THE SCENE: Sit back and enjoy the tale of the assassination of Emperor Leo the Armenian, which has it all: suspense, violence, comedy, and drama.
THE TEXT: The conspirators mingled discreetly with the clerks, their daggers hidden in their cloaks, and went in with them. They then assembled in a dark corner of the church, awaiting the prearranged signal. As the hymn was being sing, the emperor – who was already there – led off the singing, as was his custom: “for love of the sovereign supreme they poured contempt…” (As we remarked, he had a strident voice.) It was then that the conspirators struck, en masse. Their first attack went awry because they mistook the master of the clerks for the emperor, perhaps because he bore a certain physical resemblance to him; or because he was wearing the same kind of headgear. For it was a cold winter night, so everybody was in heavy clothing and each man had covered his head with a closely fitting pointed felt hat. The master of the clerks averted the danger by removing the cap from his head and accomplished his survival with his baldness.
When the emperor realized that he was being attacked, he went into the sanctuary and seized the thurible by its chains (some say it was the sacred cross) with which to ward off the blows of his attackers. But the conspirators attacked all together, not one at a time. One struck him on the head, another on the belly, each wounding a different part of his body. He was able to resist from some time by parrying the sword thrusts with the sacred cross, but then he was set upon from all sides, like a wild beast. He was already beginning to flag from his wounds when finally, seeing a giant of a man about to deal him a blow, he invoked the grace which inhabited the church with an oath and begged to be spared. This good fellow was one of the Krambonitai family. “This is not the time for swearing oaths, but for killing,” he declared – and dealt [Leo] a blow that cut the arm right through, not only severing it from the collar-bone but also sundering a branch of the cross. Someone also cut off his head, which was already damaged by wounds and hanging down.
– John Skylitzes, Synopsis of Histories, 11th Century AD
