des périodes pré-axoumite et axoumite. Tome i: Les documents, Paris 1991,
pp. 215–358.
Fiaccadori, G., “Ǝllä Ṣäḥam”, in S. Uhlig (ed.), Encyclopaedia Aethiopica, vol. 2: D-Ha,
Wiesbaden 2005, pp. 262–263.
Gajda, I., Le royaume de Ḥimyar à l’époque monothéiste. L’histoire de l’Arabie du sud an-
cienne de la fin du ive siècle de l’ère chrétienne jusqu’à l’avènement de l’Islam, Paris
2009.
Hatke, G., Africans in Arabia Felix. Aksumite Relations with Himyar in the Sixth Century
CE., unpubl. PhD diss., Princeton University, Princeton 2011.
Hatke, G., Aksum and Nubia. Warfare, Commerce, and Political Fictions in Ancient North-
Hayajneh, H., “Abessinisches aus den arabischen Überlieferungen. Randbemerkun-
gen”, in H. Elliesie (ed.), Multidisciplinary Views on the Horn of Africa (Studien zum
Horn von Afrika 1), Cologne 2014, pp. 497–510.
al-Iryānī, M.ʿA., Fī Taʾrīkh al-Yaman: Sharḥ wa-taʿlīq ʿalā nuqūsh lam tunshar. 34 naqshan
min majmūʿat ʿAlī ʿAbd Allāh al-Kahālī, Ṣanʿāʾ 1973.
324 Hatke
Jamme, A., Sabaean Inscriptions from Maḥram Bilqîs (Mârib), Baltimore 1962.
Jamme, A.. The al-ʿUqlah Texts (Documentation sud-arabe 3), Washington 1963.
Kropp, M.S., “Schriften und Sprachen im Kontakt. Sabäisch in Äthiopien und die ersten
Zeugnisse der äthiopischen Sprache und Schrift”, in S. Wenig (ed.), In Kaiserlichem
Auftrag: Die Deutsche Aksum-Expedition 1906 unter Enno Littmann, vol. 2: Alter
tumskundliche Untersuchungen der DAE in Tigray/Äthiopien, Wiesbaden 2011,
pp. 323–337.
Maraqten, M., “Eine neuentdeckte altsabäische Inschrift aus Mārib”, in W. Arnold/
M. Jursa/W.W. Müller/S. Procházka (eds.), Philologisches und Historisches zwischen
Anatolien und Sokotra. Analecta Semitica In memoriam Alexander Sima, Wiesbaden
2009, pp. 241–246.
Marrassini, P., “The Semites in Abyssinia. Onomastic and Lexicographical Notes”, in
L. Kogan (ed.), Studia Semitica, Moscow 2003, pp. 141–151.
al-Medej, A.M., Yemeni Relations with the Central Islamic Authorities (9–233/630–847).
A Political History, unpubl. PhD diss., Durham University, http://etheses.dur.ac
.uk/952/, Durham 1983.
Müller, W.W., “Abessinier und ihre Namen und Titel in vorislamischen südarabischen
Texten”, Neue Ephemeris für semitische Epigraphik 3 (1978), 159–168.
Müller, W.W., “Südarabisches zum Namen Aksum”, Aethiopica 1 (1998), 217–220.
Müller, W.W., Sabäische Inschriften nach Ären datiert. Bibliographie, Texte und Glossar,
Wiesbaden 2010.
Müller, W.W., “Äthiopische Inschriftenfragmente aus der himjarischen Haupstadt
Ẓafār”, Aethiopica 15 (2013), 7–21.
Murray, O., “Review: East of Suez”, The Classical Review (New Series) 17/1 (1967), 79–81.
Phillipson, D.W., Foundations of an African Civilization. Aksum & the Northern Horn,
1000 bc–ad 1300, Woodbridge 2012.
Potts, D.T., “The Sasanian Relationship with South Arabia. Literary, Epigraphic and
Oral Historical Perspectives”, Studia Iranica 37 (2008), 197–213.
Robin, C.J., “La première intervention abyssine en Arabie méridionale (de 200 à 270 de
l’ère chrétienne environ)”, in T. Beyene (ed.), Proceedings of the Eighth International
Conference of Ethiopian Studies, vol. 2., Addis Ababa 1989, pp. 147–162.
Robin, C.J., “Le royaume hujride, dit « royaume de Kinda », entre Himyar et Byzance”,
Comptes rendus des séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres 140/2
(1996), 665–714.
Robin, C.J., “La fin du Royaume de Maʿīn”, in R. Gyselen (ed.), Parfums d’Orient (Res
Orientales 11), Bures-sur-Yvette 1998, pp. 177–188.
Robin, C.J., “Ḥimyar et Israël”, Comptes Rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles
Lettres 148/2 (2004), 831–908.
Robin, C.J., “Ḥimyar au ive siècle de l’ère chrétienne. Analyse des données chro-
nologiques et essai de mise en ordre”, Archäologische Berichte aus dem Yemen 10
(2005), 133–151.
Robin, C.J., “Sudarabiques et Aksūmite à Suquṭra d’après les inscriptions de la grotte de

Ḥōq”, in I. Strauch (ed.), Foreign Sailors on Socotra. The Inscriptions and Drawings
from the Cave Hoq, Bremen 2012, pp. 438–442.
Robin, C.J., “Matériaux pour une prosopographie de l’Arabie antique. Les noblesses
sabéenne et ḥimyarite avant et après l’Islam”, in C.J. Robin/J. Schiettecatte
(eds.), Les préludes de l’Islam. Ruptures et continuités des civilisations du Proche-
Orient, de l’Afrique orientale, de l’Arabie et de l’Inde à la veille de l’Islam, Paris 2013,
pp. 129–271.
Robin, C.J., “Sabaʾ et la Khawlān du nord (Khawlān Gudādān). L’organisation et la ges-
tion des conquêtes par les royaumes d’Arabie méridionale”, in A.V. Sedov (ed.), Ara-
bian and Islamic Studies. A Collection of Papers in Honour of Mikhail Borishovich
Piotrovskij on the Occasion of His 70th Birthday, Moscow 2014, pp. 156–203.
Robin, C.J./Maigret, A. de, “Le Grand Temple de Yéha (Tigray, Éthiopie), après la pre-
mière campagne de fouilles de la Mission française (1998)”, Comptes Rendus de
l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres 142 (1998), 737–798.
Robin, C.J./Ṭayrān, S., “Soixante-dix ans avant l’Islam. L’Arabie toute entière dominée
par un roi chrétien”, Comptes Rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres 1
(2012), 525–553.
Schiettecatte, J., “L’antique Najrān. Confrontations des données archéologiques et des
sources écrites”, in J. Beaucamp/F. Briquel-Chatonnet/C.J. Robin (eds.), Juifs et chré-
tiens en Arabie aux ve et vie siècles: Regards croisés sur les sources. Actes du colloque
de novembre 2008, Paris 2010, pp. 11–37.
Sedov, A.V., “Les fouilles de secteur 3. La synagogue”, in J.-F. Salles/A.V. Sedov (eds.),
Qāniʾ: Le port antique du Hadramawt entre la Méditerranée, l’Afrique et l’Inde. Fouilles
russes 1972, 1985–89, 1991, 1993–94, Turnhout 2010a, pp. 87–122.
Sedov, A.V., “Stratigraphy and Development of the Site. Preliminary Remarks”, in J.-F.
Salles/A.V. Sedov, Qāniʾ: Le port antique du Ḥaḍramawt entre la Méditerranée,
l’Afrique et l’Inde. Fouilles russes 1972, 1985–89, 1991, 1993–94, Tournhout 2010b,
pp. 371–380.
Shahid, I., The Martyrs of Najrân. New Documents, Brussels 1971.
Shitomi, Y., “Une note sur ʿṣd”, Raydān 4 (1981), 127–129.
Smith, G.R., “Yemenite History—Problems and Misconceptions”, Proceedings of the
Seminar for Arabian Studies 20 (1990), 131–139.
Snowden, F.M., Blacks in Antiquity, Ethiopians in the Greco-Roman Experience, Cam-
bridge, Massachusetts 1970.
Speidel, M.A., “Außerhalb des Reiches? Zu neuen lateinischen Inschriften aus Saudi-
Arabien und zur Ausdehnung der römischen Herrschaft am Roten Meer”, Zeitschrift
für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 163 (2007), 296–306.
Speidel, M.A., “ʾAlmaqah in Rom? Zu den Beziehungen zwischen dem kaiserzeitlichen
Imperium Romanum und Südarabien im Spiegel der Dokumentarischen Überlie
ferung”, Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 194 (2015), 241–258.
326 Hatke
Strauch, I., “Catalogue of inscriptions and drawings in the cave Hoq”, in I. Strauch (ed.),
Foreign Sailors on Socotra. The Inscriptions and Drawings from the Cave Hoq, Bremen
2012, pp. 25–218.
Vycichl, W., “Un amharisme dans un texte copte”, Annales d’Éthiopie 2/2 (1957),
247–248.
Yule, P., Late Antique Arabia. Ẓafār, Capital of Ḥimyar, Wiesbaden 2013.
Chapter 12
Aristocrats, Mercenaries, Clergymen and Refugees:

Deliberate and Forced Mobility of Armenians in
the Early Medieval Mediterranean (6th to 11th
Century a.d.)
1 Introduction
Armenian mobility in the early Middle Ages has found some attention in the
scholarly community. This is especially true for the migration of individuals
and groups towards the Byzantine Empire. A considerable amount of this re-
search has focused on the carriers and histories of individual aristocrats or
noble families of Armenian origin. The obviously significant share of these in
the Byzantine elite has even led to formulations such as Byzantium being a
“Greco-Armenian Empire”.1 While, as expected, evidence for the elite stratum
is relatively dense, larger scale migration of members of the lower aristocracy
(“azat”, within the ranking system of Armenian nobility, see below) or non-
aristocrats (“anazat”) can also be traced with regard to the overall movement of
groups within the entire Byzantine sphere. In contrast to the nobility, however,
the life stories and strategies of individuals of these backgrounds very rarely
can be reconstructed based on our evidence. In all cases, the actual signifi-
cance of an “Armenian” identity for individuals and groups identified as “Ar-
menian” by contemporary sources or modern day scholarship (on the basis of
1 Charanis, “Armenians in the Byzantine Empire”, passim; Charanis, “Transfer of population”;

Toumanoff, “Caucasia and Byzantium”, pp. 131–133; Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen, pp.
124–127, 134–135; Haldon, “Late Roman Senatorial Elite”, pp. 213–215; Whitby, “Recruitment”,
pp. 87–90, 99–101, 106–110; Isaac, “Army in the Late Roman East”, pp. 132–135; Garsoïan, “Prob-
lem”; Brousselle, “Líntegration des Arméniens”, pp. 43–54; Redgate, Armenians, pp. 236–241;
Settipani, Continuité des élites, passim; Dédéyan, Histoire, pp. 300–304, 311–317. Relatively reli-
able in this regard seems the calculation in Kazhdan/Ronchey, Lʼaristocrazia, pp. 333–338,
according to which 5–7 % of the “civilian” nobility and 25–26 % of the “military” families in
11th–12th century Byzantium had a “Caucasian” (= Armenian or Georgian) background.
© Johannes Preiser-Kapeller, �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_013

328 Preiser-Kapeller
onomastic material, for instance2) respectively the changeability of elements

of identity (language, religious affiliation, naming practices) has found less at-
tention in comparison with efforts to trace the “Armenian element” in Byzan-
tium. Similar observations can be made with regard to scholarship on Arme-
nian mobility into the spheres of the “Eastern” empire of Sasanian Persia and
later the Arab Caliphate respectively the Islamic states; especially the change
of the religious affiliation and the emergence of “Muslim Armenians” has
caused some debate with regard to their qualification as “real” Armenians. For
the Byzantine case, the magisterial article by Nina Garsoïan on “The Problem
of Armenian integration into the Byzantine Empire” (1998) has not only
summed up earlier research, but has also highlighted the complexities and dy-
namics of identity and of spatial as well as “cultural” mobility.3 Regarding the
Islamic World the three volumes by Seta B. Dadoyan, who already had written
an important study on Armenians in the Fatimid Empire, equally have pro-
duced new insights into similar phenomena.4
On this basis, also an attempt to adapt recent approaches from migration
history on the early medieval mobility of Armenians is possible. Within the
field, the “Armenian diaspora” of course has found attention, but this is espe-
cially true for its development since the early modern period;5 one has to men-
tion here also the monograph by Sebouh Aslanian on the global trading dias-
pora of the Armenians of New Julfa in Persia in the 17th century.6 Yet, as we will
demonstrate in this paper, concepts developed by historians of migration in
the last decades can be also be implemented effectively for earlier periods.
Useful are of course also categories of a more traditional typology of migration
such as duration, distance or scale (in terms of numbers of individuals) of
mobility. However, in order to illustrate the actual complexity of mobilities
and identity constructions as outlined by Garsoïan or Dadoyan, a “systems ap-
proach” towards migration phenomena seems promising.7 Therefore, we
2 Cf. also Settipani, Continuité des élites, pp. 488–491, on “typical” names of various families of
the Armenian aristocracy.
3 Garsoïan, “Problem”. Most recently, Kaldellis, Romanland, pp. 155–195, has (legitimately) dis-
cussed what he calls the “Armenian fallacy”, that is the tendency in scholarship to identify
individual member of the Byzantine elite as “Armenian” even several generations after the
immigration of their ancestors and their integration into the Eastern Roman polity with re-
gard to language, religion and identity. For a similar case regarding the Abbasid Caliphate see
now Preiser-Kapeller, “ʻAlī ibn Yaḥyā al-Armanī”.
4 Dadoyan, The Fatimid Armenians; Dadoyan, The Armenians, Vol. i and ii.
5 Cf. for instance Hoerder, Cultures in Contact, pp. 174–177.
6 Aslanian, From the Indian Ocean to the Mediterranean.
7 Harzig/Hoerder, Migration History, pp. 78–114; Hoerder, Cultures in Contact, pp. 15–21; Hahn,
Historische Migrationsforschung, pp. 21–36.
Aristocrats, Mercenaries, Clergymen and Refugees 329
s urvey material on the interplay between socio-economic, political and spatial

structures both in the “society of departure”8 and in the “receiving societies”,9
which very much defined the scope of action, and the actual agency of indi-
viduals and groups. Equally, we will try to identify networks established and/or
used by individuals to effect mobility as well as integration within the social
framework in the places of destination; yet, these networks could also work as
constraining factors.10 The character of evidence from our period of course
does not allow for a systematic quantitative survey on a large sample, but en-
ables us to accumulate “micro-histories” of individuals and smaller groups
across the centuries, which may provide inferences on general trends and
mechanisms.11 In the following, we will (mostly based on Armenian, Greek and
Latin sources) focus on Armenian migration towards the Byzantine Empire,
while we have dealt with Armenian mobility towards the imperial spheres in
the east (Sasanian Persia, the Caliphate) as well as with migration movements
into early medieval Armenia in another study.12
2 The Society of Departure: Early Medieval Armenia between

Empires
2.1 Geopolitical and Socio-Political Parameters

For migration as spatial phenomenon, geographical parameters of course very
much matter. Since the 1st century b.c., the Armenian highlands constituted
the peripheries of competing empires and a centre of confrontations between
them; this position also influenced attitudes of observers from imperial elites
towards them. Already Tacitus called the Armenians “ambigua gens”,13 situat-
ed between the Roman and Iranian great powers and sustaining political and
cultural connections to both sides (see Map 12.1). This “ambiguity” became
even stronger when the Armenians started to adopt Christianity since the be-
ginning of the 4th century a.d. and (also in the eyes of the Iranian imperial
centre) strengthened their ties to the new Christian Imperium Romanum of
Constantine the Great and his successors.14 At the same time, the traditional

11 Gylfi Magnússon/Szijárto, What is Microhistory.
12 Preiser-Kapeller, “Complex processes of migration”. Cf. also now Preiser-Kapeller, “ʻAlī ibn
Yaḥyā al-Armanī”.
13 Tacitus, Annales ii 56, 1, ed. Koestermann.
14 Cf. Seibt, “Der historische Hintergrund”.
social structure with its powerful aristocratic houses, which was very similar to
that of ancient Iran,15 remained strong.16 The struggle over Armenia at last lead
to the partition of the country between Rome and the Sasanians in 387 a.d.
(see Map 12.1) and the abolishment of the Armenian kingship over the next
decades. In contrast to the European barbaricum,17 the invention of the Arme-
nian alphabet at the beginning of the 5th century initiated the emergence of a
rich indigenous literature, which includes several important historiographical
works. These texts provide us with a valuable view on three empires (Rome-
Byzantium, Persia and, since the 7th century, the Arab Caliphate) from the per-
spective of individuals which lived on the edge of these powers. As I was able
to show in earlier studies, especially the image of the Byzantine empire in the
Armenian historiography of the period moved between admiration of an
Christian Empire, its power and civilisation, and – after the divergence of
theological interpretations in the mainstreams of Byzantine and Armenian
Christianity had become obvious since the late 6th century – contempt for an
heretic power of oppression, often in coalition with other enemies of Arme-
nia.18 In an often-quoted passage of the history attributed to Sebēos (7th cen-
tury) we encounter a very grim interpretation of the policy of the neighbour-
ing empires (and the mobility they forced upon the military of the country)
vis-à-vis Armenia:
At that time [around the year 591] the king of the Greeks (t‛agawor
Yunac‛), Maurice, ordered a letter of accusation (gir ambastanut‛iwn) to
be written to the Persian king [Xusrō ii] concerning all the Armenian
princes and their troops: “They are a perverse and disobedient race,” he
said: “they are between us and cause trouble. Now come, I shall gather
mine and send them to Thrace; you gather yours and order them to be
taken to the east. If they die, our enemies die; if they kill, they kill our
enemies; but we shall live in peace. For if they remain in their own land,
we shall have no rest.” They both agreed.19
15 Rubin, “Nobility”, esp. pp. 240–248.

16 Redgate, “Myth and Reality”; Garsoïan, Interregnum, esp. pp. viii-ix, also on the various
“Armenias” existing in Late Antiquity; cf. also Garsoïan, “Armenia in the fourth century”.
17 Halsall, Barbarian Migrations.
18 Preiser-Kapeller, “Between New Jerusalem”. Cf. also Garsoïan, “Armenien”.
19 Sebēos 15, ed. Abgaryan, p. 86, transl. Thomson/Howard-Johnston, i, p. 31. Garsoïan,
“Marzpanate”, p. 109; Preiser-Kapeller, “Kaysr”, pp. 190–191; Thomson, “Armenia”, p. 169;
Dölger, Regesten, nr. 108*; Garsoïan, Interregnum, pp. 4–5.
At the same time, Armenian historians were very well aware that especially
the internal framework of political power allowed Byzantium, Persia or the
Caliphate to exert their influence within the country or even to divide it into
spheres of interest. Neither during the time of monarchic rule before 390/428
and after 884/885 (when the noble houses of Bagratuni and of Arcruni suc-
ceeded in the restoration of – again competing – monarchies20) nor during the
period of direct imperial suzerainty over Armenia’s nobility, the fragmentation
of the country’s political structures (again also promoted by the geographical
fragmentation of the Armenian highlands) allowed for the formation of a re-
gional power centre which could compete with the empires on its borders.21
Armenian society, as far as we are able to reconstruct especially based on
the indigenous texts, was divided along the line “noble” (azat) – “not noble”
(anazat; including artisans, peasants and merchants). The nobility was domi-
nated by several dozens of houses (tun) of magnates (the naχarark‛), who
based their power on their hereditary landed property worked by anazat, the
number of their armed retainers from the lower aristocracy and their heredi-
tary offices and positions of honours, which followed an elaborate ranking sys-
tem, at the royal court.22 Within this framework, sources describe a constant
struggle among the great houses for power and prestige, already in the period
of Arsacid monarchy and even more afterwards. And already before the end of
the kingdom (in 428 a.d.), the material and symbolic distinctions bestowed by
superior external imperial powers (such as the emperor or the Great King)
could become essential for the manifestation of rank and power within the
Armenian aristocracy, even more so afterwards. Therefore, exterior powers
usually would find a faction within the nobility prepared, at least for some
time, to support their efforts for control over the Armenian highlands.23 A de-
scription of the ideal state of miabanut‛iwn (unity, concord) among the aristoc-
racy is given in the history of T‛ovma Arcruni (10th century), together with the
insinuation of the decline of this unity and its consequences:
For the Armenian princes with their hosts of knights and troops were still
living in unison and harmony and concord, though in secret they had
suspicions of treachery. However, when discord began to insinuate itself
within that unity, they grace of the divine power departed and withdrew.
20 Garsoïan, “Independent Kingdoms”.

21 Preiser-Kapeller, “Kaysr”, pp. 200–201.
22 Cf. esp. Adontz/Garsoïan, Armenia; Redgate, Armenians; Garsoïan, “The Aršakuni
Dynasty”.
23 Adontz/Garsoïan, Armenia; Garsoïan, “Marzpanate”.
Concerted plans were disregarded in combat and in other matters affect-

ing the administration of the country. (…) They sent letters and messen-
gers to the Caliph secretly from each other.24
Discord (or anmiabanut‛iwn) is a far more prominent motif in Armenian

historiography;25 it is the main reason of the failure of common actions against
imperial powers.26 It also describes the state that prevailed in Armenia on the
eve of the first Arab invasion.27 Yet anmiabanut‛iwn did not only restrict the
chances of collective action of the Armenian aristocracy, but also the stability
of foreign domination; just as the Armenian kings, also the representatives in-
stalled by the imperial overlords were not able to enforce universal allegiance
to the suzerain. Therefore, the structure of the Armenian society also allowed
for a certain degree of flexibility in relations with the great powers. As Nina
Garsoïan has stated: “…the strength and permanence of the tun forged a social
structure capable of surviving even in moments of political eclipse and the
decentralized character of the society diminished its chances of total
annexation.”28 This “decentralized character” permitted the adaptation to the
separation between various rulers and spheres of interest of the neighbouring
empires and the existence of multiple layers of authority and loyalty.29 Thus,
one member of the Mamikonean clan (the most prominent tun in this period)
could lead a rebellion in Persian Armenia in 450/451, whereas a relative served
as imperial general in Roman Armenia; forming “trans-local families” therefore
could be one strategy for noble houses to maintain power.30 Individual noble-
men and clans could gain a variety of options, and even the aristocracy at large
could achieve a certain degree of autonomy for the country’s affairs if equilib-
rium between the neighbouring great powers or a momentary power vacuum
would allow it. However, the number of options declined as soon as one
24 T‛ovma Arcruni, Patmut‛iwn iii, 1, ed. Patkanean, transl. Thomson, pp. 189–190.
25 Thomson/Howard-Johnston, Sebeos i, p. 21, n. 154; Preiser-Kapeller, “Kaysr”, p. 200.
26 Sebēos c. 11, 16 and 20, ed. Abgaryan, pp. 78, 13–14, 87, 26 and 92, 22–24, tranls. Thomson/
Howard-Johnston, Sebeos i, pp. 21, 32 and 39; Preiser-Kapeller, “Kaysr”, pp. 200–201.
27 Sebēos c. 41, ed. Abgaryan, p. 134, 1, transl. Thomson/Howard-Johnston, Sebeos i, p. 94.
28 Garsoïan, “The Aršakuni Dynasty”, p. 79; cf. also Toumanoff, Studies, pp. 147–259 (on the
various aristocratic families); Whittow, Making of Byzantium, pp. 201–203; Pohl, Staat und
Herrschaft (on the concepts of state and statehood under such circumstances).
29 Cf. Kafadar, Between Two Worlds, pp. 125–126, for this phenomenon; see also Garsoïan,
“Armenia in the fourth Century”; Preiser-Kapeller, “Kaysr”, p. 201; Thomson, “Armenia”,
pp. 156–160 and 171–172; Greenwood, “Armenian Neighbours”, pp. 333–336; cf. also Hews-
en, Atlas, map 63.
30 Ełišē iv, ed. Tēr-Minasean, p. 93, transl. Thomson, p. 145. On the issue of “trans-local fami-
lies” see also Harzig/Hoerder, Migration History, pp. 123–126.
imperial power achieved predominance in the region; then, individually or at

large, the aristocracy sometimes had to choose between collaboration, resis-
tance, or emigration.
2.2 Deliberate and Forced Noble Mobility31

Within this framework, noble mobility towards the neighbouring imperial
spheres became an essential element of the strategies of individuals and of
aristocratic houses. As Tim Greenwood has stated, recurring motives in the
depiction of the deeds of Armenian aristocrats in our period are “the service to
an external authority, the titles and material rewards available to the individu-
al princes and instances of direct contact between Emperor and client.”32 As I
demonstrated in an earlier study, for the “greatest nobles,” their rank within the
Armenian aristocracy became manifest due to its recognition by the Emperor,
the Great King or the Caliph, performed in personal encounters either during
imperial campaigns in Armenia or in most cases during receptions in the im-
perial capital. Especially Armenian sources emphasise that noblemen were
permitted to stay near the monarch and dine with him and received material
rewards from his hands. As within the court societies in Constantinople, Ctesi-
phon or Baghdad, “the public display of proximity to an Emperor mattered.”33
Noble mobility towards one of the imperial spheres could become long last-
ing or permanent if service for and integration into the elite of an empire
seemed very attractive and/or if the alternative of remaining in Armenia re-
spectively a part of Armenia under suzerainty of another imperial power was
less inviting. This was especially the case when aristocrats or entire noble
houses had compromised themselves in the eyes of local imperial authorities
by participating in attempts to remove foreign suzerainty, often provoked by
efforts of the imperial centre to enforce stronger political and economic con-
trol (Roman Armenia in the period of Justinian, Arab Armenia in the 8th and
9th century) or religious conformity (Persian Armenian in the 5th century,
Byzantine Armenia in the 6th and 7th century). Under changing circumstanc-
es, aristocrats were also willing to cross borders several times.34
Also measures of the imperial suzerain to enforce mobility by ordering the
relocation of noblemen and their armed retinues to other theatres of war
could motivate individuals to evade them by crossing borders. After the
31 For noble mobility in the Western Middle Ages, cf. Hoerder, Cultures in Contact,
pp. 60–62.
32 Greenwood, “Sebeos”, p. 355.
33 Preiser-Kapeller, “erdumn, ucht, carayutíwn”; Kelly, Later Roman Empire, p. 26; cf. also
Elias, Die höfische Gesellschaft, pp. 145–161; Magdalino, “Court Society”, p. 216.
34 Preiser-Kapeller, “erdumn, ucht, carayutíwn”.
restoration of Xusro ii on the Sasanian throne with the help of Emperor Mau-
rice, Byzantium in 591 gained suzerainty over most of former Persarmenia up
to a line near the capital of Dvin (see Map 12.1).35 The emperor, eager to recover
control over the Balkans in the face of the advance of the Avars and Slavs,36
transferred many troops from the East to Thrace and equally tried to recruit
soldiers among the Armenians. Various aristocrats, convinced by means of
promises and presents or of force, marched with their troops to Constantino-
ple, presented themselves to the emperor, and then fought against his enemies.
However, some nobles reacted with rebellion and, after its failure, with flight
into the Persian Empire.37 In the history attributed to Sebēos we find, as we
have seen, an Armenian interpretation of the empire’s policy in the form of the
letter allegedly written by Maurice to Xusro ii (see above). Sebēos also informs
us that in the year 602 the Emperor ordered the resettlement of 30,000 house-
holds from Armenia in Thrace, but this plan was not executed because of
Maurice´s overthrow.38
Thus, while honourable and lucrative service to the Emperor abroad earned
praise in the Armenian historiography, measures to enforce stronger imperial
control and mobility were interpreted as plans to destroy the socio-political
framework of the country. Limitations both to the presence of imperial author-
ity (especially armed forces) as well as to the spatial range of mobility in impe-
rial service were also core conditions under which the Armenian nobility at
large under the leadership of Tʻēodoros, lord of the house of Ṙštunik‛, ex-
changed Byzantine suzerainty for the Caliph´s one in 653:
35 On this important treaty cf. Theophylact Simocatta v, 15, 2, ed. de Boor/Wirth, p. 216, 10–13
and iv, 13, 24, ed. de Boor/Wirth, p. 177, 23–27, transl. Schreiner, p. 302, n. 590; Sebēos c. 12,
ed. Abgaryan, p. 84, 24–33, transl. Thomson/Howard-Johnston, Sebeos i, pp. 28–29 and ii,
p. 171; Narratio de rebus Armeniae § 94, ed. Garitte, p. 39, 235–237 and pp. 236–237; T‛ovma
Arcruni, Patmut‛iwn ii, 3, ed. Patkanean, p. 148; Honigmann, Ostgrenze, pp. 28–37; Chris-
tensen, Iran, p. 445; Grousset, Arménie, pp. 249 and 251–253; Goubert, Byzance, pp. 167–170
and 290–302; Adontz/Garsoïan, Armenia, pp. 179–182; Laurent/Canard, Arménie,
pp. 40–41; Garsoïan, “Marzpanate”, pp. 108–109; Beihammer, Nachrichten, pp. 22–23 (n. 14);
Garsoïan, Grand schisme, pp. 264–267; Redgate, Armenians, p. 157; Greatrex/Lieu, Eastern
Frontier, pp. 172–174 and 294, n. 54; Greenwood, “Sebeos”, p. 335 (with n. 51); Preiser-
Kapeller, “Magister Militum”, pp. 349–350; Thomson, “Armenia”, p. 169; Greenwood, “Ar-
menian Neighbours”, p. 337; Dölger, Regesten, nr. 104; cf. esp. Hewsen, Atlas, map 69.
36 Cf. the papers by Johannes Koder and Florin Curta in the present volume.
37 Cf. also Greenwood, “Armenian Neighbours”, pp. 337–338.
38 Sebēos c. 30, ed. Abgaryan, p. 105, 28–33, transl. Thomson/Howard-Johnston, Sebeos i,
p. 56 and ii, pp. 190–191; Grousset, Arménie, pp. 264–265; Goubert, Byzance, pp. 209–210;
Charanis, “Transfer of population”, p. 142; Ditten, Ethnische Verschiebungen, pp. 134–135;
Garsoïan, “Marzpanate”, pp. 109–110; Greatrex/Lieu, Eastern Frontier, pp. 178–179; Preiser-
Kapeller, “Kaysr”, p. 195; Dölger, Regesten, nr. 137.
Now the prince of Ismael spoke with them and said: “Let this be the pact
of treaty between me and you for as many years as you may wish. I shall
not take tribute from you for a three-year period. Then you will pay (trib-
ute) with an oath, as much as you may wish. You will keep in your country
15,000 cavalry, and provide sustenance from your country; and I shall
reckon it in the royal tax. I shall not request cavalry for Syria; but wher-
ever else I command they shall be ready for duty. I shall not send amirs to
(your) fortresses, nor an Arab army – neither many, nor even down to a
single cavalryman. An enemy shall not enter Armenia; and if the Romans
attack you I shall send you troops in support, as many as you may wish.
I swear by the great God that I shall not be false.”39
Yet, as we learn later, also the Arab authorities enforced mobility on a consider-
able number of aristocrats and their families in order to guarantee their alle-
giance in the form of hostages. When the Armenian nobility in 656 decided to
return to Byzantine suzerainty, this proved fatal for most of these individuals,
while it had the desired effect on some of the aristocrats who abstained from
changing the sides:
Then when the king of Ismael [= the Caliph] saw that the Armenians had
withdrawn from submission to them, they put to the sword all the hos-
tages whom they had brought from that land, about 1,775 people. A few
were left, in number about 22, who had not happened to be at that spot;
they alone survived. But Mušeł, lord of the Mamikoneank‛ (…), because
he had four sons among the hostages with the Ismaelites, was therefore
unable to withdraw from their service.40
Until the beginning of the 8th century, the Armenian nobility, reacting to
changes in the balance of power between the Caliphate and Byzantium,
switched sides several times before the Arabs achieved more permanent do-
minion in the Armenian highlands. The relatively beneficial conditions of the
39 Sebēos c 48, ed. Abgaryan, p. 164, 27–33, transl. Thomson/Howard-Johnston, Sebeos i,

pp. 135–136; cf. also Łewond c. 4, ed. Ezean, p. 14, transl. Arzoumanian, pp. 53–54; Gar-
soïan, “Arab Invasion”, pp. 121–122; Dadoyan, The Armenians i, pp. 56–57.
40 Sebēos c. 52, ed. Abgaryan, p. 175, 9–12, transl. Thomson/Howard-Johnston, Sebeos i, p. 153
and ii, pp. 282–284; Grousset, Arménie, p. 304; Laurent/Canard, Arménie, pp. 126–127, 242
and 402; Garsoïan, “Arab Invasion”, p. 122; Redgate, Armenians, p. 168; Preiser-Kapeller,
“Magister Militum”, p. 359; idem, “Hrovartak”, pp. 302, 311; Greenwood, “Armenian Neigh-
bours”, pp. 342–343; Dölger, Regesten, nr. 228a. On this phenomenon see in general Kosto,
Hostages.
treaty of 653 were replaced by a more strict regime with garrisons especially in
the strategically important frontier regions to Byzantium and an Arab gover-
nor (ostikan) residing in the country and enforcing regular tax payments. As in
most cases, different factions of the Armenia nobility reacted differently: while
a group around the until then leading house of Mamikonean tried several
times to remove Arab rule with violence, especially the increasingly important
family of the Bagratuni followed a policy of collaboration with the Arab au-
thorities.41 These put down all rebellions by force and executed or deported
unruly individuals, often into far away regions of the Caliphate (such as
Yemen).42
Under such circumstances, migration into the Byzantine Empire was again
an option. The historian Łewond reports for the year 788 such a larger scale
movement:
Left without property and food, naked and barefoot, (the inhabitants of
Armenia) were exposed to the horrors of famine. They left their country
and fled to the Greek territory to seek refuge. The mass of the population,
over twelve thousand men, women, and children, as we were told, mi-
grated from their land under the leadership of Šapuh from the house of
Amatunik‛, Hamam his son, and other Armenian nobles with their cav-
alry. (…) As they crossed the river [Akampsis], the Greek Emperor Con-
stantine [vi] was immediately notified. He called them unto him and
gave the nobles and their cavalry high honours. (The Emperor) accom-
modated the bulk of the lower class people on good fertile lands.43
In the period under consideration, refugees were welcome, even in high num-
bers, if they could provide valuable manpower for military and economic
purposes.
41 Cf. also Greenwood, “Armenian neighbours”.

42 Łewond c. 21, ed. Ezean, p. 112, transl. Arzoumanian, p. 113; Garsoïan, “Arab Invasion”,
p. 129. The removal or extinction of several noble families created also opportunities for
immigrating (or also converted) Muslim elites to create regional power bases within his-
torical Armenia, cf. Ter-Ghewondyan, The Arab Emirates; Dadoyan, The Armenians i,
pp. 87–90; Preiser-Kapeller, “Complex processes of migration”. On interaction and cul-
tural exchange between Christian Armenian and Muslim elites cf. also Jones, Between Is-
lam and Byzantium; Preiser-Kapeller, “Complex processes of migration”.
43 Łewond c. 42, ed. Ezean, pp. 168–169, transl. Arzoumanian, p. 149; Greenwood, “Armenian
Neighbours”, p. 348; Redgate, “Myth and Reality”, p. 291, also on the further development
of this community.
2.3 Byzantium as (not so) Desirable Destination

Besides the prospect to find more beneficial conditions for living or of simply
avoiding acts of revenge by irritated imperial authorities, Byzantium as Chris-
tian polity was regarded an empire of different quality in comparison with Per-
sia or the Caliphate. The 8th century historian Movsēs Xorenac‛i interprets the
decision of King Aršak as well as his retainers to opt for Roman suzerainty in
387 along these lines (but highlighting also the significance of kinship ties):
So Aršak left the native kingdom of his fathers, Ayrarat, and all the part of
the Persian sector, and went to rule over the western regions of our coun-
try, in the Greek sector (i bažnin Yunac‛), not only because of his mother
who was in the imperial capital (i kayserakan k‛ałak‛ēn), but because he
thought that it was better to rule over a smaller region and serve a Chris-
tian king than to control most (of the country) and submit to the yoke of
heathens. The princes of Šapuh’s sector followed him with their wives
and sons, abandoning each one’s possessions and villages and estates.44
A similar interpretation Łewond provides when describing the deliberate emi-

gration of Armenians from the environs of Theodosioupolis (Erzurum) on the
occasion of an imperial campaign in the region in the 750s (accompanied also
by the deportation of Muslim population into the Empire):
(…) the king of the Greeks [Constantine v] moved from his imperial por-
tals with a massive multitude of followers and arrived at the city called
Theodosioupolis in the region of Karin. (…) Furthermore, he took the city
troops and the local Saracens, along with their families, to the land of the
Greeks. Many of the inhabitants of the same districts asked the king to
allow them to follow him, in order to be relieved of the heavy yoke of
servitude to the Arabs. Having secured permission from (Emperor Con-
stantine v), the inhabitants of the Armenian districts prepared them-
selves, packed their belongings and moved, placing their trust in the
power of the dominical cross and in the glory of the King. They separated
themselves (from the rest), left their homeland, and went to the country
of the pious king.45
44 Movsēs Xorenac‛i iii, 42, ed. Abełean/Yarut‛iwnean, transl. Thomson, p. 304.

45 Łewond c. 29, ed. Ezean, p. 129, transl. Arzoumanian, pp. 123–124; Charanis, “Transfer”,
p. 144; Garsoïan, “Problem”, p. 57.
Yet, as already mentioned, doctrinal differences between Byzantine and Ar-

menian Orthodoxy since the later 6th century led to an alienation between the
two churches, accompanied by attempts of imperial authorities to enforce
conformity with Constantinople during periods of Byzantine pre-dominance
in the Armenian highlands in the 6th and 7th century.46 Afterwards, Byzan-
tium could also be regarded as shelter of heresy and staying there could
threaten the true faith of Armenian Christians.47 Katholikos Yovhannēs

Drasχanakertc‛i at the beginning of the 10th century for instance explained
why he decided not to follow an invitation of the emperor to Constantinople
(in contrast to the Armenian king):
I decided not to go, thinking that there might be people who might look
askance at my going there, and assume that I sought communion with
the Chalcedonians. It was for this reason that I did not wish to go, lest I
might scandalize the minds of the weak.48
Therefore, we also find in the same work of Łewond, who describes the deci-
sion of the Armenians near Theodosioupolis to move to Byzantium by placing
their trust into the Christian faith of its emperor, a different interpretation of
the option to emigrate to the Empire in a later episode shortly before a revolt
of the nobility against the Arabs in 774/775:
Ašot son of Prince Sahak from the house of the Bagratids, did not take
part in this dangerous enterprise, because he was full of wisdom and pru-
dence. On the contrary, he kept counselling the rest to abandon the peril-
ous enterprise (…) and think of their own security as well as that of their
families. He told them: “(…) Even the Roman Empire was unable to raise
its hand against this dragon (= the Arabs), and it still continues to trem-
ble before it and has not dared to act against the dominical command.
(…) you will be forced to flee from your land with your entire households
(…) and live under the foreign yoke of the king of the Greeks.49
46 Cf. in general on this the magisterial study of Garsoïan, Grand schism; Mahé, “Die ar-
menische Kirche”.
47 Preiser-Kapeller, “Between New Jerusalem”.
48 Yovhannēs Drasxanakertc‛i 55, § 7, ed. Zagareišvili, transl. Maksoudian, p. 198.
49 Łewond c. 34, ed. Ezean, pp. 142–143, transl. Arzoumanian, p. 132; Garsoïan, “Arab Inva-
sion”, p. 131.
2.4 Ecclesiastical and Learned Mobility

Besides doctrinal issues, the Christianisation of the Roman Empire and of Ar-
menia brought about also a new framework for mobility via the emergence of
channels of ecclesiastical authority, pilgrimage and education.
From the beginning of the establishment of an Armenian ecclesiastical hi-
erarchy in the 4th century onwards, its representatives were closely connected
with neighbouring churches and church provinces. Until the end of the 4th
century, the Senior Bishop (later “Katholikos”) of Armenia was ordained by the
metropolitan of Caesarea in Cappadocia. Armenian hierarchs took part in the
ecclesiastical councils of the 4th and 5th centuries in Nicaea, Constantinople,
Ephesus and Chalcedon. The Armenian clergy communicated also with eccle-
siastics in Syria and Mesopotamia, in Georgia and Caucasian Albania and in
Persia. These exchanges on doctrine and praxis of faith intensified in the peri-
od of Christological disputes between the 5th and the 7th century, when the
Armenian church ultimately repudiated both the teaching of Nestorius (whose
theological position became most prominent in Persia) and of the Council of
Chalcedon (the dogma of the Byzantine and later also of the Georgian Church)
and sided with the mono/miaphysite Churches of Egypt and Syria. Many of
these communications have been collected in the so-called “Book of letters”
(Girkʽ Tʽłtʽocʽ).50 From these letters and other sources we learn however that
despite the rift between the churches in the 6th and 7th century and the Arab
conquest of Armenia, contacts with the Byzantine church did not break
down in the 8th and 9th centuries (letter of Patriarch Germanos i to Bishop
Daniel of Siwnikʽ [ca. 720, see below], exchange of letters with Patriarch Pho-
tios [between 862 and 886, see below]). Equally, the picture of a united anti-
Chalcedonian Christianity produced in the Armenian historiography does not
withstand closer inspection as does the image of a united Armenian monar-
chy. The number of Armenian clergymen and laymen, who (and not only un-
der Byzantine pressure) also in the 7th and 8th century and later on had
sympathies for the Chalcedonian creed was not insignificant.51
Clerics and monks found also their way to Palestine before and after the
Arab conquest, where we encounter a vivid Armenian community in and
around Jerusalem; we also possess several Armenian mosaic inscriptions from
the 5th to 7th century, which are among the oldest epigraphic testimonies in
50 Cf. for an overview on these issues and all sources Garsoïan, Grand schism.
51 See most recently Garsoïan, Interregnum, pp. 55–104 (with references), and Garsoïan,
“Problem”, pp. 104–109 (especially on the so-called Cat‛/Tzatoi, Armenian-speaking Chal-
cedonian communities, who somehow suffered from rejection both by the Armenian and
the Byzantine-Greek Orthodoxy, see also Todt/Vest, Syria, p. 456). Cf. also Redgate, “Myth
and Reality”.
Armenian language at all.52 A text attributed to a Vardapet Anastas and dated

to the 7th–10th century lists (for sure exaggerating) 70 churches and monaster-
ies, which had been build or bought by Armenians in Jerusalem between the
4th and 7th century.53 At least several churches are mentioned in the exchange
of letters between Modestos, the head of the Armenian community in at this
time Persian-ruled Jerusalem, and Katholikos Komitas in Armenia from the
year 617, included in the history attributed to Sebēos.54 In his answer to Modes-
tos, the Katholikos also explains the motivation and spiritual value of the pil-
grimage to Jerusalem and beyond:
But know this, О beloved brother, no little consolation was conveyed to

our people by the coming and going of those journeys. First, because they
forgot all the troubles and sadness of this country. Secondly, because they
cleansed their sins through repentance, fasts and mercy, through sleep-
less and unresting travelling by day and night. Thirdly, because they bap-
tized their bodies in the water of holiness, in the fiery currents of the
Jordan, whence the divine grace flowed to all the universe.55
As Komitas equally wrote, Armenian pilgrims and monks found their way to
the Monastery of St. Catherine on Mt. Sinai. This is also documented by Arme-
nian inscriptions and Armenian manuscripts56 as well as hagiographic sourc-
es: in the Narrationes de patribus Sinaïtis we find for the 7th century an Arme-
nian monachos named Elissaios who saw a vision of fire above the altar almost
every night.57 In addition, later, the Narrationes mention a group of not less
than 800 Armenians, who, together with a large number of Arabs, became wit-
nesses of a fire vision on Mt. Sinai.58 However, Armenian clergymen travelled
52 Greenwood, “Armenian inscriptions”, pp. 89–91; Vaux, “Linguistic manifestations”.

53 The Armenian Pilgrim Guide, transl. in: Wilkinson, Jerusalem Pilgrims, pp. 16–17, 166–168.
Cf. also McCormick, Charlemagne´s Survey, pp. 57–59, 96–98. On the actual monumental
evidence as well as for a systematic survey of evidence for Armenian presence from the
5th to the 11th century see now Tchekhanovets, The Caucasian Archaeology of the Holy
Land.
54 Sebēos c. 35–36, ed. Abgaryan, pp. 116–121, transl. Thomson/Howard-Johnston, Sebeos i,
pp. 70–76.
55 Sebēos c. 36, ed. Abgaryan, p.119, transl. Thomson/Howard-Johnston, Sebeos i, p. 74.
56 Cf. Vaux, “Linguistic manifestations”. See also Stone, “The Greek Background”, pp. 194–
202; Redgate, “Myth and Reality”, p. 285.
57 Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr. 1508; Narrationes de patribus
Sinaïtis cap. xxxvii, ed. Nau, p. 81.
58 Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr. 10204; Narrationes de patribus
Sinaïtis cap. xxxviii, ed. Nau, pp. 81–82.
even beyond the Arab and the Byzantine sphere to Italy and even to France
and Central Europe, where we find their traces in Latin sources, as Ralph-
Johannes Lilie has demonstrated, for instance.59 Thus, the geographical range
of Armenian ecclesiastical mobility is comparable with the aristocratic one.
In addition, learning in Armenian Church was strongly influenced by both
Greek and Syriac Christianity, whose centres of education could be found in
the Roman Empire. The establishment of such educational links was attribut-
ed by the 5th century historian Agatʿangełos already to the first Christian king
of Armenia Trdat iii in the early 4th century, who allegedly had founded
schools in order to teach pupils in Syriac (yAsori dprutʿiwn) as well as in Greek
(i Hellen).60 Soon after Mesrob Maštocʿ at the beginning of the 5th century had
developed an alphabet for the Armenian language, a large-scale translation
activity from Syriac and from Greek started, which also influenced the linguis-
tic development of Armenian literature. Scholarship speaks of a “Hellenising
school” especially in the 6th century.61 Still for Movsēs Xorenacʿi in the 8th
century, “Greece (was) the mother or nurse of all sciences”.62 Armenians had
studied at places of education in the Roman Empire already in the 4th century.
Ammianus Marcellinus mentions that one of his schoolmates in Antioch in
the 330s/340s was the princely heir of the Satrap of Corduene (in Southern
Armenia), held as hostage in Syria.63 Another one of the Armenian Satraps in
this region was Thomas, who in the early 6th century was educated “in the
wisdom of the Greeks” in Berytus and Antioch.64
The desire for Christian education intensified scholarly mobility. Koriwn,
disciple and biographer of Mesrob Maštocʿ, in the early 5th century and the
historian Łazar Pʿarpecʿi in the late 5th century studied in Constantinople,
which the latter praises as source of “flows of wisdom (…). Prominent scholars
from all parts of the Greek Empire hurry to go there”.65 The famous 7th century
59 Lilie, “Sonderbare Heilige”.

60 Agathangelos (armen.) § 840, ed. ed. Thomson, p. 374.
61 On the development of the Armenian alphabet now see the contributions in Seibt/Prei-
ser-Kapeller, The Creation of the Caucasian Alphabets. On the “Hellenising School” see
Terian, “The Hellenizing School”, pp. 175–186; Weitenberg, “Linguistic continuity”,
pp. 447–458.
62 Movsēs Xorenacʿi i, 2, ed. Abełean/Yarut‛iwnean, transl. Thomson, p. 68; Terian, “Xorenacʿi
and Eastern Historiography”, pp. 101–141; Thomson, “Constantinople in Early Armenian
Literature”, pp. 20–34; Preiser-Kapeller, “Between New Jerusalem”, pp. 65–66.
63 Ammianus Marcellinus 18, 6, 20, ed. Seyfarth; Treadgold, Early Byzantine Historians, p. 52.
64 The Prosopography of the later Roman Empire iii s. v. Thomas, p. 17, with further
references.
65 Koriwn § 46, § 136–140, ed. ed. Akinean; Łazar Pʿarpecʿi 3, ed. Tēr Mkrtčʿean/Malχaseancʿ,
p. 4, transl. Thomson, p. 37; Preiser-Kapeller, “Between New Jerusalem”, pp. 66–67.
scholar Anania of Širak reports in his so-called “autobiography” about his edu-
cational journey to Theodosioupolis and Trebizond in the 630s, where he stud-
ied especially mathematics with a teacher named Tychikos, who in turn under
the Emperors Tiberius and Maurice had served in the Byzantine Army in Ar-
menia, where he had learned the Armenian language, before his studies had
led him to Jerusalem, Alexandria, Rome and Constantinople (see Map 12.3).66
2.5 Non-Elite Mobility and Borderlands

Therefore, we encounter a multitude of voices regarding mobility and migra-
tion in the Armenian sources, often within the same text. However, as indicat-
ed above, we are (besides pilgrims, who also may have come from a non-elite
stratum of society) mostly informed about (military, ecclesiastical or educa-
tional) elite mobility and elite considerations.
One example for the mobility of an artisan from Armenia to Byzantium is
Trdat, architect and mason, who according to the Armenian historian Stephen
of Taron travelled to Constantinople and was entrusted with the restoration of
the Hagia Sophia, which had been damaged by an earthquake in October 989.
However, to our disappointment, his accomplishment found no echo in the
Byzantine sources, which mention the damage and reconstruction of the Ha-
gia Sophia, but not Trdat. At the same time, we learn from Stephen of Taron
that Trdat was the architect of the church of the Armenian Katholikos in
Argina and of the Cathedral of Ani for King Smbat ii Bagratuni; we can there-
fore assume that he was closely connected with the Armenian elite.67
Nevertheless, as we have seen, in many cases aristocrats moving across
borders were accompanied by their retainers, both noble and not noble, and
sometimes their families. Bringing with him valuable manpower of course
strengthened also the position of a nobleman in his negotiations with the au-
thorities of his destination.68 Even more, imperial authorities relied on these
networks of allegiance when attempting to mobilise larger numbers of soldiers
or settlers for their purposes. Again, the period of Byzantine control over most
of Armenia under Emperor Maurice between 590 and 602 provides an illus-
trating example:
66 Cf. Greenwood, “Reassessment”. See also Hewsen, “Science in Seventh-Century Armenia”.

67 Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr. 28370; Stephen of Taron iii, cap.
11 and 27, ed. Malχasean, transl. Greenwood, pp. 239 and 289.
68 For an example of the re-location of non-elite population within Armenia by Katholikos
Nersēs iii “the Builder” (641–661), whose re-settled peasants on newly cultivated land,
cf. Garsoïan, Interregnum, p. 38 (with references).
He (Emperor Maurice) further commanded all the cavalry from Armenia

to assemble, and the chief nobles, (and those) who were experienced and
capable of standing firm and fighting in battle in the line of spearmen. He
also ordered other forces to be brought from the land of Armenia in great
numbers, all of them willing and of elite stature, to be formed into bat-
talions and that, equipped with arms, they should all cross to the land of
Thrace against the enemy, and Mušeł Mamikonean as their general.69
On another occasion during the reign for Maurice we learn that these ties of
allegiance between noble commander and retainers could also work to the
detriment of imperial interests, since they enabled them to follow own inter-
ests also after having moved into the imperial sphere. In this episode, the Em-
peror has to use considerable diplomatic and material resources to separate
the mass of soldiers from their aristocratic leader:
At that time, another command came from the Emperor to seek out again
and find from Armenia elite armed cavalry, 2,000 in number, and put
them under two reliable men, and to despatch them in great haste. They
sought out and chose 2,000 armed men and put these 2,000 under two
reliable men: 1,000 to Sahak Mamikonean und 1,000 under the command
of Smbat Bagratuni, son of Manuēl. (…) Sahak set out, brought his force
to the palace, and presented himself to the king. But when Smbat reached
Xałtik‛, he baulked, because his force had become frightened en route,
not wishing to go to that place (= Thrace) in compliance with the king’s
request. The king was informed of these events. Then through letters (hro
vartaks) and trustworthy messengers he promised with an oath to send
him back promptly to his own country with great honour. He also prom-
ised great rewards and gifts to the troops, and in this way he cajoled them
into reconciliation. They proceeded in unity and presented themselves to
the king. The king fully equipped the troops and despatched them to the
borders of Thrace; Smbat he sent in great honour back to the land of his
own people with many gifts.70
69 Sebēos c. 18, ed. Abgaryan, p. 90, 16–22, transl. Thomson/Howard-Johnston, Sebeos i, p. 36,
and ii, pp, 176 and 178; Garsoïan, “Marzpanate”, p. 109; Preiser-Kapeller, “Kaysr”, pp. 193–
194; Dölger, Regesten, nr. 108b.
70 Sebēos c. 20, ed. Abgaryan, p. 91, 32–34, transl.Thomson/Howard-Johnston, Sebeos i, p. 38;
Dölger, Regesten, nr. 89a and b.
Yet, non-noble mobility was possible without or against the wishes of impe-
rial authorities, especially since borders in this period were no “iron curtains”,
often not even clearly defined. This was also true for the Roman-Persian border
in the 6th century as described by Procopius in his book on buildings:
On the way from Kitharizon to Theodosioupolis and the other Armenia

lies a region called Chorzane; it extends over a march of three days and it
is not separated from Persia by a lake, a river or mountains, which would
impede the crossing of a pass but the borders of the two merge. Because
of this the inhabitants, whether subjects of the Romans or of the Per-
sians, do not fear one another or suspect mutual attacks but even engage
in intermarriage, hold common markets for their daily needs and run
their farms together. Whenever the military commanders on each side
lead an army against the other because their rulers instructed them to do
so they find their neighbours unguarded. The densely populated settle-
ments are very close to each other and from old times there were no
mounds anywhere.71
Emperor Justinian later tried to secure and control the frontier in this region by
the construction of a fortress, since Persian armies had criss-crossed the area
relatively unimpededly in an earlier war.
Especially where more densely settled areas met, there was also a higher
frequency of cross-border interaction and of possible diffusion of information,
against the wishes of official authorities. Deserted or sparsely settled areas on
the contrast may have constituted obstacles for the dispersion of informa-
tion.72 The military handbook attributed to Emperor Maurice (“Strategikon”)
from the period around 600 advises marching through less settled areas in or-
der to conceal the movement of troops, but only for smaller scale armies.73
Supplying larger numbers of troops from less densely settled and less cultivat-
ed areas would have caused severe logistic problems. According to this logic,
along the Byzantine-Arab frontier in the 7th and 8th century there emerged a
zone of deserted and depopulated no-man´s-land, which should impede the
advance of larger armies, especially of the Arabs towards Byzantine territory.
A Syrian Chronicle from the year 775 describes the formation of this zone on
the occasion of an Arab assault in 716/717:
71 Procopius, De aedificiis iii, 3, 3, 9–12, ed. Dewing. Dignas/Winter, Rome and Persia, p. 208.
72 Cf. Lee, Information and Frontier; Austin/Rankov, Exploratio.
73 Maurice, Strategicon, i, 9, ed. Dennis, pp. 106–107.
When a great and innumerable army of Arabs gathered and surged for-
wards to invade Roman territory, all the regions of Asia and Cappadocia
fled from them, as did the whole area from the sea and by the Black
Mountain and Lebanon as far as Melitene and by the river Arsanias [Mu-
rat Nehri] as far as Inner Armenia [the region of Theodosioupolis/Er-
zurum]. All this territory had been graced by the habitations of a numer-
ous population and thickly planted with vineyards and every kind of
gorgeous tree; but since that time it has been deserted and these regions
have not been resettled.74
In fact, these areas did not remain unpopulated, but served as zone of transfer
and refuge for several groups who wished to evade political or religious au-
thorities. One of these was the dualistic sect of the Paulicians, which (accord-
ing to their own tradition) emerged in 6th century Armenia and appeared in
the eastern frontier provinces of Byzantium since the 7th century; in the face
of persecutions by the state, they migrated into this “space between”. Finally
since the middle of the 9th century they even created their own polity around
the fortress of Tephrike (today Divriği in Eastern Turkey) and fought the Byzan-
tines as allies of the Emir of Melitene until their defeat in 871/872. Paulician
groups, which included significant elements of Armenian origin, then in the
9th and 10th century were deported to the Balkans.75 Byzantium on the con-
trast tolerated and even encouraged the settlement of Armenian aristocrats
with their retinue in these territories. This process intensified since the early
10th century and contributed to the restoration of settlement and administra-
tive structures when Byzantium re-expanded into the East; the newly estab-
lished, relatively small military districts then were subsumed under the termi-
nus “mikra armenika themata”.76
From there, benefiting from the fragmentation of political power in Caliph-
ate since the 9th century, Byzantine suzerainty expanded again over most of
74 Chronicon ad annum Christi 1234, ed. Chabot, pp. 156–157; transl. Palmer, The Seventh
Century in the West-Syrian Chronicles, p. 62. Cf. also Haldon/Kennedy, “Frontier”; Ter-
Ghewondyan, The Arab Emirates, pp. 22–25; Dédéyan, Histoire, pp. 230–231; Eger, The Is-
lamic-Byzantine Frontier.
75 Garsoïan, The Paulician Heresy; Ludwig, “Wer hat was in welcher Absicht wie geschrieben”;
Ter-Ghewondyan, The Arab Emirates, pp. 22–25; Redgate, Armenians, pp. 193–195; Dédéy-
an, Histoire, pp. 304–305; Dadoyan, Armenians i, pp. 91–107.
76 Charanis, “Armenians in the Byzantine Empire”, passim; Haldon/Kennedy, “Frontier”;
Seibt, “Armenika themata”, pp. 134–141; Dédéyan, “Reconquête territorial et immigration
arménienne”; Dadoyan, The Armenians i, pp. 124–128. On migration of Armenians into
Syria cf. Dadoyan, The Armenians ii, pp. 10–20; Todt/Vest, Syria, pp. 360–361, 423, 456–457,
and esp. Dédéyan, “Le rôle des Arméniens”.
Armenia in the second half of the 10th and first half of the 11th century. One
after the other of the princedoms and kingdoms, which had emerged since the
9th century, was turned into a province and its elites compensated with titles
and possessions in the interior of Anatolia. These annexations in many cases
were also accompanied by larger scale migrations of population into Byzan-
tine Asia Minor, as the Continuator of Tʿovma Arcruni describes for the case of
the Kingdom of Vaspurakan (around Lake Van) in the year 1022:
They [the Byzantines] gave them gifts, appointed them at the royal court,
gave them great cities in exchange for their cities and in return for their
castles, impregnable fortresses and provinces, villages, estates, and holy
hermitages. So the Artsrunik’, descendants of Hayk [and] Senek’erim, ex-
changed their ancestral homes in the year 470 of the Armenian era, and
moved into Greek territory with fourteen thousand men, not including
women and children, passing under the yoke of servitude to the Romans.
Likewise the Bagratid Gagik, son of King Yovhannes, also exchanged his
ancestral [lands] in the year 490 of the same era, and went to Roman
territory.77
In the case of Vaspurakan at least the demographic impact of these migrations

described in the sources can also be checked against other evidence: an actual
dramatic demographic decline in the region can be detected both in core drill
data from Lake Van (using the sedimentation of charcoal as proxy for human
activity) as well as in the rapid decline of building activity from the 10th cen-
tury, the apex of Arcruni power, to the 11th century.78 The political and religious
tensions emerging from this large scale migration of Armenians into central
Asia Minor in the 11th century and its longer term significance for the emerging
of another Armenian polity in Cilicia have been studied in detail elsewhere
and would deserve at least a paper of their own;79 I therefore close this section
and continue with a more detailed inspection of the mobility and networks of
several mobile Armenians.
77 Tʿovma Arcruni cont. iv, 12, transl. Thomson, pp. 370–371. See also Seibt, “Die Einglieder-
ung von Vaspurakan”; Felix, Byzanz und die islamische Welt, pp. 138–141; Charanis, “Trans-
fer of population”, p. 147.
78 See Preiser-Kapeller, “A Collapse of the Eastern Mediterranean”.
79 Garsoïan, “Problem”, esp. pp. 76–82, 111–124; Cheynet, “Les Arméniens”, pp. 67–78; idem,
Pouvoir et contestations, passim; Seibt, “Stärken und Schwächen”, pp. 331–347; Lebeniotes,
Η πολιτική κατάρρευση, and esp. Dédéyan, Les Arméniens entre Grecs, Musulmans et
Croisés.
3 Mobilities and Networks
Recent works of migration history have highlighted the significance of social

networks and of the “multiplexity” of ties of ethnic or regional affiliation, of
kinships, of politics or of economy between individuals, groups and organisa-
tions, which make up complex “migration systems”.80 While our evidence does
not allow us to reconstruct such webs with equal detail as for the modern pe-
riod, we are able to detect and map various categories of ties for individuals,
which may hint at the general complexity of connections which made Arme-
nian mobility possible.
3.1 Networks of Nobility and the “military labour market” of Byzantium

The work of Procopius is a rich source for Armenian noble mobility across the
Roman-Persian frontier and within the empire for the 6th century.81 Such an
episode from the time around 530 illustrates several possible channels for the
initiation and negotiation of mobility:
At about the same time Narses and Aratius who at the beginning of this
war, as I have stated above, had an encounter with Sittas and Belisarius in
the land of the Persarmenians,82 came together with their mother as de-
serters to the Romans; and the Emperor’s steward, Narses, received them
(for he too happened to be a Persarmenian by birth), and he presented
them with a large sum of money. When this came to the knowledge of
Isaac, their youngest brother, he secretly opened negotiations with the
Romans, and delivered over to them the fortress of Bolum, which lies very
near the limits of Theodosioupolis. For he directed that soldiers should
be concealed somewhere in the vicinity, and he received them into the
fort by night, opening stealthily one small gate for them. Thus he too
came to Byzantium.83
The defection of the three brothers (who may have been members of the oth-
erwise well-known noble house of Kamsarakan) was facilitated through the
connection to an Armenian already well-established in the Byzantine elite, the
famous eunuch Narses.84 It was additionally motivated by material rewards. In
80 On this term cf. Harzig/Hoerder, Migration History, p. 87.

81 Preiser-Kapeller, “erdumn, ucht, carayutíwn”. Cf. also Börm, Prokop und die Perser.
82 Cf. Procopius, Bella i, 12, 21–23, ed. Dewing i, p. 101.
83 Procopius, Bella i, 15, 31, ed. Dewing i, p. 139.
84 Cf. The Prosopography of the later Roman Empire iii s. v. Narses i, pp. 912–928, with further
references.
addition, the movement of some members of the clan across the borders of
course established a trans-local kinship network, which could be used by oth-
ers. Procopius allows us also to trace the further carriers of Narses, Aratius and
Isaac in the military service of Justinian, which led them sometimes together,
sometimes far apart from each other across the entire empire from Armenia to
Palestine and Southern Egypt and to Italy and the Balkans (see Map 12.2). How-
ever, their story also highlights the dangers of imperial service, since all three
of them ultimately fell fighting for Byzantium: Narses in 543 after the battle of
Anglon in Persarmenia, Isaak in 546 in Italy as prisoner of war of the Goths and
Aratios in 552 fighting in Illyricum.85 Under these auspices, the decision of a
group of noblemen faced with the imperial desire to transfer them to the Bal-
kans in the period of Maurice “to extricate themselves from service to the king of
the Greeks (…), so that they too would not be obliged to die in the regions of Thra-
ce, but could live or die for their own country”86 becomes comprehensible.
The term which Armenian historians used to describe the relationship of
allegiance and patronage between the Emperor or the Great King and the indi-
vidual aristocrats is caṙayut‛iwn. This is the same term, which describes the al-
legiance of the Armenian princes to their king in earlier times.87 In that way,
the Emperor took the place of the Armenian king in this relationship. For the
aristocrat, caṙayut‛iwn included the obligation for military service to his lord
(tēr). However, this relationship also included mutual commitments, which
according to the Armenian tradition were sealed through a reciprocal oath
(uχt, erdumn). Because of this oath, one side took upon itself the duties of lord-
ship and protection, and the other those of faithful service and obedience.88
The new fiduciary relation was also manifested in ritual and material ways; the
new retainer was honoured in a ceremonial reception at the court in Constan-
tinople and received valuable presents.89 One example of such a very mobile
nobleman described in the history attributed to Sebēos is Atat Xoṙχoṙuni, who
crossed the border into or out of the empire several times. He started his career
85 The Prosopography of the later Roman Empire iii s. v. Aratius, pp. 103–104, s. v. Isaaces 1,
p. 718, s. v. Narses 2, pp. 928–929, with sources and further references.
86 Sebēos c. 20, ed. Abgaryan, p. 92, transl. Thomson/Howard-Johnston, Sebeos i, p. 39.
87 Cf. Sebēos c. 15 and 16, ed. Abgaryan, pp. 87, 2 and 88, 18 and 25, transl. Thomson/Howard-
Johnston, Sebeos i, pp. 32–33 and ii, p. 330 (s. v. submission – tsaṙayut‛iwn); Adontz/Gar-
soïan, Armenia, pp. 349 and 516, n. 49; Buzandaran Patmut‛iwnk‛, transl. Garsoïan, p. 518
(s. v.).
88 Adontz/Garsoïan, Armenia, pp. 349, 355 and 520, n. 67; Garsoïan, “The Aršakuni Dynasty”,
p. 78; Preiser-Kapeller, “Central Peripheries”.
89 Preiser-Kapeller, “erdumn, ucht, carayutíwn”; see for instance Sebēos c. 16 and 30, ed.
Abgaryan, pp. 88, 33–35 and 104, 22–27, transl. Thomson/Howard-Johnston, Sebeos i,
pp. 34 and 55–56 and ii, p. 189.
as participant in a conspiracy against Persian rule in Eastern Armenia around

the year 590; when this attempted rebellion failed, he crossed the border to
Byzantium. There Emperor Maurikios received him with honours in Constan-
tinople and gave him a command in the army fighting the Avars on the Bal-
kans. Nevertheless, on his way to the troops, Atat Xoṙχoṙuni decided against
joining this fight and fled across the Black Sea and Asia Minor back to Persian
territory, where Great King Xusrō ii received him friendly. Yet, after some years
in Persian services, Atat Xoṙχoṙuni planned to defect to Byzantium once again;
this time, his intention was detected and Xusrō ii had him executed.90
The motivations behind such movements could be different – some aristo-
crats hoped for certain benefits, others would have no other choice. The initia-
tive for a change in the caṙayut‛iwn could come from the respective nobleman
as well as from an imperial authority trying to persuade a retainer of the op-
posing great power to defect.91 Imperial authorities of course were anxious to
impede such noble mobility when working against their interest. One instru-
ment to do so was the demand of hostages, as did the Caliphate after its first
agreement on suzerainty over Armenia with the nobility at large; nevertheless,
a majority of the aristocracy defected to the emperor in 656 (see above). While
it was impossible to stop such a mass defection without an equally massive use
of force, individuals intending to cross borders could be impeded to do so
when detected early enough – as in the case of Gurgēn Arcruni in 856, whose
correspondence with the Byzantine emperor became known to Arab authori-
ties, who had him arrested.92 In the peace treaty of 562, Byzantium and Persia
agreed that “those who in time of peace (between the two empires) defected, or
rather fled, from one to the other shall not be received, but every means shall be
used to place them, even against their will, in the hands of those from whom they
have fled.”93 Yet, already soon afterwards, the temptation to weaken the com-
peting empire by depriving it of important clients was too strong for both
signatories.
The persisting importance of ties of kinship and ethnic affiliation in this
regard is also documented for late periods; according to the 11th century Arab
90 Sebēos c. 30, ed. Abgaryan, pp. 104–105, transl. Thomson/Howard-Johnston, Sebeos i, p. 55.
91 For the material gains from imperial service which surely enhanced its attractiveness cf.
also Oikonomides, “Title and Income”, pp. 202–206.
92 Tʿovma Arcruni, Patmutʿiwn iii, 13, ed. Patkanean, transl. Thomson, p. 267; Greenwood,
“Photius”, 130–32, and idem, “Armenian Neighbours”, p. 351; Preiser-Kapeller, “erdumn,
ucht, carayutíwn”, pp. 160–161; Dölger, Regesten, nr. 453.
93 Menander Protector, fr. 6, 1, ed. Blockley; Güterbock, Byzanz und Persien, pp. 81–92; Grea-
trex/Lieu, Eastern Frontier, pp. 132–133 (translation); Dignas/Winter, Rome and Persia, p.
142 (translation).
Melkite historian Yaḥyā of Antioch, the conquest of the Arab fortress of Rhaba-
ine in Northern Syria in 980 was brought about by a female Armenian slave in
the fortress, who got in contact with her relatives in the Byzantine Army and
helped them to cross the walls and to occupy the citadel.94
However, as we have indicated above in the case of the rebellion of Smbat
Bagratuni and his troops against Emperor Maurice, the same networks of kin-
ship and ethnic affiliation, which had supported noble mobility in the interest
of the empire, could also be effective against them. One illustrative example
comes again from Procopius in the shape of Artabanes, scion of the Armenian
royal house of the Arsacids (see Map 12.2). He first appears in the year 538/539
in the region of Armenia interior, controlled by the Romans; there the descen-
dants of the last Arsacid king still had considerable possessions and traditional
tax privileges.95 When these prerogatives were abolished and Armenia interior
turned into a province by Emperor Justinian, the Armenian nobility stood up
in an armed rebellion, which the magister militum Sittas was ordered to quell.96
Among these rebels was also Artabanes, who first excelled himself by murder-
ing the imperial governor Akakios and then by killing Sittas in hand-to-hand
combat.97 Yet, the imperial forces proved insurmountable, so that Artabanes
and his clan had to flee to the Persian Empire, where contacts already had been
established with Great King Xusrō i. Nevertheless, before 545, he and many
noblemen returned to Roman soil, bowed to the Emperor and joined the impe-
rial army; one can assume that the conditions for the imperial pardon had
been negotiated in advance, although we receive no information on this. To-
gether with his brother Ioannes, his cousin Gregorios and other troops of Ar-
menian origin, Artabanes in 545/546 was sent to recently conquered North
Africa. There they soon found themselves involved in the rebellion of the ma-
gister militum Guntharis (a commander of Germanic origin), who seized power
94 Cf. Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 22695, and Todt/Vest, Syria,
p. 1624 (with sources); Dölger, Regesten, nr 766c.
95 Cf. Güterbock, “Römisch-Armenien”, pp. 12–20; Toumanoff, Studies, pp. 133–134; Blockley,
“Division”; Greatrex, “Partition”; Greatrex/Lieu, Eastern Frontier, pp. 28–30; Preiser-
Kapeller, Verwaltungsgeschichte, pp. 45–48; Thomson, “Armenia”, pp. 157–159; Settipani,
Continuité des élites 111–113; Ayvazyan, Armenian Military; cf. also Hewsen, Atlas, maps 65
and 66.
96 Cf. also Procopius, Bella ii, 3, 35–36, ed. Dewing, p. 281.
97 Procopius, Bella ii, 3, 25–26, ed. Dewing. Cf. Adontz/Garsoïan, Armenia, pp. 142–164, 32*–
34* and 37*–38*; Toumanoff, Studies, pp. 174–175, 196–197; Garsoïan, “Marzpanate”;
Redgate, Armenians, pp. 155–156; Lounghis/Blysidu/Lampakes, Regesten, nr. 1078 and 1108;
Preiser-Kapeller, Verwaltungsgeschichte, pp. 59–63; Preiser-Kapeller, “Magister Militum”;
Preiser-Kapeller, “erdumn, ucht, carayutíwn”, pp. 151–154, and Ayvazyan, Armenian
Military.
in Carthage and declared himself independent from Constantinople. Arta-

banes with his troops joined Guntharis after having received some guarantees,
but secretly plotted his assassination together with his relatives and the impe-
rial official Athanasius.98 The plan succeeded in 546 and Artabanes was ap-
pointed magister militum per Africam by the emperor. Soon he returned to
Constantinople according to his own wishes, where he planned to marry Praei-
ecta, a niece of Justinian, whom he had got to know in Africa after Guntharis
had killed her first husband Areobindus. Thereby, he would have joined the
imperial clan and could have hoped for even higher honours, after he had al-
ready received the consulate. According to Procopius, Artabanes even dreamed
about obtaining the imperial crown (basileia). Yet, these hopes were balked
when an earlier wife of Artabanes appeared in the capital und effected with
the support of Empress Theodora that he received her back into his household.
Frustrated, Artabanes let himself roped in into a conspiracy by his relative Ar-
sakes together with another Armenian, Chanaranges, who intended to replace
Justinian with his cousin Germanus.99 The conspiracy was detected, yet Arta-
banes was not severely punished by Justinian; instead, already in 550 he was
appointed magister militum per Thracias and sent first to Sicily and then to
Northern Italy, where he served under the command of another prominent
Armenian, the eunuch Narses. After 554, we lose his track in the sources.
The life story of the noble migrant Artabanes as depicted by Procopius for
mere 15 years demonstrates remarkable dynamics of Armenian noble mobility,
both spatial and social, within 6th century Byzantium. On the one side, we
observe a stunningly rapid integration into the imperial Roman elite and al-
most into the imperial family itself; on the other hand, Artabanes in the most
crucial and dangerous moments of his career – the rebellion against Roman
rule in Armenia interior, the plot to murder Guntharis and the conspiracy
against Justinian – relies on networks established by kinship and common Ar-
menian origin (see 12.1 and 12.2).
Artabanes is not a single case for Byzantium in this regard – and similar
observations can be made for other Armenian noblemen who made their ca-
reer in the Persian Empire after having defected from the Roman side such as
Smbat Bagratuni, whom we have already encountered above with his rebel-
lious troops in the time of Emperor Maurice. After leading another rebellion in
Roman Armenia, deportation to Constantinople and (similarly to Artabanes)
military service for the emperor in Africa, he defected to Persia and within a
98 Procopius, Bella iv, 27, 11–19, ed. Dewing.

99 Procopius, Bella vii, 32, esp. 7, ed. Dewing iv, pp. 420–437, esp. 422–423; cf. also Meier, Das
andere Zeitalter Justinians, pp. 261–262, on this conspiracy.
few years achieved a most honoured position at the court of the Sasanian
Great King Xusrō ii, who awarded him with the title “Xosrov Šum” (Xusrō´s
joy). In addition, Smbat relied on an already existing network of Armenian
noblemen and their retinues in the service of the Sasanians.100 The ability of
the same Armenian noblemen “to fit in” both a the courts in Constantinople
and in Ctesiphon was based on these networks, but also on an “aristocratic
koine”, a language of ritual exchange mutually understandable across borders
in order to establish and maintain ties of patronage and loyalty in the wide
area from Byzantium to Central Asia. We also have cues that the Christian
nobility in the Caucasus region considered itself part of a more far-reaching
noble tradition: in his history of the Armenians, Movsēs Xorenacʿi reports the
stories of origin of 50 of the most important noble houses, which I systemati-
cally surveyed. More than 50 % related themselves (or were related by
Xorenacʿi) to the eponymous ancestor of the Armenians Hayk respectively to
other “autochthonous” ancestors. However, a large number of families traced
themselves back to royal or significant noble houses of neighbouring countries
such as Georgia, Caucasian Albania, Mesopotamia or – most prominently –
Persia. Connections to even more remote regions were created with ancient
Israel respectively Canaan, Bulgaria or even the royal house of China.101 There-
fore, mobility and trans-local connections were deeply integrated into the tra-
ditions of the Armenian nobility.
The military “labour market” of Byzantium provided opportunities for aris-
tocrats and non-aristocrats also in the centuries after the Arab expansion.102
Around 750 Kūšān al-Armanī, commander in Arab services in the region of
Armenia iv, defected to Byzantium and was made strategos by Emperor Con-
stantine v. He conquered and plundered Theodosioupolis (Erzurum); many of
the captured Armenians were settled in Cappadocia. Together with some of
them, Kūšān returned into the Arab sphere some years later, which again dem-
onstrates the double-edged validity of ties of ethnic affiliation.103
100 Preiser-Kapeller, “erdumn, ucht, carayutíwn”; Preiser-Kapeller, “Vom Bosporus zum Ara-
rat”. On Smbat Bagratuni now see also Pourshariati, Decline and Fall, pp. 136–140, 275,
297–298, 303; Settipani, Continuité des élites, pp. 331–333.
101 Cf. Preiser-Kapeller, “Vom Bosporus zum Ararat”; Preiser-Kapeller, “Central Peripheries”.
See also the royal Armenian, Arsacid parentage claimed for Emperor Basil i (867–886) in
the biography created by his grandson Constantine vii Porphyrogennetos and adopted
also in later historiography: Theophanes Continuatus, c. 2–3, ed. Ševčenko, pp. 10–19, esp.
c. 3, lns. 23–24, ed. Ševčenko, p. 18.
102 Cf. also Garsoïan, “Problem”, p. 64: “the Armenian career par excellence was that of mili-
tary service”.
103 Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 4169, with further references.
Despite such defections, Byzantium in the 8th century employed Armenian

noblemen in leading commanding positions on a significant scale; as Theo-
phanes informs us for the year 778, during a successful campaign of the the-
matic armies of Anatolia against Germanikeia under the supreme command
of Michael Lachanodrakon, the army of the thema Anatolikon was command-
ed by Artabasdos (maybe Artawazd Mamikonean, who left Armenia after a
rebellion in 771), the Opsikion by Gregorios tou Mousoulakiou (maybe also a
Mamikonean, son of Mušeł) and the Boukellarion by Tatzates (Tačat Anjevac‛i,
who had defected to Byzantium around 750, but in 782 returned to Armenia,
where he became presiding prince in Arab services and died in 785 in battle
against the Khazars).104
Desired qualities for military men were of course strength and bravery. Theo
phylaktos Abastaktos, a soldier of Armenian origin, saved the life of Basil i in
a battle against the Paulicians and received a position in the service of the
Emperor. Theophylaktos became father of the future Emperor Romanos i
Lakapenos.105 Early in the reign of Basil I´s son Leon vi (886–912) an Armenian
nobleman Azatos or Azotos with the telling nickname “Makrocheir” (“with big
hands”, “with long arms”) came to Constantinople with his retinue. His impres-
sive stature prompted the emperor to make Makrocheir exarchos of the guard
regiment of the Exkoubites. In 896, Azotos fell in the battle of Boulgarophygon
against the Bulgarians.106
In the retinue of Azotos was also Melias (Arm. Mleh), who survived the Bat-
tle of Bulgarophygon and returned to Armenia. However, around 904 he most
probably was again in Byzantine services and fought together with Eustathios
Argyros in the East. Shortly afterwards, both of them fell from favour. In
907/908, Melias together with four other Armenian noblemen, Ismael and the
three brothers Baasakios, Krikorikes and Pazunes, was in exile at the court of
the Emir of Melitene, but returned to the Byzantine Empire via the interme-
diation of Eustathios Argyros, who had regained imperial favour before. All
five Armenians then received commands at the Eastern frontier. Leon vi made
Melias tourmarches of Euphrateia, ta Trypia and “eremia”, the deserted no-
mans-land at the frontier. Between 909 and 912 Melias fortified and resettled
the town of Lykandos together with his Armenian retinue, and used it as basis
for further operations against the Arabs. In 917 Melias together with his retinue
104 Theophanes, ed. de Boor, p. 451, 12–27; see also for Artabasdos Prosopographie der mittel-
byzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 640, for Gregorios tu Musulakiu nr 2407; for Tatzates nr 7241,
for Michael Lachanodrakon nr 5027. See also Łewond c. 39, ed. Ezean, p. 159, transl. Arzou-
manian, p. 143, and Tritle, “Flight”.
106 Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr. 20643, with further references.
again fought the Bulgarians on the Balkans, where the Battle at the Acheloos
ended with another Byzantine defeat. He then executed further campaigns at
the Eastern border; his greatest success was the conquest of Melitene in 934
together with Ioannes Kourkouas, equally of Armenian origin.107 These cam-
paigns and migrations marked also the beginning of the emergence of the
above-mentioned mikra armenika themata. At the same time, they illustrate
the impact of network mechanisms similar to those we have inspected for the
earlier period.
3.2 Networks of Learning and Commerce

Some information on non-military networks across borders in the 7th century
we obtain from two texts of the already mentioned Armenian scholar Anania
of Širak. In one, he describes how he as young student in the 630s, dissatisfied
with the quality of education in his homeland, set out for Byzantium to find an
adequate instructor. He first travelled to Theodosioupolis/Karin (Erzurum)
and the in the province of Armenia quarta (the region around Martyroupolis/
today Silvan), where he studied with a scholar named Kʿristosatur, who could
not satisfy his appetite for knowledge. Therefore, Anania intended to move to
Constantinople, but on the way near Trebizond, he encountered another group
of Armenian students, who (after a maritime voyage to Sinop) were on their
way home. They recommended to him a professor of mathematics named Ty-
chikos, who lived in Trebizond. Tychikos had served in the Byzantine Army in
Armenia, where he had learned the Armenian language, before his studies had
led him to Jerusalem, Alexandria, Rome and Constantinople. With him, Ana-
nia now studied for several years before returning to Armenia. In another short
text, Ananias describes the journey of a kinsman to Balḫ in modern-day Af-
ghanistan, where he purchased a very valuable pearl, which he then profitably
sold piece for piece to several business partners on his way back to native Širak
(a rare evidence for Armenian commerce in this period, see also below on the
range of Armenian mobility).108
If we visualise the connections outlined in Anania´s biographical narratives,
we detect a multiplex, relatively complex network of ties of education,
commerce, kinship, authority and patronage (see Fig. 12.3). The backbone of
Anania´s longer account is of course the network of education, consisting of
107 Constantine Porphyrogenitus, De administrando imperii 50, 139–148, ed. Moravcsik,

pp. 238–240; Dédéyan, “Mleh le Grand”. Cf. also; Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen
Zeit Online, nr 20723 (Baasakios), 21828 (Eusthatios Argyros), 22917 (Ioannes Kurkuas),
23566 (Ismael), 24198 (Krikorikes), 25041 (Melias), 26400 (Pazunes).
108 Greenwood, “Reassessment”, also with English translations of all relevant texts.
ties between teachers and disciples. The wide connections integrated in the
life story of a man who himself actually never travelled far beyond the borders
of his homeland become also visible if we look at the spatial structure of the
narratives (see Map 12.3).
The existence of such connections also after the Arab expansion is docu-
mented for Stepʿannos of Siwnikʿ, who between 713 and 717 travelled to Con-
stantinople in order to “learn the Greek and the Latin language” and to study in
the library of the Hagia Sophia. He translated several theological works (Dio-
nysios Areopagites, Gregory of Nyssa) into Armenian, also with the support of
a courtier of Armenian origin, the hypatos and kenarios David.109 Furthermore,
Stepʿannos became involved in theological debates with Patriarch Germanos i,
who handed over to him a letter to the Armenian Church. Afterwards he also
travelled to Rome (and allegedly to Athens) before returning to Armenia,
where he became bishop of Siwnik.110 His itinerary is most instructive for the
possibilities still existing for mobile scholars in the early 8th century. But pla
ces of (Greek) education also still existed within the new Arab sphere of power
Armenia was now part of; between 656 and 661, a Dawitʿ from Taron translated
some works of Basil of Caesarea in Damascus on the order of Prince Hamazasp
Mamikonean, as we are informed in the colophon of manuscript from the Mat-
enadaran in Erewan. We may also assume the existence of a larger Armenian
colony in the city that at this time became the centre of the Umayyad Caliph-
ate.111 Both Stepʿannos and Dawitʿ also document an overlap between connec-
tions of learning and aristocratic networks towards and within the centres of
imperial power, which opened important channels for their mobility.
4 Receiving Societies: “Armenian” Communities in the Byzantine

Sphere
As we have demonstrated, service in the Byzantine Empire could provide many

opportunities for material and symbolic rewards; even newcomers could be
integrated into the military and court elite relatively fast. The significant share
of individuals and families of Armenian background in the Byzantine elite
highlighted in earlier scholarship illustrates the mobile Armenians´ ability and
109 For him, see; Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 1250; Seibt, “Κηνάριος”,
pp. 369–80.
110 Thomson, “Constantinople in Early Armenian Literature”, pp. 34–36; Prosopographie der
mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr. 6989; Seibt, “Κηνάριος”.
111 Matenadaran ms nr 822.
the Byzantine society´s capability for integration. Nina Garsoïan in 1998 pro-
vided a magisterial synthesis on “The Problem of Armenian Integration into
the Byzantine Empire”;112 this gives us the freedom to concentrate on some
selected aspects of special interest within the framework of migration history,
documented by various sample cases.
4.1 Linguistic Aspects

Language, of course, played a significant role for the ability to “fit into” Byzan-
tine society in all social contexts.113 While, as we have seen, many of the lead-
ing aristocrats may have spoken Greek already before their moving into the
Empire or even had studied in one of the Greek institutions of learning,114 such
skills cannot be assumed for all migrants, especially of non-elite backgrounds,
but also for noblemen.115 Procopius tells the sorry fate of one Gilakios during
the Gothic wars in Italy:
Now there was (…) a certain Gilakios of the Armenian race (Armenios
genos), commander of a small force of Armenians. This Gilakios did not
know how to speak either Greek or Latin or Gothic or any other language
except Armenian alone. When some of the Goths happened upon this
man, they enquired who he might be. For they were quite averse to killing
every man who came in their way, lest they be compelled to destroy each
other in fighting at night, as might easily happen. But he was able to make
them no answer except indeed that he was Gilakios, a general (Gilakios
strategos); for his title which he had received from the emperor he had
heard many times and so had been able to learn it by heart. The barbar-
ians, accordingly, perceiving by this that he was an enemy, made him a
prisoner for the moment, but not long afterwards put the man to death.116
While bilingualism may not always have been live saving, being fluent not only
in Greek, but also in Armenian was of advantage also in the service of the
112 Garsoïan, “Problem”.

113 Garsoïan, “Problem”, pp. 101–103. See also Vaux, “Linguistic manifestations”.
114 Cf. also Greenwoord, “Corpus”, and Vaux, “Linguistic manifestations”, on testimonies of
Greek language skills in medieval Armenia.
115 A most interesting testimony of an Armenian trying to learn Greek is a papyrus contain-
ing Greek in Armenian script, now in the Bibliothéque Nationale in Paris (inventory num-
ber BnF Arm 332); it can be dated only roughly between the 5th and 7th cent., cf. Clack-
son, “A Greek Papyrus in Armenian Script”; idem, “New Readings”.
116 Procopius, Bella vii, 26, 24–27, ed. Dewing, pp. 384–386; The Prosopography of the later
Roman Empire iii, s. v. Gilacius.
e mperor, especially in his diplomatic dealings with Armenia. One hermeneutes

sent on three diplomatic missions to the princedom of Taron in Western Arme-
nia by Emperor Romanos i Lakapenos (himself of an Armenian background,
as we have seen) was the protospatharios Krinites, who in turn may have
stemmed from an Armenian family (a Prokopios Krinites commanded a unit
of Armenians against the Bulgarians in 894; if the hermeneutes was a descen-
dant, maintaining Armenian language skills had proven beneficial for this
family).117 A counterpart to Krinites from the Armenian side may have been
Theodoros, hermeneutes of the Armenians in the negotiations of the princes of
Taron with Emperor Leon vi, ca. 898–900.118
But also other individuals made their Armenian linguistic background visi-
ble; around 1000, a Mχit‛ar together with a Philippos used a bilingual seal,
which had a Greek inscription on one side (“Lord help me Machitarios and
Philip”) and an Armenian one on the other side (“Of me, servant [of God],
Mχit‛ar, and of Philip”). Most probably, it was a private seal, maybe of two busi-
ness partners; but the purpose of its bilingualism remains unclear.119 A clear
statement was the sponsoring of an evangeliary in Armenian language by one
Yovhannēs, protospatharios and proximos of the doux Theodorokanos, which
according to the colophon was finished by the writer (and probably monk)
Kirakos in the year 1007 in Adrianople in Thrace. It also contains a miniature of
the donator, but with a later Greek inscription, which identified a dishypatos
Photeinos as donator, while the original Armenian scripture had been
erased.120
4.2 Religious Aspects – Saints and Heretics121

This evangeliary of course also raises the questions of the religious affiliation
of Armenian migrants respectively the change of affiliation. Byzantine and Ar-
menian Orthodoxy trod different theological paths especially since the 6th
century, a process that reached a first climax around 700. From the Byzantine
117 Constantine Porphyrogenitus, De administrando imperii 43, ed. Moravcsik, pp. 135–140,
169–179; Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 24200. See also s. v. Proko-
pios Krinites (Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 26760): and Kur-
tikios (Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 24215); Garsoïan, “Prob-
lem”, p. 101; Martin-Hisard, “Constantinople”.
118 Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 27644; Martin-Hisard,
“Constantinople”.
119 Coulie/Nesbitt, “A Bilingual Rarity”, pp. 121–123; Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen
Zeit Online, nr 25473 and 26662; Vaux, “Linguistic manifestations”.
120 Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 28486 and 23701, with further ref-
erences; see also Vaux, “Linguistic manifestations”.
121 On Byzantine-Armenian polemics in general cf. Garsoïan, “Problem”, pp. 66–82.
side, testimony to this are several canons against Armenian ecclesiastical prac-
tices proclaimed by the Council in Trullo (Quinisextum) in 692.122 Beyond all
doctrinal issues, these regulations very much intervened into customary prac-
tices both of Armenian clerics and of laymen when living under Byzantine
authority.123 Even more, Canon 72 of the Trullanum declared: “An orthodox
man is not permitted to marry a heretical woman, nor an orthodox woman to be
joined to a heretical man. But if anything of this kind appear to have been done by
any [we require them] to consider the marriage null, and that the marriage be
dissolved.”124 By that time, followers of the mainstream of the Armenian
Church had clearly qualified as heretics, while in the time of Justinian the
(planned) marriage between the Armenian Artabanes and the emperor´s niece
(see above) still would not have aroused any canonical issues. From 700 on-
wards, on the contrast, any intention to intermarry with the Byzantine elite at
least in theory would have necessitated a formal acceptance of Orthodoxy.125
Another question of course was the general tolerance of Armenian non-
Chalcedonian communities and especially clerics on Byzantine soil. Armenian
sources report two episodes of downright persecution of Armenian clergymen
for the 10th century: in the 930s in the time of the Armenian King Abas i, “vast
numbers of monks were expelled from Roman territory for the sake of orthodoxy.
Coming to our land, they built many monasteries: first Kamrjajor, then the mon-
astery called Horomosin – as if they had come from the regions of the Romans-
and Dpravank’. It is said that the [monastery] of the Holy Mother of God of Sana-
hin was built by them”. It remains unclear if this persecution was commanded
by the imperial centre or had a more local character; the information that one
of the communities, who fled and founded the Kamrjajor-Monastery, came
from Egrisi (Western Georgia), the periphery of the Byzantine-Orthodox
sphere, suggests the later variant.126
122 Concilium Quinisextum, ed. Ohme, pp. 220–224, 248–250, 286 and esp. pp. 64–80 on the
background to these canons; in particular relevant are Canon 32 (against the used of un-
mixed wine by the Armenians in the liturgy), Canon 33 (against the Armenian custom to
ordain only descendants of priestly families as priests), Canon 56 (against the eating of
cheese and eggs on Saturdays and Sundays during lent), and Canon 99 (against the cus-
tom to cook meat and distribute it among the priests and worshipers on certain festive
days).
123 On this period cf. also Nichanian, “Byzantine Emperor Philippikos-Vardanes”.
124 Concilium Quinisextum, ed. Ohme, pp. 262–264.
125 Garsoïan, “Problem”, pp. 86 and 95.
126 Vardan Arewelcʿi c. 46, ed., p. 88, transl. Thomson, p. 188; Prosopographie der mittelbyzan-
tinischen Zeit Online, nr 20006, 28465, 28466.
Clearly from local initiative of a Byzantine Metropolitan arose a further per-

secution of non-Chalcedonian clergymen in the city of Sebasteia in Cappado-
cia in 986:
(…) and the Metropolitan of Sebasteia started to disquiet the Armenian

people because of their faith. And since he had the power in his hands, he
started to plague the priests because of their faith; and he also ordered to
bring the protopresbyter of the city of Sebasteia in iron chains to the
court of the emperor. And they killed the protopresbyter Gabriel after
they had tortured him in the dungeon (…). This happened in the year 436
of the [Armenian] Era [= March 25th 986 – March 24th 987]. And besides
other priests also the two [Armenian] bishops of Sebasteia and Larissa,
Sion and Yovhannēs, due to the intrigues of the same Metropolitan ac-
cepted the Council of Chalcedon and seceded themselves from the unity
with the Armenians. And since then they prohibited the call to prayer of
the Armenians in the city of Sebasteia until the time when Emperor Basil
[ii] came to the east.127
This imperial intervention in favour of the Armenian Church took place in the
year 1000/1001, when Basil ii on his campaign to secure the territories of the
deceased prince David of Tao passed through Sebasteia. It also lets the story
about the martyrdom of the priest Gabriel in Constantinople ring hollow, since
the integration of Armenians and Armenian territories was one of the main
aims of imperial politics in this period.128
There was also a considerable share of pro-Chalcedonian Armenians during
and after the period of alienation in the 6th–7th centuries. Others would have
opted for Chalcedon in order to achieve better integration into the Byzantine
elite after having moved to the empire. In any case, an Armenian background
was not a priori an impediment to count as “pious man” even in the eyes of the
most rigorous defenders of Byzantine Orthodoxy. One case in support is Arsa-
ber, until 808 Patrikios and Kouaistor (the highest judicial official) under Em-
peror Nikephoros i (a position which equally suggests a sound background in
Greek education); his daughter Theodora married the later Emperor Leon v
“the Armenian” (in this case, the byname was clearly used to indicate heresy).
127 Stephen of Taron iii, cap. 20, ed. Malχasean, transl. Greenwood, p. 252. Cf. also Prosopog-
raphie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 22031 (Gabriel), nr 27091 (Siōn) and nr
28464 (Yōhannēs).
128 Stephan von Taron iii, cap. 43, ed. Malχasean, transl. Greenwood, p. 308. Cf. also Proso-
pographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 30574; Garsoïan, “Problem”, pp. 70–71,
85–86; Todt/Vest, Syria, p. 423 (on the popularity of Basil ii in other Armenian sources).
Theodoros Stoudites, leading figure of the venerators of the icons during

the second period of Iconoclasm, mentions Arsaber between 821 and 824 in
a letter to Theodora as a pious man (indicating Orthodoxy and pro-Icon
sympathies).129 Another “pious” aristocrat of possible Armenian background
was Konstantinos Lips; under Emperor Leon vi, he served in several embassies
to Armenia. His daughter was about to marry Apoganem, the brother of prince
Grigor i of Taron, who died before the marriage ceremony. In 907 Lips founded
the (of course Byzantine Orthodox) monastery in Constantinople named after
him, which was consecrated with the emperor present.130
Even to sainthood rose Mary the Younger (of Bizye); according to her Vita,
her father was a powerful man in Megale Armenia and at the beginning of the
reign of Emperor Basil i (867–886) came to Constantinople, where also Mary
was born in ca. 875. Around 888 she married a droungarios Nikephoros, whom
she got to know on the domain of her brother-in-law Bardas Bratzes (equally of
Armenian background) in Mesene in Thrace. She had four sons, Orestes, Bar-
danes as well as the twins Baanes and Stephanos (so two children received
Greek and two Armenian names). Her husband received a command in Bizye
after he had distinguished himself in the war against the Bulgarians. After a
pious life and plagued by her husband, Maria died in 902.131
Another “Armenian” Byzantine saint was Ioseph, who had already lived as
eremite on Mt. Athos when St. Euthymios the Younger arrived there in ca. 859.
Ioseph continued his ascetic life as companion of Euthymios and was ordained
as priest before he died in ca. 870. His corpse did not decay and segregated
Myron chrism.132 While the presence of a large number of monks from Georgia
(where the church had separated itself from the Armenians at the beginning of
the 7th century and had joined the Chalcedonian camp) on Mt. Athos espe-
cially since the foundation of the Monastery of Iviron (“of the Iberians =
Georgians”) in ca. 980 is well-known, also the Armenian background of some
Athonite monks is documented.133 One of these, a Theoktistos, signed a char-
ter of 1035 in Armenian letters (“I have signed with my own hand, Theoktistos”)
right below the Greek subscription of Theoktistos, Abbot of the Esphigmenou-
monastery and also Protos of Mt. Athos (1015-ca. 1040). This had led Hr.
129 Theodoros Stoudites, Letters, ed. Fatouros, p. 538; Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinisch-
en Zeit Online, nr 600.
131 Laiou, “The Life of St. Mary the Younger”; Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit
Online, nr 24910, nr 27066. On naming practices see also Garsoïan, “Problem”, pp. 96–99.
132 Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr. 23511, with further references.
133 On Georgian monasticism in Byzantium since the 9th century cf. Martin-Hisard, “LÁthos”,
pp. 239–248, and also Tchoidze, Ένας Γεωργιανός προσκυνητής.
artikian to the assumption that this Abbot Theoktistos himself had signed a
B
second time in Armenian and therefore was of Armenian background – a hy-
pothesis not accepted by the main editors of this volume of the charters of the
Megiste Laura. At least we encounter here a Chalcedonian Athonite monk
writing Armenian.134
Even two Patriarchs of Constantinople in our period of consideration were
(probably) of Armenian background. A clear case is the last Iconoclastic Patri-
arch Ioannes vii Grammatikos (837–843), whose father Pankratios was of no-
ble Armenian origin (Ioannes´ brother had the more “typical” name Arsaber).135
The other candidate is Patriarch Photios himself (858–867/878–886). Son of
Sergios and Eirene, both steadfast venerators of icon even in the face of impe-
rial persecution, and brother of Tarasios, Konstantinos, Theodoros and Sergios
(so no “Armenian” names in the family anymore), Photios in two letters to
Ašot i Bagratuni in 878/879 (one preserved only in Armenian translation)
called himself of “related blood” with the Armenian king. This has been inter-
preted at as least consciousness of (and in this case, deliberate allusion to) an
Armenian background. In any case, also the (numerous) opponents of Photios
have used his “foreign blood” and looks as argumentum ad hominem; one
source, for instance, called him Chazaroprosopos (“Khazar-Face”).136
That also “Armenian” could be used as indicator for a both foreign and het-
erodox background in pejorative intention is clear for instance in the case of
Emperor Leon v (813–820), “the Armenian”, also called “Amalekites”. Born as
son of a Bardas, he rose to the imperial throne after a military career; he had
four sons Basileios, Gregorios, Theodosios and the oldest Symbatios (the Ar-
menian name “Smbat”), who was renamed “Constantine” on the occasion of
his crowning as co-emperor. While this may indicate an effort to “fit in” by
abandoning too obvious signs of “Armenian” identity, Leon´s initiative to re-
vitalise Iconoclasm earned him enduring bad press in Byzantine historiogra-
phy, including his bynames.137
134 Actes de Lavra, Nr. 29, l. 20, ed. Lemerle/Guillou/Svoronos, p. 374; Prosopographie der mit-
telbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 28057.
135 Cf. Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 3199, 602 and 5862, with fur-
ther references.
136 Dorfmann-Lazarev, Arméniens; Shirinian, “Armenian Elites”, with full references (also on
the “Armenian” origin of Emperor Basil i, for whom was claimed an Arsacid, royal Arme-
nian parentage, see also above); Greenwood, “Photius”; Prosopographie der mittelbyzan-
tinischen Zeit Online, nr 6253, 6665, 1450, 8623, 4442, 7237, 3999, 7700 and 6672, with fur-
ther references.
137 Turner, “Leo v”; Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 4244, with further
references.
This possible double meaning of Armenian as both “foreign” and “non-

orthodox” is also evident from the Georgian Vita Ioannis et Euthymii hiberica,
who mentions a certain Gvirpel (maybe a malapropism of kyr Bel), who was
the financial official of a Georgian prince and became monk in the Iviron-
Monastery on Mt. Athos, after he had converted to Orthodoxy and was re-
baptized cum Armenius esset, as we read in the Latin translation of the text.138
4.3 Language, Religion and Identity in Bari, 990

Again, all these samples more or less pertain to the elite stratum of society. One
of the rare examples for the interplay between non-elite individuals of Arme-
nian and other backgrounds on Byzantine soil constitutes a charter produced
in Bari in Southern Italy in the late 10th century.139 Larger number of Armenian
troops served in Byzantine Italy from the 6th century onwards.140 We find
them especially in the centre of Byzantine rule in Ravenna. A magister militum
Bahan served there in 599 and was mentioned as “glorious filius noster” in a
letter of Pope Gregory the Great.141 A Paulacis, son of Stephanus and miles nu-
meri Arminiorum (an “Armenian” regiment stationed there) was a donor to the
church of Ravenna in November 639.142 Moreover, for the same period be-
tween 625 and 644 an Exarchos of Armenian background named Isaak is docu-
mented in a Greek-Latin inscription in San Vitale.143
From the end of the 9th century onwards, we also have information on the
settlement of Armenians in (recently) re-conquered areas of Southern Italy.144
The document of interest was written in 990 by the Latin clericus Caloiohannes
from Bari, who explained: his father Dumnellus had bought several pieces of
property some years before in the plain of Celia near Bari from the Armenian
women Bartisky, daughter of Moiseo Pascike and wife of the Armenian Corcus.
After the death of Dumnellus Caloiohannes inherited this property, but lost
the charter on the land sales. One of these pieces of land was (wrongfully) sold
to the clericus Mele, son of the Armenian presbyterus Simagon. Iohannes, son
138 Vita beati patris nostri Iohannis atque Euthymii, transl. Peeters, p. 50, ln. 12; Prosopogra-
phie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 22534. On the re-baptism of Armenians see
also Garsoïan, “Problem”, pp. 72–73.
139 On this region and Byzantine Italy in general see also McCormick, “The Imperial Edge”.
140 Cf. also Mutafian, “Límmigration arménienne en Italie”; Zekiyan, “Le Colonie Armene”,
esp. pp. 813–847.
141 plre iii s. v. Bahan; Greg., Ep. ix 99.
142 Zekiyan, Le Colonie Armene 814–815; plre iii s. v. Paulacis (Marini, P. Dip. 95).
143 Zekiyan, Le Colonie Armene 815 (with citation of the inscription); plre iii A, s. v. Isaacius
8 (with further references); Garsoïan, Problem 97.
144 Dédéyan, “Le stratège Symbatikios”; cf. also Garsoïan, “Problem”, pp. 56–57, with further
references; Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 27443.
of Mele, sold a part of this piece to Cricori, the son of the Armenian Achanus.
Caloiohannes now successfully demanded the return of the property from Io-
hannes, but agreed to allow Cricori the further cultivation of the land he had
bought due to his poverty. For the confirmation of this agreement, Iohannes
presented as mediator another Cricori, son of the Armenian Petrosi. The char-
ter was signed by five witnesses, among these Leo, who signed in Greek, the
sacerdos Husep, who subscribed in Armenian, and three further individuals
(Andrea presbiter, Falcus presbiter and Iohannes), who subscribed in Latin.145
A visualisation of the social network emerging from the information in this
documents (see Fig. 12.4) clearly demonstrates that despite a considerable
amount of commercial and legal interaction between various ethnic back-
grounds (indicated in the text by ethnonyms and/or languages of subscrip-
tion) we encounter members of an “Armenian” colony acting within a predom-
inantly Armenian milieu, where people have “Armenian” names, write (and
speak) Armenian (although at least some of them were bi- or even trilingual up
to a certain degree in order to execute the commercial and legal deals with
their “Latin” and “Greek” neighbours) and attend (or work as) “Armenian”
priests (of unspecified denomination). According to the document, the Arme-
nian community in Bari was present there at least in the second generation,
but maybe even longer (since the late 9th century?). It is therefore hard to esti-
mate the actual timespan of “co-habitation” of these groups, which antedated
the range of interaction (and non-interaction), documented in our text. Inter-
marriage, not deducible from the charter of 990, can be at least assumed for
another clericus armenus in Bari named Moseses, who before 1009 had built a
Church of St. George in Bari. He died before October 1011, when his widow Ar-
chontissa (a “Greek” name) made a contract with his son Andreas (from his
first wife) on the heritage. Her relative, the ek prosopou Silvester, supported
Archontissa. The charter was produced by the clergymen and notarius Bisan-
tius and subscribed by four witnesses: the archidiaconus Madelmus, the clergy-
man Romualdus, Amatos, and another Romualdus, son of the protospatharius
Pardus. Here, the heritage of the Armenian priest is negotiated within a pre-
dominantly “Greek-Latin” milieu.146 These relatively detailed views on the in-
teractions between different ethnicities in the Byzantine province within the
145 Codice diplomatico barese iv, Nr. 4, ed. Nitti Di Vito, pp. 8–10. Cf. also Achanus (Prosopog-
raphie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 20092), Cricori (nr 21354), Iohannes (nr
23493), Caloiohannes (nr 21223), Bartisky (nr 20834), Moiseo Pascike (nr 25415), Corcus
(nr 21348), Mele (nr 25031), Simagon (nr 27078), Iohannes (nr 23493), Cricori (nr 21355),
Petrosi (nr 26550), Leo (nr 24305), Husep (nr 22644).
146 Codice diplomatico barese iv, nr 9 and 11, ed. Nitti Di Vito, pp. 18 and 21–24; Prosopogra-
phie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, nr 25429, 20549, 20392, 27076.
non-elite stratum of society (although the clergymen and notarii definitely

constituted leading figures of their local communities) are sporadic and there-
fore even more tantalising with regard to the modification or confirmation of
linguistic, onomastic and religious aspects of identity. We also do not get any
information on the possible pressure towards doctrinal conformity, for in-
stance, from the side of state authorities.
4.4 Byzantium, Armenians and Armenian Mobility at Large

Beyond possible religious antagonisms mentioned also above, the already dis-
cussed case of Artabanes Arsakides had illustrated the possible tensions be-
tween the desire to integrate into the Byzantine elite and the imperial pull to-
wards conformity on an individual level. The background to the rebellion
amidst which we first encounter Artabanes in the sources demonstrates simi-
lar tensions between the imperial regime and Armenian communities at large.
As mentioned above, within the Western Armenian territories which came
under Roman suzerainty under the conditions of agreements with the Sasa-
nians in the 4th century (see Map 12.1), the Arsacids and other noble families
enjoyed several privileges and some agree of autonomy, especially in the
South-western regions, which where under the rule of indigenous princes
called “Satraps” in the sources (see also above for two of these princes studying
in Antioch and Berytus). After more than a century of special status, Emperor
Justinian i decided to bring about a full integration of these territories into the
military and provincial framework of the Empire. The Satrapies and Armenia
interior (the homeland of Artabanes) were put under the control of a magister
militum per Armeniam. A few years later, all these areas together with two al-
ready existing Armenian provinces were organised into four new provinces
(Armenia i–iv) and the autonomy of the Satraps and noble houses was abol-
ished.147 Even more, a new tax regime and the Roman law system were intro-
duced; in an edict “Concerning the order of inheritance among the Armenians”
(De Armeniorum successione, 535) and in the Novella xxi (De Armeniis ut ipsi
per omnia sequantur romanorum leges, 536), Emperor Justinian tried to apply
the Roman law on the whole of Roman Armenia, “desiring that the land of the
Armenians should prosper altogether and should differ in no way from our
realm.”148 Also within the new military and administrative framework, indi-
viduals of Armenian background played as significant role; this very much
147 Adontz/Garsoïan, Armenia, pp. 134 (translation) and 35* (Greek text).
148 Adontz/Garsoïan, Armenia, pp. 142–164, 32*–34* and 37*–38* (Greek texts of the two
laws); Güterbock, “Römisch-Armenien”, pp. 43–58; Lounghis/Blysidu/Lampakis, Regesten,
nr. 1078 and 1108; Dédéyan, Histoire, pp. 196–197; Thomson, “Armenia”, pp. 167–168.
made sense from an imperial point of view, as also Malalas indicates concern-
ing the new magister militum per Armeniam Sittas, who “enrolled indigenous
scriniarii and made them his own military scriniarii in accord with an imperial
rescript, having requested the Emperor to enrol natives since they knew the re-
gions of Armenia.”149 In addition, the first governors of Armenia interior as
province were recruited among the Armenian aristocracy, as Procopius tells us,
but not from the long-established houses, but from noblemen who recently
had defected from the Persian side.150 The promotion of these “newcomers”,
together with the other imperial measures, incited the representatives of the
“autochthonous” Armenian nobility to violent resistance. The insurgents also
made contact with the Sasanian Great King Xusrō i, to whom they also escaped
after the failure of their rebellion, and complained against Justinian.151 The ex-
ample of the Satrapies and Armenia interior demonstrates what imperial pres-
sure towards conformity and control could imply for the traditional framework
of noble power in Armenia: the gradual reduction of autonomy, the installa-
tion of military and administrative structures, the displacement of the noble
families from the region and their (attempted) integration into the empire’s
elite were the crucial steps of the integration of Western Armenia into the em-
pire as a province.152 This modus operandi was applied by the empire also in
following centuries vis-à-vis the noble houses of Armenia if the empire had the
opportunity to win the upper hand in the struggle for the control of the coun-
try for a longer time, as it did in the late 10th/early 11th century.
Imperial authorities were not only anxious to impose control on individuals
and population within their borders, but also on their mobility within and be-
yond. We have already mentioned above the contractual clause of the Byzan-
tine-Persian peace treaty of 562 regarding the limitation of defections by the
imperial powers, which would have pertained especially also to Armenians, as
the earlier experiences in the period of Justinian had taught. Another interest-
ing example of imperial legislation in this regard is a rescript of Emperor
149 John Malalas 18, 10, ed. Thurn, p. 359, 12–14; Greatrex/Lieu, Eastern Frontier, p. 84; Preiser-
Kapeller, “Magister Militum”, p. 349.
150 Procopius, Bella ii, 3, 1–6, ed. Dewing i, pp. 270–271; The Prosopography of the later Roman
Empire iii, s. v. Acacius 1, pp. 8–9.
151 Procopius, Bella ii, 3, 38–40, ed. Dewing i, pp. 280–281; on the accusation of being a ruth-
less revolutionary, which Procopius expresses against Justinian on several occasions, cf.
Meier, Das andere Zeitalter Justinians, pp. 198–199.
152 Cf. also Faroqhi, Ottoman Empire, p. 75: “Only after a certain lapse of time were the sons of
former dynasts-turned-Ottoman-dignitaries appointed to serve in faraway provinces,
while the territories held by their fathers or grandfathers were integrated into the Otto-
man imperial structure, and now administered by people with no previous links to the
localities concerned.”
Nikephoros ii Phokas from the year 964 to an anonymous official, maybe the
commander of the region of Lykandos (a region re-settled by the Armenians
under Melias 50 years before, see above). This official had informed the em-
peror about several problems in this region, especially also on the habit of Ar-
menian possessors of military estates to leave their property frequently with-
out permission for longer periods. Nikephoros ii Phokas ordered that property
left by Armenian soldier should become property of the state already after
three years (and not after 30 years as in other cases) and could be distributed
among refugees or other soldiers anew after this period in order to “teach” the
Armenians that they not had the freedom to leave and settle somewhere else
and to return according to their own wishes, since otherwise “all the Armenian
thematic armies” would dissolve.153 Once Armenian groups had migrated to
Byzantium, the empire of course wanted to maintain its military and agricul-
tural work force; even more than individual acts of defection, unauthorised
mobility on a larger scale threatened the very existence of the newly estab-
lished defence perimeter at the frontier.
At the same time, from a modern point of view it may seem surprising that
even an absence of three years was tolerable by the authorities. Nevertheless,
such relatively high limits for the absence of individuals before their property
rights or other aspects of their legal status underwent a modification we also
encounter in the Armenian ecclesiastical legislation. They therefore allow
some inferences on the extension of (deliberate or forced) mobility at large.
The Armenian Church was especially concerned with the preservation of
bonds of matrimony in the case of a longer-term absence of one of the spous-
es. According regulations were made at a Council in the capital of Dvin in 648,
after the first period of Arab incursions in the country, which had brought
about larger scale displacement of people. These canons then remained valid
over the centuries and were also included in the important Law code of Mχit‛ar
Goš from the late 12th century. According to these regulations, one was allowed
to remarry after seven years, if the other spouse had been taken captive and
her or his whereabouts remained unknown. While this rule regarding forced
mobility pertained to both gender, the same seven-years period was applied in
cases where one spouse deliberately left home (for commerce or other pur-
poses) and was reported death. Yet, this canon acts on the assumption that
only the man would undertake such a journey, while the wife would remain
behind (and would be allowed to take another husband after seven years).
153 Svoronos, Les novelles, nr. 9, pp. 170–173, esp. 170, lns. 1–11; McGeer, The Land Legislation,
pp. 87–89; Dölger, Regesten, nr 720. See also Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit
Online, nr 31466, and Garsoïan, “Problem”, p. 63.
F inally, the regulation would also be effective if the wife found out that her
husband had taken another wife in his place of destination; after seven years
she would be free to marry again (one wonders if the wife of Artabanes both-
ered to come to Constantinople in order to claim her marital rights in advance
of the elapse of a similar deadline, see above).154 The continuous validity of
these canons once more documents the significance of both forced and delib-
erate mobility in early medieval Armenian society, but also the possible dis-
solving effects of mobility on social ties established in the society of origin.
5 Conclusion
The various types of “Armenian” mobility we encounter in our sources hint at

different frameworks of “networks” and “infrastructures”, which permitted, but
also somehow channelled mobility. The mobility of aristocrats took place
within networks of allegiance, kinship and ethnic affiliation, which had been
established between Armenia and the courts and administrative as well as
military elites of the neighbouring great powers. The (both structural and
imaginary) connections between ecclesiastical institutions, monasteries and
places of veneration and education are reflected in the mobility of clergymen,
pilgrims and scholars. Networks of commerce were based on the routes be-
tween places of production and markets, but also on relations of exchange and
trust. The re-location of thousands of soldiers or the resettlement of ten thou-
sands of refugees or deportees finally made highest demands on state infra-
structures of transport, supply and distribution, then also of administrative
control and taxation. These various networks were entangled; aristocrats or
clergymen travelled along mercantile routes or on commercial ships, private
and public transport of commodities and individuals were closely connected;155
Armenian mobility at large was often one effect of the traditional connections
of allegiance within a society dominated by the aristocracy – when retainers
followed their lord into the armed services of an empire or fled with him across
the border.
We also observe not only a “multiplexity” of networks, but also of combina-
tions of elements of “Armenian” identity (intertwined between self-definitions
and attributions by others) with regard to language (the bilingual seal of
Machitarios and Philippos), naming (the twins Baanes and Stephanos of
154 Mxit‛ar Goš, Dastanagirk‛, transl. Thomson, pp. 132 (ch. 8), 136–137 (ch. 14) and 249–250
(ch. 206), with references for the older canons. See also Mardirossian, Le livre des canons.
155 On trade networks, cf. also Manandian, The Trade and Cities of Armenia.
368
Map 12.1 The Roman-Persian border in Armenia and Northern Mesopotamia, 387 and 591 a.d.
Preiser-Kapeller
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Roman-Persian_Frontier_in_Late_Antiquity.svg, author: cplakidas;

Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license
Aristocrats, Mercenaries, Clergymen and Refugees
369
Map 12.2 The itineraries of Artabanes Arsakides and the three brothers Narses, Aratios and Isaak in the military service of Emperor
Justinian (and beyond), 530–554 a.d.
map created by j. preiser-kapeller, 2018
370
Preiser-Kapeller
Map 12.3 Connections between localities through the mobility of individuals documented in the texts of Anania of Širak, 7th cent.
a.d.
map created by j. preiser-kapeller, 2018
Figure 12.1 The social networks of Artabanes Arsakides as documented in Procopius (red
nodes: Armenians, blue nodes: Roman, green nodes: Germanic origin, orange:
Persians, grey nodes: localities; red links: kinship, green links: allegiance and
patronage, blue links: joint military service, purple links: conflicts, yellow links:
conspiracies, grey links: temporary presence at locality)
graph created by j. preiser-kapeller, 2018
Figure 12.2 The social networks of Artabanes Arsakides as documented in Procopius (red
nodes: Armenians, blue nodes: Roman, green nodes: Germanic origin, orange:
Persians, grey nodes: localities; red links: kinship, yellow links: conspiracies)
Figure 12.3 The connections between individuals (red) and localities (green) as document-
ed in the biographical narratives of Ananias of Širak, 7th cent.
Figure 12.4 The social network emerging from a charter in Bari (Southern Italy), 990 (red
links: kinship, green links: commercial interaction, blue links: juridical
interaction)
St. Mary of Bizye) or religion (non-Chalcedonian monks ejected from the “Ro-
man Empire” founding a monastery called of “the Romans” in the realm of the
Bagratuni), highlighting the inextricableness of spatial and cultural mobility.156
156 Cf. Greenblatt, Cultural Mobility.

“Armenian mobility” was equally both a chance and a challenge for the neigh-
bouring great powers, who tried to attract, but also to control Armenian mobil-
ity, to profit from, but also to limit the strength of ties of allegiance and ethnic
affiliation, who wished for individuals with bilingual skills, but also of unques-
tionable loyalty (and, in the case of Byzantium, religious conformity). Several
“microhistories” also uncover the tension between “Armenian-ness” attributed
by contemporary sources (also in pejorative intention) or modern scholarship
(maybe only on the basis of a “typical” Armenian name) and the actual rele-
vance of such attributions for the identity and personal agency of an individu-
al.157 The Armenian case thus provides especially rich material for a migration
history of the medieval Afro-Eurasian transition zone.
Bibliography
Primary Sources
Actes de Lavra, ed. P. Lemerle/A. Guillou/N. Svoronos, Actes de Lavra, Première partie:
des origines a 1204 (Archives de l’Athos 5), Paris 1970.
Agathangelos, History of the Armenians, ed. and transl. R.W. Thomson, Albany 1976.
Al-Baladhuri, transl. P.K. Hitti, The Origins of the Islamic State. Being a Translation of
Kitâb Futûh al-Buldân of Abu-l Abbas Ahmad ibn Jabir al-Baladhuri, Reprint Piscat-
away, New Jersey 2002.
Ammianus Marcellinus, ed. W. Seyfarth, Ammiani Marcellini Rerum gestarum libri qui
supersunt, Leipzig 1978.
Armenian Geography, transl. R.H. Hewsen, The Geography of Ananias of Širak
(Ašχarhac‛oyc‛). The long and the short Recension, Wiesbaden 1992.
Buzandaran Patmut‛iwnk‛, ed. P‛awstosi Buzandac‛woy Patmut‛iwn Hayoc‛ i č‛ors
dprut‛iwns, Venice 1933.
Buzandaran Patmut‛iwnk‛, transl. N.G. Garsoïan, The Epic Histories attributed to
P‛awstos Buzand (Buzandaran Patmut‛iwnk‛), Cambridge, Mass. 1989.
Chronicon ad annum Christi 1234, ed. J.-B. Chabot, Anonymi auctoris chronicon ad an-
num Christi 1234 pertinens (Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium 109),
Louvain 1937.
Chronicon ad annum Christi 1234, transl. The Seventh Century in the West-Syrian Chron-
icles, introd., transl. and annotated by A. Palmer. Including two seventh-century
157 The “Armenian” identity of Patriarch Photios beyond its usage in a diplomatic letter being
one prominent case example, see above. For another case of the 9th century, cf. also Pre-
iser-Kapeller, “ʻAlī ibn Yaḥyā al-Armanī”.
Syriac Apocalyptic Texts, introd., transl. and annotated by S. Brock with added An-
notation and an historical Introduction by R. Hoyland, Liverpool 1993, pp. 53–70.
Codice diplomatico barese iv, ed. F. Nitti Di Vito, Codice diplomatico barese: Vol. iv:
Pergamene di S. Nicola di Bari, Bari 1900.
Concilium Quinisextum, ed. and transl. H. Ohme, Concilium Quinisextum. Das Konzil
Quinisextum. Griechisch – Deutsch, Turnhout 2006.
Constantine Porphyrogenitus, De administrando imperii, ed. G. Moravcsik, transl. R.J.H.
Jenkins (Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae 1). Washington, D.C. 1967 (Reprint
Washington, D.C. 1985).
Constantine Porphyrogenitus, De administrando imperii, transl. K. Belke/P. Soustal, Die
Byzantiner und ihre Nachbarn. Die De administrando imperio genannte Lehrschrift
des Kaisers Konstantinos Porphyrogennetos für seinen Sohn Romanos (Byzantinische
Geschichtsschreiber 19), Vienna 1995.
Constantine Porphyrogenitus, De cerimoniis, ed. J.J. Reiske, Constantini Porphyrogeniti
imperatoris de cerimoniis aulae byzantinae libri duo, Bonn 1829.
Ełišē, ed. E. Tēr-Minasean, Ełišēi vasn Vardananc‛ ew Hayoc‛ Paterazmin, Erevan 1957.
Ełišē, transl. R.W. Thomson, Elishē, History of Vardan and the Armenian War, Cam-
bridge, Mass./London 1982.
Łazar Pʿarpecʿi, ed. G. Tēr Mkrtčʿean/S. Malχaseancʿ, Łazaray Pʿarpecʿwoy Patmutʿiwn
Hayocʿ ew tʿułtʿ aṙ Vahan Mamikonean, Tbilisi 1904.
Łazar Pʿarpecʿi, transl. R.W. Thomson, The History of Lazar Pʿarpetʿsi, Atlanta 1991.
Łewond, ed. K. Ezean, Patmut‛iwn Łewondeay Meci Vardapeti Hayoc‛, St. Petersburg
1887.
Łewond, transl. Z. Arzoumanian, History of Lewond, the Eminent Vardapet of the Arme-
nians, Philadelphia 1982.
Malalas, John, ed. J. Thurn, Ioannis Malalae Chronographia (Corpus Fontium Historiae
Byzantinae 35), Berlin/New York 2000.
Maurice, Strategicon, ed. G.T. Dennis, Das Strategikon des Maurikios, transl. E. Gamills-
cheg (Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae 17), Vienna 1981.
Menander Protector, ed. and transl. R.C. Blockley, The History of Menander the Guards-
man, Liverpool 1985.
Michael the Syrian, ed. and transl. J.-B. Chabot, Chronique de Michel le Syrien, Patri-
arche Jacobite d’Antioche (1166–1199), 4 Vols., Paris 1899–1910 (Reprint Brussels 1963).
Movsēs Kałankatuac‛i, ed. V. Arak‛elyan, Movsēs Kałankatuac‛i, Patmut‛iwn Ałowanic‛
ašχarhi, Erewan 1983.
Movsēs Kałankatuac‛i, transl. C.F.J. Dowsett, The History of the Caucasian Albanians by
Movsēs Dasxuranc̣i (London Oriental Series, Vol. 8), London 1961.
Movsēs Xorenac‛i, ed. M. Abełean/S. Yarut‛iwnean, Movsēs Xorenac‛i, Patmut‛iwn Ha-
yoc‛, Tbilisi 1913.
Movsēs Xorenac‛i, transl. R.W. Thomson, Moses Khorenats‛i, History of the Armenians,
Cambridge, Mass./London 1978.
Mxit‛ar Goš, Dastanagirk‛, transl. R.W. Thomson, The Lawcode [Datastanagirk’] of

Mxit‛ar Goš, Amsterdam/Atlanta 2000.
Narratio de rebus Armeniae, ed. G. Garitte, La Narratio de rebus Armeniae (Corpus
Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium 132, Subsidia 4), Louvain 1952.
Narrationes de patribus Sinaïtis, ed. F. Nau, “Le texte grec des récits du moine Anastase
sur les saints pères du Sinaï”, Oriens Christianus 2 (1902), 58–87.
Procopius, Bella, ed. and transl. H.B. Dewing, Procopius, History of the Wars, reprint
Procopius, De aedificiis, ed. and transl. H.B. Dewing, Procopius, Buildings, reprint
Sebēos, ed. G.V. Abgaryan, Patmut‛iwn Sebēosi, Erevan 1979.
Sebēos, transl. R.W. Thomson/J. Howard-Johnston, The Armenian History attributed to
Sebeos, 2 Vols., Liverpool 1999.
Stephen of Taron, ed. S. Malχasean, Stepʿanos Taronecʿwoy Patmutʿiwn tiezerakan, St.
Petersburg 1885.
Stephen of Taron, transl. T. Greenwood, The Universal History of Step’anos Tarōnec’i.
Introduction, Translation, and Commentary, Oxford 2017.
Tacitus, Annales, ed. Erich Koestermann, P. Cornelii Taciti libri qui supersunt. Tom. 1,
Fasc. 1: Libri ab excessu Divi Augusti i–vi, Leipzig 1965.
Theodoros Stoudites, Letters, ed. G. Fatouros, Theodori Studitae Epistolae (Corpus Fon-
tium Historiae Byzantinae 31/1–2), Berlin/New York 1992.
Theophanes, ed. C. de Boor, Theophanis chronographia, 2 vols., Leipzig 1883/1885.
Theophanes Continuatus, ed. I. Ševčenko, Chronographiae quae Theophanis Continuati
nomine fertur Liber quo Vita Basilii imperatoris amplectitur (Corpus Fontium Histo-
riae Byzantinae 42), Berlin 2011.
Theophylact Simocatta, ed. C. de Boor/P. Wirth, Theophylacti Simocattae Historiae,
Stuttgart 1972.
Theophylact Simocatta, transl. P. Schreiner, Theophylaktos Simokattes, Geschichte (Bib-
liothek der Griechischen Literatur 20), Stuttgart 1985.
T‛ovma Arcruni, Patmut‛iwn, ed. K. Patkanean, T‛ovmayi vardapeti Arcrownwoy
Patmowt‛iwn tann Arcrowneac‛, St. Petersburg 1887 (Reprint Tbilisi 1917).
T‛ovma Arcruni, Patmut‛iwn, transl. R.W. Thomson, Thomas Artsruni, History of the
House of the Artsrunik’, Detroit 1985.
Vardan Arewelcʿi, ed. Ł. Ališan, Hawakʿumn Patmutʿiwn Hayocʿ, Venice 1862.
Vardan Arewelcʿi, transl. R.W. Thomson, “The Historical Compilation of Vardan
Arewelcʿi”, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 43 (1989), 125–226.
Vita beati patris nostri Iohannis atque Euthymii, transl. P. Peeters, “Histoires
monastiques géorgiennes, i. Vie des Ss. Jean et Euthyme”, AnBoll 36–37 (1917–1919),
8–68.
Yovhannēs Drasxanakertc‛i, ed. E.V. Zagareišvili, Ioannes Draschanacertensis Historia
Armeniae (786–925 a. d.), Tbilisi 1965.
Yovhannēs Drasxanakertc‛i, transl. K.H. Maksoudian, Yovhannēs Drasxanakertc‛i, His-

tory of Armenia, Atlanta 1987.
Adontz, N., Armenia in the Period of Justinian. The political Conditions based on the
Naχarar System, translated with partial Revisions, a bibliographical Note and Ap-
pendices by N.G. Garsoïan, Lisbon 1970.
Asa Eger, A., The Islamic-Byzantine Frontier. Interaction and Exchange among Muslim
and Christian Communities, London/New York 2015.
Aslanian, S.D., From the Indian Ocean to the Mediterranean: The Global Trade Networks
of Armenian Merchants from New Julfa, Berkeley/London/New York 2011.
Austin, N.J.E./Rankov, N.B., Exploratio: Military and Political Intelligence in the Roman
World from the Second Punic War to the Battle of Adrianople, New York 1995.
Ayvazyan, A., The Armenian Military in the Byzantine Empire. Conflict and Alliance un-
der Justinian and Maurice, Alfortville 2012.
Beihammer, A.D., Nachrichten zum byzantinischen Urkundenwesen in arabischen
Quellen (565 bis 811) (Poikila byzantina 17), Bonn 2000.
Blockley, R.C. “The Division of Armenia between the Romans and the Persians at the
End of the 4th Century”, Historia 36 (1987), 222–234.
Börm, H., Prokop und die Perser. Untersuchungen zu den römisch-sasanidischen Kontak-
ten in der ausgehenden Spätantike, Stuttgart 2007.
Brousselle, I., “Líntegration des Arméniens dans láristocratie byzantine aux ixe siè-
cle”, in LÁrménie et Byzance. Histoire et culture (Byzantine Sorbonensia 12), Paris
1996, pp. 43–54.
Charanis, P., “The Armenians in the Byzantine Empire”, Byzantinoslavica 22 (1961),
196–240.
Brousselle, I., “The Transfers of Population as a Policy in the Byzantine Empire”, Com-
Chaumont, M.-L., “L’Arménie entre Rome et l’Iran. I. De l’avènement d’Auguste à
l’avènement de Dioclétien”, in H. Temporini (ed.), Aufstieg und Niedergang der Rö-
mischen Welt. Geschichte und Kultur Roms im Spiegel der neueren Forschung ii.
Prinzipat ix (1. Halbband), Berlin/New York 1976, pp. 71–194.
Cheynet, J.C., Pouvoir et contestations à Byzance (963–1210), Paris 1990.
Cheynet, J.C., “Les Arméniens de lémpire en Orient de Constantin X à Alexis Comnène
(1059–1081)”, in LÁrménie et Byzance. Histoire et culture (Byzantine Sorbonensia 12),
Paris 1996, pp. 67–78.
Christensen, A., L’Iran sous les Sassanides, Copenhagen 1944.
Clackson, J., “A Greek Papyrus in Armenian Script”, Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und
Epigraphik 129 (2000), 223–258.
Clackson, J., “New Readings on the Armeno-Greek Papyrus BnF 332 Arm”, Zeitschrift für
Papyrologie und Epigraphik 141 (2002), 116.
Coulie, B./Nesbitt, J., “A Bilingual Rarity in the Dumbarton Oaks Collection of Lead
Seals: A Greek/Armenian Bulla of the Later 10th/Early 11th Centuries”, Dumbarton
Oaks Papers 43 (1989), 121–123.
Dadoyan, S.B., The Fatimid Armenians. Cultural and Political Interaction in the Near
East, Leiden 1997.
Dadoyan, S.B., The Armenians in the Medieval Islamic World: Paradigms of Interaction,
Seventh to Fourteenth Centuries, Vol. i: The Arab Period in Armīnyah. Seventh to Elev-
enth Centuries, New Brunswick/London 2011.
Dadoyan, S.B., The Armenians in the Medieval Islamic World: Paradigms of Interaction,
Seventh to Fourteenth Centuries, Vol. ii: Armenian Realpolitik in the Islamic World and
Diverging Paradigms. Case of Cilicia Eleventh to Fourteenth Centuries, New Bruns-
wick/London 2013.
Dédéyan, G., “Mleh le Grand, stratège de Lykandos”, Revue des Études Arméniennes, N.S.
15 (1981), 73–102.
Dédéyan, G., “Le rôle des Arméniens en Syrie du Nord pendant la reconquête byzan-
tine (vers 945–1031)”, Byzantinische Forschungen 25 (1999), 249–284.
Dédéyan, G., “Reconquête territorial et immigration arménienne dans láire cilicienne
sous les empereurs macédoniens (de 867 à 1028)”; in: M. Balard/A. Ducellier (eds.),
Migrations et diasporas méditerranéennes (xe–xvie siècles), Paris 2002, pp. 11–32.
Dédéyan, G., Les Arméniens entre Grecs, Musulmans et Croisés: étude sur les pouvoirs
arméniens dans le Proche-Orient méditerranéen (1068–1150), 2 vols., Lisbon 2003.
Dédéyan, G., “Le stratège Symbatikios et la colonisation Arménienne dans la thème de
Longobardie”, in: Ravenna da capitale imperiale a capitale esarcale. Atti del xvii
Congresso internazionale di studio sull’alto medioevo, Ravenna, 6–12 giugno 2004,
Spoleto 2005, vol. i, pp. 461–493.
Dédéyan, G. (ed.), Histoire du peuple arméniens, Toulouse 2007.
Dignas, B./Winter, E., Rome and Persia in Late Antiquity. Neighbours and Rivals, Cam-
bridge 2007.
Ende des 6. bis zur zweiten Hälfte des 9. Jahrhunderts (Berliner Byzantinische Arbe-
iten 59), Berlin 1993.
Halbband: Regesten von 867–1025, Zweite Auflage neu bearbeitet von A.E. Müller,
unter verantwortlicher Mitarbeit von A. Beihammer, Munich 2003.
Halbband: Regesten von 565–867, Zweite Auflage neu bearbeitet von A.E. Müller/J.
Preiser-Kapeller/A. Riehle, Munich 2009.
Dorfmann-Lazarev, I., Arméniens et Byzantins à l’époque de Photius: deux débats

théologiques après le triomphe de l’orthodoxie (Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum
Orientalium 609, Subsidia 117), Louvain 2004.
Elias, N., Die höfische Gesellschaft. Untersuchungen zur Soziologie des Königtums und
der höfischen Aristokratie, Frankfurt am Main 1969.
Faroqhi, S., The Ottoman Empire and the World around it, New York 2004.
Felix, W., Byzanz und die islamische Welt im früheren 11. Jahrhundert (Byzantina Vindo-
bonensia 14), Vienna 1981.
Garsoïan, N.G., The Paulician Heresy. The study of the origin and development of Pauli-
cianism in Armenia and the eastern provinces of the Byzantine Empire, Mouton/Den
Haag 1967.
Garsoïan, N.G., “Armenia in the fourth Century. An Attempt to Re-Define the Concepts
‘Armenia’ and ‘Loyalty’”, Revue des Études Arméniennes NS 8 (1971), 341–352.
Garsoïan, N.G., “The Arab Invasion and the Rise of the Bagratuni”, in R.G. Hovannisian
(ed.), The Armenian People from ancient to modern Times, Vol. i., The Dynastic Peri-
ods: From Antiquity to the Fourteenth Century, New York 1997, pp. 117–142.
Garsoïan, N.G., “The Aršakuni Dynasty (a.d. 12–[180?]–428)”, in R.G. Hovannisian (ed.),
The Armenian People from ancient to modern Times, Vol. i.: The Dynastic Periods:
From Antiquity to the Fourteenth Century, New York 1997, pp. 63–94.
Garsoïan, N.G., “The Byzantine Annexiation of the Armenian Kingdoms in the Elev-
enth Century”, in R.G. Hovannisian (ed.), The Armenian People from ancient to mod-
ern Times, Vol. i., The Dynastic Periods: From Antiquity to the Fourteenth Century,
New York 1997, pp. 187–198.
Garsoïan, N.G., “The Independent Kingdoms of Medieval Armenia”, in R.G. Hovanni-
sian (ed.), The Armenian People from ancient to modern Times, Vol. i.: The Dynastic
Periods: From Antiquity to the Fourteenth Century, New York 1997, pp. 143–185.
Garsoïan, N.G., “The Marzpanate (428–652)”, in R.G. Hovannisian (ed.), The Armenian
People from ancient to modern Times, Vol. i., The Dynastic Periods: From Antiquity to
the Fourteenth Century, New York 1997, pp. 95–115.
Garsoïan, N.G., “The Problem of Armenian Integration into the Byzantine Empire”, in
H. Ahrweiler/A.E. Laiou (ed.), Studies on the Internal Diaspora of the Byzantine Em-
pire, Washington, D.C. 1998, pp. 53–124.
Garsoïan, N.G., L’église arménienne et le grand schisme d’Orient (Corpus Scriptorum
Christianorum Orientalium 574, Subsidia 100), Louvain 1999.
Garsoïan, N.G., “Armenien”, in L. Pietri (ed.), Der Lateinische Westen und der Byzan-
tinische Osten (431–642) (Die Geschichte des Christentums 3), Freiburg/Basel/Vien-
na 2001, pp. 1187–1230.
Garsoïan, N.G., Interregnum. Introduction to a Study on the Formation of Armenian
Identity (ca 600–750) (Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium 640, Subsidia
127), Louvain 2012.
Goubert, P., Byzance avant l’Islam i: Byzance et l’orient sous les successeurs de Justinien.
L’empereur Maurice, Paris 1951.
Greatrex, G., “The Background and Aftermath of the Partition of Armenia in ad 387”,
The Ancient History Bulletin 14, 1–2 (2000), 35–48.
Greatrex, G./Lieu, S.N.C., The Roman Eastern Frontier and the Persian Wars. Part ii: a.d.
363–630. A narrative Sourcebook, London/New York 2002.
Greenblatt, St., Cultural Mobility: A Manifesto, Cambridge 2009.
Greenwood, T.W., “Sasanian Echoes and Apocalyptic Expectations: A Re–Evaluation of
the Armenian History attributed to Sebeos”, Le Muséon 115, Fasc. 1–2 (2002), 323–397.
Greenwood, T.W., “A Corpus of Early Medieval Armenian Inscriptions”, Dumbarton
Oaks Papers 58 (2004), 27–91.
Greenwood, T.W., “Failure of a Mission? Photius and the Armenian Church”, Le Muséon
119, Fasc. 1–2 (2006), 123–167.
Greenwood, T.W., “Armenian Neighbours (600–1045)”, in J. Shepard (ed.), The Cam-
bridge History of the Byzantine Empire c. 500–1492, Cambridge 2008, pp. 333–364.
Greenwood, T.W., “A Reassessment of the Life and mathematical Problems of Anania
Širakacʿi”, Revue des Études Arméniennes N.S. 33 (2011), 131–186.
Grousset, R., Histoire de l’Arménie des origines à 1071, Paris 1947 (New edition 1984).
Güterbock, K., “Römisch-Armenien und die römischen Satrapien im vierten bis sech-
sten Jahrhundert”, in Festgabe der juristischen Fakultät zu Königsberg für ihren Se-
nior Johann Theodor Schirmer zum 1. August 1900, Königsberg 1900, pp. 1–58.
Güterbock, K., Byzanz und Persien in ihren diplomatisch-völkerrechtlichen Beziehungen
im Zeitalter Justinians. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des Völkerrechts, Berlin 1906.
Gylfi Magnússon, S./Szijárto, I.M., What is Microhistory? Theory and Practice, London/
New York 2013.
Haldon, J.F., “The Fate of the Late Roman Senatorial Elite: Extinction or Transforma-
tion”, in J. Haldon/L.I. Conrad (eds.), The Byzantine and Early Islamic Near East:
Elites Old and New, Princeton 2004, pp. 179–234.
Haldon/L.I. Conrad/Kennedy, H., “The Arab-Byzantine Frontier in the Eighth and
Ninth Centuries. Military Organisation and Society in the Borderlands”, Zbornik ra-
dova Vizantološkog instituta 19 (1980), 79–116.
Halsall, G., Barbarian Migrations and the Roman West, Cambridge 2007.
2009.
Hewsen, R.H., “Science in Seventh-Century Armenia: Ananias of Sirak”, Isis 59/1 (1968),
32–45.
Hewsen, R.H., Armenia: A Historical Atlas, Chicago 2001.
London 2002.
Honigmann, E., Die Ostgrenze des byzantinischen Reiches von 363 bis 1071 nach
griechischen, arabischen, syrischen und armenischen Quellen, Brussels 1953.
Hovannisian, R.G. (ed.), Armenian Van/Vaspurakan, Costa Mesa, CA 2000.
Hovannisian, R.G./Payaslian, S. (eds.), Armenian Constantinople, Costa Mesa, CA
2010.
Isaac, B., “The Army in the Late Roman East: the Persian Wars and the Defence of the
Byzantine Provinces”, in A. Cameron (ed.), The Byzantine and Early Islamic Near
East iii: States, Resources and Armies, Princeton 1995, pp. 125–155.
Jones, L., Between Islam and Byzantium: Aght’amar and the Visual Construction of Medi-
eval Armenian Rulership, Farnham 2007.
Kafadar, C., Between Two Worlds. The Construction of the Ottoman State, Berkeley/Los
Angeles/London 1996.
Kaldellis, A., Romanland. Ethnicity and Empire in Byzantium, Cambridge, Mass./Lon-
don 2019.
Kazhdan, A./Ronchey, S., Lʼaristocrazia bizantina dal principio dellʼxi alla fine del xii
secolo, Palermo 1999.
Kelly, Chr., Ruling the Later Roman Empire (Revealing Antiquity 15), Cambridge, Mass./
London 2006.
Laiou, A., “The Life of St. Mary the Younger”, in: A.-M. Talbot (ed.), Holy Women of
Byzantium: Ten Saints’ Lives in English Translation, Washington, D.C. 1996,
pp. 239–289.
LÁrménie et Byzance. Histoire et culture (Byzantine Sorbonensia 12), Paris 1996.
Laurent, J., L’Arménie entre Byzance et l’Islam depuis la conquête arabe jusqu’en 886,
Nouvelle édition revue et mise à jour par M. Canard, Lisbon 1980.
Lebeniotes, G.A., Η πολιτική κατάρρευση του Βυζαντίου στην Ανατολή. Το ανατολικό σύνορο
και η κεντρική Μικρά Ασία κατά το β’ ήμισυ του 11ου αι., 2 Vol.s, Thessalonike 2007.
Lee, A.D., Information and Frontiers. Roman Foreign Relations in Late Antiquity, Cam-
bridge 1993.
Lilie, R.-J., “Sonderbare Heilige. Zur Präsenz orthodoxer Heiliger im Westen während
des 11. Jahrhunderts”, Millenium 5 (2008), 225–259.
Lounghis, T.C./Blysidu, B./Lampakes, St., Regesten der Kaiserurkunden des Oströmisch-
en Reiches von 476 bis 565 (Quellen und Studien zur Geschichte Zyperns 52), Nicosia
2005.
Ludwig, C., “Wer hat was in welcher Absicht wie geschrieben? Bemerkungen zur His-
torika des Petros Sikeliotes über die Paulikianer”, in Varia ii (Poikila Byzantina 6),
Bonn 1987, pp. 149–227.
Magdalino, P., “Court Society and Aristocracy”, in J. Haldon (ed.), A Social History of
Byzantium, Maldon/Oxford/Chichester 2009, pp. 212–232.
Mahé, J.-P., “Die armenische Kirche von 611 bis 1066”, in G. Dagron/P. Riché/A. Vauchez
(eds.), Bischöfe, Mönche und Kaiser (642–1054) (Die Geschichte des Christentums 4),
Freiburg/Basel/Vienna 1994, pp. 473–542.
Manandian, H.A., The Trade and Cities of Armenia in Relation to Ancient World Trade,
Lisbon 1965.
Mardirossian, A., Le livre des canons arméniens (Kanonagirk‛ Hayoc‛) de Yovhannēs
Awjnec‛i. Église, droit et société en Arménie du ive au viiie siècle (Corpus Scriptorum
Christianorum Orientalium 606, Subsidia 116), Louvain 2004.
Martin-Hisard, B., “LÁthos, lÓrient et le Caucase au xie siècle”, in: A. Bryer/
M. Cunningham (eds.), Mount Athos and Byzantine Monasticism, Aldershot 1996,
pp. 239–248.
Martin-Hisard, B., “Constantinople et les archontes caucasiens dans le Livre de céré-
monies, ii, 48”, Travaux et Mémoires 13 (2000), 359–530.
tion, a.d. 650–950”, in H. Ahrweiler/A.E. Laiou (eds.), Studies on the Internal Dias-
pora of the Byzantine Empire, Washington, D.C. 1998, pp. 17–52.
McCormick, M., Charlemagne’s Survey of the Holy Land: Wealth, Personnel, and Build-
ings of a Mediterranean Church between Antiquity and the Middle Ages, Washington,
D.C. 2011.
McGeer, E., The Land Legislation of the Macedonian Emperors. Translation and Com-
mentary (Medieval Sources in Translation 38), Toronto 2000.
Meier, M., Das andere Zeitalter Justinians. Kontingenzerfahrung und Kontingenzbewäl-
tigung im 6. Jahrhundert n. Chr. (Hypomnemata. Untersuchungen zur Antike und
zu ihrem Nachleben 147), Göttingen 2003.
Mutafian, Cl., “Límmigration arménienne en Italie”, in: M. Balard/A. Ducellier (eds.),
Migrations et diasporas méditerranéennes (xe–xvie siècles), Paris 2002, pp. 33–41.
Nichanian, M., “Byzantine Emperor Philippikos-Vardanes. Monothelite Policy and
Caucasian Diplomacy”, in R.G. Hovannisian/S. Payaslian (eds.), Armenian Constan-
tinople, Costa Mesa, CA 2010, pp. 39–51.
Oikonomides, N., “Title and Income at the Byzantine Court”, in H. Maguire (ed.), Byz-
antine Court Culture from 829 to 1204, Washington, D.C. 1997, pp. 199–215.
Pohl, W., “Staat und Herrschaft im Frühmittelalter: Überlegungen zum Forschun-
gsstand”, in St. Airlie/H. Reimitz/W. Pohl (eds.), Staat im Frühen Mittelalter (Forsc-
hungen zur Geschichte des Mittelalters 11), Vienna 2006, pp. 9–38.
Pourshariati, P., Decline and Fall of the Sasanian Empire: The Sasanian-Parthian Confed-
eracy and the Arab Conquest of Iran, London/New York 2008.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., Die Verwaltungsgeschichte des byzantinischen Armenien vom 5. bis
zum 7. Jahrhundert (Entstehung des Themas Armeniakon), Master-Thesis, University
of Vienna 2001.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., “Magister Militum per Armeniam (Ho ton Armeniakon Strategos).
Überlegungen zum armenischen Kommando im 6. und 7. Jahrhundert”, in W.
Hörandner/J. Koder/M. Stassinopoulou (eds.), Wiener Byzantinistik und Neogräzis-
tik (Byzantina et Neograeca Vindobonensia 24), Vienna 2004, pp. 348–365.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., “Hrovartak. Bemerkungen zu den kaiserlichen ‚Bestallungssch-
reiben‘ für Adelige in der Kaukasusregion im 7.–9. Jahrhundert in armenischer
Überlieferung”, in Ch. Stavrakos/A.-K. Wassiliou/M.K. Krikorian (eds.), Hyperma-
chos. Studien zu Byzantinistik, Armenologie und Georgistik. Festschrift für Werner
Seibt zum 65. Geburtstag, Wiesbaden 2008, pp. 295–314.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., “Kaysr, tun und ‛asabīyya. Der armenische Adel und das Byzan-
tinische Reich im späten 6. Jh. in der Darstellung des Sebēos zugeschriebenen Ge-
schichtswerks”, in M. Popović/J. Preiser-Kapeller (eds.), Junge Römer – Neue Griech-
en. Eine byzantinische Melange aus Wien, Vienna 2008, pp. 187–202.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., “Between New Jerusalem and the Beast in Human Form. The Pic-
ture of the Later Roman and Early Byzantine State in the Armenian Historiography
of the 5th to 8th century”, Pro Georgia. Journal of Kartvelological Studies 19 (2009),
51–95.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., “erdumn, ucht, carayutíwn. Armenian aristocrats as diplomatic
partners of Eastern Roman Emperors, 387–884/885 ad”, Armenian Review 52 (2010),
139–215.
ca. 1000–1200 ad”, Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 65 (2015), 195–242.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., “Vom Bosporus zum Ararat. Die Wirkung und Wahrnehmung des
Byzantinischen Reiches in Armenien”, in: F. Daim/Ch. Gastgeber (eds.), Byzantium
as Bridge between West and East, Vienna 2015, pp. 179–215.
Islamic Empire (7th–10th century ad)”, in H. Mehler et al. (eds.), Migration und In-
tegration von der Urgeschichte bis zum Mittelalter, Halle 2017, pp. 295–313.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., “Central Peripheries. Empires and Elites across Byzantine and Arab
Frontiers in Comparison (700–900 ce)”, in W. Drews (ed.), Die Interaktion von
Herrschern und Elitengruppen in imperialen Ordnungen des Mittelalters, Berlin/Bos-
ton 2018, pp. 91–112.
Preiser-Kapeller, J., “ʻAlī ibn Yaḥyā al-Armanī and the ‘Armenian Connection’ between
Bosporus, Tigris and Nile in the mid-9th century ce”, in E. Bonfiglio/C. Rapp (eds.),
Armenia and Byzantium, forthcoming 2021.
Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit Online, Database De Gruyter, 2014:
https://www.degruyter.com/view/db/pmbz.
The Prosopography of the later Roman Empire, i–iii, ed. A.H. Martin Jones et al., Cam-
bridge 1971–1992.
Redgate, A.E., The Armenians (The Peoples of Europe), Oxford 1998.

Redgate, A.E., “Myth and Reality. Armenian Identity in the Early Middle Ages”, National
Identities 9:4 (2007), 281–306.
Rubin, Z., “Nobility, Monarchy and Legitimation under the Later Sasanians”, in J.
Haldon/L.I. Conrad (eds.), The Byzantine and Early Islamic Near East: Elites Old
and New, Princeton 2004, pp. 235–273.
Seibt, W., “Κηνάριος – ein ‚neuer‘ Würdenträger am Hof des byzantinischen Kaisers”,
Handes Amsorya 88 (1974), 369–380.
Seibt, W., “Die Eingliederung von Vaspurakan in das Byzantinische Reich (etwa Anfang
1019 bzw. Anfang 1022)”, Handes Amsorya 92 (1978), 49–66.
Seibt, W., ““Armenika themata” als terminus technicus der byzantinischen Verwal-
tungsgeschichte des 11. Jahrhundert”, Byzantinoslavica 54 (1993), 134–141.
Seibt, W., “Der historische Hintergrund und die Chronologie der Christianisierung
Armeniens bzw. der Taufe König Trdats (ca. 315)”, in: id. (ed.), Die Christianisierung
des Kaukasus. The Christianization of Caucasus (Armenia, Georgia, Albania). Refer-
ate des Internationalen Symposions (Wien, 9.–12. Dezember 1999), Vienna 2002,
pp. 125–133.
Seibt, W., “Stärken und Schwächen der byzantinischen Integrationspolitik gegenüber
den neuen armenischen Staatsbürgern im 11. Jh.”, in V.N. Vlyssidou (ed.), The Empire
in Crisis (?): Byzantium in the 11th Century (1025–1081) (Institute for Byzantine Re-
search, International Symposium, 11). Athens 2003, pp. 331–347.
Seibt, W./Preiser-Kapeller, J. (eds.), The Creation of the Caucasian Alphabets as Phe
nomenon of Cultural History (Veröffentlichungen zur Byzanzforschung 28), Vienna
2011.
Settipani, Ch., Continuité des élites à Byzance durant les siècles obscurs: les princes cau-
casiens et l’Empire de vie au ixe siècle, Paris 2007.
Shirinian, M.E., “Armenian Elites in Constantinople. Emperor Basil and Patriarch Pho-
tius”, in: R.G. Hovannisian/S. Payaslian (eds.), Armenian Constantinople, Costa Mesa,
CA 2010, pp. 53–72.
Stone, M., “The Greek Background of Some Sinai Armenian Pilgrims and Some Other
Observations”, in M. Stone/Th. Samuelian (eds.), Medieval Armenian Culture, Chico
1983, pp. 194–202.
Svoronos, N., Les novelles des empereurs Macédoniens concernant la terre et les stra-
tiotes. Introduction, edition, commentaires. Édition posthume et index établis par
P. Gounaridis, Athens 1994.
Tchekhanovets, Y., The Caucasian Archaeology of the Holy Land. Armenian, Georgian
and Albanian communities between the fourth and eleventh centuries ce, Leiden
2018.
Tchoidze, E., Ένας Γεωργιανός προσκυνητής στον βυζαντινό κόσμο του 9ου αιώνα: ο Άγιος
Ιλαρίων ο Γεωργιανός, Athens 2011.
Ter-Ghewondyan, A., The Arab Emirates in Bagratid Armenia, transl. by N.G. Garsoïan,
Lisbon 1976.
Terian, A., “The Hellenizing School. Its Time, Place, and Scope of Activities Reconsid-
ered”, in N.G. Garsoïan/Th.F. Mathews/R.W. Thomson (eds.), East of Byzantium:
Syria and Armenia in the Formative Period, Washington, D.C. 1982, pp. 175–186.
Terian, A., “Xorenacʿi and Eastern Historiography of the Hellenistic Period”, Revue des
Études Arméniennes N.S. 28 (2001–2002), 101–141.
Thomson, R.W., “Armenia (400–600)”, in J. Shepard (ed.), The Cambridge History of the
Byzantine Empire c. 500–1492, Cambridge 2008, pp. 156–172.
Thomson, R.W., “Constantinople in Early Armenian Literature”, in: R.G. Hovannisian/S.
Payaslian (eds.), Armenian Constantinople, Costa Mesa, CA 2010, pp. 20–34.
Todt, K.-P./Vest, B.A., Syria (Syria Prōtē, Syria Deuteria, Syria Euphratēsia) (Tabula Im-
perii Byzantini 15), Vienna 2014.
Toumanoff, C., Studies in Christian Caucasian History, Washington, D.C. 1963.
Toumanoff, C., “Caucasia and Byzantium”, Traditio 27 (1971), 111–158.
Treadgold, W., The Early Byzantine Historians, Basingstoke 2006.
Treitinger, O., Die oströmische Kaiser- und Reichsidee nach ihrer Gestaltung im höfischen
Zeremoniell, Darmstadt 1956.
Tritle, L.A., “Tatzates’ Flight and the Byzantine-Arab Peace Treaty of 782”, Byzantion 47
(1977), 279–300.
Turner, D., “The Origins and Accession of Leo v (813–820)”, Jahrbuch der Österreichisch-
en Byzantinistik 40 (1990), 171–203.
Vaux, B., Linguistic manifestations of Greek-Armenian contact in Late Antiquity and Byz-
antium. Working Paper (2009), online: http://www.academia.edu/181300/Linguistic
_manifestations_of_Greek-Armenian_contact_in_Late_Antiquity_and_Byzantium
_handout_see_powerpoint_file_above_for_images.
Weitenberg, J., “Linguistic continuity in Armenian Hellenizing texts”, Le muséon 110
(1997), 447–458.
Whitby, M., “Recruitment in Roman Armies from Justinian to Heraclius (ca. 565–615)”,
in A. Cameron (ed.), The Byzantine and Early Islamic Near East iii: States, Resources
and Armies, Princeton 1995, pp. 61–124.
Whittow, M., The Making of Byzantium, 600–1025, Berkeley/Los Angeles 1996.
Wilkinson, J., Jerusalem Pilgrims before the Crusades, Warminster 2002.
Zekiyan, L.B., “Le Colonie Armene del medio evo in Italia e le relazioni cultural Italo-
Armene”, in: Atti del primo simposio internazionale di arte Armena (Bergamo, 28–30
giugna 1975), Venice 1978, pp. 803–929.
Part 5
Forced Mobility and Slavery
∵
Chapter 13
Migration and Enslavement: A Medieval Model

Youval Rotman
At the beginning of the third millennium sociologist Stephen Castles has called
for “a sociological argument that points to the significance of forced migration
in contemporary society and in current processes of change”.1 Castles’ words
have since become a landmark for scholars and activists interested in and
working on migration and forced migration.2 Five years prior to the publica-
tion of Castles’ article, the Refugee Participation Network – rpn – newsletter
changed its name and format and became the Forced Migration Review. Pub-
lished since 1998 by the Refugee Studies Centre in the Oxford Department of
International Development, University of Oxford, it was launched in order to
“contribute to improving policy and practice for people affected by forced mi-
gration; provide a forum for the voices of displaced people; be a bridge be-
tween research and practice; raise awareness of lesser-known (or little cov-
ered) displacement crises; and promote knowledge of, and respect for, legal
and quasi-legal instruments relating to refugees, idps and stateless people”.3
Although the fmr preceded Castles article’s publication by five years, its
foundation can be considered as a response to the same need for a conceptual
framework in the study of what has become over the last two decades the larg-
est movement of people today. This is evident in particular in view of the
premises that Castles has laid out in connecting forms of forced migration to
the new economic system of globalization as well as to the socio-political
framework of transnationalism. The large movement of people around the
world today, and in particular from South to North, is therefore linked to, and
is perceived as a product of the radical socioeconomic and political changes of
our time.
1 Castles, “Towards a Sociology of Forced Migration and Social Transformation”, 13–34.

2 O’Connell Davidson, “Troubling freedom: migration, debt, and modern slavery”, 1–20: Turton,
“Conceptualising forced migration”(https://www.rsc.ox.ac.uk/files/publications/working-
paper-series/wp12-conceptualising-forced-migration-2003.pdf, retrieved on 22/4/2017). See
in particular Stepputat/Nyberg Sørensen, “Sociology of Forced Migration”.
3 http://www.fmreview.org/index.html, retrieved on 1/5/2017.
© Youval Rotman, �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_014

388 Rotman
The fact that forced migration is perceived and understood in relation to

globalization and transnationalism makes it resemble very much another con-
temporary global social phenomenon: modern slavery. This term has become
prevalent in modern political and human rights discourse in englobing ex-
treme forms of human exploitation, forced labor, human trafficking and hu-
man bondage. According to the ilo’s 2012 report nearly 21 million people were
found victims of forced labor around the world that year: 11.4 million women
and girls and 9.5 million men and boys.4 19 million victims are exploited by
private individuals or enterprises, and over 2 million by states or rebel groups.
Of those exploited by individuals or enterprises, 4.5 million are victims of
forced sexual exploitation.5 Domestic work, agriculture, construction, manu-
facturing and entertainment are among the sectors most concerned.
In 1999 sociologist and economist Kevin Bales has published a first of its
kind monograph: Disposable People: New Slavery in Global Economy.6 On over
300 pages divided into seven chapters Bales offers a first-hand analysis of the
operations of five slave-based businesses: prostitution in Thailand, selling of
water in Mauritania, production of charcoal in Brazil, general agriculture in
India, and brickmaking in Pakistan. Bales have analyzed all five cases from an
economic and sociologic perspective and revealed them as products of par-
ticular social structures and juridical conditions. All cases refer to people who
were not illegally enslaved, were not victims of illegal kidnapping or human
trafficking, and were not forced to labor against the law. The forms of exploita-
tion used in all cases were legal and did not require change of residency of the
exploited persons. They were products of the way the juridical and socioeco-
nomic systems in their particular countries functioned. However, Bales was
not satisfied in an overview of such phenomena, but contextualized them in
the framework of globalized economy. This context is what makes people dis-
posable, i.e. exploited in slavery-like manner, which severely restricts their
freedom. The restriction of freedom of people as a means to exploit, merchan-
dize and profit from their labor is perceived here as a cardinal criterion that
constitutes de facto slavery. One of the main elements in the situation of these
people as disposable is the restrictions of mobility, their freedom of m
ovement.
4 “ilo Global Estimate of Forced Labour: Results and methodology” (http://www.ilo.org/glob-

al/topics/forced-labour/policy-areas/statistics/lang--en/index.html, retrieved on 13/6/2016).
5 Compare to the higher estimates of the “Global Slavery Index” (http://www.globalslaveryin-
dex.org/ retrieved on 13/6/2016), according to which the number of victims of modern slavery
is more than twice as high: 45.8 million. The reason for this difference is the fact that the
“Global Slavery Index” uses the terminology of slavery in regards to contemporary forms of
exploitation much more freely than the ilo. See Rotman, “Comparing Slavery”.
6 Bales, Disposable People.
Migration and Enslavement: A Medieval Model 389
Whether we call them slaves or not, they are bound to their exploiters by ju-
ridical and economic constrains, and are certainly not free to change their po-
sition. In fact, the very form of their exploitation depends on this incapacity.
A priori, this situation of human bondage is very different from the situation of
migrants who are forced to leave their homeland. However, here too the situa-
tion and the restrictions that it entails on the individual are dependent on eco-
nomic and political conditions of the globalized economic system that enables
and encourages merchandizing of humans. This economic transnational
framework is precisely what turns the conceptualization of such forms of ex-
ploitation from human bondage to modern slavery. Both “disposable people”
and “displaced people” therefore seem to be victims of a global economic sys-
tem, which determines their personal condition by limiting their rights of
movement. Both those who are prevented from moving and changing their
situation, and those who are prevented from staying in their homeland and
continuing with their life, are forced into a life of precarious socioeconomic
and civil status in which their labor and themselves can be merchandized. We
can ask whether the uncertainty in the socioeconomic situation for most peo-
ple in today’s world is not the cause of uncertainties of residency and settle-
ment for both displaced people and disposable people. The question is in what
way these two social situations are connected.
The overlapping area between forced migration and modern slavery is rec-
ognized and referred to in modern scholarship. In their description of what
constitutes forced migration, David A. Martin, T. Alexander Aleinikoff, Hiroshi
Motomura and Maryellen Fullerton define the different types of forced
migrants. Along with refugees, asylum seekers, internally displaced persons,
development-induced displacees, environmental and disaster displaced,
smuggled people, we also find trafficked people “who are moved by deception
or coercion for the purposes of exploitation. The profit in trafficking people
comes not from their movement, but from the sale of their sexual services or
labour in the country where they work. The trafficked persons may be physi-
cally prevented from leaving, or be bound by debt or threat or violence to
themselves or their family in their country of origin”.7 However, trafficked peo-
ple are not the only migrants whose civil status and freedom are restricted. The
restrictions of freedom and rights of migrant workers have been the subject of
recent studies, which emphasized the extreme forms of their social dependen-
cy and exploitation. Daromir Rudnyckyj, for example, shows how what he calls
“servile status” becomes essential in the training of migrant workers in both
7 Martin/Aleinikoff/Motomura/Fullerton, Forced Migration, pp. 10–11.

390 Rotman
their s ocioeconomic position in their state of origin and their state of destina-
tion.8 Even if we do not accept his definition of “servile status” as a socioeco-
nomic condition, we still need to acknowledge the fact that social submission
is a significant part of migrant workers’ position. Adriana Kemp and Rebeca
Raijman have recently showed how state’s regulations play a decisive role in
establishing private mechanisms of dependency and exploitation.9 In both
cases, however, the people in question are not forced migrants, but migrant
workers who seem to have immigrated out of their “free will”. The fact that
these workers are foreigners makes it particularly easy to manipulate their ju-
ridical situation, since they are not citizens in the society of destination. This
however does not entail their definitions as “modern slaves”, but it certainly
challenges the perception that sees trafficked people as a sub-category of mod-
ern slaves in the rapidly growing group of forced migrants today.
More and more scholars propose to examine the relation between slavery
and forced migration in different directions other than in cases of human traf-
ficking. Lotte Pelckmans, for example, shows how the institution of slavery still
determines patterns of mobility and migration in modern Africa.10 The same is
also true in regards to the juridical heritage of Atlantic slaveries: Shannon
Clancy, for example, has shown how juridical conventions dated to the Ameri-
can slavery institution, still play an important role and condition the way im-
migrants are treated today.11 In fact, the Atlantic slavery is in itself considered
as a phenomenon of migration.12 Such studies do not intend to change the
historical perspective of Atlantic slavery, but to develop along them a new per-
spective in which slavery will take its place also in the history of migration to
the Americas. Such a perspective links together two distinct phenomena of
human movement: forced migration and human trafficking through the study
of slavery.
The Atlantic slavery is by far best and most appallingly documented phe-
nomenon of forced migration in world’s history. Between the 15th and the 19th
centuries, over 13 million Africans were forcibly removed from Africa and
8 Rudnyckyj, “Technologies of Servitude”.

9 Kemp/Raijman, “Bringing in State Regulations”. About the employer-employee bound see
also: Depatie-Pelletier, Judicial Review.
10 Pelckmans, “Dependent Mobility”; cf. Botte, “Les habits neufs de l’esclavage”; Idem, Escla-
vages et abolitions en terres d’Islam. Idem (ed.), L’ombre portée de l’esclavage.
11 Clancy, “Immigration and Modern Slavery”.
12 Magee, “Slavery as Immigration?”.
shipped to the Americas. Of these 11 million reached the Americas.13 The ob-
jective of the Atlantic slave trade was the exploitation of Africans as slaves. The
rationale was economic, and the human trafficking on such a large scale to-
gether with forced migration of Africans in and out of Africa, were all means to
attain these objectives. Although the Atlantic slave trade is a part of the long
and painful history of slavery, it may and should be regarded as exceptional for
its scale, documentation and management.14 This was above all an appallingly
planned and managed economic enterprise targeted at producing a profit from
the new world’s lands. In this respect, the Atlantic slaveries were all ex-nihilo
creations. They served one global economic agenda for which slavery, human
trafficking and forced migration proved to be complementary means. If we
compare this to today’s phenomena of modern slavery and forced migration,
we will have difficulties to identify an intentionally-programmed economic
framework at their basis. This is also the reason why scholars are struggling to
find a coherent definition and common criteria that will enable to link togeth-
er different and a-priori unrelated phenomena of human exploitation.15 In ad-
dition, this is also, why Castles’ article from 2003 is still very much relevant. The
main questions that scholars of forced migration are concerned with are there-
fore: first, what could be the main argument that points to the significance of
forced migration? And second, in what way is this related to the question of
slavery?
I propose to address these questions by focusing on another period of his-
tory in which they played an important role: the Byzantine medieval world.
Slavery, human trafficking and forced migration have proved to be significant
in sustaining and maintaining a transnational economic and political system
in that period. In what follows, I would like to examine how.
1 Slavery in a Medieval World
The institution of slavery is considered in modern scholarship as an integral

part of the economic and social life of the Roman Empire, a part that played a
13 Eltis, The Rise of Slavery.

14 See Pétré-Grenouilleau, Les traits négrières, who has shown that this was a part of a much
bigger global forced movement of Africans to the Mediterranean and the Indian Ocean as
well as within the African continent. Cf. Lovejoy, Transformations in Slavery.
15 Quirk/Vigenswaran, Slavery, Migration and Contemporary Bondage in Africa.
392 Rotman
decisive role in the Roman and late Roman economic expansion.16 Although
the late Roman world has known several crises in the 5th–7th centuries, slav-
ery did not disappear from the regions of the Roman Empire, nor do we have
evidence for its decline. On the contrary, recent studies have revealed it as an
integral part of early medieval societies, especially in the Mediterranean re-
gions of the Roman Empire.17 Whether in Gothic Italy, Carolingian Europe,
Byzantium or the Caliphates, slavery continued to play a role in the social life
despite other coexisting forms of social dependency. Continuity and change
characterize the different juridical definitions of slavery and its social condi-
tions in all these medieval societies, successors of the Roman civilization.
These definitions developed out of more ancient (Roman and non-Roman)
juridical definitions of ownership of human beings. In Byzantium, in particu-
lar the juridical institution of slavery was a direct offshoot of Roman slavery
and continued to concern, and extensively, the imperial legislator.18 Whether
we can refer to a common institution of “medieval slavery” is a question, which
depends on our perspective.19 In what follows, I would like to reconstruct a
common context for such a discussion, in which the different institutions of
slavery in the medieval world can be connected. Their nexus will prove to be
forced migration on a transnational scale.
Enslavement occurs from birth or later in life. A person can be enslaved
by force, or even sell himself or his children into slavery. The Roman author-
ity of a juridical personhood included the freedom over the person’s life and
death, and the authority of the pater familias included the life and death of
his children.20 In late antiquity, however, this authority of a person over his
and his children’s lives was severely restricted.21 Imperial legislation tried more
and more to fight the phenomenon of parents exposing and selling their chil-
dren as well as the act of selling oneself, and allowed it only in cases of severe
16 Andreau/Descat, The Slave in Greece and Rome; Bradley, Slavery and Society at Rome:
Harper, Slavery in the late Roman World.
17 Glancy, Slavery in Early Christianity: Rotman, Byzantine Slavery; Rio, Slavery After Rome;
Rio, “Freedom and Unfreedom”; MacMaster, Slavery in the Early Middle Ages; Rāgib, Actes
de vente d’esclaves; Gordon, Slavery in the Arab World; McCormick, Origins of the European
Economy, pp. 733–777. Perry, The Daily Life of Slaves. But see for a different view Harper,
Slavery in the Late Roman World.
18 Rotman, Byzantine Slavery, pp. 189–195.
19 Rotman, “Forms of Slavery”.
20 Ville “Selling a Freeborn Child”; Harper, Slavery in the late Roman World, pp. 391–423:
Westbrook, “Vitae Necisque Potestas”; Thomas, “Vitae necisque potestas. Le père, la cité,
la mort”.
21 Codex Justinianus, ed. Krüger, p. 179 (iv.43 dated to 294), forbade such an act. Melluso, La
schiavitù nell’età giustinianean, p. 33 and following; Harper, Slavery in the Late Roman
World, p. 392 and following.
e conomic crises and natural calamities.22 The act of selling oneself was abol-
ished by Leo VI.23
Slavery by birth, however, was another matter. This was prevalent in Greco-
Roman societies, and present also in Byzantium, the Caliphate and Latin Eu-
rope. In Byzantium, a house-born slave was known as oikogenēs, just like in
antiquity. However, while this term is frequent in Greco-Roman sources, it be-
comes rare in Byzantine sources.24 One way to look at it would be to see this as
a sign of decline in the use of slaves in Byzantine society. However, an analysis
of testaments of Byzantine slaves owners from Asia Minor, Egypt, Greece and
Southern Italy shows that it was a common custom to free the slaves, including
the house-born, in order to introduce them as socioeconomic dependent
freedman.25 This is also evident from the attention payed by the Byzantine leg-
islator to marriage of Christian slaves and the way in which it affected their
status, as well as to marriages of mixed status between freemen and slaves.26
Freedmen were not free to go their own way, but were dependent on their for-
mer owner’s family. As we shall see below this dependency worked in both
ways, since the household’s economic preservation and expansion in both Byz-
antium and the Caliphate depended on the ability to integrate dependent per-
sons as household members
In contrast to the clear-cut juridical demarcation between slave and free
person in Byzantium and the Caliphate, the laws and juridical records of the
Latin West suggest an amalgam of statuses of social dependency of peasants
that also included slaves. Carolingian capitularies which were analyzed by Al-
ice Rio reveal the blurred line between status of slaves and dependent p easants
through the ambiguous meaning that the Latin terms servus, servitium, servitus
(originally “slave”, and “slavery” in Roman Latin) acquired in the early medieval
period.27 This corresponded with the fact that these statuses became mixed
22 Codex Theodosianu, ed. Mommsen, pp. 182–183 (iv.8.6 dated to 323); Leges Novellae ad
Theodosianum, ed. Meyer, pp. 138–140 (Novellae Valientinaini number 33); Holman The
Hungry Are Dying, p. 69 (n. 23). For the juridical aspect see: Buckland, The Roman Law of
Slavery, pp. 420–422; Kaser, Das römische Privatrecht, p. 60. On the practice in late antiq-
uity see: Basilii Magni, “Homilia ii: In Psalmum xiv”, PG 29:277; Glancy, Slavery in Early
Christianity, p. 71.
23 Les Novelles de Léon le Sage, eds. Noailles/Dain, no. 59.
24 Rotman, Byzantine Slavery, pp. 184–186. Les Novelles de Léon le Sage, eds. Noailles/Dain,
no. 59.
25 See Lemerle, “Le Testament d’Eustathios Boïlas”; Robinson, Cartulary of the Greek Monas-
tery, pp. 150-157 (doc. IV–53), 179–184 (doc. X–59), 190–194 (doc. xii–61); Rotman, Byzantine
Slavery, pp. 123–128.
26 Die Novellen des Kaiserin Eirene, ed. Burgmann, p. 26. Les Novelles de Léon le Sage, eds.
Noailles/Dain, nos. 100–101. Novellae et Aureae Bullae imperatorum post Justinianum, coll.
iv, nov. 35 in Zepos, Jus Graecoromanum, vol. 1, pp. 401–407; Rotman, Byzantine Slavery,
pp. 141–143.
27 Rio, “Freedom and Unfreedom in Early Medieval Francia”.
394 Rotman
through marriage, and reflected the absence of a clear juridical borderline be-
tween free and unfree. Slavery in the early medieval West seems to be depen-
dent on hereditary status in contrast to the medieval East and South. These
differences in the socioeconomic and juridical statuses of slaves in medieval
societies corresponded with different socioeconomic structures of the private
household, but it also affected and was affected by the transnational dynamics
of medieval slavery.
2 The Transnational Nexus of Medieval Human Trafficking
In contrast to slave breading and the selling of oneself or one’s children into
slavery, the two other sources of slaves, namely war and commerce are omni-
present in Greek, Latin, Arabic and Church Slavonic sources.28 War had been
a major generator of slavery in ancient times, and continued to be prevalent
in late antiquity. While in Roman antiquity continuous internal wars, revolts
and strives supplied captives to the Roman slave market, as well as con-
victs reduced to slavery (servi poenae), the medieval captives were mainly
foreigners.29
The geopolitical map of the Romano-Byzantine Empire was radically trans-
formed in the 7th century with the loss to the Umayyad Caliphate of all of the
Byzantine provinces in Asia and Africa (Palestine, Syria, Egypt, Mesopotamia
and North Africa) except from Asia Minor. The continuous wars between Byz-
antium and the Caliphate affected the entire geopolitical constellation of the
Eastern Mediterranean up until the arrival of the Crusades. Thanks to the ex-
changes of prisoners of war between the two states, the wars between Byzan-
tium and the Caliphate did not become a major source of slaves to either
side.30 The introduction of this new international custom affected greatly the
slave trade since prisoners of war were not sold automatically into slavery, but
were held by the state in order to be used in a prospective exchange of cap-
tives.31 In addition, a new Mediterranean market developed in the central
28 See n. 17 above.
29 Burdon, “Slavery as Punishment”.
30 Campagnolo-Pothitou, “Les échanges de prisonniers”; Kolia-Dermitzaki, “Some Remarks
on the Fate of Prisoners”; Rotman, “Byzance face à l’Islam arabe viie–xe siècles”.
31 Leges militares (version B), Ch. 48, ed. Korzenszky, in Zepos, Jus Graecoromanum, vol. 2,
p. 89. Note that Leo vi’s Tactica specifies that captives can be sold as slaves. In case of a
prospective exchange of prisoners, the captives should be kept for such a use: The Taktika
of Leo vi, ed. Dennis, pp. 384–386 (const. 16.8–9). For the same in the Balkans see Beševliev,
Die protobulgarischen Inschriften, p. 190 (no. 41). Two famous Muslim captives held in
Middle Ages for the ransoming of captives, and raids and kidnapping on civil
population became prevalent.32 This had major consequences on the interna-
tional trade, which, in contrast to antiquity, became the major means to supply
the demand for slaves in both Byzantium and the Caliphate.33 The slave mar-
kets in the major cities of the Caliphate and Byzantium are well attested,34 as
well as the circulation of slaves into and within the empire.35
Medieval descriptions of historians, geographers, voyagers as well as corre-
spondences, fiscal and political treaties, along with archaeological findings,
complete the picture and give substantial evidence for the large forced move-
ment of people as slaves to the Muslim world from Africa, the Eurasia Steppe
and the Caucasus. The slave trade from the Caucasus to the late Roman Empire
is documented for the 4th and 6th centuries.36 However, it is only in the 9th
century when we begin to have evidence on far-reaching transnational scale of
human trafficking that connected the different medieval economies.
In his book The Origins of the European Economy: Communications and Com-
merce, a.d. 300–900, Michael McCormick attributed a cardinal role to the inter-
national slave market as a key element in the transfer of goods, people and
money between the North and the South Mediterranean littorals. In these
commercial dynamics, Eastern Europe proved to be a major source of slaves
for Mediterranean societies, and for Byzantium and the Caliphate in particular.
Constantinople are Hārūn ibn Yaḥyā and Abū Firās al-Ḥamdānī who write his poems,
al-Rūmiyyāt in the Byzantine prison: Le Diwan d’Abū Firās al-Hamdānī, ed. Sami Dahan.
See Simeonova, “In the Depths of Tenth-Century Byzantine Ceremonial”.
32 Rotman, “Captif ou esclave ? La compétition pour le marché d’esclaves en Méditerrané
médiévale”.
33 Vasiliev, Byzance et les Arabes, p. 201. See also Canard, “Les sources arabes de l’histoire
byzantine”; Rāgīb, “Les esclaves publics aux premiers siècles de l’Islam”.
34 Πάτρια Κωνσταντινουπόλεως, ii 64: in Scriptores originum constantinopolitanarum, ed. Pre-
ger, p. 185. Al-Tabarī Tarikh al-rusul wal-muluk, ed. de Goeje, 3:1353 narrates how in 845 the
number of Byzantine captives held by the Caliphate was inferior to the number of Mus-
lim prisoners offered for ransom by Byzantium. The caliph al-Wāthiq ordered the pur-
chase of Byzantine slaves in Baghdad and Raqqa in order to have the right number or
people to ransom the Muslims captives.
35 Theophanes, Chronographia, ed. De Boor, vol. 1, pp. 486–487. Rotman, Byzantine Slavery
and the Mediterranean World, pp. 68–70.
36 The Caucasus was a source of importation of castrated boys: Ammian, xvi, 7, 4–6. Claud.,
In Eutropium, i, 98ff; 230ff; 335. Procopius Caesariensis, De bello Persico, ed. Haury, Leipzig
1962, Ch. 15. For the Southern late antique slave trade see: Cosmas Indicopleustes, Topog-
raphie chrétienne, ed. Wolska-Conus, ii.29–30. Seals discovered in seven Byzantine prov-
inces of Asia Minor and dated to the end of the 7th century, attest to a major sale of Slavic
slaves (andrapoda sklabōn) conducted by George the Kommerkiarios under Justinian ii:
Bendall, “Slaves or Soldiers”; Oikonomides, “Silk Trade and Production in Byzantium”;
Hendy, Studies in the Byzantine Monetary Economy, pp. 630–634.
396 Rotman
The competition between these two markets and the way in which it affected
and was affected by international politics was a subject of another recent
study, which examined the slave trade within the large political context of Byz-
antium as revealed in its international treaties.37 The international medieval
slave trade proves to be a decisive factor in the economic and foreign policy of
Byzantium. In fact, much more than in antiquity and late antiquity, the medi-
eval sources and documents reveal an international human trafficking in the
medieval Eurasia context. The movement of people, which was the result of
this economic-political dynamics, was not yet studied as a transnational forced
migration. If the medieval international slave trade had an economic-political
rationale, the question still remains how it affected the people who found
themselves uprooted and trafficked in order to fill in the demand for human
merchandize in the South. In order to examine them as forced migrants we
should examine who were they, the routes in which they were trafficked, the
conditions and means of their uprooting, and the question of their integration
into the societies which imported them. If we keep the Atlantic slave trade as a
point of comparison, although exceptional for its scale, documentation and
management, we can nevertheless investigate the conditions that make forced
transnational migration and slavery a single phenomenon in other periods and
societies.
3 The Routes and the People
Our earliest medieval source of a transnational human trafficking is the Per-

sian geographer Ibn Khurradādhbih (c. 820–912). In his Kitāb al-Masālik
wa’l-mamālik – the book of itineraries and kingdoms – from the mid-9th cen-
tury he gives a detailed description of al-Rādhāniyya.38 These were Jewish mer-
chants who traded in arms, pearls, fabrics, furs, spices and young slaves of both
sexes (Arabic: djawārī, ghilmān), among them eunuchs (Arabic: khadam). The
description of Ibn Khurradādhbih has been the subject of much scholarship.39
37 Rotman, “Byzantium and the International Slave Trade”.

38 Ibn Khordādhbeh, Kitāb al-Masālik wa’l-mamālik, ed. de Goeje, p. 153 (129) and following.
39 Assaf, “Slavery and the Slave-Trade among the Jews during the Middle Ages (from the Jew-
ish sources)”; Gil, “The Radhanite Merchants and the Land of Radhan”; Ashtor, “Aperçus
sur les Radhanites”; Idem, “Gli Ebrei nel commercio mediterraneo nell’alto medioevo”;
Gieysztor, “Les juifs et leurs activités économiques en Europe orientale”; Verlinden, “Les
Radaniya: Intermédiaires commerciaux entre les mondes Germano-Slave et Gréco-
Arabe”; McCormick, Origins of the European Economy, pp. 688–695; Holo, Byzantine Jewry
in the Mediterranean Economy, pp. 9294; Kulik, “Jews and the Language of Eastern Slavs”.
The historians who dealt with it have tried to contextualize the Radhaniyya in
the framework of the Jewish trafficking in slaves in the central Middle Ages,
while others have questioned their very existence.40 Ibn Khurradādhbih de-
scribes four itineraries, across lands, seas and rivers:41 (1) The first itinerary led
the Radhaniyya from Firandja, across the Mediterranean to the Red Sea, and
on to Sind, India and China, from where they imported spices. (2) The second
itinerary started also from Firandja, and led them to Sind, India and China, but
this time through Antioch, the Euphrates, Baghdad and the Persian Gulf. (3)
The third itinerary was a land route that passed through North Africa to Egypt,
Palestine, Syria and Iraq. (4) The fourth itinerary led them through the land of
the Slavs (al-sakāliba), and across the Khazar kingdom and the Caspian Sea to
Transoxiana. This fourth itinerary of human trafficking joins the account of
Ibn Fadlān of his 10th-century expedition to the Bulgars of the Volga, here with
no relation at all to the Radhaniyya (or any other Jewish merchants for that
matter).42 Other sources, of European origin, give more information about
the trans-European itineraries that connected to those described by Ibn
Khurradādhbih, such as the tolls on the Danube at Raffelstätten, the itineraries
on the Rhône, and in Italy. All these European itineraries ran from Northeast to
South-West.43 Fluvial and maritime routes in Eastern Europe, the Balkans and
the Black Sea, were all used to lead local inhabitants to the Byzantine markets,
which were regulated from Constantinople.44 I have argued elsewhere for a
competition between the Byzantine and the Caliphal markets that condi-
tioned the itineraries of the traffickers, and showed how it led Byzantium to
construct an international policy around the concessions given to foreign slave
traders.45 I would like to focus here on the very nature of this human merchan-
dize. Who were these people, and whether we can indeed refer to them as
forced migrants?
The sources of the North-South itineraries described above were Eastern
Europe and the Caucasus. Indeed Bulgars, Rus’/Varangians and Khazar mer-
chants played a cardinal role in connecting this source to the trans-European
40 See Cahen, “Y a-t-il eu des Radhanites ?”; Toch, The Economic History of European Jews,
pp. 196–200.
41 Eng. trans. Charles Pellat, “al-Rādhāniyya”.
42 Ibn Fadlān, trans. Canard, p. 71 and following.
43 McCormick, Origins of the European Economy, pp. 553–557. For a map of these itineraries
see: Rotman, Byzantine Slavery, pp. 60–61; https://networks.h-net.org/medieval-human-
trafficking-map-and-data-dr-youval-rotman (retrieved on 19/1/2020).
44 Rotman, Byzantine Slavery…, op. cit., pp. 68–76. Ferluga, “Der byzantinische Handel auf
der Balkanhalbinsel vom vii. bis zum Anfang des xiii. Jahrhunderts”.
45 Rotman, “Byzantium and the International Slave Trade”.
398 Rotman
itineraries leading to the Mediterranean and Near Eastern markets.46 The fact
that Eastern Europe became such a major source for slaves corresponds with
the terminology of slavery. In Byzantium the term “Slav” (Greek: sklavos),
joined another Greek term, “Scythian” (Greek: skuthēs) to designate the origin
of the slaves referring to a geopolitical origin: Eastern Europe and the Cauca-
sus.47 This is also the case as far as the Arabic sources are concerned which re-
fer to sakāliba as the local population of these regions. Ibn Fadlān use it to
designate the Bulgar of the Volga, Ibn Khurradādhbih notes that the Rus’ are a
specie (djins) of sakāliba, while in al-Andalus the same term designated Euro-
pean/White slaves.48 Modern scholarship no longer refers to the sakāliba ex-
clusively as Slavs, but also includes in it Scandinavians and Finno-Ugrians
along with various population of Eastern-Northern Europe, mainly based on
the sakāliba’s customs as described by the Arabic Geographers.49 As McCor-
mick has shown, the circulation of human merchandise was conditioned also
by the fact that the peoples of central and Eastern Europe did not mint coins
before the 10th century.50 This explains the demand of these regions for Byzan-
tine, Arab and Samanid gold coins, which were found in the north, up to the
Baltic Sea, and to the east, up to the Oka River, a tributary of the Volga.51 These
lands figure as important medieval sources for slaves.52
46 McCormick, Origins of the European Economy, pp. 738–754; Sorlin, “Voies commerciales,
villes et peuplement”, in particular pp. 338–339. Rotman, Byzantine Slavery, p. 71.
47 Köpstein, “Zum Bedeutungswandel von sclavus”; Kahane/Kahane, “Notes on the lin-
guistic history of ‘sclavus’”; Patlagean, “Nommer les Russes en Grec, 1081–1294”; Rotman,
Byzantine Slavery, p. 187.
48 Ibn Fadlān; Ibn Khordādhbeh, Kitāb, p. 154; Guichard/Meouak, “al-Ṣaḳāliba”, 872–881.
49 Watson, “Ibn al-Athīr’s Accounts of the Rūs: A Commentary and Translation”.
50 McCormick, Origins of the European Economy, pp. 343–384.
51 See Kazanski, Nercessian, Zuckerman, Les Centres proto-urbains russes, and especially the
following: Nosov, “Rjurikovo, Gorodišce et Novgorod”, pp. 148, 152; Sedyh, “Timerevo – un
centre proto-urbain sur la grande voie de la Volga”, pp. 175–178; Puškina, “Les trouvailles
monétaires de Gnezdovo: un marqueur des relations commerciales”, pp. 215–224; Ivakin,
“Kiev aux viiie–xe siècles”, pp. 231–232; Noonan, “The Impact of the Islamic Trade upon
Urbanization in the Rus’ Lands: the Tenth and the Early Eleventh Centuries”, pp. 379–393;
Esperonnier, “Les échanges commerciaux entre le monde musulman et les pays slaves
d’après les sources musulmanes médiévales”.
52 Rotman, “Byzantium and the International Slave Trade”; Sorlin, “Voies commerciales”;
Sorlin, “Les Traités de Byzance avec la Russie au xe siècle”; The Russian Primary Chronicle,
ed. Hazzard Cross/Sherbowitz-Wetzor, pp. 68, 75, 86.
4 The Means
What did this human trafficking look like is difficult to assert. In his descrip-
tion of the people of Eastern Europe, Ibn Rustah mentions twice the Sakāliba
as a source of slaves. Both the Rus’ and the Madjghariyya (“Magyars”) raid
them, traffic them and sell them as slaves, the first in Khazran (Khazar land)
and Bulkar (Bulgar land), and the second in Kerch on the way to Byzantium.53
We can maybe extrapolate from such descriptions as well as from hoards of
foreign gold coins that local population was kidnapped and trafficked by slave
traders and sold out to traders by local chiefs.54 Such raids were also practiced
in the Balkans on passengers traveling on both land and river.55 Indeed iron
chains and shackles used by slave traders were found in Eastern Europe.56 Byz-
antium and the Rus’ paid special attention to put in their treaties clauses to
protect themselves from being the victims of such slave traders by mutual
agreements to ransom each other if found on the slave market.57 These mea-
sures did not weaken the use of slaves, but they did orient these societies to
look for other sources for slaves. Particularly prevalent in the Eastern Mediter-
ranean was piracy.
Piracy is a very effective way for procuring slaves. This was, of course, not a
new Mediterranean phenomenon. However, it put on a new form during the
central medieval period in the Eastern Mediterranean regions. It became
mostly disturbing for the Byzantine population starting from 826 when an
Arab force occupied the island of Crete. Until 961–963 when Nikephoros ii
Phokas regained it, it was used as a basis for maritime raids on littoral Byzan-
tine population.58 The target was not a military victory, but the Byzantine pop-
ulation itself which was kidnapped, enslaved and then sold in Arab markets.59
This was also the strategy of the Arab infantry in Asia Minor – raids into
Byzantine hinterland that resulted in selling the local population. Two famous
53 Ibn Rosteh, Kitāb al-Aʻlāk an-Nafīsa vii, ed. de Goeje, pp. 142–145.
54 See n. 51 above.
55 Vita Blasii Amoriensis in aass Nov. 4, pp. 657–659. Zhitie Nauma in Kirillo-metodiesvskoj,
ed. Florja/Tarilov/Ivanon, pp. 286–288.
56 Henning, “Gefangenfesseln im slavischen Siedlungsraum”; McCormick, Origins of the Eu-
ropean Economy, pp. 741–752; Sophoulis, Byzantium and Bulgaria, p. 181, n. 58, who cites
Nicolaus capitulis 106 ad Bulgarorum consulta respondet, in mgh, Epp. vi, Epist. Karolini
Aevi iv, pars. ii, fasc. 1, pp. 568–600.
57 The Russian Primary Chronicle, p. 68; 75. Sorlin, “Les Traités de Byzance avec la Russie au
xe siècle”, pp. 458–459.
58 Christides, The conquest of Crete, pp. 81–83.
400 Rotman
examples are the sack of the city of Heraclea in Asia Minor in 802/3 or 806 and
of Thessalonica in 904.60 Arab piracy threatened the Greek islands, Sicily,
Southern Italy, the Peloponnese and the littoral of Greece and Asia Minor.61
The Byzantine strategic response in those regions was sometimes the evacua-
tion of the local population.62 The Byzantines, however, were not only victims,
but also exerted military attacks in order to procure slaves.63 In fact, this was a
common practice in both the Mediterranean and Eastern Europe. Behind this
dynamics we find a combination of two conditions: the dependence of the
medieval socioeconomic expansion on slavery (see infra), and the fact that the
Mediterranean markets depended on importation of foreign slaves. A decisive
factor was the role religion played in the definition of who was considered as
an outsider, a foreigner, and could be legitimately enslaved.
5 Foreign Forced Migrants
The new political definition of the state as a religious community in both the
Caliphate and Byzantium affected the definition of the borderline between
slave and free person. Medieval laws defined the free status of members of
their respective religious communities as a permanent “civil status”. This
meant that a free Muslim, for example, could not lose his de jure status as a free
person within the Caliphate, and likewise for a free Christian in Byzantium.64
The religious identification that maintained the free status of the member of a
religious community left the enslavement of foreigners as the only source of
slaves and provided the rationale for a transnational forced migration. This
constituted raids and piracy as popular means of human trafficking. Prohibi-
tions on selling co-religionists to slave traders and international conventions
on redeeming co-religionists were aimed at limiting commercial trafficking in
60 Canard, “La prise d’Héraclée”. John Cameniates, De expugnatione Thessalonicae, ed.

Böhlig. Vasiliev, Byzance et les Arabes, vol. 2/1, pp. 166–168; Christides, The conquest of
Crete, pp. 159–161.
61 Hagios Nikolaos, ed. Anrich, pp. 151–197 (Methodii Economium, Ch. 42–43, Thaumata tria
Ch. 8ff). Les Récits édifiants de Paul, ed. John Wortley, Paris 1987, Ch. 8. Vita di Sant’Elia il
giovane, ed. Rossi Taibbi.
62 The Life and Miracles of Saint Luke of Steiris, eds. Connor/Connor. Vita S. Theoctistae, in
aass Nov. 4 pp. 224–233. Vie de sainte Athanasie d’Égine, in Halkin, Six inédits
d’hagiographie byzantine, pp. 179–181.
63 Ibn Ḥāwkal, Kitāb Sūrat al-ard, ed. de Goeje, p. 205. aass Nov. 4, pp. 46–48.
64 Rotman, Byzantine Slavery, Ch. 2.
local inhabitants, but left of course open the importation of infidel foreigners,
i.e. religious outsiders, as slaves. In fact, these were two sides of the same phe-
nomenon of medieval slavery. This is evident from the attempts of Christian
rulers and writers to limit the trade in Christians.65 The main problem that
they faced was the fact that Christians sold Christians to non-Christian slave
traders. The Byzantine legislator tried to fight this by asserting the freedom of
Christian Bulgars kidnapped and traded into Byzantium.66 Although these
measures to fight the trade in Christians were not always successful, they cre-
ated a special rationale for the transnational slave trade, which favored impor-
tation of pagans.67 The major sources of slavery in the central Middle Ages
were the Slavic and Bulgar population and the people from the steppe. For the
Caliphate’s markets, Africans from the Sub-Sahara completed the demand for
non-Muslim slaves.
Importation is a maybe a too sterile term to designate the fact that what the
human merchandize itself experienced was the violence of abduction, forced
migration, and enslavement. These people were kidnapped either from their
homes or on their way, and were sold to slave traders who led them in transna-
tional roads.68 This was precisely what gave raids and piracy the importance it
held in the Middle Age as a form of human trafficking that connected the Bal-
kans, Eastern Europe, the Caucasus and Eurasia steppe in a global commercial
nexus. The only objective was to sell these people for their remunerating value
far away from their home country. Some could be indeed ransomed by their
family. However, unlike the victims of the early Modern corsairs, the ransom of
the kidnapped population in the medieval Mediterranean, except from cases
of very notorious captives, was never more than the price of a slave. The ran-
som market was completely dependent on the slave market.69
65 Agobardi Lugdunensis Opera omnia, ed. van Acker, pp. 189–195 (no. 11). mgh srg, Episto-
lae, vol. 8. Codex Carolinus, pp. 584–585 (no. 59). Tafel/Thomas, Urkunden vol.1, p. 3 (no. 3);
5 (no. 7).
66 See, n. 70 below.
67 For the repetitions of these measures in the later period see Pahlitzsch, “Slavery and the
Slave Trade in Byzantium in the Palaeologan Period”, who nevertheless stressed that these
measures were not successful since Byzantines still participated in the transnational slave
trade of Christians.
68 See n. 52 and n. 53 above.
69 Cf. Kaiser, Le Commerce des Captifs; idem, Friction profitable. Fontenay, “L’esclavage en
Méditerranée occidentale au xviie siècle”; Idem, “Corsaires de la foi ou rentiers du sol ? Les
chevaliers de Malte dans le «°corso°» méditerranéen au xviie siècle”.
402 Rotman
The fact that both Christians and Muslims were restricted in the trafficking
of their co-religionists, oriented the slave traders and pirates to look for victims
among their religious rivals and the pagans. If Christians, Muslim and Jews
established networks to ransom their coreligionists, this was not the case in
regards to the pagan population. The process of the Christianization of Eastern
Europe oriented the slave trade further and further away to the East, and the
same rationale conditioned the sub-Sahara’s slave trade. The Novella of Alexi-
us Komnenos from 1095 is a perfect example of the way Bulgars could no lon-
ger be enslaved in Byzantine raids when considered free born and Christians.70
The same also applied to the Rus’ once they became Christians, as is stipulated
in the treaties that they signed with Byzantium.71 This is how the demand for
slaves and the conditions of whoever could be enslaved were linked and deter-
mined forced migration from outside the realm of Christianity to Byzantium,
and outside the realm of Islam to the Caliphate. The question is what happened
to these forced migrants once trafficked, enslaved and sold in Mediterranean
societies. How were the enslaved migrants treated and were they integrated?
6 The Question of Integration
The two famous anthropological theories about integration of slaves in African

societies proposed to look at slavery as a means of social integration of foreign-
ers on the continuum of kinship (Suzanna Miers and Igor Kopytoff), or as a
means to obtain power in opposition to system of kinship (Claude Meillasoux).72
If we ignore the insistence on a single sociological model to explain the exis-
tence of slavery, we can acknowledge instead that medieval societies imported
slaves to serve a variety of socioeconomic roles, and that the main importance
of slavery was this variety.
Whether slaves continued to be used in agriculture is a matter of debate,
and depends on the interpretation of the medieval evidence. The Zanj were
bands of enslaved Africans imported by the Abbasids to Iraq, which found an
70 Zepos, Jus Graecoromanum, vol. 1, pp. 401–407. In this period the Bulgars are Christians.
The second part of the same Novella concerns Christian marriage of slaves, and can indi-
cates to the fact that the enslaved Bulgars were considered as Christians. See Köpstein,
“Zur Novelle des Alexios Komnenos”.
71 Sorlin, “Les Traités… de Byzance avec la Russie au xe siècle”, pp. 313–360; 447–475
(pp. 458–459).
72 Miers/Kopytoff, Slavery in Africa; Meillasoux, Anthropologie de l’esclavage.
opportunity to escape the miserable conditions in which they were put, pre-
paring the marshy ground of lower Mesopotamia for cultivation. Their revolts
(689–690, 694, 869–883) under the leadership of Ali ben Muhammad are well-
documented thanks to the historian al-Tabarī.73 This is a unique case of sub-
stantial evidence surviving on the role that imported enslaved Africans played
in Abbasid agriculture.74 The evidence from Byzantium and the Latin west for
the same period, though scanty, points clearly to the rural use of slaves in these
regions, always alongside peasants of free status: dependent tenants, landown-
ers, or hired workers.75
In urban manufacture, the use of slaves as agents and guild members raised
the socio-economic position of the household. The Book of the Prefect of the
10th century clearly reveals the special role that slaves played in the urban
economy as agents of economic expansion thanks to their special juridical sta-
tus.76 Genizah documents from the 11th–12th centuries attest to a similar use of
slaves as agents by Jewish traders.77 The special status of the slave offered a reli-
able agent whose personal condition depended on his financial success as a
family household member. The fact that slaves were foreigners and had no pos-
sible social and economic ties other than in their new household only in-
creased this dependency. Sunni law gave sons the status of their fathers and
made it particularly useful for a male slave owner to enlarge his household
through the sons of his female slaves.78 Polygamy and multi-concubinage, both
customary in Muslim societies, proved advantageous for the expansion of the
household especially under the Abbasids.79 In such ways slavery served as a
means of expansion of the family and the family socioeconomic unit. In Byz-
antium, the term “my people” (hoi anthrōpoi mou) became a mark of social
status and comprised all male persons under the influence of a single master.80
Manumission perpetuated the social dependency of both slaves and their
73 The History of al-Tabari Vol. 36, trans. Waines. For the slave trade from East Africa see:
Martin, “Medieval East Africa”.
74 See Franz, “Slavery in Islam: Legal Norms and Social Practice”. See Gordon, “Preliminary
remarks on slaves and slave labor”.
75 Rotman, Byzantine Slavery, pp. 107–120. Rotman, “Formes de la non-liberté”. Rio, Slavery
After Roman, op. cit.
77 Goitein, A Mediterranean Society, vol. 1, pp. 130–133; vol. 3, pp. 330–332. Idem, “Slaves and
Slave girls”. Idem, Friedman, India traders of the middle ages, pp. 454–456.
78 Brunschvig, “ ‘Abd”, 1:27. Gordon, Slavery in the Arab World, pp. 46–48.
79 Gordon, “Unhappy Offspring?”.
404 Rotman
descendants within the family, while integrating them into the socio-economic
structure of the household at all social levels.81 A different aspect of this was
the use of slaves and freedmen in both Byzantine and Arab societies in militia
forces and as bodyguards in both private and public sectors.82 Sakāliba slaves
were used and even formed the Fatimid administration.83 In any of their desti-
nations these foreigners were converted by their owners as a form of both sub-
mission and integration. In fact, there was no difference between the two: inte-
gration was attained through submission and vice versa.
The most characteristic example of the versatile nature of medieval slavery
is to be found in the military function of slaves in the Arab world. The Mam-
luks, literally the “owned”, were imported as boys from the Eurasian steppe and
the Caucasus to form the military elite of the Muslim political leaders. Known
as brave, they were trained in special military schools, converted to Islam, and
manumitted. They could marry, but could not pass on their position to their
sons. The entire institution of the Mamluks was based on the perpetual impor-
tation of enslaved boys, often of Turkish origin from Northeast, detached from
their family and country, in order to generate the continuation of this military
elite institution. Undoubtedly this use of forced migrant foreigners to form
particular parts of the elite in medieval societies, was marginal in comparison
to other destines in which trafficked human beings found themselves. This was
a very different destiny than the one of the Zanj, to take one example. The
Mamluks and the Zanj had nothing in common except for the fact that both
were enslaved forced migrants. In particular the first were emancipated while
the second were not. This reveals the main importance of slavery in this peri-
od: it could be employed in extremely varied ways precisely because the en-
slaved were forced migrants. Both Miers’ and Kopytoff’s model from the one
hand, and Meillasoux’s model on the other hand, were employed by the same
society. In Byzantium, too, slaves were used on a continuum with kinship to
enlarge the private household and its financial situation as freedmen. But, they
were also used to enlarge the power of the household owner in opposition to
kinship. Both uses were not contradictory, and depended on a common condi-
tion: these human beings were owned foreigners. Only forced migration en-
sured this condition.
81 Rotman, Byzantine Slavery, pp. 123–128. Franz, “Slavery in Islam”.

82 Franz, “Slavery in Islam”; Peira, 42.17. Cecaumeno, Raccomandazioni e consigli di un galan-
tuomo, ; Zepos, Jus Graecoromanum, vol. 1, pp. 401–407.
83 Jiwa, “From Slaves to Supporters”; Ayalon, Islam and the abode of war.
7 Conclusions
It is impossible to estimate the numbers of men, women and children who

were enslaved, trafficked and forced to a life away from their country, people
and family in the Middle Ages. Unlike the Atlantic slave trade, we have little
concrete numerical evidence before the early modern period. However, societ-
ies which had the means to acquire foreigners, did so, and on a large scale,
primarily to use these people in different economic forms and social strata.
Indeed, forced migration and slavery prove to be in the Middle Ages two sides
of the same coin. Slavery depended on forced migration in order to provide
means of socioeconomic expansion, while forced migration depended on the
slave markets and the demand for slaves. The special feature of this dynamics
was the religious element, which oriented these activities further and further
away towards the pagans of Eastern Europe, the Caucasus, the Steppe the Afri-
can South, while using transnational itineraries that spread throughout Cen-
tral and Southern Europe, Mesopotamia, the trans-Sahara and the Mediterra-
nean. Religion played an important role in the social and cultural integration
of these migrants, since they were converted to the religion of their owners
whether Christian, Muslim or Jewish as a means of social inclusion.
If we would like to draw some conclusions regarding the connection be-
tween forced migration and slavery, we need to look for the conditions which
combined to generate a forced movement of people on a large scale in the
medieval world. Firstly, we see that economic medieval expansion of the pri-
vate as well as the public sectors depended on slavery. Secondly, social submis-
sion went together with integration of outsiders with no socioeconomic ties.
Thirdly, the special religious aspect of the medieval Mediterranean world con-
stituted religious outsiders as the most apt for expanding the household. All
this encouraged human trafficking on a transnational scale.
It is a truism that society that depends on foreigners for its socioeconomic
dynamics will encourage the reception of migrants. It is also clear that slavery
and other extreme forms of social dependency are particularly encouraged by
societies in which labor is a commodity. However, the transnational nexus of
slavery in the medieval Mediterranean was aimed not so much towards the
exploitation of the labor of forced migrants, but towards their integration into
society in versatile ways. Foreign enslaved persons proved to be the most ver-
satile. Slavery ensured their dependency as forced migrants while transnation-
al forced migration ensured that their integration into the social fabric as
freedmen would not disrupt the perpetuation of slavery. The fact that the de-
mand for human merchandize came from the wealthiest medieval societies
was used by the people of Eastern Europe, the Caucasus and Central Europe in
406 Rotman
order to profit from the trade of human merchandise, which for them was an
abundant commodity. Forced migration was oriented in view of an economic
disparity between wealthy economies which depended on the integration of
migrants as slaves to increase their wealth, and much less developed econo-
mies for which human trafficking was the main means to acquire wealth.
An increasing interest in the situation of forced migrants today leads us to
acknowledge the international economic framework of transnational move-
ments of people. The analysis of the nexus of forced migration and slavery in
the Middle Ages shows that human trafficking and transnational slavery
were possible because they linked different transnational socioeconomic
rationales.
Bibliography
Primary Sources
Agobardi Lugdunensis Opera omnia, ed. L. van Acker, Turnhout 1981.
Basilii Magni, “Homilia ii: In Psalmum xiv”, PG 29:277.
Cecaumeno, Raccomandazioni e consigli di un galantuomo, ed. M.D. Spadaro, Alessan-
dria 1998.
Codex Theodosianus, ed. Theodor Mommsen, Berlin 1962.
Codex Justinianus, ed. Paul Krüger, Hildesheim 1997.
Cosmas Indicopleustes, Topographie chrétienne, ed. W. Wolska-Conus, Paris 1968.
Die Novellen des Kaiserin Eirene, ed. Ludwig Burgmann, in Fontes minores 4 (Forschun-
gen zur Byzantinischen Rechtsgeschichte 7), Frankfurt A.M. 1981, pp. 1–33.
Ibn Ḥāwkal, Kitāb Sūrat al-ard, ed. M. J. de Goeje, Leiden 1967.
Ibn Khordādhbeh, Kitāb al-Masālik wa’l-mamālik, ed. M.J. de Goeje, Leiden 1967.
Ibn Fadlān, Voyage chez les Bulgares de la Volga, trans. Marius Canard, Paris 1988.
Ibn Rosteh, Kitāb al-Aʻlāk an-Nafīsa vii, ed. M.J. de Goeje, Leiden 1967.
John Cameniates, De expugnatione Thessalonicae, ed. Gertrud Böhlig, Berlin 1973.
Les Novelles de Léon le Sage, eds. P. Noailles/A. Dain, Paris 1944.
Leges Novellae ad Theodosianum pertinentes, ed. Paul M. Meyer, Berlin 1962.
Leges militares (version B), ed. E. Korzenszky, in I.D. Zepos, Jus Graecoromanum, vol. 2,
Athens 1939.
Le Diwan d’Abū Firās al-Hamdānī, poète arabe du ive siècle de l’Hégire (xe siècle de J.-C.),
ed. Sami Dahan, 2. vols., Beirut 1944.
Peira in Jus Graecoromanum, ed. I.D. Zepos, vol. 4, Athens 1931.
Πάτρια Κωνσταντινουπόλεως, in Scriptores originum constantinopolitanarum, ed. Th. Pre-
ger, vol. 2, Leipzig 1907.
Procopius Caesariensis, De bello Persico, ed. J. Haury, Leipzig 1962.
The Taktika of Leo vi, ed. and trans. G.T. Dennis, Washington D.C. 2010.
Al-Tabarī, Ta’rīkh a-Rusul wa’l-Mulūk, ed. M.J. de Goeje, Leiden 1879–1901.

Theophanes, Chronographia, ed. C. De Boor, 2 vols., Hildesheim 1963.
The Russian Primary Chronicle: Laurentian Text, trans. ed. S. Hazzard Cross/O.P. Sher-
bowitz-Wetzor, Cambridge, MA 1953.
The History of al-Tabari Vol. 36: The Revolt of the Zanj a.d. 869–879/a.h. 255–265, trans.
David Waines, New York 1991.
Zhitie Nauma in Kirillo-metodies vskoj tradicii posle Kiralla i Mefodija, eds. B.N.
Florja/A.A. Tarilov/S.A. Ivanon, St. Petersburg 2000.
Amitai, R./Cluse, Chr. (eds.), Slavery and the Slave Trade in the Eastern Mediterranean
(c. 1000–1500 ce), Turnhout 2017.
Ashtor, E., “Aperçus sur les Radhanites”, Schweizerische Zeitschrift für Geschichte 27
(1977), 245–275.
Ashtor, E., “Gli Ebrei nel commercio mediterraneo nell’alto medioevo (sec. x–xi)”, in
Gli ebrei nell’alto medioevo. 30 marzo – 5 aprile 1978, Settimane di Studio del Centro
Italiano di Studi sull’alto medioevo 26/1–2, vo. 1, Spoleto 1980, pp. 401–487.
Assaf, S., “Slavery and the Slave-Trade among the Jews during the Middle Ages (from
the Jewish sources)”, Zion 4 (1939–1940), 91–125 (in Hebrew).
Ayalon, D., Islam and the abode of war: Military slaves and Islamic adversaries, Alder-
shot, HA. 1994.
Bales, K., Disposable People: New Slavery in Global Economy, Berkeley 1999.
Bendall, S., “Slaves or Soldiers?”, Nomismatika Chronika 8 (1989), 41–43.
Beševliev, V., Die protobulgarischen Inschriften, Berlin 1963.
Botte, R., “Les habits neufs de l’esclavage: métamorphoses de l’oppression au travail”,
Cahiers d’Études Africaines 45/3–4 (2005, Cahier 179–180 Esclavage moderne ou mo-
dernité de l’esclavage?), 651–666.
Botte, R. (ed.), L’ombre portée de l’esclavage : Avatars contemporains de l’oppression so-
ciale, =Journal des africanistes 70/1–2 (2000).
Botte, R., Esclavages et abolitions en terres d’Islam: Tunisie, Arabie saoudite, Maroc,
Mauritanie, Sudan, Brussels 2010.
Bradley, K., Slavery and Society at Rome, Cambridge 1994.
Buckland, W.W., The Roman Law of Slavery, Cambridge 1970.
Burdon, J., “Slavery as Punishment in Roman Criminal Law”, in L.J. Archer (ed.), Slavery
and other Forms of Unfree Labour, London 1988, pp. 68–85.
Cahen, C., “Y a-t-il eu des Radhanites ?” Revue des etudes juives 14/3 (1964), 499–505.
Campagnolo-Pothitou, M., “Les échanges de prisonniers entre Byzance et l’Islam aux
ixe et xe siècles”, Journal of Oriental and African Studies 7 (1995), 1–55.
Canard, M., “Les sources arabes de l’histoire byzantine aux confins des xe-xie siècles”,
Revue des études byzantines 19 (1961), 286–314 (repr. in idem, Byzance et les musul-
mans du Proche Orient, London 1973, pt. xvii).
408 Rotman
Canard, M., “La prise d’Héraclée et les relations entre Hârûn al-Rashîd et l’empereur
Nicéphore ier”, Byzantion 32 (1962), 345–379 (repr. in idem, Byzance et les musul-
mans., pt. xviii).
Castles, St., “Towards a Sociology of Forced Migration and Social Transformation”, Soci-
ology 37/1 (2003), 13–34.
Christides, V., The conquest of Crete by the Arabs (ca. 824). A turning point in the struggle
between Byzantium and Islam, Athens 1984.
Clancy, Sh.E., “Immigration and Modern Slavery: How the Laws of one fail to provide
Justice to the Victims of the other”, University of Baltimore Law Review 46/2 (2017),
335–352.
Depatie-Pelletier, E., Judicial Review and Temporary Labour Migration Programs De-
clared a “Modern Form of Slavery”: State Restrictions of (Im)Migrant Workers’ Right to
Liberty and Security (Not to Be Held Under Servitude) Through Employer-Tying Poli-
cies, Ph.D. dissertation, Montreal 2016.
Eltis, D., The Rise of Slavery in the Americas, Cambridge 2000.
Esperonnier, M., “Les échanges commerciaux entre le monde musulman et les pays
slaves d’après les sources musulmanes médiévales”, Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale
23.1 (1980), 17–27.
Ferluga, J., “Der byzantinische Handel auf der Balkanhalbinsel vom vii. bis zum An-
fang des xiii. Jahrhunderts”, in Papers presented at the 5th International Congress of
South-East European Research Studies held in Belgrad, 11th–16th September, 1984, Sko-
pje 1988, pp. 31–52, repr. in idem, Untersuchungen zur byzantinischen Provinzverwal-
tung. vi.–xiii. Jahrhundert, Amsterdam 1992, pp. 159–174.
Fiddian-Qasmiyeh, E./Loescher, G./Long, S./Sigona, N., The Oxford Handbook of Refu-
gee and Forced Migration Studies, Oxford 2014.
Fontenay, M, “Corsaires de la foi ou rentiers du sol ? Les chevaliers de Malte dans le
«corso» méditerranéen au xviie siècle”, Revue d’histoire moderne et contemporaine
35 (1988), 361–384.
Fontenay, M, “L’esclavage en Méditerranée occidentale au xviie siècle”, in La Méditer-
ranée occidentale au xviie siècle, Paris 1990, pp. 11–50.
Franz, K., “Slavery in Islam: Legal Norms and Social Practice”, in R. Amitai/Chr. Cluse
(eds.), Slavery and the Slave Trade in the Eastern Mediterranean (c. 1000–1500 ce),
Turnhout 2017, pp. 51–141.
Gieysztor, A., Les juifs et leurs activités économiques en Europe orientale, Paris 1980.
Gil, M., “The Radhanite Merchants and the Land of Radhan”, Journal of the Economic
and Social History of the Orient 17.3 (1974) 299–328.
Glancy, J.A., Slavery in Early Christianity, Oxford 2002.
Goitein, S.D., “Slaves and Slave girls in the Cairo Geniza Records”, Arabica 9/1 (1962),
1–20.
Goitein, S.D., A Mediterranean Society: The Jewish Communities of the Arab World as por-
trayed in the Documents of the Cairo Genizah, 6 vols., Berkeley/Los Angeles 1967–1993.
Goitein, S.D./Friedman, M.A., India traders of the middle ages: Documents from the
Cairo Geniza, Leiden 2008.
Gordon, Murray, Slavery in the Arab World, New York 1998.
Gordon, Matthew, “Preliminary remarks on slaves and slave labor in the third/ninth
century Abbasid Empire”, in L. Culbertson (ed.), Slaves and Households in the Near
East, Chicago 2011, pp. 71–84.
Gordon, Matthew, “Unhappy Offspring? Concubines and Their Sons in Early Abbasid
Society”, International Journal of Middle East Studies 49/1 (2017), 153–157.
Harper, K., Slavery in the late Roman World, ad 275–425, Cambridge 2011.
Hendy, M.F., Studies in the Byzantine Monetary Economy, c. 300–1450, Cambridge 1985.
Henning, J., “Gefangenfesseln im slavischen Siedlungsraum und der europäische
Sklavenhandel im 6. bis 12. Jahrhundert”, Germania 70 (1992), 403–426.
Holman, S.R., The Hungry Are Dying. Beggars and Bishops in Roman Cappadocia, New
York 2001.
Holo, J., Byzantine Jewry in the Mediterranean Economy, Cambridge 2009.
Jiwa, Sh., “From Slaves to Supporters The role of the Slavs in the Fatimid Mediterranean
Empire in the Fourth/Tenth Century ce”, The Institute of Ismaili Studies (http://iis
.ac.uk/academic-article/slaves-supporters-role-slavs-fatimid-mediterranean
-empire-fourthtenth-century-ce, retrieved 1/5/2017).
Kahane, H./Kahane, R., “Notes on the linguistic history of ‘sclavus’”, in Studi in onore di
Ettore Lo Gatto e Giovanni Maver, Rome 1962, pp. 345–360.
Kaiser, W., “Friction profitable. L’économie de la rançon en Méditerranée occidentale
(xvie–xviie siècles)”, in S. Cavaciocchi (ed.) Ricchezza del mare. Ricchezza dal Mare,
secc. xiii–xviii, Florence 2006, vol. 2, pp. 689–701.
Kaiser, W. (ed.), Le Commerce des Captifs: les intermédiaires dans l’échange et le rachat
des prisonniers en Méditerranée, xve–xviiie siècle, Rome 2008.
Kaser, M., Das römische Privatrecht, vol. 1, Munich 1959.
Kazanski, M./Nercessian, A./Zuckermann, C. (eds.), Les Centres proto-urbains russes
entre Scandinavie, Byzance et Orient, Paris 2000.
Kemp, A./Raijman, R., “Bringing in State Regulations, Private Brokers, and Local Em-
ployers: A Meso-Level Analysis of Labor Trafficking in Israel”, International Migra-
tion Review 48/3 (2014), 604–642.
Kolia-Dermitzaki, A., “Some Remarks on the Fate of Prisoners of War in Byzantium
(Ninth-Tenth Centuries)”, in G.H. Cipollone (ed.), La liberazione dei ‘captivi’ tra chris-
tianità e islam, Vatican City 2000, pp. 583–620.
Köpstein, H., “Zur Novelle des Alexios Komnenos zum Sklavenstatus (1095)”, Actes du
xve Congrès International d’Études Byzantines (Athens, 1976), vol. 4, pp. 160–172.
Köpstein, H., “Zum Bedeutungswandel von SCLAVUS”, Byzantinische Forschungen 7
(1979), 67–88.
Kulik, A., “Jews and the Language of Eastern Slavs”, The Jewish Quarterly Review 104/1
(2014), 105–143.
410 Rotman
Lemerle, P., “Le Testament d’Eustathios Boïlas (avril 1059)”, in P. Lemerle (ed.), Cinq
Études sur le xie s. byzantin, Paris 1977, pp. 15–63.
MacMaster, T., Slavery in the Early Middle Ages: A brief introduction with texts (https://
www.academia.edu/24341684/Slavery_in_the_Early_Middle_Ages_A_brief_intro
duction_with_texts, retrieved on 1/2/2017).
Magee, R.V., “Slavery as Immigration?” University of San Francisco Law Review 44 (2009),
273–295.
Martin, B.G., “Medieval East Africa”, Transactions of the Historical Society of Ghana 7
(1964), 124–131.
Martin, D.A./Aleinikoff, T.A./Motomura, H./Fullerton, M., Forced Migration: Law and
Policy, Eagan MI 2007.
McCormick, M., Origins of the European Economy, ad 300–900, Cambridge 2001.
Meillasoux, C., Anthropologie de l’esclavage: le ventre de fer et d’argent, Paris 1986.
Melluso, M., La schiavitù nell’età giustinianean, Besançon 2000.
Miers, S./Kopytoff, I. (eds.), Slavery in Africa: Historical and Anthropological Perspective,
Madison 1977.
O’Connell Davidson, J., “Troubling freedom: migration, debt, and modern slavery”, Mi-
gration Studies 13 (2013), 1–20.
Oikonomides, N., “Silk Trade and Production in Byzantium”, Dumbarton Oaks Papers
40 (1986), 33–53.
Quirk, J./Vigneswaran, D. (eds.), Migration and Contemporary Bondage in Africa, Tren-
ton NJ 2013.
Pahlitzsch, J., “Slavery and the Slave Trade in Byzantium in the Palaeologan Period”, in
R. Amitai/Chr. Cluse (eds.), Slavery and the Slave Trade in the Eastern Mediterranean
(c. 1000–1500 ce), Turnhout 2017, pp. 163–184.
Patlagean, E., “Nommer les Russes en Grec, 1081–1294”, in S.W. Swierkosz-Lenart (ed.),
Le origini e lo sviluppo della cristianità slavo-bizantina, Rome 1992, pp. 123–141.
Pelckmans, L, “Dependent Mobility of Domestic Workers of Slave Descent as Memo-
ryscapes of Slavery in Urban Fulbe Families in Mali”, in J. Quirk/D. Vigneswaran
(eds.), Slavery, Migration and Contemporary Bondage in Africa, Trenton NJ 2013,
pp. 149–180.
Perry, C.A., The Daily Life of Slaves and the Global Reach of Slavery in Medieval Egypt,
969–1250, Ph.D. dissertation, Atlanta: Emory University, 2014.
Pétré-Grenouilleau, O., Les traits négrières: Essais d’histoire globale, Paris 2004.
Rāgīb, Y., “Les esclaves publics aux premiers siècles de l’Islam”, in H. Bresc (ed.), Figures
de l’esclave au Moyen Âge et dans le monde moderne, Paris 1996, pp. 7–30.
Rāgīb, Y., Actes de vente d’esclaves et d’animaux d’Egypte médiévale, 2 vols., Cairo
2002–2006.
Rio, A., “Freedom and Unfreedom in Early Medieval Francia: The Evidence of the Legal
Formulae”, Past & Present 193 (2006), 7–40.
Rio, A., Slavery After Rome, 500–1100, Oxford 2017.
Robinson, G., Cartulary of the Greek Monastery of St-Elias and St-Anastasius of Carbone,
3 vols., Rome 1928–1930.
Rotman, Y., “Formes de la non-liberté dans la campagne byzantine aux viie–xie siè-
cles”, Mélanges de l’École Française de Rome, Moyen Âge 112/2 (2000),
499–510.
Rotman, Y., “Byzance face à l’Islam arabe viie–xe siècles”, Annales H.S.S. 60/4 (2005),
767–788.
Rotman, Y., Byzantine Slavery and the Mediterranean World, trans. J.M. Todd, Cam-
bridge 2009.
Rotman, Y., “Captif ou esclave ? La compétition pour le marché d’esclaves en Méditer-
rané médiévale”, in F. Guillén/S. Trabelsi (eds.), Les Esclavages en Méditerranée et en
Europe continentale. Espaces de traite et dynamiques économiques (Moyen Âge et
Temps Modernes), Madrid 2012, pp. 25–46.
Rotman, Y., “Forms of Slavery”, in P. Horden/Sh. Kinoshita (eds.), A Companion to Medi-
terranean History, Chichester 2014, pp. 263–278.
Rotman, Y., “Byzantium and the International Slave Trade in the Central Middle Ages”,
in Trade in Byzantium: Papers from the Third International Sevgi Gönül Byzantine
Studies Symposium, Istanbul 2016, pp. 129–142.
Rotman, Y., “Comparing Slavery: History and Anthropology”, in G. Stroumsa (ed.), Com-
parative Studies in the 21st Century – Prospects and Pitfalls, Jerusalem 2017.
Rudnyckyj, D., “Technologies of Servitude: Governmentality and Indonesian Transna-
tional Labor Migration”, Anthropological Quarterly 77/3 (2004), 407–434.
Simeonova, L., “In the Depths of Tenth-Century Byzantine Ceremonial: the Treatment
of Arab Prisoners-of-War at Imperial Banquets”, Byzantine and Modern Greek Stud-
ies 22 (1998), 75–104.
Sophoulis, P., Byzantium and Bulgaria, 775–831, Leiden 2011.
Sorlin, I., “Les Traités de Byzance avec la Russie au xe siècle”, Cahiers du Monde russe et
soviétique 2/3–4 (1961), 313–360 and 447–475.
Sorlin, I., “Voies commerciales, villes et peuplement de la Rôsia au xe siècle d’après le
De administrando imperio de Constantin Porphyrogénète”, in M. Kazanski/A.
Nercessian/C. Zuckerman (eds.), Les Centres proto-urbains russes entre Scandinavie,
Byzance et Orient, Paris 2000, pp. 337–356.
Stepputat, F./Nyberg Sørensen, N., “Sociology of Forced Migration”, in E. Fiddian-
Qasmiyeh/G. Loescher/K. Long/N. Sigona (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Refugee
and Forced Migration Studies, Oxford 2014.
Tafel, G.L.F./Thomas, G.M., Urkunden zur Ältern Handels-und Staatsgeschichte der Re-
publik Venedig, Amsterdam 1964.
Thomas, Y., “Vitae necisque potestas. Le père, la cité, la mort”, in Du châtiment dans la
cité. Supplices corporels et peine de mort dans le monde antique. Table ronde organ-
isée par l’École française de Rome avec le concours du Centre national de la recherche
scientifique (Rome 9–11 novembre, 1982), Rome 1984, pp. 499–548.
412 Rotman
Toch, M., The Economic History of European Jews. Late Antiquity and Early Middle Ages,
Leiden 2013.
Turton, D., “Conceptualising forced migration”, Refugee Studies Centre Working Paper
Series 12 (2003) (https://www.rsc.ox.ac.uk/files/publications/working-paper-series/
wp12-conceptualising-forced-migration-2003.pdf, retrieved on 22/4/2017).
Vasiliev, A.A., Byzance et les Arabes, vol. 1, Brussels 1935.
Verlinden, Ch., “Les Radaniya : Intermédiaires commerciaux entre les mondes Ger-
mano-Slave et Gréco-Arabe”, Graeco-Arabica 6 (1995), 111–124.
Ville, V., “Selling a Freeborn Child. Rhetoric and Social Realities in the Late Roman
World”, Ancient History 33 (2003), 169–207.
Watson, W.E., “Ibn al-Athīr’s Accounts of the Rūs: A Commentary and Translation”,
Canadian-American Slavic Studies 35/4 (2001), 423–438.
Westbrook, R., “Vitae Necisque Potestas”, Historia. Zeitschrift für alte Geschichte 48/2
(1999). 203–223.
Chapter 14
Mamluks in Abbasid Society

Lutz Berger
1 Introduction
Slave soldiers existed in many societies, already in the ancient Mediterranean

world, but also in the age of European imperialism. Nonetheless, it is fair to say
that there were few places, if at all, where the enslavement of foreigners was as
important for recruiting elite soldiers as in the premodern Islamic world. Nor
did slave soldiers anywhere else become as influential politically. The best-
known premodern Muslim polity based primarily on an elite of slave soldiers
was the Mamluk Sultanate in Egypt. However, the Mamluk army of Egypt was
by no means the only nor the earliest slave army in the Muslim world. The aim
of the present paper is to present the reader with a short survey of what we
know about the origins of Muslim slave armies in the early Abbasid period and
with some ideas on their impact on the societies in question.1
The history of these armies has been subject to some debate among scholars
ever since the late 1960s. Among the first studies were Ayalon’s who saw the
functioning of slave armies of the Abbasids very much through the eyes of an
expert on the late medieval Mamluk institution in Egypt (by projecting later
facts back into early Abbasid times).2 The same holds true for Töllner’s 1971 dis-
sertation.3 In the mid-1970s, Shaban in his revisionist tour de force of early Is-
lamic history doubted that something like slave soldiers existed at all in Ab-
basid times. In his view, when the sources spoke of slavery it was just a
metaphor for the fidelity of high-ranking soldiers towards their master, the
caliph.4 Pipes and Crone in the late 1970s did not follow Shaban’s ideas. In their
opinion, the armies of the 9th-century caliphs consisted primarily of foreign
slaves, be it, as Pipes argues, because the Muslims were not willing to serve in
the army anymore, be it, as Crone contends, that the rulers of the Islamic world
1 I have omitted the mentioning of authors of primary sources and have restricted myself on
the citation of secondary literature in Western languages instead. An important research tool
on all questions pertaining to medieval slavery in Europe and the Middle East is http://med-
slavery.uni-trier.de/ (accessed 17 August 2018).
2 Ayalon, “Military Reforms”; Ayalon, “Preliminary Remarks”; Amitai, “The Rise and Fall”.
3 Töllner, Türkische Garden.
4 Shaban, Islamic History.
© Lutz Berger, �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_015

414 Berger
wanted to be independent of their Muslim constituency.5 As it seems today,

most of the arguments brought forward in these debates have their validity but
at the same time need to be nuanced. This is possible not least because lately
scholars did not focus only on what happened at the caliph’s court in Baghdad
or Samarra, or on Turkish and other Central Asian troops there. Some, like
Bacharach and Lev, took a deeper interest in the Western provinces of the ca-
liphate and the role of African soldiers.6 Paul, a specialist on Central Asia, in-
sisted that whatever the role and nature of slave armies might have been, we
should not underrate the continuing presence of free, indigenous soldiers in
the armies of the caliphs.7 De la Vaissière provided us with invaluable insights
in the Central Asian world whence so many of the elite soldiers of the Abba-
sids stemmed and helped us to a better understanding of the origins of the
Mamluk phenomenon at the Abbasid court.8 Thanks to him, the problem that
once puzzled Shaban of whether or not the Turkish soldiers of 9th-century
Iraq were slaves now seems finally solved.9
2 The Politics of Slave Soldiers
The migration of military elites into the Abbasid Empire has to be put into the
setting of the political history of the time.10 The Abbasids took power in 750 as
leaders of the revolution that put an end to the Umayyad dynasty. Their sup-
porters were a motley crew of elite groups, both Arabs and converts to Islam,
from the Eastern half of the Empire, mostly from Khorasan. They expected the
new dynasty to bring justice where they perceived injustice, but most of all
they expected to participate in the spoils of victory. The core of the revolution-
ary troops, the so-called abnāʾ al-dawla, “sons of the revolution”, remained in
Iraq as the mainstay of the new government. They received decent allowances
from the tax income of the Empire, especially Iraq, which was at the time by far
the richest of the provinces of the Abbasid realm. The Abbasids held fast to it
as well as to the provinces in the East as far as Central Asia and to the West as
far as Egypt. What lay further off in the West, by contrast, was not really worth-
while keeping, given the logistical possibilities of the period. Therefore, the
5 Pipes, Slave Soldiers; Crone, Slaves on Horses; Crone, “Early Islamic World”.
6 Bacharach, “African Military Slaves”; Lev, “David Ayalon”.
7 Paul, The State and the Military.
8 De la Vaissière, Samarcande et Samarra.
9 See below, n. 11.
10 Cobb, “Empire in Syria”; El-Hibri, “Empire in Iraq”; Bonner, “Waning of Empire”; Sourdel,
L’État impérial.
Mamluks in Abbasid Society 415
Abbasids let al-Andalus and what is now Morocco go their own ways. Both
provinces had up to that time been rather more costly to keep than to lose.
Ifrīqiyā, i.e. Tunisia and its borderlands, was given to loyal supporters in return
for a yearly tribute. The relative stability of the first century of Abbasid rule, the
fact that there was no breaking away of further provinces, was due to the cul-
tural and political unity of the imperial administrative and military elite. There
was a good deal of elite circulation in the Abbasid Empire back and forth with-
in the Empire, and for most keeping contact with the financially and culturally
rich imperial centre in Iraq was more attractive than trying to break away. In
Ifrīqiyā, as we have seen, as well as in the East, especially in Central Asia, a large
degree of local autonomy made belonging to the Empire a burden that was not
too heavy to bear.
Things started to change with a civil war that was caused by the disunity of
the caliph Hārūn al-Rāshīd’s sons after the former’s death in 809. One of the
brothers, al-Amīn, had been created caliph in his father’s place, the other,
al-Maʾmūn, was supposed to be his successor, and in the meantime had been
appointed governor of Khorasan. This arrangement, all the precautions their
father had taken notwithstanding, proved to be a fragile one. Things came to a
head when al-Maʾmūn, supported by al-Ṭāhir, the commander of his troops
and a leading representative of the Khorasanian Arabs, marched on Baghdad.
The majority of the abnāʾ supported the rightful caliph, but were defeated by
al-Maʾmūn’s troops. As in 750 Easterners now took over power in the centre of
the caliphate. A large part of al-Ṭāhirs Khorasanian soldiers stayed in Baghdad
after the successful takeover, while he himself became governor of the East
under the new dispensation. Al-Maʾmūn and, later on, his brother and ulti-
mate successor al-Muʿtaṣim had to see how they could counterbalance the
power of their over-mighty subject at the very centre of their Empire with
troops loyal to themselves. Among others, they brought in Central Asian troops
for the purpose. The nature of these has long been subject to debate and it is
only thanks to the painstaking and meticulous work of de la Vaissière that we
understand the changes in the recruitment of military personnel more
clearly.11
According to him, the social structures of Transoxania had remained sur-
prisingly stable after the Muslim conquest. Under the overlordship of the
caliph and his representative, small principalities and their landed warrior
aristocracy continued to dominate the region. Within these principalities,
princes gathered around themselves bands of loyal retainers. Such bands of
warrior nobles were recruited into the Abbasid army especially from the times

416 Berger
of al-Maʾmūn onwards. Some of these bands of warriors entered into Abba-

sid military service on their own accord, others had been transferred to Iraq
as captives. Confronted with Ṭāhirid regiments of this type that had helped
al-Maʾmūn to win the throne, al-Muʿtaṣim chose to bring in troops of this ori-
gin. All of them were free or at least freed once in the service of the caliph.
Just like the elite retainers of Central Asian princes, they were seen and prob-
ably saw themselves as the personal servants of the caliph. The idea of servant-
hood was more an expression of special loyalty than of legal status, though. To
avoid conflict with both the population of Baghdad and the regiments of the
Ṭāhirids, the caliph settled his new militia of about 8,000 men in a palace city
of his own: Samarra. Nevertheless, it was not only Turks who were quartered
there. Among others, Arabs from Egypt, the so-called Maghāriba, also found
their place in the new capital and became allies of the Turks.12 A part at least of
these Maghāriba had been enslaved as consequence of rebellions in Egypt, but
others seem to have been free.13 In all, as it seems, around 20,000 troops or even
a little more were stationed in the new capital.14 The troops of the Ṭāhirids
stayed behind in Baghdad. To keep his new soldiers isolated, and maybe also to
retain supposed racial traits such as good horsemanship, al-Muʿtaṣim brought
in Turkish slave women for them with whom they had children who then were
also integrated into the army. Relatively little is known about the training and
career of slave soldiers. Those who had been brought into the Islamic world as
prisoners of war needed little military training. At any rate, we do not have any
concrete information about how such training took place in Samarra. Only at
the end of the 9th century do we hear of reviews of Turkish troops by the ca-
liph who then would assign each of these horsemen to a certain rank and pay
according to his respective performance.15
The hope that these newly recruited soldiers would give the caliphs a secure
base on which their authority could rest durably soon turned out to be an illu-
sion. The Central Asian army ate up a great part of the Empire’s revenues and
was not willing to give up that privileged position. Overall, the payment of the
army was the most important item on the caliphs’ budget and difficulties in
providing the money needed were one of the root causes of political instability
from the mid-9th century right through to the Būyid takeover in 945. In the
end, the new Central Asian armies were in no way cheaper than the ancient
12 Talbi, “Maghāriba”; Kennedy, Armies of the Caliphs, pp. 119–120.

14 All these figures are very approximative. See Kennedy, Armies of the Caliphs, pp. 126–127
and in particular de la Vaissière, Samarcande et Samarra, pp. 238–239 for a discussion of
numbers.
Muslim militia, the djund, or other types of mercenaries. As it was not always
easy for the government to provide ready cash for the Turkish troops, their
demands led to the development of the oriental version of a fief, the iqṭāʿ.
Thereby the civil administration gave up the right to collect the taxes of a de-
fined district, the iqṭāʿ, for the benefit of an officer of the army. Although in
theory this did not mean that these officers became owners of the land, there
was a tendency for officers being given these iqṭāʿs to keep them throughout
their lives and even to leave them to their heirs. The system started in the re-
gion around Samarra but soon was extended to other parts of Iraq and of what
is now Iran.16 Obviously, not all soldiers were paid by being granted such a fief.
Those that were not depended on money handed out to them by their com-
manders or on stipends from the central treasury. The iqṭāʿ and other forms of
conditional ownership of land or, mostly, of the land’s tax income remained a
central feature of the social system of the Muslim world through to the 19th
century.
By the midst of the 9th century, al-Muʿtaṣim’s Turkish militia had become so
powerful that the caliph al-Mutawakkil, the son of al-Muʿtaṣim, started to
think of getting rid of it. When he attempted to confiscate the fiefs of one of his
Turkish commanders, he was killed by the latter’s soldiers in collusion with his
heir apparent, who seems to have had fallen from grace.17 The murder of the
caliph opened a period of anarchy in Samarra and Baghdad when different fac-
tions within the military vied for influence and control, setting up and toppling
caliphs as they went. Apart from the Central Asian Turks who loom so large in
our sources, the old troops of the Ṭāhirids in Baghdad and the so-called
maghāriba already mentioned joined the fray. Furthermore, there were Afri-
can infantrymen, the shākiriyya (free guard troops of Eastern Iranian or Cen-
tral Asian origin) and finally what was left over of the ancient djund and the
abnāʾ. All these groups now fought over power and influence in a never-ending
merry-go-round of caliphs being set up and toppled. The crisis was compound-
ed by the zandj, East African slaves who had to work in the salt swamps in the
South of Iraq. They started a rebellion in protest against their dire living condi-
tions. This rebellion laid waste much of the agricultural core of the Empire.18
This period of chaos ended when under the caliph al-Muʿtamid (ruled 870–
892) the caliph’s brother and regent al-Muwaffaq created a new elite corps of
Central Asian slave soldiers and regained control over the situation. This time
these soldiers were real slaves. Unlike before, now new recruits were regularly
16 Gordon, “Turkish Military Elite”; Cahen, “L’évolution de l’iqtâ”; Lambton, “Eqtāʿ”.

18 Apart from the literature given in note 10 above, see Kennedy, “Decline and Fall”.
418 Berger
bought and trained so as to prevent the formation of entrenched vested inter-

ests.19 Al-Muwaffaq succeeded to bind this new troop to his person and there-
by had the instrument with which he could both subdue the warring factions
of the army and the rebellious zandj.
Eventually though, the infighting of military and bureaucratic groups over
the dwindling resources of the imperial centre resumed. This was finally yet
importantly the result of the crisis of Iraqi agriculture. Much of the compli-
cated system of desalination and irrigation had been destroyed by years of
warfare. With Iraq impoverished and the provinces breaking away and not
transferring great sums of money anymore to the centre, there was not enough
money left in the treasury to satisfy everybody. The caliph al-Muqtadir (908–
932), unlike the Abbasids of the late 9th century, did never lead his army in
person and was not able to create a bond with his slave soldiers. In the end, the
Turkish military had the upper hand, and after the murder of al-Muqtadir the
leader of the slave army was appointed commander in chief and the new ca-
liph virtually ceded most of his executive power to him. This military dictator-
ship was not to last long.20 In the year 945, bands of mercenaries from Daylam
in what is now northern Iran marched on Baghdad under the leadership of the
Būyid family. The Būyids forced the caliph to appoint themselves commanders
of all caliphal troops and controlled both Iraq and much of present Iran for the
better part of the next hundred years.
Already by the end of the 9th century, the chaos in the centre had led to a
loss of caliphal control over many of the more peripheral regions of the Em-
pire. Local governors now did not look to the centre in Iraq anymore, they
rather tried to set up independent polities. The East had long been under the
sway of the Ṭāhirids who had kept an eye on developments in Iraq and even
had kept their own troops recruited not to a large degree from the social elite
of the province. During the 9th century the Central Asian regions of the Is-
lamic world that had before been composed of relatively small local principali-
ties paying allegiance to Baghdad came under the rule of the Sāmānid family
who managed not only to subdue the whole of the Transoxanian and large
parts of the Eastern Iranian world, but also at the end of the 9th century had
more or less a monopoly for supplying the caliph with the slave soldiers he so
desperately needed. The Sāmānids would not only export slave soldiers to the
West; they also constituted their own armies of Turkish slaves. When the origi-
nal base of their military, the rural aristocracy of the region, disaffected be-
cause of their declining influence, lost their interest in the continuance of
19 De la Vaissière, Samarcande et Samarra, pp. 267–268.

20 Kennedy, “Military”.
Sāmānid rule around the year 1000, they finally lost power to the descendants
of one of their slave generals, the so-called Ghaznavid dynasty.21
In the far West, a scion of the Umayyad dynasty had founded an emirate on
the Iberian Peninsula. The armies of al-Andalus consisted of different compet-
ing networks based on ethnic and tribal bonds. This led to instability that the
Umayyads sought to overcome by recruiting slave soldiers imported from Cen-
tral Europe. Numbering 14,000 they were an important prop of the Andalusi
caliphate’s power, serving both in the military and in the administration, dur-
ing the reign of ʿAbd al-Raḥmān iii (ruled 912–961). At his death, some of them
made an unsuccessful attempt to seize power. However, this was not the end of
their influence, factions of them and other segments within the elite took part
in a general scramble for the spoils after the breakdown of central authority in
the first decades of the 11th century.22
Ibrāhīm ibn Aghlab (800–812), the founder of the dynasty of semi-indepen-
dent governors of Ifrīqiyā, seems to have been the first ruler in the Muslim
world to set up an army of slaves, long before his overlords at Baghdad and
Samarra. He thereby freed himself from dependency of the djund, the Ifrīqian
militia. A complete army corps made up of 5,000 slaves was settled in a quarter
of their own in the Aghlabid capital of al-ʿAbbāsiyya. A few decades later
Aḥmad ibn Ṭūlūn, the ʿAbbasid governor of Egypt, who had himself been a
slave, founded his own slave army there to secure his power over Egypt. The
existence of slave regiments had by the 10th century become the rule within
the realms of the Muslim world. The Fāṭimids who pretended to be descen-
dants of the prophet with a better claim to the caliphate than the Abbasids
were another example. At the beginning, they founded their military might in
the Maghreb on the support of the Kutāma Berbers. Having gained control
over Ifrīqiyā at the beginning of the 10th century, they recruited troops of
slaves. They continued this practice after they had transferred the seat of their
caliphate to Egypt in the 960s. In the Fāṭimid Empire as elsewhere, in periods
of crisis regiments of different origins started fighting against each other in al-
liance with factions at court.23
21 Paul, The State and the Military.

22 Golden, “Ṣaḳāliba”. For a critique of the view that Central European ṣaqāliba served as
soldiers see Kenaro, “Slave Elites” who claims that the ṣaqāliba proper served as palace
officials and not as soldiers. Those who were called ṣaqāliba but served as soldiers were of
different origin.
23 Lev, “David Ayalon”.
420 Berger
3 Origins of Military Slaves
Slave troops, as we have seen, came from where they could easily be provided,
that is from neighbouring regions to which the respective ruler had military or
commercial access. All peoples around the Muslim world (more or less all peo-
ples anywhere) had groups within their societies that had military traditions.
Therefore, it does not make great sense to think about some groups being pre-
ferred because they belonged to what European imperialists of the 19th cen-
tury labelled “martial races”. As it was, many recruits came at a rather young
age anyway and, apart from the case of the first decades at Samarra, the better
part of their military training took place within the Muslim realm(s). Nonethe-
less, there were certain ethnic prejudices and stereotypes that to some degree
were derived from learned traditions (see below), but to some degree might
have had a foundation in real conditions. Turks were mostly used as horsemen
and it may well be that these Central Asians had indeed normally mastered
riding at a very young age before being sold into slavery. Sub-Saharan Africans,
by contrast, were normally used as infantry. Again, horses being rare in their
country of origin one could not presuppose any anterior experience of horse-
manship, while they might have been used to walking long distances.
In the case of the Abbasid caliphs, the greatest number of slave soldiers
came from Central Asia. Most of them will have been speakers of Turkish lan-
guages, but taking into account the imbricated nature of Central Asian ethnici-
ties, it may well be that some whom we (perhaps even their contemporaries)
conceptualize as Turks spoke other Iranian or Altaian languages. These Turks
were in part prisoners of war and as such came to the Muslim lands as already
fully-fledged soldiers. Such people, as we have seen, often have had a rather
high standing in their society of origin. Others had come into the possession of
their Muslim masters as young children as war booty or tribute. In these cases,
we cannot be as sure concerning the standing of these persons before their
enslavement, nor did it probably play a big role.24 In the North, war against the
Khazars, the great trading Empire around the Caspian Sea, might have pro-
vided further human resources. It seems that in times of peace the Khazar
elites, for the most part Turkish-speaking and of Jewish religion, were also will-
ing to sell heathen subjects into slavery.25 The Khazars were at some distance
from the caliphs’ seat of power in Iraq. Since the caliphs had lost direct control
of most outlying provinces at the end of the 9th century, they became depen-
dant on having governors loyal to them in Central Asian frontier regions to
24 All this is intensively discussed in De la Vaissière, Samarcande et Samarra.

25 Golden, “Khazar Turkic Ghulâms”.
provide them with the slaves they needed for their armies. The North East,
where the Sāmānids were always willing to help, was the most important
source for military manpower left to the caliphs.
The ever more visible prevalence of Turkish troops in Abbasid service was
not a question of principle but rather of necessity. During the 9th century, the
Abbasids had been quite willing to use slave regiments of Africans. The Muslim
rulers of Egypt, first the semi-independent governors of the Abbasids, then
even more the rival caliphal dynasty of the Fāṭimids, probably did not have a
very strong interest in providing the caliph with fighters. By consequence, after
the mid-9th century it will have become increasingly difficult for the caliphs to
get African soldiers from the Nile region and countries further to the West. East
Africans had been recruited during the 9th century and even later, but, as it
seems, this practice slowly petered out after people of that origin had been
responsible for the rebellion of the plantation slaves that laid waste Iraq in the
late 9th century.26 As has been said, Africans served mostly as infantry. An-
other important group within the caliphal armies had been the already men-
tioned Maghāriba, i.e. Westerners, Muslim Arabs from Egypt. These could of
cause not be easily replaced, as the enslavement of Muslims had become more
and more of a taboo. Therefore, at the end of the day the caliphs had no other
resources for military slaves than what came to them from the Northeast. This
gave the Muslim rulers of that region some advantage over the centre. On
the other hand, it meant that after the abnāʾ , the shākiriyya27 and other non-
Turkish groups of slave soldiers had disappeared, the idea of putting one group
of soldiers against the other became difficult a game for the caliphs.
As had been said, in other regions of the Middle East, for reasons of geogra-
phy, Turks did not play the same role as for the caliphs and the Sāmānids. This
did not mean that slave soldiers were of no importance there; only the coun-
tries they stemmed from differed. In Umayyad Spain, it was the regions to the
North that provided slave troops that helped the dynasty in the 9th century to
become more independent from the different segments of Andalusian society.
These slave soldiers, some of them Eunuchs, were commonly called Saqāliba,
Slavs. If all of them were indeed of Central European origin remains a moot
point. Sources sometimes speak a bit confusingly about them and other peo-
ples, both from the Iberian Peninsula and from Carolingian Europe. As it
seems, though, the majority of these troops were imported by slave traders
who had acquired them from the (Eastern) Franks who during the times were
leading wars against the Slav populations in the Elbe region. As is well known,
26 Bacharach, “African Military Slaves”.

27 On these De la Vaissière, Samarcande et Samarra and Kennedy, Armies of the Caliphs.
422 Berger
Verdun in France was a leading centre of this trade (and the castration of
future eunuchs). Another major place where Eunuchs were castrated and
traded was Lucena in Spain. Many of the traders were Jews who had the con-
tacts and the language skills to successfully perform this kind of transcultural
transactions.28
The first dynasty to seek the support of slave troops had been the Aghlabid
governors of North Africa. Ifrīqiyā was home to a large population of sub-
Saharan slaves working in the region’s agriculture.29 As there were intensive
trading contacts across the Sahara to provide the region with ever-new genera-
tions of slaves it was no far-fetched idea to use these contacts to create a slave
militia. Slave trading across the Sahara was in the hands of Berber groups who
ironically had themselves fallen prey to Muslim slave raiding in the first cen-
tury of Islam. Some of these Berber groups had rebelled against their treat-
ment by their Arab masters and established independent polities in what is
now Algeria.30
Sub-Saharan Africa was not the only source of military slaves for the Aghla-
bids. Raiding and more regular warfare on sea also provided them with slaves
from the northern shores of the Mediterranean who could be put to military
use. Another source were Italian traders who delivered Central and Eastern
Europeans.31
The Fāṭimid successors of the Aghlabids in North Africa had first build their
power on the support of free groups of Kutāma Berbers. Rather soon, they took
over the military recruitment policies of their predecessors. Both before and
after the transfer of their capital city to Egypt they counted to a large degree on
African slave troops. In Egypt they found a local tradition of African slave sol-
diers going back to the semi-independent Abbasid governor Aḥmad ibn Ṭūlūn,
but these Africans were probably of Nilotic rather than West African origin.
Apart from these, called sūdān, blacks, there were also black slave troops from
East Africa, called zandj. Besides, the Fāṭimids also had ṣaqāliba in their ser-
vice. By contrast to the ṣaqāliba in al-Andalus these came, as it seems, rather
from Eastern Europe by way of the Crimea or by way of Italy. From the mid-9th
century onwards, officers of Slavonic origin played a leading role in the Fāṭimid
28 Golden, “Ṣaḳāliba”; Verlinden, “Les Radaniya”. The role of European Jews has lately been
questioned in Toch, “Jews and Commerce”.
29 Lev, “David Ayalon”.
30 Berger, Entstehung des Islam, pp. 216–217. There is in fact an abundance of information
available on how trade was transacted south of the Sahara and what groups of peoples
were sold as slaves or who served as middlemen providing the Berber traders with what
they wanted. See e.g. relevant chapters in Lane/MacDonald, Slavery in Africa.
31 Golden, “Ṣaḳāliba”.
state. Djawhar, the military commander that conquered Egypt for them, e.g.
was of Slavonic extraction.32 There were also Turkish and Persian soldiers who
presumably were not slave troops but free. They were trying to wrest power
from the hands of the Africans during the difficult period of al-Muntaṣir’s reign
(1036–1094). The African slave infantry remained the mainstay of Fāṭimid pow-
er. It was these troops that Saladin had to fight against in his effort to gain
control of Egypt in the 1160s. After their defeat, African slave troops never again
played a similar role in Egyptian affairs.33 The future belonged to slave soldiers
of Turkish and Circassian extraction.
4 Race and Slavery34
As it seems, most Turkish or Central Asian slave soldiers in Iraq, at least in the
9th century, insofar as they had been slaves at all, were liberated at some point
rather early in their career. They were called mawālī, clients, not slaves any-
more. Others, it seems, kept their slave status. However, in a way the legal sta-
tus of a person was not always the most important factor determining the so-
cial position of a person in medieval Muslim societies. Slave soldiers became
part of the institutions of government and their social position was a result of
their proximity to the seats of power. The influence and standing of the ca-
liphs’ slave soldiers was not liked by large parts of the population in the capi-
tals of medieval Muslim polities. This had something to do with the foreign-
ness of these troops. While some of their leaders became perfectly conversant
in the intricacies of Muslim-Arab culture, the majority of the rank and file cer-
tainly remained strangers to most of the language and world of the societies
they were supposed to protect. By consequence, envy of the slave armies’ posi-
tion could easily be expressed in ethnic terms. It is no wonder that foreign
soldiers who lorded it over the general population and more and more even
the caliph himself were disparaged for their lack of Arabness. They were kept
purposely in isolation from the locals.
Racial stereotypes and prejudices were readily available for people of any
origin. The Turks were held to be warlike and honest but at the same time seen
as primitive and violent. The cold climate of their country of origin was thought
33 Lev, “David Ayalon”; Bacharach, “African Military Slaves”.
34 On race-thinking still Lewis, Race and Slavery and the literature given in Berger, Gesell-
schaft und Individuum, pp. 146–147.
424 Berger
to have made them fat and sexually rather disinterested.35 They were at times
compared to riding apes. Racialist images in the medieval Muslim world came
partly from classical tradition,36 partly they were created ad hoc in the Islamic
world as when Slavonic peoples were held to be similar to dogs. This idea was
obviously inspired by their Arabic name, ṣaqāliba, that came from Persian sag,
dog.37
Racial slurs were current not only at the expense of the Turks, but also of
sub-Saharan Africans. African slave soldiers were distinguished from others by
being called ʿabīd, a particularly negative word for slaves.38 On account of a
presupposed racial inferiority, even highest-ranking people of African origins
could be subject to slander. One of the most famous instances of this were the
verses the great poet al-Mutanabbī wrote at the expense of Kāfūr, the castrated
former slave who had risen to become ruler of Egypt in the 10th century.39 On
the other hand, supposed ethnic features could be a matter of praise, as in the
9th-century author al-Djāḥiẓ’ essays on the virtues of both the Turks and the
Africans. Both ways, ethnicity was an important way of constituting social or-
der and conceptualising conflicts. This held true not only for the original in-
habitants of the Middle East, but also among the slave troops themselves. They
were, as we have seen, grouped following ethnic lines and often fought out
conflicts among themselves accordingly.
However, all this does not mean that race-thinking as such was a major
cause of strife in the societies in question. Of course, Turkish regiments of cav-
alry would fight against black infantry soldiers to defend their interests. Of
course, once you had fallen out with an important person, you would mock
him on account of his origins as al-Mutanabbī did with Kāfūr. Nevertheless,
neither the Turkish regiments nor al-Mutanabbī had a conflict with their re-
spective counterparts just because they were black. Conflict was not caused by
ethnical or racial prejudice. Rather, once there was conflict, people would stick
to whosoever was part of their group. Regiments being formed along ethnic
lines; it was self-evident that people of the same origin had common interests.
At the same time, it was only logical that in this situation people would use ra-
cial stereotypes as well as anything else at hand to have the better of their re-
spective enemies. Political correctness certainly was no feature of pre-modern
Muslim society.
35 Bosworth, “Turks”.
36 On the foregoing and the Arab literary tradition on Turks from Abbasid times to the Otto-
man period more generally Berger, Gesellschaft und Individuum, pp. 146–147.
39 Lewis, Race and Slavery, pp. 59–60. See also Bacharach, “African Military Slaves”.
5 Why Mamluks? The Origins and Function of a Medieval Muslim

Institution
Slave soldiers existed in many civilisations from Antiquity until the petering
out of slavery at the end of the 19th century.40 This is not surprising. Slaves
were a weak social group and in many societies being a soldier was not a sta-
tion of high prestige. Furthermore, not all societies bind military service and
citizenship together in the way the classical Greece and Rome, the early Islam,
and the European 19th century did. In our own days, the abolition of conscrip-
tion made the army again a place for marginalized social groups. The same had
already held true in the late Roman Empire where the armies were formed
more and more by people who had only lately entered the Roman world. Slav-
ery in modern society is regularly conceptualized along the lines of American
race-based plantation slavery. This makes the idea of arming a totally sub-
dued, even dehumanized group seem a strange idea (although even West
Indian slaves could be armed at times)41. If we see slavery not in these stark
terms but simply as one form of marginal or subordinate position that people
could have in society, we might put the question differently: Under which con-
ditions did the leading social groups of medieval societies stop doing military
service and were replaced by people from the margins, both socially and geo-
graphically? Military slavery then is only a particular case of recruitment of
marginal people.
Ayalon put forward that a lack of manpower was the root cause of the
employment of slave soldiers.42 Pipes in a way followed the same path. With
conversion of large sectors of the population in Iran, the Muslims did not
feel threatened anymore, djihād had ceased to be successful and revolutions
had brought disillusioning results. By consequence, Muslims were less and
less interested to participate in public affairs after the beginning of the 9th
century.43
Crone also argued that Muslim rulers lacked legitimacy in the eyes of the
elite of their Muslim subjects. The Abbasids had tried to found their rule on
an alliance with the elites of Khorasan, who happened to have a strong mili-
tary tradition. Once this alliance was broken in the crisis of the civil war at the
40 Crone, “Early Islamic World”.

41 Pipes, Slave Soldiers, pp. 39–40.
42 Ayalon, “Military Reforms”.
43 Pipes, Slave Soldiers, pp. 181–182.
426 Berger
beginning of the 9th century, they had to look elsewhere. To create a militia
with personal ties to the caliph seemed the only solution.44
Rulers of the Islamic world of the 10th century could never be sure that their
legitimacy was not called into question. Hence, the idea to have troops with
special loyalty to their persons must have been attractive. What is more, units
of different origins and of differing dates of recruitment could be put one
against the other so as to create a complicated web with the ruler as the final
arbiter in all conflicts between factions. Creating a slave army as did the Aghla-
bids by inventing the Muslim slave militia at the beginning of the 9th century
gave rulers a new and important means of keeping the upper hand in the dif-
ficult game of army and court politics.
In the Abbasid case, another point seems to have been of importance. While
at the beginning of the conquests infantry played a decisive role in warfare, by
the 9th/10th century the importance of cavalry was increasing.45 Who could
be called to serve in a mounted militia? Only rich landowners could afford to
pay for their mount and serve and had learned how to use a horse right from
childhood. In medieval Western Europe, the increasing importance of cavalry
led to the formation of feudal society where in the end only mounted soldier-
landowners were really free. In the Muslim world, things were different. The
conquests had settled the new Arab-Muslim masters in cities. They did not live
on their own landed property but on stipends payed by the government. After
a few decades, they had become less than enthusiastic soldiers. War was not as
profitable as during the first years of the conquests and life in the metropolises
of the Muslim world was more amenable than campaigning in foreign parts.
Service to religion for many did not consist in armed engagement anymore but
in scholarship. The complicated business of learning how to fight effectively on
horseback was not part of the cultural heritage of these Muslim communities.
This was different in Eastern Iran and Central Asia. Here there still existed sig-
nificant numbers of a Muslim (convert or otherwise) landed aristocracy who
had the means to serve as cavalry and for whom this was an important part of
their cultural tradition. As we have seen in the beginning, the caliphs tried to
attach to themselves noble groups of this origin and it was only when they
proved unreliable that they took to importing them as slaves. Coincidentally, in
the East as well the Sāmānids at first relied on their landed aristocracy for hav-
ing a mounted army. Such a takeover did not happen quickly. Normally, fidelity
was one of the assets of creating the quasi-familiar bond of slave soldier and
master. The master’s position was further strengthened if he had the possibility
44 Crone, “Early Islamic World”.

to shower his favours on other clients and networks as well. However, loyalty
could also be produced by other means: in particular, the troops’ belief in the
religious legitimacy of the ruler. The continued existence of the Abbasid ca-
liphate after 945 had much to do with this fact. However, this legitimacy was
rather effaced and could not be turned into massive coercive power. Things
were different with the kind of intensive religious charisma that helped the
Fāṭimids to gain the military support of the Kutāma Berbers.46 Only when this
charisma faded did the dynasty come to rely more heavily on what by now had
become the traditional system of slave troops. Last but not least, group solidar-
ity of geographically marginal, often nomadic groups, the medieval sociologist
Ibn Khaldūn’s famous ʿaṣabiyya, remained a central source of military power.
A great number of Muslim Empires during the course of the Middle Ages re-
lied on just that.47
This being so, it is an error to assume that slave armies had become the only
source of military power in the Muslim Middle East after the 10th century. The
Mamluk Empire in Egypt remained exceptional. Rulers had a whole range of
resources on which to base their power. Nonetheless, those instruments of
power, different from what was the rule in the Western Early and High Middle
Ages, nearly never stemmed from the elites of their society. Neither slaves nor
nomadic tribes had a high standing as long as they had not become the instru-
ment of the ruler’s might. Those with high standing, scholars and traders, could
make their voice heard by literature and religion, but they had lost any coercive
force.
Bibliography
Amitai, R., “The Rise and Fall of the Mamluk Institution: A Summary of David Avalon’s
Works”, in M. Sharon (ed.), Studies in Islamic History and Civilization in Honour of
Professor David Avalon, Jerusalem 1986, pp. 19–30.
Ayalon, D., “The Military Reforms of Caliph al-Mu´tasim”, in D. Ayalon (ed.), Islam and
the Abode of War: Military Slaves and Islamic Adversaries, Aldershot 1994, pp. 1–39.
Ayalon, D., “Preliminary Remarks on the Mamluk Military Institution in Islam”, in V.
Parry (ed.), War, Technology, and Society in the Middle East, London 1975, pp. 44–58.
46 These, in their way, had been nearly as marginal to Ifrīqian society up to that point as Af-
rican slaves.
47 The role of marginal groups for empire building has been stressed by Martinez-Gros,
Brève histoire.
428 Berger
Bacharach, J., “African Military Slaves in the Medieval Middle East: The Cases of Iraq
(869–955) and Egypt (868–1171)”, International Journal of Middle East Studies 13
(1981), pp. 471–495.
Berger, L., Die Entstehung des Islam: Die ersten hundert Jahre, München 2016.
Berger, L., Gesellschaft und Individuum in Damaskus, Würzburg 2007.
Bonner, M., “The Waning of Empire, 861–945”, in: C.F. Robinson (ed.), The New Cam-
bridge History of Islam. Vol. 1: The Formation of the Islamic World, Sixth to Eleventh
Centuries, Cambridge 2011, pp. 305–359.
Bosworth, C.E., “The Turks in the Islamic Lands up to the Mid-11th Century”, in C. Ca-
hen (ed.), Philologiae Turcicae fundamenta, Wiesbaden 1970, pp. 1–20.
Cahen, C., “L’évolution de l’iqtâ du ixe au xiiie siècle: contribution à une histoire com-
parée des sociétés médiévales”, Annales. Économies, Sociétés, Civilisations 8 (1953),
pp. 25–52.
Cobb, P., “The Empire in Syria, 705–763”, in: C.F. Robinson (ed.), The New Cambridge
History of Islam. Vol. 1: The Formation of the Islamic World, Sixth to Eleventh Centu-
ries, Cambridge 2011, pp. 226–268.
Crone, P., “The Early Islamic World”, in K. Raaflaub (ed.), War and Society in the Ancient
and Medieval Worlds, Cambridge 1999, pp. 309–332.
Crone, P., Slaves on Horses: The Evolution of the Islamic Polity, Cambridge 1980.
De la Vaissière, É., Samarcande et Samarra. Élites d’Asie centrale dans l’Empie Abbaside,
Paris 2007.
El-Hibri, T., “The Empire in Iraq, 763–861”, in: C.F. Robinson (ed.), The New Cambridge
History of Islam. Vol. 1: The Formation of the Islamic World, Sixth to Eleventh Centu-
ries, Cambridge 2011, pp. 269–304.
Golden, P., “Khazar Turkic Ghulâms in Caliphal Service”, Journal Asiatique 292 (2004),
pp. 279–309.
Golden, P., Art. “al-Ṣaḳāliba”, Encyclopeadia of Islam, Second Edition, vol. 8, Leiden 1995,
pp. 872–881.
Gordon, M., “The Turkish Military Elite of Samarra and the Third Century Land Tenure
System”, in M. Toru (ed.), Slave Elites in the Middle East and Africa, London 2000,
pp. 13–24.
Kenaro, S., “Slave Elites and the Saqāliba in al-Andalus in the Umayyad Period”, in M.
Toru (ed.), Slave Elites in the Middle East and Africa: A Comparative Study, London
2000, pp. 25–40.
Kennedy, H., “The Military”, in M. van Berkel et al. (ed.), Crisis and Continuity at the Ab-
basid Court, Leiden 2013, pp. 111–141.
pp. 3–30.
Kennedy, H., The Armies of the Caliphs: Military and Society in the Early Islamic State,
London 2001.
Lambton, A., Art. “Eqtāʿ”, Encyclopædia Iranica, vol. 8, New York 1998, pp. 520–533.
Lane, P./MacDonald, K.C., Slavery in Africa: archaeology and memory, Oxford 2011.
Lev, Y., “David Ayalon (1914–1998) and the History of Black Military Slavery in Medieval
Islam”, Der Islam 90 (2013), pp. 21–43.
Lewis, B., Race and Slavery in the Middle East, Oxford 1990.
Martinez-Gros, G., Brève histoire des empires, Paris 2014.
Paul, J., The State and the Military: The Samanid Case, (Papers on Inner Asia, 26),
Bloomington IN 1994.
Pipes, D., Slave Soldiers and Islam: The Genesis of a Military System, New Haven 1981.
Shaban, M., Islamic History: A New Interpretation, Cambridge 1976.
Sourdel, D., L’État impérial des califes abbasides, Paris 1999.
Talbi, M., Art. “Maghāriba”, Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition, vol. 5, Leiden 1986,
pp. 1159–161.
Toch, M., “Jews and Commerce: Modern Fancies and Medieval Realities”, in: S. Cava-
ciocchi (ed.), Atti della xxxi settimana di studi, Istituto Francesco Datini, Prato. Il
ruolo economico delle minoranze in Europa, Secc. xiii–xviii, Florence 2000,
pp. 43–58.
Töllner, H., Die türkischen Garden am Kalifenhof von Samarra. Ihre Entstehung und
Machtergreifung bis zum Kalifat al-Muʿtaḍids, Bonn 1971.
Verlinden, C., “Les Radaniya et Verdun: à propos de la traité des esclaves slaves vers
l’Espagne musulmane aux ixe et xe siècles”, in: M. del Carmen Carlé (ed.), Estudios
en homenaje a Don Claudio Sánchez Albornoz en sus 90 años, vol. 2, Buenos Aires
1983, pp. 105–132.
General Maps
Map 15.1 Places mentioned in the papers of the volume (for the numbers see the list of places displayed on map 15.1.)
map: j. preiser-kapeller, 2019
432
General Maps
Map 15.2 Overview of the cities (circles) and archaeological sites (diamonds) mentioned in the papers of the volume
General Maps
433
Map 15.3 Eastern Europe: cities (circles) and archaeological sites (diamonds) mentioned in the papers of the volume
434
General Maps
Map 15.4 Central Asia and Iran: cities (circles) and archaeological sites (diamonds) mentioned in the papers of the volume
General Maps
435
Map 15.5 East Africa and Arabia: cities (circles) and archaeological sites (diamonds) mentioned in the papers of the volume
436
General Maps
Map 15.6 Western Mediterranean and Western Europe: cities (circles) and archaeological sites (diamonds) mentioned in the papers of the
volume
General Maps
437
Map 15.7 Southeastern Europe and Asia Minor: cities (circles) and archaeological sites (diamonds) mentioned in the papers of the volume
438
General Maps
Map 15.8 Caucasus, Western Iran, Mesopotamia and Syria: cities (circles) and archaeological sites (diamonds) mentioned in the papers of the
volume
General Maps
439
Map 15.9 Egypt and Levant: cities (circles) and archaeological sites (diamonds) mentioned in the papers of the volume
Select Bibliography on the Medieval Migration
History of the Afro-Eurasian Transition Zone
Abou El Fadl, K., Rebellion and Violence in Islamic Law, Cambridge 2001.
Their Creative Engagement with Ancient Literature”, Greek, Roman and Byzantine
Studies 54 (2014), 105–135.
Anderson, A., Imagined Communities. Reflections on the Origin and Spread of National-
ism, London 1986.
Asbridge, T., The Crusades: The Authoritative History of the War for the Holy Land, New
York 2010.
Ashtor, E., “Un mouvement migratoire au haut Moyen Age. Migrations de l’Irak vers les
pays méditerranéens”, Annales. Histoire, Sciences Sociales 27 (1972), pp. 185–214,
repr. in idem, The Medieval Near East. Social and Economic History (Variorum Series,
4), London 1978.
Auzepy, M.-F., “Le Rôle des Émigrés Orientaux à Constantinople et dans L’Empire
(634–843). Acquis et Perspectives”, al-Qanṭara 32 (2012), 475–503.
Avni, G., The Byzantine-Islamic Transition in Palestine. An Archeological approach,
Oxford 2014.
Ayalon, D., Islam and the abode of war: Military slaves and Islamic adversaries, Alder-
shot, HA. 1994.
Balard, M./Ducellier, A. (eds.), Migrations et diasporas méditerranéennes (xe–xvie siè-
cles). Actes du Colloque de Conques (octobre 1999), Paris 2002.
Beihammer, A.D., “Defection across the Border of Islam and Christianity: Apostasy and
Cross-Cultural Interaction in Byzantine-Seljuk Relations”, Speculum 86 (2011),
597–651.
1130 (Birmingham Byzantine and Ottoman Studies), Abindgon/New York 2017.
Borgolte, M., “Eine langobardische ‘Wanderlawine’ vom Jahr 568? Zur Kritik historiog-
raphischer Zeugnisse der Migrationsperiode”, Zeitschrift für Geschichtswissenschaft
61 (2013), 293–310.
Borgolte, M. (ed.), Migrationen im Mittelalter: Ein Handbuch, Berlin 2017.
Botte, R., Esclavages et abolitions en terres d’Islam: Tunisie, Arabie saoudite, Maroc,
Mauritanie, Sudan, Brussels 2010.
Brett, M., “Egypt”, in C.F. Robinson (ed.), New Cambridge History of Islam. Vol. 1:
The Formation of the Islamic World, Sixth to Eleventh Centuries, Cambridge 2011,
pp. 541–580.
Select Bibliography on the Medieval Migration History 441
Bulliet, R.W., Conversion to Islam in the Medieval Period. An Essay in Quantitative His-
tory, Cambridge MA 1979.
Burmeister, S., “Archaeology and migration. Approaches to an archaeological proof of
migration”, Current Anthropology 41/4 (2000), 539–567.
Cabana, G.S./Clark, J.J. (eds.), Rethinking Anthropological Perspectives on Migration,
Gainesville 2011.
Campagnolo-Pothitou, M., “Les échanges de prisonniers entre Byzance et l’Islam aux
ixe et xe siècles”, Journal of Oriental and African Studies 7 (1995), 1–55.
Carson, M.T./Hung, H., “Semiconductor theory in migration: population receivers,
homelands, and gateways in Taiwan and Island Southeast Asia”, World Archaeology
46/4 (2014), 502–515.
Casson, L., The Periplus maris Erythraei: Text with Introduction, Translation, and Com-
mentary, Princeton 1989.
Charalambakes, P., Σλάβοι στην Κρήτη κατά τον Μεσαίωνα και τους πρώιμους νεότερους
χρόνους, Athens 2016.
Charanis, P., “The Transfer of Population as a Policy in the Byzantine Empire”, Com-
Charanis, P., “The Chronicle of Monemvasia and the Question of the Slavonic Settle-
ments in Greece”, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 5 (1950), 141–166.
Chrysos, E., “Settlements of Slavs and Byzantine Sovereignty in the Balkans”, in K.
Belke/E. Kislinger/A. Külzer/M. Stassinopoulou (eds.), Byzantina Mediterranea,
Festschrift für Johannes Koder zum 65. Geburtstag, Vienna / Köln / Weimar 2007,
pp. 123–135.
Constable, O.R., Housing the Stranger in the Mediterranean World: Lodging, Trade, and
Travel in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages, Cambridge 2003.
Cooperson, M., “‘Arabs’ and ‘Iranians’. The Uses of Ethnicity in the Early Abbasid Peri-
od”, in B. Sadeghi et al. (eds.), Islamic Cultures, Islamic Contexts. Essays in Honor of
Professor Patricia Crone (Islamic History and Civilization, 114), Leiden/Boston 2015,
364–387.
Crone, P., “Post-Colonialism in Tenth-Century Islam”, Der Islam 83 (2006), 2–38.
Crone, P., “The Early Islamic World”, in K. Raaflaub (ed.), War and Society in the Ancient
and Medieval Worlds, Cambridge 1999, pp. 309–332.
Crone, P., Slaves on Horses: The Evolution of the Islamic Polity, Cambridge 1980.
Curta, F. (ed.), The Other Europe in the Middle Ages: Avars, Bulgars, Khazars and Cu-
mans, Leiden/Boston 2008.
Curta, F., The Making of the Slavs. History and Archaeology of the Lower Danube Region,
c. 500–700, Cambridge 2001.
De la Vaissière, É., Samarcande et Samarra. Élites d’Asie centrale dans l’Empie Abbaside,
Paris 2007.
442 Select Bibliography on the Medieval Migration History
Debié, M., L’écriture de l’histoire en syriaque: transmissions interculturelles et construc-

tions identitaires entre hellénisme et Islam (Late Antique History and Religion, 12),
Leuven 2015.
Décobert, C., “Sur l’arabisation et l’islamisation de l’Égypte médiévale”, in: idem (ed.),
Itinéraires d’Égypte: Mélanges offerts au père Maurice Martin, S.J., Cairo 1992,
pp. 273–300.
Den Heijer, J., Mawhub ibn Manṣur ibn Mufarriğ et l’historiographie copto-arabe: étude
sur la composition de l’Histoire des Patriarches d’Alexandrie (Corpus Scriptorum
Christianorum Orientalium, Subsidia, 83), Leuven 1989.
Ende des 6. bis zur zweiten Hälfte des 9. Jahrhunderts (Berliner Byzantinische Arbe-
iten 59), Berlin 1993.
Dommelen, P. van, “Moving on: archaeological perspectives on mobility and migra-
tion”, World Archaeology 46/4 (2014), 477–483.
Elliesie, H. (ed.), Multidisciplinary Views on the Horn of Africa (Studien zum Horn von
Afrika 1), Cologne 2014.
Fontenay, M., “L’esclavage en Méditerranée occidentale au xviie siècle”, in La Méditer-
ranée occidentale au xviie siècle, Paris 1990, pp. 11–50.
Frachetti, M., “Migration concepts in Central Eurasian archaeology”, Annual Review of
Anthropology 40 (2011), 195–212.
Frantz-Murphy, G., “Conversion in Early Islamic Egypt: The Economic Factor”, in:
Y. Ragib (ed.), Documents de l’Islam médiéval, Cairo 1991, pp. 11–17.
Gabra, G., “The Revolts of the Bashmuric Copts in the Eighth and Ninth Centuries”,
Hallesche Beiträge zur Orientwissenschaft 36 (2003), 111–119.
Gajda, I., Le royaume de Ḥimyar à l’époque monothéiste. L’histoire de l’Arabie du sud an-
cienne de la fin du ive siècle de l’ère chrétienne jusqu’à l’avènement de l’Islam, Paris
2009.
Garsoïan, N.G., “The Problem of Armenian Integration into the Byzantine Empire”, in
H. Ahrweiler/A.E. Laiou (eds.), Studies on the Internal Diaspora of the Byzantine
Empire, Washington, D.C. 1998, pp. 53–124.
Gaspares Ch., “Ένας Καταλανός από την Αστυπάλαια. Η κινητικότητα στο νότιο Αιγαίο και
την Κρήτη τον 14ο αι”, in G.K. Barzelioti/K.G. Tsiknakes, Γαληνοτάτη. Τιμή στη Χρύσα
Μαλτέζου, Athens 2013, pp. 195–212.
Glancy, J.A., Slavery in Early Christianity, Oxford 2002.
Goffart, W., Barbarian Tides. The Migration Age and the Later Roman Empire, Philadel-
phia 2006.
Gordon, M., Slavery in the Arab World, New York 1998.
Gordon, M.S., “Aḥmad ibn Ṭūlūn and the Politics of Deference”, in B. Sadeghi et al.
(eds.), Islamic Cultures, Islamic Contexts. Essays in Honor of Professor Patricia Crone
(Islamic History and Civilization, 114), Leiden/Boston 2015, pp. 229–256.
Guest, R., “Relations Between Persia and Egypt Under Islam up to the Fāṭimid Period”,
in T.W. Arnold/R.A. Nicholson (eds.), A Volume of Oriental Studies, Presented to
Edward G. Browne on his 60th Birthday (7 February 1922), Amsterdam 1922,

pp. 163–174.
Haarmann, U., “Regional Sentiment in Medieval Islamic Egypt”, Bulletin of the School of
Oriental and African Studies 43 (1980), 55–66.
Haldon, J., “Citizens of Ancient Lineage? The Role and Significance of Syrians in the
Byzantine Elite of the Seventh and Eighth Centuries”, in ed. W. Van Bekkum, Syriac
Polemics. Studies in Honour of Gerrit Jan Reinink (Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta),
Leuven 2007, pp. 91–102.
2009.
Hatke, G., Aksum and Nubia. Warfare, Commerce, and Political Fictions in Ancient North-
Hillenbrand, C., Turkish Myth and Muslim Symbol: The Battle of Manzikert, Edinburgh
2007.
London 2002.
Hoerder, D./Moch, L.P. (eds.), European Migrants: Global and Local Perspectives, Boston
1996.
Hoerder, H., “‘Nützliche Subjekte’ – Fremde – Mittler zwischen Kulturen: Migration
und Transkulturalität in Europa, 1600–1914”, Sozial.Geschichte – Zeitschrift für histo-
rische Analyse des 20. und 21. Jahrhunderts N.F. 18.3 (2003), 7–34.
Howard-Johnston, J., “The Mardaites”, in ed. T. Goodwin, Arab-Byzantine coins and His-
tory, London 2012, pp. 27–38.
Izdebski, A., “The Slavs’ political institutions and the Byzantine policies (ca 530–650)”,
Byzantinoslavica 69 (2011), 50–69.
Jacoby, D., “Italian migration and settlement in Latin Greece: The impact on the Econ-
omy”, in H.E. Mayer/E. Muller-Luckner (eds.), Die Kreuzfahrerstaaten als multikul-
turelle Gesellschaft, Einwanderer und Minderheiten im 12. und 13. Jahrhundert,
Munich 1997, pp. 97–127 (repr. in D. Jacoby, Byzantium, Latin Romania and the Medi-
terranean, Aldershot 2001, no. xi).
Jacoby, D., “Migrations familiales et stratégies commerciales vénitiennes aux xiie et
xiiie siècles”, in M. Balard/A. Ducellier (eds.), Migrations et diasporas méditerranée-
nnes (xe–xvie siècles), Paris 2002, pp. 355–374.
Jacoby, D., “Peasant mobility across the Venetian, Frankish and Byzantine borders in
Latin Romania. Thirteenth-Fifteenth centuries”, in Chr. Maltezou/A. Tzavara/
D. Vlassi (eds.), I Greci durante la venetocrazia: Uomini, spazio idee (xiii–xviii sec.).
Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studi, Venezia, 3–7 dicembre 2007, Venice 2009,
pp. 525–539.
Jacoby, D., “The Demographic Evolution of Euboea under Latin Rule, 1205–1470”, in J.
Chrysostomides/Ch. Dendrinos/J. Harris (eds.), The Greek Islands and the Sea.
Proceedings of the First International Colloquium held at the Hellenic Institute, Royal
Holloway, University of London, 21–22 September 2001, Camberley, Surrey 2004,
pp. 131–179.
Jacoby, D., “The migration of merchants and craftsmen: a Mediterranean perspective
(12th–15th century)”, in S. Cavaciocchi (ed.), Le migrazioni in Europa, secc. xiii–
xviii, Florence 1994, pp. 533–560 (repr. in D. Jacoby, Trade, commodities and ship-
ping in the medieval Mediterranean, Variorum 1997, no. i).
Kaegi, W.E., Byzantium and the Early Islamic Conquest, Cambridge 1992.
Kappeler, A., Russland als Vielvölkerreich. Entstehung-Geschichte-Zerfall, Munich
2001.
Kennedy, H., “Syrian Elites from Byzantium to Islam. Survival or Extinction?”, in ed. J.
Haldon, Money, Power and Politics in Early Islamic Syria. A Review of Current De-
bates, Farnham 2010, pp. 181–200.
3–30.
Kennedy, H., “The Military”, in M. van Berkel et al. (eds.), Crisis and Continuity at the
Abbasid Court, Leiden 2013, pp. 111–141.
Kennedy, H., The Armies of the Caliphs: Military and Society in the Early Islamic State,
London 2001.
Khan, G., Arabic Documents from Early Islamic Khurasan (Einstein Lectures in Islamic
Studies, 3), Berlin 2014.
Klein, L.S., “Migraciia: arkheologicheskie priznaki” [The archaeological markers of mi-
gration], Stratum+1 (1999), 52–71.
Koder, J., “Anmerkungen zum Slaven-Namen in byzantinischen Quellen”, in Mélanges
Gilbert Dagron = Travaux et Mémoires 14 (2002), 333–346.
Koder, J., “Zur Frage der slavischen Siedlungsgebiete im mittelalterlichen Griechen-
land”, Byzantinische Zeitschrift 71 (1978), 315–331.
Kolia-Dermitzaki, A., “Some Remarks on the Fate of Prisoners of War in Byzantium
(Ninth-Tenth Centuries)”, in G.H. Cipollone (ed.), La liberazione dei “captivi” tra
christianità e islam, Vatican City 2000, pp. 583–620.
Korobeinikov, D., Byzantium and the Turks in the Thirteenth Century (Oxford Studies in
Byzantium), Oxford 2014.
Kunstmann, H., Die Slaven. Ihr Name, ihre Wanderung nach Europa und die Anfänge der
russischen Geschichte in historisch-onomastischer Sicht, Stuttgart 1996.
Lapidus, I., “The Conversion of Egypt”, Israel Oriental Studies 2 (1972), 248–262.
Lev, Y., “Coptic Rebellions and the Islamization of Medieval Egypt (8th–10th Century).
Medieval and Modern Perceptions”, Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 39 (2012),
303–344.
Lev, Y., “David Ayalon (1914–1998) and the History of Black Military Slavery in Medieval
Islam”, Der Islam 90 (2013), 21–43.
Lewis, B., Race and Slavery in the Middle East, Oxford 1990.
Lilie, R.-J., Die byzantinische Reaktion auf die Ausbreitung der Araber : Studien zur Struk-
turwandlung des byzantinischen Staates im 7. u. 8. Jhd. (Miscellanea Byzantina Mo-
nacensia 22), Munich 1976.
Lilie, R.-J., “Zur Stellung von ethnischen und religiösen Minderheiten in Byzanz: Arme-
nier, Muslime und Paulikianer”, in W. Pohl/C. Gantner/R. Payne (eds), Visions of
Community in the Post-Roman World: the West, Byzantium and the Islamic world,
300–1100, Farnham 2012, pp. 301–316.
Lilie, R.-J., Byzantium and the Crusader States 1096–1204, trans. J.C. Morris and J.E. Rid-
ings, Oxford 1993.
Major, Α., “Étrangers et minorités ethniques en Messenie vénitienne (xiiie–xve s.)”,
Studi Veneziani 22 (1991), 361–381.
Malingoudis, Ph., Studien zu den slavischen Ortsnamen Griechenlands, Slavische Flur-
namen aus der messenischen Mani, Mainz/Wiesbaden 1981.
Malingoudis, Ph., Σλάβοι στη Μεσαιωνική Ελλάδα, Thessalonike 22013.
Martinez-Gros, G., Brève histoire des empires, Paris 2014.
tion, a.d. 650–950”, in H. Ahrweiler/A. Laiou (eds), Studies on the internal diaspora
of the Byzantine Empire, Washington, DC 1998, pp. 17–52.
McCormick, M., Origins of the European Economy: Communications and Commerce ad
300–900, Cambridge 2002.
Melluso, M., La schiavitù nell’età giustinianean, Besançon 2000.
Mikhail, M.S.A., From Byzantine to Islamic Egypt. Religion, Identity and Politics after the
Arab Conquest, London 2014.
Moberg, A. (ed. and trans.), The Book of the Himyarites. Fragments of a Hitherto Un-
known Syriac Work, Lund 1924.
Netton, I.R. (ed.), Golden Roads. Migration, Pilgrimage and Travel in Mediaeval and
Modern Islam, Richmond 1993.
Nystazopulu-Pelekidu, M., Βυζάντιο και Σλάβοι – Ελλάδα και Βαλκάνια (6ος-20ος αι.), Thes-
salonike 2001.
Nystazopulu-Pelekidu, M., Σλαβικές εγκαταστάσεις στη μεσαιωνική Ελλάδα. Γενική
επισκόπηση (Όψεις της βυζαντινής κοινωνίας 8), Athens 1995.
Paul, J., The State and the Military: The Samanid Case (Papers on Inner Asia, 26), Bloom-
ington IN 1994.
Peacock, A.C.S., The Great Seljuk Empire (The Edinburgh History of the Islamic Em-
pires), Edinburgh 2015.
Phillipson, D.W., Foundations of an African Civilization. Aksum & the Northern Horn,
1000 bc–ad 1300, Woodbridge 2012.
Pillette, P., “L’Histoire des Patriarches d’Alexandrie: Une nouvelle évaluation de la con-
figuration du texte en recensions”, Le Muséon 126/3–4 (2013), 419–450.
Pipes, D., Slave Soldiers and Islam: The Genesis of a Military System, New Haven 1981.
Pohl, W., “Migration und Ethnogenese der Langobarden aus Sicht der Schriftquellen”,
in J. Bemmann/M. Schmauder (eds.), Kulturwandel in Mitteleuropa. Langobarden –
Awaren – Slawen. Akten der internationalen Tagung in Bonn vom 25. bis 28 Februar
2008, Bonn 2008, pp. 1–12.
Pohl, W., “Staat und Herrschaft im Frühmittelalter: Überlegungen zum Forschun-
gsstand”, in St. Airlie/H. Reimitz/W. Pohl (eds.), Staat im Frühen Mittelalter (Forsc-
hungen zur Geschichte des Mittelalters 11), Vienna 2006, pp. 9–38.
Islamic Empire (7th–10th century ad)”, in H. Mehler et al. (eds.), Migration und In-
tegration von der Urgeschichte bis zum Mittelalter, Halle 2017, pp. 295–313.
Rāgīb, Y., “Les esclaves publics aux premieres siècles de l’Islam”, in H. Bresc (ed.), Fig-
ures de l’esclave au Moyen Âge et dans le monde moderne, Paris 1996, pp. 7–30.
Rio, A., Slavery After Rome, 500–1100, Oxford 2017.
Robin, C.J., “Ḥimyar au ive siècle de l’ère chrétienne. Analyse des données chro-
nologiques et essai de mise en ordre”, Archäologische Berichte aus dem Yemen
10 (2005), 133–151.
Robin, C.J./Schiettecatte, J. (eds.), Les préludes de l’Islam. Ruptures et continuités des ci-
vilisations du Proche-Orient, de l’Afrique orientale, de l’Arabie et de l’Inde à la veille de
l’Islam, Paris 2013.
Rotman, Y., “Byzantium and the International Slave Trade in the Central Middle Ages”,
in Trade in Byzantium: Papers from the Third International Sevgi Gönül Byzantine
Studies Symposium, Istanbul 2016, pp. 129–142.
Rotman, Y., “Captif ou esclave ? La compétition pour le marché d’esclaves en Méditer-
rané médiévale”, in F. Guillén/S. Trabelsi (eds.), Les Esclavages en Méditerranée et en
Europe continentale. Espaces de traite et dynamiques économiques (Moyen Âge et
Temps Modernes), Madrid 2012, pp. 25–46.
Rotman, Y., “Formes de la non-liberté dans la campagne byzantine aux viie–xie siè-
cles”, Mélanges de l’École Française de Rome, Moyen Âge 112/2 (2000), 499–510.
Rotman, Y., “Forms of Slavery”, in A Companion to Mediterranean History, P. Horden
and Sh. Kinoshita (eds.) (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014) pp. 263–278.
Rotman, Y., Byzantine Slavery and the Mediterranean World, transl. by Jane Marie Todd,
Cambirdge, Mass. 2009.
Sansterre, J.M., “Le Monachisme Byzantin a Rome”, in Settimane di Studio del Centro
Italiano di Studi Sull’ Alto Medioevo, Spoleto 1988, pp. 701–775.
Scheel, R., Skandinavien und Byzanz: Bedingungen und Konsequenzen mittelalterli-
cher Kulturbeziehungen, Bonn 2015.
Schramm, G., Ein Damm bricht. Die römische Donaugrenze und die Invasion des 5.–7.
Jahrhunderts im Lichte von Namen und Wörtern, München 1997.
Schweissing, M.M., “Archäologische Fragen zu Migration: Grundlagen, Chancen
und Probleme von Untersuchungen stabiler Strontiumisotope (87Sr/86Sr)”, in O.
Heinrich-Tamáska/N. Krohn/S. Ristow (eds.), Dunkle Jahrhunderte in Mitteleuropa?
Tagungsbeiträge der Arbeitsgemeinschaft Spätantike und Frühmittelalter. 1. Rituale
und Moden (Xanten, 8. Juni 2006). 2. Möglichkeiten und Probleme archäologisch-
naturwissenschaftlicher Zusammenarbeit (Schleswig, 9.–10. Oktober 2007)(Studien
zu Spätantike und Frühmittelalter, 1), Hamburg 2009, pp. 293–306.
Seibt, W., “Stärken und Schwächen der byzantinischen Integrationspolitik gegenüber
den neuen armenischen Staatsbürgern im 11. Jh”, in V.N. Vlyssidou (ed.), The Empire
in Crisis (?): Byzantium in the 11th Century (1025–1081) (Institute for Byzantine Re-
search, International Symposium, 11). Athens 2003, pp. 331–347.
Settipani, Ch., Continuité des élites à Byzance durant les siècles obscurs: les princes cau-
casiens et l’Empire de vie au ixe siècle, Paris 2007.
Sijpesteijn, P.M., “The Arab Conquest of Egypt and the Beginning of Muslim Rule”,
in R.S. Bagnall (ed.), Egypt in the Byzantine world, 300–700, Cambridge 2009,
pp. 437–459.
Sijpesteijn, P.M., “Building an Egyptian Identity”, in A.Q. Ahmed/B. Sadeghi/M. Bonner
(eds.), The Islamic Scholarly Tradition. Studies in History, Law, and Thought in Honor
of Professor Michael Allan Cook (Islamic History and Civilization, 83), Leiden/Boston
2011, pp. 85–105.
Smith, G.R., “Yemenite History – Problems and Misconceptions”, Proceedings of the
Seminar for Arabian Studies 20 (1990), 131–139.
Stöckly, D., “Tentatives de migration individuelle dans les territoires sous domination
vénitienne – une approche”, in M. Balard/A. Ducellier (eds.), Migrations et diasporas
méditerranéennes (xe–xvie siècles), Paris 2002, pp. 513–522.
Swanson, M.N., The Coptic Papacy in Islamic Egypt, 641–1517, Cairo/New York 2010.
Tchekhanovets, Y., The Caucasian Archaeology of the Holy Land. Armenian, Georgian
and Albanian communities between the fourth and eleventh centuries ce, Leiden
2018.
Thiriet, F., “A propos des personnes ‘deplacées’ au xive siècle. Le transfert des
Tenediotes en Romanie vénitienne. (1381–1385)”, Travaux et Mémoires 8 (1981),
521–530.
Töllner, H., Die türkischen Garden am Kalifenhof von Samarra, Bonn 1971.
Topping, P., “Albanian settlements in Medieval Greece: Some Venetian testimonies”, in

Topping, P., “Armenian and Greek refugees in Crete and the Aegean world (xiv–xv
centuries)”, in Πεπραγμένα του E΄ Διεθνούς Kρητολογικού Συνεδρίου, vol. 2, Erakleio 1985,
pp. 364–374.
Vacalopoulos, A., “The flight of the inhabitants of Greece to the Aegean islands, Crete
and Mane, during the Turkish invasions (fourteenth and fifteenth centuries)”, in
Vasmer, M., Die Slaven in Griechenland, Berlin 1941.
Vlyssidou, V.N. (ed.), The Empire in Crisis(?): Byzantium in the 11th Century (1025–1081)
(Institute for Byzantine Research, International Symposium, 11). Athens 2003.
Vryonis, S., “Nomadization and Islamization in Asia Minor”, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 29
(1975), 41–71.
Vryonis, S., The Decline of Medieval Hellenism in Asia Minor and the Process of Islamiza-
tion from the Eleventh through the Fifteenth Century, Berkeley 1971.
Weiss, G., Das Ethnikon Sklabenoi, Sklaboi in den griechischen Quellen bis 1025 (Glossar
zur frühmittelalterlichen Geschichte im östlichen Europa, Beiheft 5), Stuttgart 1988.
Whittow, M., The Making of Byzantium, 600–1025, Berkeley/Los Angeles 1996.
Witakowski, W., The Syriac Chronicle of Pseudo-Dionysius of Tel-Mahrē. A Study in the
History of Historiography (Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, Studia Semitica Upsalien-
sia, 9), Uppsala 1987.
Yarshater, E., “The Persian Presence in the Islamic World”, in R.G. Hovannisian/G.
Sabagh (eds.), The Persian Presence in the Islamic World (Giorgio Levi Della Vida
Conference, 13), Cambridge 1998, pp. 4–125.
Index of Persons and Names
Ababut (Abbabut, Abbabat), archbishop of al-Mutawakkil, Abbasid caliph 30, 417

the Ethiopians 312 al-Muwaffaq, Abbasid caliph 417–418
Abas i, King of Armenia 358 al-Radhaniyya 13, 63, 396–397
Abbasids 10, 15, 28–29, 156, 234, 238–239, al-Tabari, Muslim historian 318–319
247, 249–252, 254–255, 413–416, al-Walid, caliph 275–276
418–419, 421–422, 425–427 al-Wathiq, Abbasid caliph 150
ʻAbd al-Malik ibn Marwan, Umayyad Alans 16, 36, 56, 66, 209
caliph 155, 279 Alaric, King of the Visigoths 23
ʻAbd al-Rahman iii, Umayyad ruler Albanians 105, 206, 209
(Andalusia) 419 Alexios i Komnenos, emperor 148, 158,
Abkhaz 69 160–161, 170, 176–177, 181–182
Abu-Lughod, Janet 4 Alexios iii Angelos, emperor 187
Abraha, Ethiopian general 308, 316–319 Allsen, Thomas T. 16
Abramowski, Rudolf 255 Almohads 35–36, 291
Africans 414, 417, 421–423 Almoravids 34–36, 291
East African (zandj; Nilotic) 417, 422 Alodia, Nubian kingdom 293
sub-Saharan 322, 420, 422–424 Ammianus Marcellinus, Roman
West African 422 historian 341
Afshin, Turkish leader 168 Anania of Širak, Armenian scholar 342, 354
Agatʻangełos, Armenian historian 341 Anastas Vardapet, Armenian cleric 340
Aghlabids, Muslim dynasty 419, 422, 426 Anastasios the Persian 264, 269, 278
Ahequm, Aksumite diplomat 306 Anastasios, patriarch of Constantinople 277
Ahmad ibn Tulun, Muslim ruler 239, 419, 422 Andalusians 419
Akakios, Roman governor 350 Andrej Rublev 70
Aksumites 8, 25, 291–322 Andrew, apostle 91
al-Afdal Shahanshah, Fatimid vezir 35 Andrew, bishop of Gortyna 277
al-Afshin, Abbasid general 252 Anglo-Saxons 7, 52, 67
al-Amin, Abbasid caliph 239, 415 Anna Komnene, Byzantine historian 148,
al-Azraqi, Muslim historian 293 176–177
al-Djahiz, Muslim essayist 424 Antes 51
al-Hakim, Fatimid caliph 33 Antony, saint 162
al-Hamdani, Muslim historian 293 Aq Qoyunlu 41
al-Kalbi, Muslim historian 318 ʻArabfaqih, Muslim historian 293
al-Ma’mun, Abbasid caliph 30, 239, 250, 252, Arabians 309
254, 415–416 Arabs 8, 10, 17, 26–28, 32, 53, 66, 144, 147, 160,
al-Madhara’i, family of administrators 228 227, 264–265, 268, 271–276, 278,
al-Mansur, caliph 29 281–284, 304, 335, 337–338, 340,
al-Maqrizi, Muslim historian 293 344–345, 353, 414–416, 421
al-Muʻtamid, Abbasid caliph 417 Aratius, Armenian aristocrat 347–348
al-Muʻtasim, Abbasid caliph 150, 415–417 Arcadius, emperor 23
al-Mundhir iii, Lakhmid ruler 311 Archontissa, inhabitant of Bari 363
al-Muntasir, Abbasid caliph 423 Arethas of Caesarea, bishop 146
al-Muqtadir, Abbasid caliph 418 Argives 146
al-Mutanabbi, Abbasid court poet 424
450 Index of Persons and Names
Armenians 4, 12–13, 17, 35, 56, 66, 151, Boris-Michael, tsar 31, 94
154–155, 157, 159, 169, 202–204, 283, Bulgarians 52, 56, 66, 94–95, 209, 353–354,
327–373 357, 360
Arsaber, Patrikios 359 Bulgars 9, 20, 27–30, 32, 58, 64, 68, 106,
Aršak iii, King of Armenia 377 151–152, 162, 397, 401–402
Arslan ibn Saljuq, Turkish leader 167 Bulscu, prince of the Magyars 32
Artabanes Arsakides, Armenian Buyids 34, 416, 418
aristocrat 350–351, 358, 364, 367 Byzantines 5, 12, 17, 27–28, 34, 39, 50, 57, 61,
Artabasdos, Byzantine general 353 66, 72, 83, 89, 92–94, 150, 152, 166, 171,
Aryat, Aksumite general 318–319 180, 183, 202, 211, 262, 268, 273, 275–276,
Aslanian, Sebouh 328 284, 346, 400
Ašot Bagratuni, Armenian aristocrat 338
Ašot i Bagratuni, King of Armenia 361 Cahen, Claude 168
Aspan Salarios, Turkish leader 168 Caloiohannes, cleric 362
Assyrians 66 Carolingians 50, 57, 63, 392–393, 421
Atat Xoṙχoṙuni, Armenian Carthaginians 291
aristocrat 348–349 Catalans 202, 211
Athanasius, Roman general 351 Central Asians 226, 238, 414–417, 420, 423
Atsız ibn Uwaq, Turkish leader 167, 173 Chanaranges, Armenian aristocrat 351
Attila, ruler of the Huns 23 Chandragupta i, King of the Gupta
ʻAtwada, slave of Abraha 318 dynasty 21
Avars 7–8, 20, 23, 25–26, 52, 83–84, 105–106, Chandragupta ii, King of the Gupta
109, 113–114, 116, 146, 334, 349 dynasty 23
ʻAwida, Ethiopian governor in South Charlemagne, emperor 29, 64
Arabia 317 Chatzon, Slav leader 84
Ayalon, David 413, 419, 423, 425 Chinese 10, 16, 20–21, 26–27, 29, 63
Ayyubids 16, 37, 187 Christians 305–307
Azatos “Makrocheir”, Armenian of Aksum 307
aristocrat 353 of Egypt 231, 234–236, 247 Spatium and
passim
Baasakios, Armenian aristocrat 353 of Ethiopia 308
Babak, Persian commander 156 of Himyar 308, 311
Badr al-Djamali, Fatimid general 34–35 of Najran (Nadjran) 308
Bantu 20, 24 of Soqotra 315
Banu al-Furat, family of administrators 228 of South Arabia 308, 310–311
Banu Habib 157 of Syria 231
Banu Mahujir, family of administrators 228 of the Tihama 308
Bardas Bratzes, Byzantine aristocrat 360 Circassians 423
Bardas Skleros, general 152 Conrad iii, German king 65
Bartisky, inhabitant of Bari 362 Constans ii, emperor 27, 145, 151, 273, 277,
Bartlett, Robert 15 279, 282–284
Basil i, emperor 58, 92, 147, 155, 283, 353, 360 Constantine the Great, emperor 329
Basil ii, emperor 64, 66, 89, 152, 162, Constantine iv, emperor 279
166–167, 359 Constantine v, emperor 29, 151, 154, 156, 159,
Belymer 112 273, 276, 283, 337, 352
Berbers 10, 28–29, 32, 419, 422, 427 Constantine vi, emperor 336
Bertha of Sulzbach-Irene, empress 65 Constantine vii Porphyrogenitus,
Bisantius, notary 363 emperor 60, 82, 93–94, 109, 111, 116
Bohemond of Taranto, Norman prince 181 Constantine x Doukas, emperor 158, 162
Constantine ix, emperor 157 George, logothetes of the genikon 277

Constantine, pope 278 Georgians 56, 66, 360
Copts 232, 235, 239–240, 247 and passim Gera Dhu-Zabanir, Ethiopian
Corcus, inhabitant of Bari 362 general 316–317
Cosmas Indicopleustes, Greek merchant in Germanos i, Patriarch of
Ethiopia 314 Constantinople 277, 339, 355
Cricori, Armenian in Bari 363 Germans 15–16, 55, 65, 69, 71,
Croats 109, 112 181
Crone, Patricia 413, 425 Ghassanids, Arab tribe 274–275, 277, 308
Crusaders 15–16, 37, 39, 68, 148, 171, 180, Ghaznavids, Turkish dynasty 33–34, 171,
194–195, 201 419
Cumans (Kipchaks) 14, 16, 34, 36, 61, 68, 103 Gilakios, Armenian general 356
Cypriots 160, 277 Golden Horde 15, 38–40, 69
Cyril-Constantine, missionary 30, 57 Goths 101, 104, 107
Cyrrhus 156 Greeks 56, 86, 91–92, 162, 169, 188, 199–201,
209, 213, 216–217, 252, 280, 304, 314, 330,
Dadoyan, Seta B. 328 337–338, 341, 348
Daniel of Siwnikʽ, Armenian bishop 339 Greenwood, Tim 331
Danishmands, Turkish dynasty 184 Gregorios Arsakides, Armenian
David of Tao, Georgian-Armenian aristocrat 350
prince 359 Gregorios tou Mousoulakiou, Byzantine
Dawitʻ of Taron, Armenian scholar 355 general 353
Demetrius, saint 83–84, 91 Gregory iii, pope 278
Diocletian, emperor 21 Gregory the Great, Pope 26, 362
Dumnellus, inhabitant of Bari 362 Grigor i, prince of Taron 360
Guntharis, Roman general 350–351
Elissaios, Armenian monk 340 Guptas, Indian dynasty 8, 21, 23–24
Ethiopians 292–293, 298–304, 308, 312, 314, Gurgēn Arcruni, Armenian aristocrat 349
316–320 Gvirpel, Georgian official 362
Eustathios Argyros, Byzantine general 353 “Gypsies” 17
Euthymios the Younger, monk 360
ʻEzana, Aksumite king 22, 305 Hamazasp Mamikonean, Armenian
aristocrat 355
Fatimids, Muslim dynasty 15, 31–32, 419, Harun al-Rashid, Abbasid caliph 29, 225,
421–422, 427 249, 415
Ferghanians 237 Harun ibn Khan, Turkish leader 167, 172
Fleet, Kate 18 Hayyan, Himyarite general 307
Florentines 211 Hephthalites 8, 24
Franks 7, 17, 63, 169, 421 Heraclius, emperor 26, 109, 116, 144–145, 261,
Frederick i Barbarossa, emperor 181, 186 262–266, 268, 271, 274
French 55, 69, 181 Herakleios the Elder, exarch of Carthage 261
Herodotus 56
Gabriel, protopresbyter 359 Himyarites 292, 295–296, 298, 301–302,
Gagik Bagratuni, King of Armenia 346 305–306–311, 315–316, 319, 321
Gagik-Abas, king of Vanand/Kars 157 Hisham ibn ʻAbd al-Malik, Umayyad
Garsoïan, Nina 328, 332, 356 caliph 225
Genghis Khan 16, 37 Hoerder, Dirk 1, 6, 13
Genoese 17–18, 38, 41, 197–198, 211 Honorius, emperor 23
George, eparch of Africa 263 Hungarians 2, 31, 55, 209
Huns 2, 7, 20, 22, 23, 24, 51–52, 66, 83 John Kinnamos, Byzantine historian 182
Iranian Huns 8 John Moschos 262–264
Husep, priest 363 John of Ephesus, ecclesiastical historian 293
John of Epiphania, Roman historian 320
Ibn Battuta, Muslim traveller 225 John the Almsgiver, patriarch of
Ibn Bistam, family of administrators 228 Alexandria 262
Ibn Fadlan, Arab diplomat 32, 397–398 John, patriarch of Alexandria 263, 268
Ibn Ishaq, Muslim historian 318–319 John, Roman rebel 279
Ibn Khaldun, Muslim ‛sociologist’ 225, 427 Jordanes 101
Ibn Khurradadhbih, Muslim geographer 63, Justinian i, emperor 82, 144, 333, 344, 348,
396–398 350–351, 358, 364–365
Ibn Rustah, Muslim geographer 399 Justinian ii, emperor 27–28, 63, 151,
Ibrahim ibn Aghlab, Muslim ruler 419 153, 155–156, 160, 273, 276–277,
Igor, prince of the Rus 58 283
Ilkhans 15, 39
Ilsharah Yahdub, Sabaean king 297, 300, 303 Kafur, Tulunid ruler of Egypt 424
ʻImad ad-Din Zengi 36 Kaleb, Aksumite king 307–308, 310–311, 314,
Indians 293, 304 318
Ioannes Arsakides, Armenian aristocrat 350 Kallinikos from Helioupolis 278
Ioannes Kourkouas, Byzantine general 354 Kara Khitai 36
Ioannes vii Grammatikos, patriarch 361 Karatekin, legendary Turkish hero 184
Iohannes, inhabitant of Bari 362 Karib’il Watar Yuhanʻim, Himyarite king 306
Iranians 8, 10, 226–227, 232, 236–239, 417 Kavadh i, Great King of Persia 24
Irene, empress 64 Kaykhusrau i, Sultan 153, 162, 187
Irish 4 Kegen, Pecheneg chieftain 110
Isaak, general 263 Kharijites, Muslim ‛extremist’ sect 250
Isaak, Armenian aristocrat 347–348 Khazars, Turkic ethnic group 9, 11, 28, 31, 52,
Isaak, exarchos of Ravenna 362 353, 420
Isoes, count of Opsikion 277 Khosrow i Anushirvan (Kisra), Sasanian
Italians 422 emperor 319, 350, 365
Ivan i, prince of Moscow 39 Khosrow ii, Sasanian emperor 26, 261,
Ivan iii, Grand prince of Moscow 70 264, 270, 330, 334, 349,
352
Jacobites 151 Khurasanians 226, 237, 415, 425
Jalal al-Din, Shah of Khoresm 16, 37 Khurramites 30, 156
James of Edessa 262, 269 Kılıç Arslan i, Sultan 177, 181–182
Jaroslav, prince of Kiev 55, 59 Kılıç Arslan ii, Sultan 178, 181, 186
Jews 4, 13, 18–19, 33, 35, 41, 54, 58, 62–64, 71, Koder, Johannes 1, 9
73, 91, 210, 231, 273, 307–308, 310, Komitas, Katholikos of Armenia 340
396–397, 402–403, 405, 420, 422 Konstantinos Lips, Byzantine aristocrat 360
Khazar 420 Krikorikes, Armenian aristocrat 353
of Himyar 307, 310 Krinites, protospatharios 357
Ashkenazim 19 Kʻristosatur, scholar 354
Sephardim 71 Krum, Khan of the Bulgars 30, 106
John i Tzimiskes, emperor 155, 161 Kublai Khan 38
John ii Komnenos, emperor 36, 152, 170, Kurds 36, 169
182–183 Kūšān al-Armanī, Armenian general 352
John iii Vatatzes, emperor 38 Kushites 293
John v, pope 278 Kyros, patriarch of Alexandria 282
Lacedaimonitae 146 Michael ii, emperor 20, 162

Lakhmids, Sasanid clients 308, 311 Michael iii, emperor 31, 94
Lakones 146 Michael iv, emperor 151
Latins 199, 202 Michael Lachanodrakon, Byzantine
Łazar Pʻarpecʻi, Armenian historian 341 general 353
Leo iv, emperor 151 Michael, Byzantine general 185
Leo v, emperor 359–361 Modestos, Armenian cleric 340
Leo vi, emperor 92–93, 283, 353, 360 Modestos, Patriarch of Jerusalem 264
Leon Opos, commander 151 Moiseo Pascike, inhabitant of Bari 362
Łewond, Armenian historian 336–338 Mongols 5, 16–17, 37–38, 51–52, 205,
Lilie, Ralph-Johannes 341 209
Lombards 7, 28, 113–115, 144, 282 Moseses, cleric 363
Louis ix, King of France 38 Movsēs Xorenac‛i, Armenia historian 337,
Luke of Steiris, saint 147 341, 352
Muhammad, prophet of Islam 26, 225
Maʻdikarib Yaʻfur, Himyarite king 308, Müller, Walter W. 309, 312, 317
310–311 Mušeł Mamikonean, Armenian aristocrat
Macedonians 50, 94 (6th century) 343
maghariba (Maghrebians) 416–417, 419, 421 Mušeł Mamikonean, Armenian aristocrat
Magyars 2, 13, 20, 31–32, 52, 56, 68, 110, 111, (7th century) 335
113, 399 Muslims 274–275
Mahmud of Ghaznah, sultan 33 Muʻawiya, governor of Syria and caliph 272,
Makarios, patriarch of Antioch 279, 283 277, 283
Malikshah, Sultan 168 Mχit‛ar Goš, Armenian scholar of law 366
Mamluks (of Egypt) 15–16, 38–39, 201–202, Mχit‛ar, Armenian 357
404, 413
Mansa Musa i, King of Mali 39 Najran (Nadjran), people of 303–304, 308
Manuel i Komnenos, emperor 65, 170, Narses, Armenian aristocrat 347–348
182–183, 185 Narses, Roman general 347, 351
Mardaites 153, 155–156, 274–275, 277 Nasr, Persian commander 156
Maria Eirene Lakapene 65 Nestorians 307, 315
Marthad’ilan Yanuf, Himyarite king 307, Nestorius, Patriarch of Constantinople 339
309–310 Nikephoros Bryennios, Byzantine
Mary the Younger of Bizye 360 historian 81, 176–177
Maurice, emperor 26, 261, 264, 330, 334, Nikephoros i, emperor 30, 90, 150, 154, 159,
342–344, 348–349, 350–351 359
mawali (clients) 423 Nikephoros ii Phokas, general and
Maximos the Confessor 263, 264, 278, 280 emperor 150, 155, 366
McLeman, Robert A. 5 Nikephoros iii Botaneiates, emperor 177
Mehmed ii, Ottoman sultan 41 Nikephoros Melissenos, Byzantine
Mele, cleric 362 general 177
Melias, Byzantine general 353, 366 Nikephoros, droungarios 360
Melingues 92 Niketas Choniates, Byzantine
Merovingians 7 historian 186–187
Mesrob Maštocʻ, Armenian cleric 341 Niketas, general 261, 263
Method, missionary 30, 57 Nikon Metanoeite 91
Miaphysites 307, 311, 315 Normans 14–15, 34, 53, 67–68, 72
Michael Attaleiates, Byzantine Norwegians 55
historian 176–177 Nubians 293
Odoacer, Germanic general 24 Robin, Christian 315

Oghuz 14, 31, 34, 68, 110, 166–167, 172 Roger ii, King of Sicily 36, 65
Oirats 16, 39 Romanians 105
Oleg, prince of the Rus 31 Romanos i Lakapenos, emperor 94, 108, 157,
Olga, princess of the Rus 32, 58, 64 353, 357
Ostrogoths 7, 24–25 Romans 5, 26, 56, 109–110, 120, 152, 162, 266,
Otto ii, emperor 65 270, 296, 304, 308, 314, 335, 344,
Ottomans 19, 39, 41, 70, 194–195, 205–206 346–347, 350, 358
Ousanas, Aksumite king 305 Rouran 8, 20, 25
Ouzes 158, 162 Ruga, ruler of the Huns 23
Rus’ 13, 30–31, 33, 36, 50–73, 104, 397–399,
Palestinians 267, 277, 280–281 402
Palmer, Andrew 255 Russians 209
Paul the Deacon 113
Paul, Jürgen 414 Sabaeans 292, 295–299, 303–305, 317
Paulacis, soldier 362 Sahak Mamikonean, Armenian
Paulicians 31, 94, 155, 161, 345, 353 aristocrat 343
Pazunes, Armenian aristocrat 353 Saladin, Ayyubid sultan 36–37, 42
Pechenegs 13–14, 31, 35–36, 52, 66, 68, Samanids, Iranian dynasty 418–419, 421, 426
110–112, 155, 157–158, 162 Samuel, tsar 152, 162
Peroz i, Great King of Persia 24 Samukh, Turkish leader 168
Persians 17, 66, 84, 144, 235, 261, 263–264, Šapuh Amatuni, Armenian aristocrat 336
267, 269–273, 281, 284, 292, 344 Sasanians 5, 8, 21, 25, 292, 308–309, 319–320,
Peter i, tsar 65, 94 330, 352, 364
Petrosi, Armenian in Bari 363 Sayf ibn Dhi Yazan, Himyarite
Philostorgius, ecclesiastical historian 293 nobleman 319
Phoenicians 291 Scythians 51
Photeinos, dishypatos 357 Sebēos, Armenian historian 330, 334, 340,
Photios, patriarch 95, 339, 361 348
Pipes, Daniel 413, 425 Seljuks 3, 32, 34–38, 147, 158, 166–189, 202
Pisentius, saint 281 Senkerim-Yovhannes Arcruni, king of
Pohl, Walter 3 Vaspurakan 157, 346
Polish 55 Serbs 209
Pontians 283 Sergios, pope 278, 280
Procopius, Roman historian 82–83, 316–318, Sermesianoi 106
344, 347–348, 350–351, 356, 365 Shaban, M.A. 413–414
Prokopios Krinites, Armenian general 357 Shahinshah, Seljuk leader 181
Protobulgarians 83 shakiriyya, Iranian troops 417, 421
Shapur ii, Great King of Persia 21
Qarakhanids 33 Sharahʻathat Ashwaʻ Dhu-Hubab, Himyarite
Qaralu/Qurlu, Turkish leader 41, 167 diplomat 306
Qataban, kingdom of 295–296 Shukli, Turkish leader 167, 173
Qays, Arabian tribe 225 Simagon, priest in Bari 362
Quraysh, Arabian tribe 318, 320 Simeon of Beth Arsham, Miaphysite
Qutlumush, Turkish leader 167, 177 bishop 311
Simon i, Patriarch of Alexandria 28
Ragheb, Youssef 238 Sindbad 225
Ravenstein, E.G. 4 Sisinnios, pope 278
Rhomaioi 155 Sittas, Roman general 347, 350, 365
Slavs (Ar. Saqaliba) 2, 9, 11, 21, 51, 56–58, 66, Thomas the Slav 30, 66
81, 83–85, 88–89, 91–95, 102–105, 107, Thomas, Armenian satrap 341
116–121, 144–145, 151, 153–154, 156, 273, Tʻēodoros Ṙštuni, Armenian general 334
334, 397–398, 421–422, 424 Tiberios iii Apsimar, emperor 153
Smbat Bagratuni, Armenian general 26, 343, Tilly, Charles 5
350–352 Timur Leng 19, 40
Sofia (Zoë) Palaiologos 70 Töllner, Helmut 413
Sogdians 4 Trdat iii, King of Armenia 341
Sophronios, monk 263–264 Tughril Beg, Turkish leader 171
South Arabians 293–294, 296, 299, 304, 317, Turkmens 166, 168, 170, 172, 174, 178
320 Turks 8, 17–18, 25, 46, 56, 66, 68, 111–112,
Stepʻannos of Siwnikʻ, Armenian bishop 355 148, 166–189, 205–206, 209, 215,
Sulayman ibn ʻAbd al-Malik, caliph 275, 277 226–227, 230–231, 237–240,
Sulayman ibn Qutlumush, Sultan 177 411–414, 416–418, 420–421,
Sumuyafaʻ Ashwaʻ, Himyarite king 308 423–424
Sviatoslav, prince of the Rus 32 Gök-Türks 8, 25
Swahili 11, 29 Tychikos, Greek scholar 342, 354
Swedes 53 Tyrakh, Pecheneg chieftain 157
Symeon, tsar 94
Syrians 12–13, 56, 66, 154, 159, 262, 267, ʻUmar, caliph 274
275–277, 279–280, 283–284 Umayyads 225, 228, 235, 238, 250, 291, 414,
419
T‛ovma Arcruni, Armenian historian 331 Umayyads (Andalusia) 28, 250, 419, 421
Tačat Anjevac‛i, Armenian general 353 ʻUqba ibn Nafiʻ, Arab general 27
Tacitus, Roman historian 329
Tahir ibn al-Husayn, Abbasid general 415 Vajda, László 102
Tatars 51, 69, 209 Valens, emperor 22
Tatikios, Byzantine general 170 Valentinian i, emperor 22
Telerig, Khan of the Bulgars 29 Vandals 7, 23, 66
Tenedans 204 Varangians 13, 34, 53–57, 65, 67, 397
Theodora, empress 351 Vasco da Gama 41
Theodore Mangaphas, Byzantine leader 185 Vasily i, Grand prince of Moscow 70
Theodore pope 264, 278, 280 Venetian colonists 211
Theodore stratelates, saint 278 Venetians 5, 15, 17, 36, 193–217
Theodorokanos, doux 357 Vikings 11, 53
Theodoros i Laskaris, emperor 149 villani 214–216
Theodoros, hermeneutes 357 villani forenses/forinseci 213–214
Theodosius i, emperor 22 Visigoths 7
Theoktistos, abbot 360–361 Vlachs 17, 56, 92, 105, 209
Theophanes Confessor, Byzantine Vladimir i, prince of Kiev 33, 55, 58–59,
historian 153, 156, 159–160, 274, 353 64, 67
Theophanes of Byzantium, historian 320 Vladimir ii Monomakh, prince of Kiev 36
Theophanes the Greek, painter 40, 69 Vladislav iii, King of Hungary 41
Theophanes, patriarch of Antioch 279
Theophanu, empress 65 Wallerstein, Immanuel 4
Theophilos, emperor 150, 156 Watta, Ethiopian governor in South
Theophylaktos Abastaktos, Byzantine Arabia 317
soldier 353 Wedem Arad, King of Ethiopia 39
Thomas the priest 271 Witakowski, Witold 255
Ya’zil Bayyin, Sabaean king 297, 300, 303 Yuhagmin, South Arabian tribe 302
Yahya of Antioch, historian 350 Yusuf As’ar Yath’ar, Himyarite rebel 308,
Yasirum Yuhanʻim, Himyarite king 301–302 310–314
Yonan, Ethiopian deacon 314
Yovhannēs Drasχanakertc‛i, Katholikos of Zalnas, Aksumite diplomat 306
Armenia 338 Zanj (zandj), African slaves 402, 404,
Yovhannēs, protospatharios and 417–418
proximos 357
Index of Subjects
Archaeology 9, 21, 82, 84–85, 101 and passim, economy 52, 61–62, 72–73, 142–144, 152–153,
174, 183, 229, 269, 292–293, 295, 306, 321, 174, 179–180, 188, 193 and passim,
395 248, 281, 329, 333, 336, 347, 387 and
passim
“barbarians” 2, 93, 109, 174, 295, 330, 356 agricultural 273
Bilingualism See multilingualism crisis of 1
borders 51, 55–56, 66, 68, 94, 105, 107, 142, development of 71, 406
153, 194, 238, 251, 273–274, 343–344 European 282, 395
administrative 142 Marxist studies of 121
areas, borderlands 147, 166, 172, 175, primitivism 103
183–185, 342, 354–355, 415 elites 3–4, 6, 10, 56, 58, 65, 68, 70–71, 149,
crossing 333342, 344, 348–349, 352, 354 171, 178, 184, 187–189, 229, 240, 267, 274,
imperial 155, 264, 273, 277, 331, 344, 365, 277, 280–281, 321, 327, 336, 342–343,
367–368 347, 356, 358–359, 362, 364, 416, 419,
political 17 425, 427
shifts 121 administrative 11, 226, 239, 367, 415
court 162, 355
children See women and children cultural 51, 55
climate change 10, 119–121, 423 economic 53
colonization, colonists 15–16, 211, 225, 304, imperial 144, 226, 329, 333, 351, 365
315 Khazar 420
colonialism 291 local 168, 235–236, 239, 306
colony 355, 363 military 66, 168, 188, 225, 227, 239,
commerce 13, 18, 61–62, 188, 195, 199, 201, 211, 367, 404, 413–415, 417
292, 305, 314, 354, 363, 366–367, 372, new 228, 236–237
394–395, 400–401, 420 political 225
critical dialogue 21 provincial 346, 418
regional 226
demography 10, 56, 72, 81, 84, 143, 151–156, 284 religious 17
collapse 120 residences 295
composition 173 ruling 170, 179, 255
decline 151, 346 transregional 226, 230
impact 346 empire 3, 5, 8, 11–14, 16, 20, 50–52, 56–58,
gap 273 63, 65–66, 68–69, 82, 93–94, 101,
problems 210 105–106, 110, 117, 119–120, 141 and
pressure 120 passim, 166, 168, 186, 194–195, 200,
devşirme (child levy) 19 203, 206–207, 212–214, 225–226,
dhimmis (non-Muslims) 225, 236, 239, 229–230, 236–237, 239, 267–268,
247–248, 250, 272, 401 271–278, 282, 284, 295, 308–309, 315,
diaspora 67, 216 327, 329–332, 391–392, 394–395,
Aksumite 313, 316, 322 414–420, 425, 427
Armenian 328 epidemic 195
trade 4, 328 of Black Death (plague) 18, 93, 143, 154,
distinction See social distinction 195, 210, 272–273, 316
458 Index of Subjects
families 16, 51, 53–55, 58–60, 64–72, 108, 120, Judaism 13, 62
147, 149, 154, 158, 161, 167, 169, 172, 178, converting to 308
181, 185, 196, 198, 200, 203, 211, 214, 216,
225–226, 228, 231, 238–239, 262, 265, labour 4, 51, 56, 59–60, 64, 66, 208, 213, 216,
273, 275–276, 283, 299–300, 302, 310, 226, 321, 347, 352, 389, 405
336–338, 355, 357, 361, 389, 392–393, forced 270, 388
401, 403–405, 418 “Landnahme” 14, 109
aristocratic 328, 332, 335, 342 Lingua franca 18, 51, 121
imperial 351
“military” 327, 426 mercenaries 13, 55, 66–67, 69, 172, 206,
noble 327, 336, 352, 364–365 212–213, 327 and passim, 417–418
priestly 358 merchants 13, 52–53, 56, 60–64, 70–72,
relocated 155 187–188, 209, 237, 292, 295, 314, 320–321,
trans-local 332 331
communities of 4, 198
Genizah (Cairo) 6, 228–229, 403 cosmopolitan 61
governors 231, 239, 247, 250, 262–263, 268, Jewish 396–397
282, 303–304, 317, 321, 415, 420, 422 Khazar 397
local 249, 251, 418 long-distance 53, 226, 295
semi-independent 419, 421–422 “overseas” 58
methodology 13, 21, 60, 85, 174, 194, 253, 388
historiography 9, 20, 109, 117, 255 migration 50, 103, 166, 170, 181, 265–267, 272,
Arabic 247 275, 277, 279, 281, 284, 329, 333, 336, 342,
Byzantine 51, 176 354
Chinese 3 and host societies 239
Coptic 247, 253 armed 57
Euro-centric 56 causes of 197, 215, 239, 267, 284
Greek 2 “chain” 102
historiographical tradition 2, 249, 253 continuous 112
Latin 2 crisis 268
Persian 3 economic 65
Roman 3, 20 forced migration 63, 70, 72, 143, 147,
Syriac 247, 249, 253 149–150, 158, 160–161, 194, 247, 254, 256,
388–392, 396, 400–402, 404–406
identity 85, 94, 107, 142, 152, 171, 194, 197, 199, historians of 328, 347, 356, 373
216–217, 328, 362, 373 of individuals 194
Armenian 327, 361, 367, 373 involuntary 142
collective 21, 95 labour 4, 51, 208, 210
constructions 20 large-scale 280, 284, 327, 346
doctrinal 154 marriage 56, 64–65, 72
ethnic 3, 81, 154, 185, 209 mass 101, 202, 216
formation 3 military 66, 228, 414
local 240 of Church personnel 56, 70
national 54 of enslaved men and women 56
regional 111 of hostages 65
religious 185, 209, 364 organized 196
interaction 55, 148, 168, 170, 174–175, 179, 217, patterns 280–281
226, 254, 336, 344, 363, 372 problem 268
Index of Subjects 459
regional 147–148 Kievan 51

return 63, 105, 108 Orthodox 197–198
self-decided 66, 337 Palestinian 264, 269, 280
state coerced 143 multilingualism, bilingualism 63, 356–357,
temporary 205, 226 363, 367, 373
“total” 114
tribal 225 nation 72, 85, 94–95, 292
unexpected 180 -“hood” 3
milieu 11, 229, 248, 363 “modern” 2, 170
military 11, 15, 51, 53, 55–56, 60, 63, 66, 68, 71, state 2
83–85, 89, 92, 111, 142–145, 151–156, networks 18, 62, 162, 175, 226, 329, 342, 346,
158–160, 167–170, 172–178, 180–181, 186, 347, 354, 363, 371–372, 387, 402, 419, 427
193, 204, 206, 225–228, 237, 239, 250, aristocratic 355
261, 268, 273–274, 277, 283, 292, commercial 17, 71, 367
295–296, 299–302, 305–306, 308, 310, kinship 348, 350–352, 367
313, 327, 330, 336, 342, 344, 348, 351–355, of informants 183
361, 364–367, 369, 371, 399–400, 404, of ports 183
414 and passim of roads 181
missionaries 4, 11, 94–95, 155 of trade 187, 225–226, 367
mobility 6, 10–13, 18–19, 55, 64, 67, 73, 102, nomadic societies 4, 14, 20, 68, 92, 110–111,
157, 193, 195–196, 216, 226, 327 and 113, 155, 166–170, 174, 182–183, 185, 188,
passim 427
cultural 102, 328, 372
deliberate 367 peripheries 4, 60, 66, 155, 185, 188, 230, 235,
ecclesiastical 341 296, 302, 306, 329, 358, 418
forced 335, 366 pilgrims, pilgrimage 6, 15, 70, 180, 225,
merchant 60, 187 339–340, 342, 367
of common people 56–57 prisoners (of war) 11, 106, 150–151, 160–162,
of elites 65, 333, 342, 344, 347, 349–351 169–170, 193, 197, 199, 207–208, 255, 276,
patterns of 390 299, 302, 312–313, 348, 356, 394–395,
practices of 72 416, 420
restrictions of 388 professionals 212
rulers’ 54
models 21, 58–59, 69, 92, 102–103, 109, 112, racism, racial stereotypes 12, 81, 330, 416,
116, 119–121, 160, 167, 171, 279–280, 402, 423–424
404 refugees 37–39, 41, 55, 67, 71, 144–145,
modern era 21, 57, 85–86, 88–89, 101–103, 147–149, 156, 158, 161, 193 and passim,
120, 167–168, 170, 196, 208, 282, 291, 309, 262–263, 267–268, 277–278, 336,
312, 321, 327, 347, 354, 366, 373, 388–391, 366–367, 387, 389
398, 425 revolts 261, 274, 279, 394
monks 57, 91, 155, 247, 262–264, 269, 271, of Bashmur (Egypt) 247, 250–253,
278–281, 339–340, 357–358, 372 255–256
Aksumite 311 of Crete 200–201
Armenian 360–361 of the nobility 338
Coptic 248 social 250, 252, 403
Ethiopian 313
Georgian 360, 362 seafaring 18
Irish 4 expertise in 51–52, 66
460 Index of Subjects
sedentary societies 4, 85, 92, 170, 173, 181, overland 187

184, 188, 299 regulated 60
settlement 19, 50–55, 67–68, 70, 83 and relations 202
passim, 108, 110, 115, 118, 120, 141–142 and routes 101
passim, 166, 170, 173–174, 177–178, of slaves 150, 209, 391, 394 and passim,
197–199, 201–206, 210–213, 216, 225–227, 421–422
229–230, 232, 237–238, 240, 267, 270, transfer 53, 70, 83, 345, 348
275, 277, 334, 342, 344–345, 352–353, cultural 13, 73
362, 366–367, 389, 416, 419, 426 of capital city 419, 422
slaves 11–12, 15–16, 30, 32, 38, 61, 63–64, 150, of goods, people and money 395
193, 199, 207–209, 214–215, 252, of money 418
254–256, 270, 275–276, 283, 318–319, 321, of populations 150–154, 159, 161, 182, 185,
350, 387–406, 413–427 187, 204, 208, 216, 225, 266, 273, 275–277,
social distinction 236–237, 331 279, 282–284
sources (historical) 14, 54, 59, 67, 69, 73, of troops 334, 416
82–85, 89–91, 101–102, 109–113, 115–116, transhumance 4, 121, 173
142, 144, 148, 150–151, 153, 156, 158–159, troops 6, 10, 67–68, 110, 172, 183, 185, 188, 203,
161, 167, 169–170, 174–177, 179, 181, 187, 238, 265, 268, 272, 281, 283, 296, 304,
199, 203, 213–214, 217, 225–226, 228–229, 306, 308, 320, 330–331, 334–335, 337,
232, 235, 238, 247–249, 251, 255–256, 343–344, 349, 351, 362, 414 and passim
262, 263, 265, 268, 270, 274–277, 279, elite 68, 274
281, 283, 293, 307, 310–311, 314, 316–321, imperial 182, 237
327 and passim, 393 and passim, 413, rebellious 351
417, 421 typology 85, 109, 117, 142
of (forced) migration 13, 328
textiles 18, 63, 236
trade, traders 11, 18, 52, 54, 57–58, 61–64, “Völkerwanderung” 1, 20, 102
71–73, 176, 187–188, 199, 211–212, 230,
237–238, 295, 304, 313, 320, 367, 427 women and children 17, 51–54, 56, 58–59,
Berber 422 61–62, 64–67, 72, 149–150, 160, 167, 172,
family 53 177, 213, 231, 237, 252, 255, 274, 299–300,
in agricultural products 214 302, 304, 310–311, 314, 319–320, 336, 346,
Italian 422 358, 360, 362, 388, 392–394, 405, 416,
long-distance 53, 69, 225, 231, 291, 295 420
maritime 65, 187 “World System” 17–18
Geographical Index
Achaea 210 166–167, 170–172, 174, 176–181, 184–185,

Acheloos (river) 354 187–189, 231, 274, 346, 353
Acre 39, 195, 201 Anatolikon, Byzantine theme 353
Adramyttion (Edremit) 185 Anglon 348
Adrianople (Edirne) 2, 22, 40, 159–160, 357 ʻan-Halkan 312
Adriatic Sea 14, 63, 82 Ani 34, 157, 342
Adulis 295 Ankara (Ancyra) 19, 40, 160, 178, 184–185,
Aegean Sea 18, 19, 37, 63, 82, 84, 89, 146–148, 205
154, 196, 199, 211, 214–215, 263, 273 Antartus (Tartus) 266, 268
Aegina 146–147 Antioch 145, 156, 180, 261, 265–268, 270, 273,
Afghanistan 29, 354 278–279, 281, 283, 341, 350, 364, 397
Africa 1, 12, 21, 30, 390–391, 395, 405 Anti-Taurus (mountains) 169
East Africa 8, 11, 29, 40, 294, 313, 321, 422 Apameia (Dinar) 183, 186
North Africa 7, 10, 11, 22–25, 27–31, 33–36, Apameia (Syria) 261, 263, 267
38, 41, 141, 150, 225, 227, 239, 263–264, Apulia 144, 279
267, 282, 284, 350–351, 394, 397, 422 Arabia 10, 26, 63, 227, 238, 281
Sub-Saharan Africa 20, 24, 291, 422 South Arabia 8, 21, 25, 291–322
West Africa 11, 30, 37, 39, 41 Aral Sea 53
Aitoloakarnania 88 Araxes (Aras, river) 166, 175
Ajnadayn 265, 268 Arctic Sea 7
Akampsis (river) 336 Argina 342
Akroinon (Afyonkarahisar) 182 Argos 196, 205–206, 215
Aksum (see also Ethiopia) 8, 21–22, 24–25, Armenia 11, 23, 26, 32, 34, 157, 166, 169–172,
27, 291–322 175, 178, 184, 188, 202, 270, 327–368
al-ʻAbbasiyya 419 Lesser Armenia (Cilicia) 202
al-Andalus 398, 415, 419, 422 Arsamosata 150
Albania 84, 89, 105 Arsanias (river) 166, 175, 345
Alexandretta 183 Asia 1, 21, 227, 394
Alexandria 27–28, 30, 40, 229, 247–248, Central Asia 2, 7, 8, 10–11, 14–16, 18–19,
262–263, 265, 269–270, 282, 342, 354 22, 25, 27–28, 30–31, 33, 36–38, 40,
Aleppo 31, 63, 175, 281 51–53, 62, 113–114, 167, 352, 393, 414–415,
Algeria 19, 422 420, 426
al-Hira 314 East Asia 2, 18, 114
al-Hufuf 308 Southeast Asia 21
al-Mukalla 306 Asia Minor 14–17, 19, 27, 31, 38–40, 84,
al-Mukha’ 296, 312–314 144–145, 147–148, 151, 153–157, 159,
Alps (mountains) 51, 64, 114 166–189, 200, 202, 205, 261, 266–267,
Amalfi 13 272–274, 277, 284, 345, 346, 349, 394,
Amanus Mountains 156, 175 399–400
Amaseia (Amasya) 180 Astypalaia 216
America 195, 390–391 Athens 145, 204–205, 282, 355
Amorion 150 Athos (mountain) 89, 360, 362
Anatolia (see also Asia Minor) 3, 14–15, 19, Atlantic Sea 21, 28, 390–391, 396, 405
32, 35–38, 42, 50, 144, 148, 159, 160, 162, Attaleia (Antalya) 148, 162, 182–183, 186, 274
462 Geographical Index
Attica 89, 146–147 Greater Bulgaria 27, 352

Austria 115–116 Bulgar at the Volga 32, 397–399
Ayrarat (region in Armenia) 377 Bursa (Prusa) 39, 185
Azerbaijan 30, 167, 169, 178 Byblos (Jubail) 265
Azov, Sea of 20, 64
Caesarea (Cappadocia) 146, 339, 355
Bactria 22 Caesarea (Palestine) 237, 261, 265–266, 268,
Baghdad 10, 14–16, 29–30, 32, 34, 38, 53, 270, 282
238–239, 250, 333, 397, 414–419 Cairo 6, 15, 32, 35, 228–229
Baldah 266, 268 Calabria 144, 146–147
Balkans 9, 11, 14, 16–17, 24, 27, 31, 34–35, 40, Calicut 41
64, 69, 81–83, 85–86, 94, 104–106, 110, Canaan 352
116–118, 120, 141, 144–145, 152, 155, 158, Candia 202–203, 207–208
170, 204, 273, 334, 345, 348–349, 354, Cappadocia 157, 175, 180, 184, 339, 345, 352,
397, 399, 401 359
Balkh, Balḫ 29, 354 Cap Verde 41
Baltic Sea 50, 398 Carpathian Basin 7, 9, 13, 25, 31, 111–114, 118
Barbalissos 266 Carthage 27, 261, 263, 351
Bari 30, 34, 362–363 Caspian Sea 8–9, 27, 34, 52–53, 62, 64, 397,
Bashmur (region in the Nile delta) 247–256 420
Bavaria 64 Caucasia 11, 16, 37–38, 172
Bayt al-Ashwal 309 Caucasian Albania 339, 352
Beijing 39 Caucasus (mountains) 8–9, 11, 15–16, 22, 25,
Beirut (Berytus) 265, 341, 364 27–28, 36, 52, 55, 69, 141, 352, 395,
Belgrade (Singidunum) 83 397–398, 401, 404–405
Beyşehir Gölü (Lake Pousgouse) 182–183, Cephalonia 196, 274
188 Černigov (Chernigov) 61
Birka 53 Ceuta 41
Bithynia 69, 151, 156, 176, 180–182, 184, 186 Chalcedon 69, 261, 339, 359
Bizye 360 Chalkidike 89
Black Sea 7, 9, 13–16, 19, 22–23, 27, 37, 51–53, Cherson 58, 63
55, 68, 82, 101, 110–111, 202–203, 349, 397 China 3, 4, 8, 16, 21–22, 26–27, 32, 38–40, 51,
Bodonitsa 205–206 53, 62–63, 65, 225, 352, 397
Bodzia 104 Chios 198
Boeotia 89, 147 Chliara (Kırkağaç) 185
Bohemia 118 Choresm 53
Boleron 152 Chorzane 344
Bolum 347 Cilicia 35, 63, 160, 180, 202, 266, 268, 346
Borshevo 112 Congo (river) 41
Bosporus 13 Constantinople 7, 8, 9, 13–15, 19, 21, 23,
Bostra 265 26–30, 32–33, 37–41, 50–73, 84, 91,
Boukellarion, Byzantine theme 353 94–95, 141–142, 144–145, 147–149,
Boulgarophygon 353 153–155, 160–161, 172, 183, 187, 189,
Brazil 388 194–195, 206, 210, 212, 261, 263, 268, 273,
Bug (river) 51 275, 277, 279, 283–284, 333–334,
Bukhara 32, 53 338–339, 341–342, 348–349, 351–355,
Bulgaria 11, 14, 32–33, 37, 65, 94, 105, 110–111 359–361, 367, 397
beyond the Danube 106 Córdoba 33, 250
Corduene 341 Epirus 84, 86, 89, 92, 146, 274

Corfu 65, 196 Erewan 355
Corinth 65, 89, 91–92, 147, 205 Eritrea 8, 21, 295
Crete 30, 37, 63, 66, 155, 196–209, 211–212, Erymanthos (mountains) 89
214–216, 399 Ethiopia 8, 21, 28, 31, 33, 38–39, 292,
Crimea 38, 41, 52, 62–63, 69, 203, 422 294–295, 314, 320, 321
Ctesiphon 333, 352 Euboea 89, 146, 196–197, 199, 202–204,
Cyprus 27, 40, 145, 153, 183, 196, 263, 206–207, 212, 214–215
276–277, 281–283 Euphrates (river) 1, 166, 172, 175, 181, 184, 188,
Cyrrhus 156 397
Cyzicus 153, 160, 176–177 Euripos (Chalkis, Negroponte) 89, 92, 196,
204, 211
Dacia (Roman province) 105 Europe 1, 4, 7, 17–18, 21, 50, 61, 71, 113, 117, 193,
Dadibra (Safranbolu) 148 248
Dagestan 10 Central Europe 9, 15, 19, 32, 101, 104, 120,
Dalmatia 66, 109, 116 341, 405, 419
Damascus 53, 261, 265, 270, 279, 355 Eastern Europe 2, 7, 9, 11, 13, 15–17, 19, 22,
Damiette 37 38, 101–104, 112, 113, 117–118, 120–122, 395,
Danube (river) 9, 14, 22–23, 24, 27, 31, 51, 397–398, 405, 422
63–64, 82–83, 105–106, 110–111, 114–116, Northern Europe (see also
119, 141, 157, 397 Scandinavia) 11, 101, 398–402
Dara 261, 269 Southeastern Europe (see also
Daugava 52 Balkans) 9, 11, 17, 19, 81–82, 105, 117
Daylam 418 Southern Europe 405
Delhi 37 Western Europe 2, 14–15, 19, 21, 32, 35,
Diyar Bakr 172, 175, 181 51–52, 392–393, 421, 426
Dnepr (river) 51, 53–54, 56–58, 62, 64–65
Don (river) 64, 110 Faiyum 230, 235–236, 238, 240
Dorylaion (Eskişehir) 180, 186 Farasan 296
Drino (river) 89 Fez 29
Dropuli valley 89 Finland 52, 108
Dvin 334, 366 France 2, 38, 67, 180, 341, 422
Dyrrachion (Durres) 83 Fustat 28, 226–227, 229, 232, 235–240
Edessa (Greece, Bodena) 152 Galata 38, 69

Edessa (Mesopotamia) 36, 180, 261, 270, 272 Galatia 176, 180, 184
Egrisi (Western Georgia) 358 Gangra (Çankırı) 184
Egypt 8, 10–11, 15–16, 19, 22, 26–28, 30–33, Ğazira (Djazira, nothern
35–38, 40, 42, 50, 55–56, 167, 225–240, Mesopotamia) 237–238
247–256, 261–263, 265, 267–271, Genoa 13, 36, 204
281, 284, 339, 348, 393–394, Germanikeia (Maras) 151, 276, 353
397, 413–414, 416, 419, 421–424, Germany 2, 118
427 Georgia 36, 339, 352, 358, 360
Elbe (river) 15, 115, 421 Ghana 30
Elearchia (Picharôt, al-Bashrud) 251 Gjirokastra (Argyrokastron) 89
Emesa (Homs) 261, 265, 268, 270 Gorodishche 53
England 7, 28, 67 Gortyna 278
Ephesos (Selçuk) 176, 339 Gotland 53
Granada 38 Jabalah (Gabala/Jableh) 268

Greece 36–37, 81, 84–87, 92, 118, 145–147, Jaffa 237
152, 154, 159, 196, 204–205, 341, 393, 400, Jerusalem 15–16, 26, 28, 37, 70, 261–262,
425 264–265, 268–270, 272, 279, 281,
339–340, 342, 354
Hadaqa 294 Jordan (river) 264, 340
Hadramawt 295–296, 304, 317 Jutland 52
Halys (Kızılırmak, river) 178, 180, 184
Harran 272 Kaffa 38, 69, 203
Hattin 37 Kairouan 27
Helioupolis (Syria) 278 Kaliningrad 108
Hellespont 153, 277 Kalka (river) 37
Heraclea (Asia minor) 400 Kalon Oros (Alanya) 183
Herat 24 Kamrjajor-Monastery 358
Hermopolis (al-Ushmunayn) 230, 232, 235, Karancslapujtő 112
238 Karia 153, 181–182
Hierissos 89 Kars 157
Himyar 8, 21, 24–26, 292–322 Karystos 204
Hippo 23 Kastamonu 184
Hirah 26 Kastorion 147, 161
Holubice 105, 115 Kaystros (river) 182, 185
Hoq (grotto) 304–305, 315 Kecskemét 114
Hungary 14, 16, 33–34, 38, 41–42, 105, 109, 112, Kerch 399
114–116 Keszthely-Fenékpuszta 105
Khazaria 62, 107, 111
Iberian Peninsula 10, 15, 28, 33–34, 38, 63, Khurasan (Khorasan) 28, 33–34, 167–168,
291, 419, 421 230, 414–415, 425
Ifriqiya 29, 415, 419, 422 Khuzestan 12
Ilmen (lake) 52–53, 119 Kiev 31–33, 39, 54–56, 58–59, 61, 68–73, 119
India 8, 10, 17, 19, 21, 23–24, 28, 33, 35, 40–41, Kilwa Kisiwani 33, 39
53, 291, 293, 295, 388, 397 Kitharizon 344
Indian Ocean 7, 225, 295, 306 Komárom 114
Ionian Sea 82, 84, 196 Konya (Ikonion) 148, 153, 176–178, 181–189
Iran (see also Persia) 4, 8, 10–12, 14–16, 19, 21, Korone 196, 199, 206–207, 210–212, 214
25, 30, 33, 36–38, 40–41, 50, 52, 62, 167, Kos 203
169, 171–172, 178, 188, 227, 236, 238, Kösedağ (mountain) 38
329–330, 417–418, 425–426 Kosovo Polje 40
Iraq (see also Mesopotamia) 10–12, 15–16, 19, Kotyaion (Kütahya) 186
21, 26, 30, 38, 169, 171, 181, 227, 237–238, Kubar 27
255, 397, 402, 414–418, 420–421, 423 Kyrgyzstan 10
Ireland 15 Kythera 196, 204, 214, 216
Israel 352
Italy 7, 11, 14–15, 24–25, 29–30, 32, 34–37, 63, Laconia 146
67, 70, 114–116, 144–146, 151, 180, 195, 200, Ladoga (lake) 52–53, 55, 61
212, 264, 267, 279, 283–284, 341, 348, 351, Lake Burullus 251
356, 362, 392–393, 397, 400, 422 Laodikeia (Syria) 145, 276
Ithome (mountains) 89 Laodikeia (Asia Minor) 182
Itil 10, 32, 64 Lapethos 281
Larissa (Cappadocia) 359 Mesopotamia 11, 37, 50, 141, 157, 180, 188, 231,
Larissa (Thessaly) 152 237–238, 261–262, 270, 279, 308, 314,
Lebanon 345 339, 352, 394, 403, 405
Lesbos 207 Methone 196, 198–199, 203, 206–207,
Levounion 35, 158 210–212, 214
Lithuania 40 Middle East 8, 16, 225, 256, 267, 281, 421, 424,
Longobardia, Byzantine theme 283 427
Lopadion (Ulubat) 182 Milan 21
Lucena 422 Minthe (mountains) 89
Luoyang 21 Moglena 152, 158
Lužice 105, 115 Mohács 42
Lycia 183, 186 Monastery of Boetiana (Rome) 278, 283
Lycaonia 176, 180, 184 Monastery of Choziba (Palestine) 269, 281
Lydia 181 Monastery of Esphigmenou (Athos) 360
Lykaion 89 Monastery of Iviron (Athos) 360, 362
Lykandos 353, 366 Monastery of Megiste Laura (Athos) 361
Lykos (Çoruh Nehri, river) 175, 184 Monastery of Renati (Rome) 278, 280
Monastery of St. Anastasius ad Aquas Salvias
Maʻahir 317 (Rome) 278, 280
Macedonia 84, 89, 92, 105, 151, 158, 196 Monastery of St. Catherine on Mt. Sinai 340
Madagascar 21 Monastery of St. Martyrios (Egypt) 269
Maeander (river) 153, 162, 176, 182–183, Monastery of St. Menas (Egypt) 270
185–187 Monastery of St. Sabas (Palestine) 269
Mainalon 89 Monastery of St. Sabba (Rome) 278, 280
Mali 37, 39 Monemvasia 91–92, 146, 196
Manchuria 36 Mongolia 25
Mani/Maina peninsula 89, 91 Mopsuestia 266, 273
Manzikert 14, 34, 175 Moravia 30, 57, 115, 118
Marib 294, 297, 302, 305–306, 316–317 Mordvinia 112
Maritza (river) 40 Morocco 29, 37, 415
Markellai 29 Moscow 39, 54, 68–72
Marrakesh 34 Mosul 32, 181
Martyroupolis (Silvan) 354 Mosynopolis 152
Mauritania 388 Mu’tah 264
Mazuria 51 Mykonos 216
Mecca 25–26, 37, 39, 225, 316, 320 Myriokephalon 36, 184
Medina 26, 28, 225 Mysia 181, 184–185
Mediterranean 7, 10, 17–18, 37, 56, 61, 63, Mystras 215
65, 67, 141, 144, 194, 277, 282, 291,
392, 394–395, 397–399, 401, 405, 413, Najran (Nadjran) 24, 303–304, 308, 314, 317
422 Naples 282
Eastern Mediterranean 1, 4, 11, 15–17, 50, Narva 52
84, 194–198, 200–201, 208, 217, 239, 272, Naupactus 196
284, 394 Nauplion 196, 206, 211, 215
Western Mediterranean 65, 68 Naxos 213–214
Melitene 151, 157, 159, 181, 276, 345, 353–354 Neokaisareia (Niksar) 184
Merzifon 180 Neva (river) 52
Mesene (Thrace) 360 New Julfa 328
Nicaea (Iznik) 38–39, 149, 160, 170, 177, 185, Philomelion (Akşehir) 153, 160, 162, 180, 182,
339 186–187
Nicomedia 160 Phrygia 176, 180, 184, 186
Nikopolis (Epirus) 274 Pindos (mountains) 86, 88
Nile (river) 29, 226, 247, 421 Pisa 13, 35
Nish 157 Pisidia 180, 182, 186
Nisibis 157 Poland 38, 40–41, 104, 108, 118
Nižnij Novgorod 69 Polybotos (Bolvadin) 180
Normandy 14, 34, 52–53, 65 Pontus 175, 183
North Sea 52, 67 Prague 117–119
Novgorod 31, 53, 55, 58–59, 69–70, 72 Prespa (lake) 152, 162
Nubia 21, 25, 27–28, 39, 41 Pripyat 51
Nuremberg 71 Provence 67
Pskov 53, 59
Odărci 111
Ohrid 152, 162 Qani 292, 306, 314, 321
Oka River 398 Qataban 295–296
Opsikion, Byzantine theme 273, 277, 353 Qom 250
Osh-Pando-Ner’ 108
Oxyrhynchus (al-Bahnasa) 230 Raffelstätten 397
Ramla 237
Pakistan 388 Ravenna 28, 144, 362
Palermo 65, 280 Red Sea 8, 29, 35, 291, 294–296, 397
Palestine 8, 16, 27, 33, 38, 52, 162, 172–173, Rhabaine 350
180, 237–238, 262–269, 271, 278–282, Rhegium 146
291, 339, 348, 394, 397 Rhône (river) 397
Pamphylia 183, 186 Robin-Umm Layla 296–297
Panachaikon 89 Rome (city) 23, 26, 28, 57, 62, 67, 70,
Pannonia 57, 84, 106, 115 263–264, 277–280, 282–284, 342,
Paphlagonia 180, 184 354–355
Paris 62 Rosetta 251
Paristrion, Byzantine theme 110, 111 Russia 16, 37–40, 54, 58, 67–69, 72, 108
Parnon (mountains) 89
Parthenion (mountains) 89 Saba’ 292, 294–298, 300–301, 303–305
Patras 90–92, 146 Sagalassos (Ajlasun) 183
Peipus (lake) 52, 119 Sahara 11, 30, 34, 405, 422
Pelagonia 152, 162 Salona 116
Pella (Jordan) 269 Samarkand 19, 53
Peloponnese 9, 41, 84–85, 89–90, 92–93, Samarra’ 30, 227, 238–239, 414, 416–417,
145–147, 196–197, 274, 400 419–420
Pelusium 269 Samos 205
Perejaslavl’ 61 Sanʿa’ 300, 317
Pergamon (Bergama) 185, 275, 277 Sangarios (Sakarya Nehri, river) 176, 182
Perinthus 160 Santorini 216
Persia (see also Iran) 8, 16, 21–27, 39, 55, Sarai 38
111, 270, 328–331, 337, 339, 344, 349, Sardis 275, 277
351–352 Sarkel 32
Philadelpheia (Alaşehir) 185 Sava 82
Scandinavia 2, 13, 30, 34, 37, 51–52, 65, 108 Tanzania 33, 39
Sea of Galilee 268 Taranto 282
Sebasteia (Sivas) 160, 203, 359 Taron (region in Armenia) 342, 355, 357, 360
Sebastoupolis 27 Tarsus (Tarsos) 145, 160, 268
Seleukeia (Silifke) 180, 183 Tashkent 53
Selymbria 149, 161 Taurus Mountains 166
Serdika (Sofia) 83, 157 Taygetos (mountains) 89, 92
Shiraz 33 Taxara (Aksaray) 177
Siberia 39, 62, 71 Tenedos 204
Siblia/Subleon 186 Tephrike (Divriği) 345
Sicily 14–15, 29–30, 35–36, 52, 65, 67–68, 144, Thailand 388
146–147, 150–151, 262–263, 277–280, Thebes 65, 89, 202
283–284, 291, 351, 400 Theodosioupolis (Erzurum, Karin) 151, 270,
Side 183 276, 337–338, 342, 344–345, 347, 352,
Sidon 265 354
Sijilmasa 29 Thessaloniki 15, 83–84, 91, 145, 160, 196
Silistra (Dorostolon, Dristra) 110 Thessaly 84, 146, 152
Sind 28, 397 Thrace 22, 106, 110, 151, 154–155, 159, 161, 273,
Sinop 183, 354 276, 330, 334, 343, 348, 357, 360
Širak (region in Armenia) 342, 354 Tiberias 262, 265
Sirmium 25, 82–83, 106 Tibet 27, 29
Siteia 207 Tigris (river) 1
Siwnikʽ (region in Armenia) 339, 355 Tihama 293, 296–299, 301–302, 308
Skopia 83 Tinnis 248
Smyrna (Izmir) 148, 176–177 Tinos 204, 216
Soqotra 304–305, 314–315 Tisza (river) 114
Sozopetra 150 Toledo 35
Sozopolis (Uluborlu) 182, 186 Tours 28
Spain 7, 10–11, 19, 28, 30, 34, 36, 41, 291, Tralleis (Aydın) 186
421–422 Transoxania 28, 31, 33, 166–167, 415
Sparta 90–91 Transylvania 16
Split 116 Trebizond 184, 203, 342, 354
Staraia Ladoga 53 Tripolis 145, 160
Sudan 21, 293, 319 Tripolis (Phoenicia) 268, 273, 282
Sultaniyya 39 Tunis 38
Sweden 53–54, 67 Tunisia 29, 415
Syracuse 282 Tzympe 40
Syria 8, 11, 15–16, 27, 32–33, 52, 55, 63, 145,
151, 156, 160, 166, 169, 172–173, 175, 180, Ukraine 101, 107, 114–115, 118
183, 188, 195, 201, 227, 231, 236–238, 250,
261, 263, 265–268, 271–275, 278–280, Van (lake) 175, 346
283–284, 291, 335, 339, 341, 350, 394, 397 Varna 41
Szakony 112 Vaspurakan 152, 157, 346
Szólád 116 Venice 4, 13, 18, 35, 37, 39, 41, 64, 68, 70,
193–217
Tabia 160 Verdun 422
Talas 10 Viminacium (Kostulac) 83
Tankeevka 112 Vistula (river) 108
Volga (river) 10, 28, 32, 38, 53, 62, 64, 107, 110, Yemen 8, 25, 30, 34, 37, 250, 292–293,
112, 397–398 296–297, 301, 303, 312, 317–319, 321, 336
Yenissei 16
Wahdat 297–299
Weliko Tarnowo 83 Zafar 292, 305, 307–310, 312–314, 318
Zakynthos 196
Xałtik‛ (Chaldia, region of Trebizond) 343 Zirbān (al-Ukhdud) 303–304
Yahweh-Yam 237
Yarmuk (river) 265, 268, 274
List of Places Displayed on Map 15.1. and their
Geographical Coordinates
Number Name Latitude Longitude
1 Aachen 50.776667 6.083611

2 Achyraus 39.3925 28.131111
3 Acre 32.921111 35.068611
4 Aden 12.8 45.033611
5 Adramyttion 39.465833 26.9375
6 Adrianople 41.674444 26.560833
7 Adulis 15.25 39.666667
8 Aegina 37.734722 23.493056
9 Ainos 40.733333 26.066667
10 Akhlat 38.752778 42.494444
11 Akroinon 38.757222 30.538611
12 Aksum 14.1213 38.7285
13 al-Abbasiyya 35.397222 5.365833
14 al-Bahnasa 28.531 30.647
(Oxyrhynchus)
15 Aleppo 36.216667 37.166667
16 Alexandria 31.2135 29.927661
17 al-Hira 31.883333 44.45
18 al-Mukalla 14.533333 49.133333
19 al-Mukha 13.316667 43.25
20 al-Ukhdud 17.477496 44.179310
21 al-Ushmunayn 27.781389 30.803889
(Hermopolis)
22 Amaseia 40.65 35.833056
23 Amida 37.910833 40.236667
24 Amorion 39.020439 31.289144
25 Anchialos 42.56 27.636667
26 Ancona 43.616667 13.516667
27 Ani 40.5075 43.572778
28 Ankara 39.933333 32.866667
29 Antartus (Tartus) 34.883333 35.883333
30 Antioch 36.2 36.15
31 Apameia 40.375278 28.882222
32 Apameia 35.41 36.39
470 Geographical coordinates
33 Arsamosata 38.6609 39.5109

34 Argina 40.25 43.7
35 Argos 37.616667 22.716667
36 Argyrokastron 40.066667 20.133333
37 Arkadiupolis 41.405556 27.356944
38 Athens 37.977778 23.727778
39 Attaleia 36.9 30.683333
40 Aulona 40.470556 19.490833
41 Baghdad 33.333333 44.383333

42 Bahrain 26.0675 50.551111
43 Balkh 36.758056 66.898889
44 Bamiyana 34.82564 67.83302
45 Barbalissos 35.8366 38.3026
46 Barcelona 41.4 2.166667
47 Bari 41.133333 16.866667
48 Bashmuric 31.088333 31.596944
49 Basra 30.5 47.816667
50 Belgrade 44.820556 20.462222
51 Beroe 42.433333 25.65
52 Berytus 33.886944 35.513056
53 Birka 59.334722 17.543056
54 Bizye 41.573611 27.765278
55 Bobbio 44.766667 9.383333
56 Bodena 40.8 22.05
57 Bodonitsa 38.75 22.616667
58 Bodzia 52.705278 18.885833
59 Bolgar 54.966667 49.033333
60 Bolum 40.229185 41.683978
61 Borshevo 51.520893 39.806392
62 Bostra 32.516667 36.483333
63 Bulgarophygon 41.4325 27.093056
64 Brindisi 40.633333 17.933333
65 Bukhara 39.77371 64.42280
66 Bunjikat 39.774472 68.809278
67 Byblos 34.123611 35.651111
Geographical coordinates 471
68 Caesarea 32.5 34.891667

69 Caesarea 38.725 35.475
70 Cairo 30.05 31.233333
71 Callinicum 35.949444 39.020278
72 Candia 35.333333 25.133333
73 Canterbury 51.278333 1.0775
74 Capua 41.1 14.216667
75 Carthage 36.853056 10.323056
76 Cephalonia 38.25 20.5
77 Chalcedon 40.983333 29.033333
78 Chernigov 51.5 31.3
79 Cherson 44.611389 33.491944
80 Chibuene -22.033333 35.325
81 Chios 38.368333 26.133889
82 Chliara 39.103889 27.67
83 Chonai 37.751972 29.270444
84 Choziba 31.844444 35.414167
85 Circesium 35.156758 40.425739
86 Citharizon 38.839058 40.641398
87 Claudiopolis 40.734722 31.6075
88 Constantinople 41.009167 28.975833
89 Cordoba 37.8868 -4.7787
90 Corfu 39.624444 19.907778
91 Corinth 37.936944 22.927222
92 Ctesiphon 33.093611 44.580833
93 Cyzicus 40.399836 27.799873
94 Dadibra 41.249389 32.6832

95 Damascus 33.509722 36.309167
96 Dara 37.179167 40.951389
97 Dariali 42.744617 44.622389
98 Daybul 24.45 67.31
99 Derbent 42.066667 48.283333
100 Dongola 18.216667 30.75
101 Dorylaion 39.783333 30.516667
102 Dristra 44.116667 27.266667
103 Dvin 40.004686 44.579167

104 Dyrrhachion 41.313056 19.446944
105 Edessa 37.158333 38.791667

106 Emesa 34.733333 36.716667
107 Ephesus 37.939722 27.348611
108 Euripos/Negroponte 38.461667 23.603889
109 Faiyum 29.308374 30.844105

110 Famagusta 35.116667 33.95
111 Faras 22.2 31.466667
112 Ferghana 40.386389 71.786389
113 Florence 43.783333 11.25
114 Fustat 30 31.233333
115 Gandhara 34.011667 71.538889

116 Gangra 40.6 33.616667
117 Gao 16.266667 -0.05
118 Genoa 44.416667 8.933333
119 Germanikeia 37.583333 36.933333
120 Gondeshapur 32.283333 48.516667
121 Gortyna 35.062627 24.94681
122 Gotland 57.634722 18.299167
123 Haithabu 54.491111 9.565278

124 Harran 36.864444 39.032778
125 Helioupolis 34.006336 36.207322
126 Heraclea 41.284722 31.414722
127 Herat 34.35 62.183333
128 Hierissos 40.4 23.883333
129 Holubice 49.173889 16.818056
130 Hoq 12.6016980 54.3049969
131 Hormuz 27.066667 56.45
132 Ikonion 37.866667 32.483333

133 Imenkovo 55.423926 49.727791
134 Itil 46.025556 47.840556
135 Jabalah (Gabala/Jableh) 35.35 35.916667

136 Jaffa 32.052222 34.753056
137 Jerusalem 31.783333 35.216667
138 Kabul 34.533333 69.166667

139 Kaffa 45.048889 35.379167
140 Kairuan 35.677182 10.101148
141 Kaliningrad 54.700278 20.453056
142 Kalon Oros (Alanya) 36.55 32
143 Kamacha 39.602778 39.035556
144 Kanem 13.083333 14.55
145 Karancslapujto 48.15 19.716667
146 Kars 40.616667 43.1
147 Karystos 38.016667 24.416667
148 Kashgar 39.45 75.983333
149 Kastamonou 41.376389 33.776389
150 Kecskemet 46.906111 19.689722
151 Kephallenia 38.25 20.5
152 Keszthely-Fenekpuszta 46.766667 18.25
153 Kiev 50.45 30.523333
154 Kitharizon 38.839058 40.641398
155 Kleidion 41.322222 23.116667
156 Klysma 29.966667 32.55
157 Komarom 47.740278 18.124444
158 Korone 36.783333 21.95
159 Kos 36.85 27.233333
160 Kotyaion 39.416667 29.983333
161 Kufa 32.029722 44.394722
162 Kumbi Saleh 15.76549 -7.96869
163 Kythera 36.25 23
164 Ladoga 59.997222 32.298056

165 Lamas 36.505648 34.191778
166 Laodicea 37.835833 29.1075
167 Laodicea 35.516667 35.783333
168 Larissa 39.633333 22.583333
169 Lesbos 39.1 26.55

170 Levunion 40.733333 26.066667
171 Little Preslav 45.15 28.916667
172 Lopadion 40.202915 28.43737
173 Lulon 37.55 34.633333
174 Lucena 37.4 -4.483333
175 Luzice 48.839167 17.070556
176 Lykandos 38.201389 37.188333
177 Mansura 25.881111 68.776944

178 Manzikert 39.147778 42.544167
179 Marib 15.416667 45.35
180 Markellai 42.637633 26.896522
181 Marseille 43.296667 5.376389
182 Martyropolis 38.142222 41.001389
183 Mecca 21.4225 39.826111
184 Medina 24.469 39.6139
185 Melitene 38.348611 38.319444
186 Membij 36.533333 37.95
187 Merw 37.664167 62.184722
188 Merzifon 40.875 35.463333
189 Mesembria 42.66 27.728611
190 Mesene 41.294195 27.542021
191 Methone 36.821667 21.706944
192 Milan 45.4625 9.186389
193 Mistras 37.066667 22.383333
194 Moglena 40.966667 22.05
195 Monembasia 36.683333 23.05
196 Mopsuestia 36.95778 35.619478
197 Moscow 55.75 37.616667
198 Mosul 36.343 43.149
199 Mosynopolis 41.128611 25.325278
200 Mt. Athos 40.157222 24.326389
201 Mumbai 18.966667 72.833333
202 Muscat 23.614167 58.590833
203 Mykonos 37.45 25.35
204 Nish 43.324444 21.905

205 Najran 17.491667 44.132222
206 Nakhchivan 39.208889 45.412222
207 Naples 40.833333 14.25
208 Naupactus 38.393889 21.830556
209 Nauplion 37.566667 22.8
210 Naxos 37.05 25.483333
211 Neocaesarea 40.583333 36.966667
212 Nicaea 40.429167 29.721111
213 Nicomedia 40.766667 29.916667
214 Nikopolis 39.008333 20.733611
215 Nineveh 36.366667 43.15
216 Nishapur 36.206667 58.804167
217 Nisibis 37.078611 41.218056
218 Niznij Novgorod 56.326944 44.0075
219 Novae 43.616667 25.35
220 Novgorod 58.55 31.266667
221 al-Hufuf 25.383333 49.583333
222 Odarci 43.4333 27.9667

223 Ohrid 41.116944 20.801667
224 Osh-Pando-Ner 54.483615 46.502917
225 Palermo 38.116667 13.366667

226 Panasium 38.765879 29.753273
227 Paris 48.856667 2.351667
228 Paros 37.085945 25.150811
229 Patras 38.246389 21.735
230 Pelagonia 41.033333 21.333333
231 Pelusium 31.05 32.6
232 Perejaslavl 50.066111 31.454444
233 Pergamon 39.13269 27.183899
234 Perinthus 40.969722 27.955278
235 Pharangion 40.556589 41.26869
236 Philadelphia 38.35 28.516667
237 Philomelion 38.3575 31.416389

238 Pisa 43.716667 10.4
239 Pliska 43.366667 27.116667
240 Poemanenum 40.07897 27.892299
241 Polybotos 38.716667 31.05
242 Prague 50.083333 14.416667
243 Preslav 43.158611 26.809444
244 Prespa 40.897222 21.032222
245 Prusa 40.186111 29.066667
246 Pskov 57.816667 28.333333
247 Qani 14.025 48.341944
248 Raffelstetten 48.22034 14.42001

249 Ramla 31.929722 34.862778
250 Ravenna 44.416667 12.2
251 Rayy 35.583333 51.416667
252 Rev Ardashir 28.911919 50.836721
253 Rhabaine 37.427054 37.692332
254 Rhegium 38.111389 15.661944
255 Rhodes 36.437578 28.223189
256 Rome 41.883333 12.483333
257 Sagalassos 37.678056 30.519444

258 Salona 43.539722 16.483056
259 Samarkand 39.654167 66.959722
260 Samarra 34.197222 43.872222
261 Samos 37.727778 26.823056
262 Samosata 37.55 38.5
263 Sanaa 15.348333 44.206389
264 Santorini 36.416667 25.433333
265 Sardes 38.479277 28.031702
266 Satala 40.026111 39.590556
267 Sebasteia 39.75 37.016667
268 Seleukeia 36.873725 31.475553
269 Selymbria 41.073056 28.247222
270 Serdica 42.697222 23.323333
271 Shiras 29.608056 52.524722
272 Siblia/Subleon 38.041389 29.886111

273 Sidon 33.5625 35.369722
274 Sijilmasa 31.28 -4.28
275 Sinope 42.025 35.147222
276 Siraf 27.666667 52.3425
277 Sirmium 44.979722 19.609722
278 Siteia 35.2 26.1
279 Skopje 41.996944 21.433056
280 Smyrna 38.418611 27.139167
281 Soba 15.523972 32.680944
282 Sozopetra 38.095833 37.879167
283 Sozopolis 42.419444 27.694444
284 Sozopolis 38.0706 30.4732
285 Sparta 37.073333 22.429722
286 Split 43.5 16.433333
287 St. Catherine 28.555833 33.975556
288 Sura 35.898806 38.779719
289 Syracuse 37.083333 15.283333
290 Szakony 47.426 16.71471
291 Szolad 46.785189 17.842481
292 Tahert 35.388056 1.322778

293 Talas 42.89709 71.37817
294 Tankeevka 49.1185693 54.8202336
295 Tarent 40.466667 17.233333
296 Tarsos 36.916667 34.895556
297 Tashkent 41.333333 69.3
298 Taxara 38.371667 34.028889
299 Tbilisi 41.716667 44.791667
300 Tenedos 39.821944 26.028889
301 Tephrike 39.372222 38.116667
302 Thannuris 36.42025 40.86591
303 Thebes 38.323889 23.317222
304 Theodosiopolis 39.909722 41.275556
305 Thessaloniki 40.65 22.9
306 Tiberias 32.793056 35.532222
307 Tikrit 34.594722 43.681389
308 Tinos 37.6 25.12
309 Tlemcen 34.883056 −1.319444

310 Toledo 39.866667 −4.033333
311 Toulouse 43.604444 1.441944
312 Tralleis (Aydin) 37.859993 27.835472
313 Trebizond 41.006389 39.730556
314 Tripolis 37.508333 22.375
315 Tripolis 34.433333 35.85
316 Tyana 37.823445 34.570473
317 Van 38.508333 43.375

318 Varna 43.210278 27.909722
319 Venice 45.4375 12.335833
320 Verdun 49.159722 5.382778
321 Viminacium 44.732778 21.230556
322 Wadi El Natrun 30.43195 30.246878

323 Weliko Tarnowo 43.085833 25.655556
324 Zafar 14.213898 44.402874

325 Zakynthos 37.783333 20.772222
326 Zara 44.120253 15.230656

9789004425613

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

9789004425613

Uploaded by

Document Information

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

9789004425613

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Migration Histories of the Medieval Afroeurasian Transition Zone

Studies in Global Social History

Studies in Global Migration History

Dirk Hoerder (University of Arizona, Phoenix, ar, usa)

Bridget Anderson (University of Oxford)

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/sgmh

1 Migration History of the Afro-Eurasian Transition Zone, c. 300–1500: An

2 Introductory Essay: Migration—Travel—Commerce—Cultural Transfer.

3 On the Slavic Immigration in the Byzantine Balkans 81

4 Migrations in the Archaeology of Eastern and Southeastern Europe

5 Migrating in the Medieval East Roman World, ca. 600–1204 141

6 Patterns of Turkish Migration and Expansion in Byzantine Asia Minor in

7 Migration and Ethnicity in the Venetian Territories of the Eastern

8 Iranians in 9th Century Egypt 225

9 The Last Revolt of Bashmūr (831 A.D.) in Coptic and Syriac

10 The Migration of Syrian and Palestinian Populations in the 7th Century:

11 The Aksumites in South Arabia: An African Diaspora of Late

12 Aristocrats, Mercenaries, Clergymen and Refugees: Deliberate and

13 Migration and Enslavement: A Medieval Model 387

14 Mamluks in Abbasid Society 413

General Maps 431

Select Bibliography on the Medieval Migration History of the

1.1 Chronological table of selected events of political and migration history 21

Alexander Daniel Beihammer

Migration History of the Afro-Eurasian Transition

Johannes Preiser-Kapeller, Lucian Reinfandt and Yannis Stouraitis

© Preiser-Kapeller et al., ���� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_002

to contextualise the individual chapters within an overview on the wider mi-

1 Medieval Migration History and its Study

Migration can been defined as permanent or long-term dislocation of the

could be seasonal or circular and across smaller ranges, both in “sedentary”

13 Cohen, Global Diasporas.

interplay between “structure” and individual “agency”. These concepts have

17 McLeman, Climate and Human Migration, p. 27.

“occupational” mobility and migration of elites, troops and other populations

24 Schuppert, Verflochtene Staatlichkeit.

2 An Overview of Migration History in the Afro-Eurasian Transition

27 See also Hoerder, Cultures in Contact; Kulke, Das europäische Mittelalter.

31 Pohl, The Avars; Pohl, Die Völkerwanderung.

39 Golden/Ben-Shammai/Róna-Tas, The World of the Khazars; Zhivkov, Khazaria.

demonstrates how even the migration of smaller groups of administrative

46 See also Gordon, The Breaking of a Thousand Swords.

a typology of forced migration of groups in the geopolitical sphere of the East

57 Stephenson, Byzantium’s Balkan Frontier; Preiser-Kapeller, “Byzantinische Geschichte,

Crusading movement, initiated by the Papacy in 1095. From the beginning,

of commerce, opened paths to border-crossing also for non-aristocratic mem-

75 See now Preiser-Kapeller/Mitsiou, “Mercantile and religious mobility”.

Despite the impressive number of forced or voluntary migrations described

86 See also Borgolte, “Migrationen im Mittelalter. Ein Überblick”.

with allegedly distinct homogenous collective identities such as “Slavs”, “Mus-

300 303 Start of 226 Foundation of the 241 Sasanians annex

340 Conversion of King

rules of his sons

476 Deposition of the 458–528 Migrations of

535 Start of the 540–562 War between 533–534 Conquest of

586 Attack of Slavic 588/589 Unification of 580 Ghassanids,

649–650 Arabs raid 632–652 Arab conquest 641/642 Arab conquest

from the Abbasid

811 Defeat of the 811–813 Fourth Civil 800 Trade contacts

Danube region; 864 facto independent

© Preiser-Kapeller et al., �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_002

aterborne migrants according to perceived roles: (1) state-building Normans

© Johannes Koder, �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_004

eorgacas, Phaidon Malingoudis, François Brunet, Gottfried Schramm, and

(Panaitolikon, Arakynthos, Xeromera). They crossed the gulf of Corinth at its

interland after having expelled the local population.38 According to a r eligious

© Florin Curta, �� | doi:10.1163/9789004425613_005