Snippet #1: March of the Doomed.

  #The March of the Doomed: A short recollection of the Byzantine invasion of Crete and the involvement of the King and Queen.

Crete's end was ten years in the making.

That is the lesson that Andreas Arda, the Greco-Turkish director, seeks to teach you in this film: Crete was the target of a plan started nearly more than a decade before the invasion.

Having been captured by exiles from al-Andalus, men and women who had rebelled against a tyrant and met with failure, Crete went from a backwater, irrelevant overseas province, to a dagger poised at the very center of the Byzantine realm. It was not long before this fact imprinted itself in the minds of all those who lived on Byzantine coasts, as the new Emirate, allied with the Tulunids and the Abbasid Caliphate, soon began to ravage the coastal settlements. Burned fields, destroyed villages, and captured thousands, as fleets led by renegade admirals and corsairs made their fortune through raids on the Byzantine Empire.

Once, twice, thrice the Byzantine Empire sought to bring an end to its woes, but it never managed. Every naval battle, every invasion, they all met with failure, and instead garnered only responses it failed to defend against. Thessalonica, the Empire's second biggest city, was sacked by Crete and its allies. The Aegean Islands fell into Cretan control one after another. Cretan fleets sailed so deeply into Byzantine waters that they were less than a hundred miles from Constantinople itself. 

This could not go on. To let the greatest Empire in human history fall to what were slavers and pirates would be a disgrace. Something had to be done. 

Something was.

Constantine VII was an ugly, unlikeable man. He was harsh and uncompromising, known for having few friends. But he had an intellect without equal, and he knew well that Byzantium would not survive as long as the Emirate of Crete also did. Shortly after his ascension, he raised a mighty fleet to invade and reconquer the island. That invasion met with failure, but unlike his predecessors, the 'Purple-Born' Emperor would not be content with a single attempt.

After his fleet's destruction, he immediately began the construction of a new one. He focused on military reforms, and raised up those officers of proven talent and ability. He skilfully navigated the political currents and diverted the attention of Crete's traditional allies away from the Aegean, leaving Crete isolated, and himself with a force that grew in strength every year. He made sure that when it was time to try again, he would muster one of the largest armies in history to finally wipe that pirate coven and all its vermin off God's good earth.

Had Constantine lived long enough, he would have managed to conquer the island, surely, and the Cretan state would never have plagued us all.

But Constantine died before he could have so blessed the world.

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In 959, Emperor Constantine VII died of unknown causes. Some historians believe it to have been the scheming of the court, others that he was poisoned by his own family, but the truth of it does not matter. Constantine was dead, and the Empire fell to his much less capable son, Romanos II, who held far more interests in parties and debauchery than being his father's equal.

But no matter. Constantine had left behind clear instructions, and the plans for Crete's reconquest continued. Once Romanos had finished cementing his rule, the preparation of the fleet continued, and it would not be long until the Byzantine forces obtained their great victory.

Alas, a century and a half of failure had spooked Romanos. Well-aware of the Emirate's resilience, and scared of losing a campaign so early in his rule, he sought further aid to ensure that his father's life effort, which was now his to complete, would succeed without a doubt. 

Enter the man and the woman who history would know as the Broken King and the Blitz Queen. 

At the time, the couple were rather famous mercenaries. Aiding those border territories in Asia Minor that were the constant sites of battle and journeying north to the Kievan Rus and the realms of the Vikings, the King and Queen had garnered a reputation as capable, if somewhat unruly, powered fighters. Though most writings from Romanos are lost to us now, it is believed that the King and Queen were rated, on their lonesome, as comparable to a Turma, a Byzantine military formation consisting of up to five thousand men. They seemingly believed that while the addition of their power would be great, the fact that the actual army itself counted eighty-thousand soldiers would ensure the mercenaries' loyalty. Furthermore, it is said Romanos actually met them personally, and promised them titles of nobility within the Empire itself upon the victorious conclusion of the campaign, something they 'eagerly agreed to'.

Now, with a large army, a large fleet, and two of the most famous mercenaries of the Mediterranean under his command, Romanos felt assured. He quickly gave the order for the invasion to go ahead, and in the autumn of 960, his conquerers sailed forth. 

That was the beginning of the end.

The Byzantine Army was led by Nikephoros Phokas, scion of an influential Byzantine family, and a talented officer that Romanos' father had given his patronage to. By the time he was given command over this force, he had already served in many important positions within the Empire's military, and had proven himself in many battles. Before his death, Constantine had already promised command to Nikephoros, as the two had grown close. 

But Nikephoros and Constantine were not only close, they were alike. Nikephoros was a taciturn, acidic man. He did not get along with many, and cared little for 'feelings'. He only respected those who fought under the realm's authority, and put the soldiery and 'what needed to be done' above the concerns and well-being of the people. The nobles did not like Phokas.

And yet that was not the problem. The King and Queen had never cared for what the nobility of the Byzantine Empire thought. If that had been the issue, everything would have gone well. 

Alas, the issue was that, in the Queen's own words, 'Nikephoros was fucking insufferable'.

Once he landed in Crete, he quickly crushed the foes that had been awaiting him at the beaches. This finished, he proceeded to begin brutalizing their bodies, and when the Queen questioned his intent, the man simply waved her off, insisting that a General had no need to explain himself to a whore. And this went on. Whenever Nikephoros found his acts questioned by the Queen, he chose to disregard her words, insulting her all the while. He did this first when faced with a reverse, then again when brutalizing a relief army, and then continued to do so for the next four months that his army sat around the walls of Crete's capital in a siege.

Nikephoros had so far managed precious victories and found himself on the cusp of triumph, but he'd earned the enmity of the King and Queen.

What happened next is well known. Once Nikephoros' army managed to break into the city of Chandax and defeat its protectors, he instead sought to turn on the starved, sniveling populace. He would see them all killed, and thus cleanse the island of the stench they had given it. The second the order was given, the Queen stormed into his tent, demanding to know the necessity of such disparate bloodletting.

And, unaware of what he was about to cause, Nikephoros simply told her: 'Bother me not, harlot. Your duty is done. Be content in the knowledge that the Emperor will do good on his word to turn you into another of his party whores'.

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It took a decade for Constantine's plan to be put into action.

It took a day for the King and Queen to make it all go up in smoke. 

Long enraged by Nikephoros, the King waited only on the go-ahead of his wife before ripping every single man in the Byzantine camp in half. The Queen slaughtered every single soldier within Chandax's walls and piled them in front of Nikephoros' own sobbing eyes. 

An army ten years in the making, the greatest show of imperial might in well over a century, the last chance to wipe the Saracens off the map, all shattered so greatly that they would never recover due to the tongue of a single man. It was a tragedy fit to make every Emperor of Rome up to then wail in despair.

Nikephoros was given the whole of Byzantium's hopes to save the Empire, and instead he only managed to create eighty-thousand grieving mothers, as the King and Queen single-handedly tore each and every one of their sons apart, ensuring that Crete would outlast them all.

And the Mediterranean cries out in despair at such a fact.