Grettir's Saga

We finally completed our reading of Grettir's Saga, translated by Jesse Byock. This saga was somewhat easier to follow than our last one, as it was focused mostly on a single character instead of a community with its complex genealogies. Of course, the reader is treated to long genealogies and a large cast of characters in this tale of Grettir. Centered on an outlaw who, though physically strong, intelligent, and a clever wordsmith, lacked impulse control and was not inclined to labor, the saga is destined to end poorly for Grettir. His personal disposition and bad luck (particularly after a defeating Glam, a revenant that was terrorizing a part of Iceland) curse him to wander the lands, living on the margins of society yet still respected for defeating berserkers, trolls, and the undead. So the quasi-heroic figure of the outlaw was clearly something that appealed to Icelandic audiences when this saga was written (probably) in the 14th century. 

Perhaps every society requires non-conformers to "rock the boat" and challenge the status quo, as Grettir's complicated life exemplifies. Despite robbing for his survival, and even raping a maidservant in one particularly disturbing episode, even Grettir's enemies eventually support his kinsman after the killer of our protagonist resorts to sorcery to defeat him. Indeed, Grettir's death caused the Althing to prohibit sorcery with the threat of the death penalty, if we recall correctly. Furthermore, the manner in which his brother avenges his death in Constantinople is certainly exceptional, adding to Grettir's renown even after death. Of course, as a saga written by a Christian author, of the Middle Ages, the social order cannot be truly upended or overthrown by the likes of Grettir. Ultimately, rank, status and lineage rule the day, and those who transgress Christian morality will eventually make amends. Thus, the adulterous Spes, who eventually marries Grettir's brother, compensates for her misdeeds and the two end their lives in Rome after seeking penance for their sins. 

Yet one can see a celebration of the Icelandic lifestyle and individuality of the settlers and their early descendants, a period where men (and usually men, although women like Asdis are certainly admired as powerful matriarchs) stood up for their honor and that of their kinsmen without a centralized state attempting to police their behavior. Presumably this explains the appeal of Grettir's Saga to modern Icelanders and foreign readers, who can enjoy the understatement of the characters' lines, Grettir's proverbial speech, and the attempts by one man who refuses to conform forging his own path. Such character archetypes are always appealing to a variety of readers, across time and space. 

Byzantium: The Decline and Fall

The final volume of Norwich's history of Byzantium is a depressing read. After the brief brilliance of the Komnenian Restoration, the disastrous Fourth Crusade and continual imperial disintegration make for repeated disappointment as Anatolia and the Balkans were lost to Western Latins, Balkan powers, and the Turks. However, as Norwich demonstrates, the consequences of Manzikert did not have to lead to the Fourth Crusade. As usual, internal dissension, civil wars, squabbling over the throne, and conflicts with other Christian powers made it increasingly likely that a Turkish victory over Constantinople was inevitable. Along the long road to the 1453 fall,  the reader of this final volume is treated to the various blunders and brilliant tactics made during the Crusades, papal schisms, and shifting realities of the European and Mediterranean Middle Ages. We root for Byzantium, despite see the constant mistakes, errors, and misplaced pleas for help from the West. But, perhaps, the world had long passed the need and room for this Roman Empire. 

Secret History

Now for a writer who brings to mind the polemics of Baron de Vastey on Petion. Procopius's Secret History is an entertaining list of the various flaws, shortcomings, gossip, and demonic traits of Emperor Justinian and Empress Theodora. Of course, General Belisarius and his wife Antonina come into the narrative for the first section, with Belisarius coming off as one of the biggest dupes of the Byzantine Empire for allowing his wife to cheat on him with various men. Justinian and Theodora, however, were even worse. According the invectives of Procopius, Justinian may or may not have really been a demon and his wife was an infamous whore. Together, they were hell-bent on destroying the Roman Empire and ruining their subjects, overthrowing the rule of law, and corrupting every institution. Of course, the reality of the Byzantine Empire during the Age of Justinian was likely quite different, yet the various issues of constant wars, imperial overexpansion, the plague, factional conflict between the Greens and Blues and conflicts over religious doctrine support some of Procopius's concerns with the direction of the Empire. While one must be careful with taking the character portraits of Procopius too literally, one gains insights into the nature of the Byzantine Empire during the crucial 6th century. 

Hysmine and Hysminias

A medieval writer hailing from an elite Constantinople family wrote an erotically charged romance directly inspired by ancient Greek romances preceding him by several centuries. Perhaps most closely based on Achilles Tatius's Leucippe and Clitophon, Eumathios Makrembolites manages to write with perhaps even more ekphrasis than his influences and far more sexually-charged prose. For, Hysmine and Hysminias, despite hailing from the pen of a Christian writer of the Eastern Roman Empire, is far more erotic and, in some passages, pornographic, than anything from Achilles Tatius or the other extant romances. Nonetheless, it makes up for this NSFW quality by featuring far less of the action-packed adventures and exotic travails than Leucippe and Clitophon, with the action of the story taking place mostly in Eurykomis, Aulikomis, Artykomis and Daphnepolis, four unspecified cities linked to various gods (Zeus, Artemis, Apollo) and some hazardous journeys at sea (including the appearance of "Ethiopian" pirates who are presumably the Byzantine equivalent to the dark-skinned Egyptian Nile Delta bandits of Achilles Tatius) . 

Indeed, nearly half of the text is occupied by the initial flirtations and devoted love of Hysmine and Hysminias, with the latter a herald to Hysmine's town for a Zeus festival. Initially unaffected by the arrows of Eros, he falls head over heels for Hysmine after a very lengthy time studied a garden wall painting of the god of love. Eros, or Cupid, is depicted as an emperor to whom all beings fall in tribute, and the use of ekphrasis by Makrembolites serves the plot very effectively and visually. The paintings on the garden wall, their symbolism, and the erotic dreams of Hysminias are all visually rich passages showing the powers of dreams. By the time the two lovers finally elope and plan to sail to Syria, one is glad the action of the story has finally progressed. Separated at sea by Poseidon, the two are separated as Hysmine is sacrificed for the god's appeasement. Left on shore due to his lamentations and grief, Hysminias is kidnapped by black pirates (again, likely inspired by the ancient Egyptian bandits or, perhaps, black pirates who had served with Arab armies in attacks on the Byzantine Empire?) who present an example of the dichotomy of barbarians and Greeks. It is not due to their skin color that they are savage, but their brute nature and non-Greek customs. For what it is worth, these black pirates don't rape their virgin captives, but end up becoming slaves themselves in a raid by the army of Daphnepolis.

Meanwhile, Hysmine is miraculously saved by a dolphin and Eros himself, who carries her to shore. Somehow, Hysmine was taken by the same ship of pirates herself but did not see Hyminias on their trireme. Both eventually end up as slaves who use the subterfuge of appearing to be siblings to resume some of their physical affection. Then, miraculously during the sacrifice at the altar of Apollo, the two are reunited with their parents, demand their freedom from slavery, and marry happily. Like the Greek romances, there is a lot of unexplained and random good fortune to match their misery, but not nearly enough exotic adventures. Moreover, Kratisthenes, the loyal cousin who counseled Hysminias and helped prepare for the doomed elopement to Syria, is not reunited with the family. One cannot help but feel the ancient Greek romances would have included loyal relatives in the triumphal marriage and faily reunion. Further, besides Syria and the dark-skinned pirates, there are no series of travails across the Mediterranean world or Middle East (which may reflect the decreased size of the empire by the time of Makrembolites). The black pirates represent the non-Greek world, but none are given a voice in the narrative besides their debauchery and looting. 

Despite its flaws and shortcomings when compared to the romances which predate it by 800 years, Hysmine and Hysminias remains a fascinating work of a Christian imagination set in the pagan Greek world. It's far more sexual and descriptive of the physical embraces of the hero and heroine, but still puts the ultimate value on virginity before marriage. As a story of the heroine rejecting the approved suitor of her parents for her true love, it stands as a romance urging free love, to a degree. In some respects it also brings to mind Daphnis and Chloe in the initially awkward and clumsy flirtations of the characters learning love for the first time. Yet is in in its dream sequences and examples of ekphrasis where its combination of realistic sexual relationships and pre-Christian gods that show the genius of Makrembolites in building the narrative's world as it is and how it should be. One must read the other contemporary Byzantine romances to further contextualize how Hysmine and Hysminias imagines the pre-Christian past, but one cannot help but feel this is unique in the annals of the genre.