Amid the civil wars of the 1070s, Roussel de Bailleul, a Frankish mercenary turned rebel, defeats Caesar John Doukas near the Sangarios bridge and takes him and his son Andronikos hostage. Roussel then secures the nearby cities and encamps at a fortress by Mount Sophon, plotting to seize the empire. In the meantime, his hostage Andronikos is gravely wounded and needs to return to the capital for treatment. Roussel agrees on one condition: that the Caesar’s young grandsons be exchanged as hostages and kept near the fortress.
The young boys are taken and placed under the care of their eunuch tutors, who befriend a local farmer and ask him if he knows the roads to Nikomedeia. Learning that he is able to travel even at night through the mountains to reach the city, they devise a prudent yet daring plan. With a promise of money, they persuade the farmer to guide them out of the fortress while the guards are asleep. They wait for a moonless, pitch-dark night, steal the key to the gate, and instruct the farmer to wait just outside. When all the guards have fallen asleep, the older boy’s tutor leads him downstairs and then outside. As the second tutor and the younger boy follow, a creak on the ladder alerts the guards, who leap up and demand to know what is happening. To cover the escape and explain why they are up and wandering at night, the tutor pretends to be helping the boy relieve himself. When answering the guards, he raises his voice to warn those already outside. The first tutor and the farmer seize the moment and flee with the older boy on their shoulders.
The guards grab their torches and search the quarters. Finding the beds empty, they beat the tutor left behind and crush his legs with clubs to find out where the others are. He bravely keeps silent. Meanwhile, the fugitives climb a wooded mountain and hide, watching their pursuers from above. When the pursuers eventually turn back, the escapees descend from the mountains by night and reach Nikomedeia by sunrise.
This suspenseful story comes from Nikephoros Bryennios’ twelfth-century Material for History (Ὕλη ἱστορίας), written at the request of Empress Eirene Doukaina to record the deeds of her husband, Alexios I Komnenos.Footnote 1 The work abounds in such narratives, told with striking simplicity and animated by a wide range of actions and emotions, which make them both accessible and engaging. Nikephoros’ writing was praised for such qualities in his lifetime and continues to captivate readers and scholars today.
In this article, I undertake a narratological analysis of Nikephoros’ anecdotes to deepen our understanding of their impact. I begin by situating them within modern scholarship on Byzantine historiography and the Byzantine understanding of embedded narratives. I then analyse the key elements that enhance the effectiveness of Nikephoros’ storytelling by employing narratological concepts such as eventfulness, tellability, and narrativity. Next, I examine how the anecdotes mimic oral storytelling practices to create an engaging narrative that is suitable for performative settings. Finally, I explore how they cultivate an immersive experience. The article concludes by outlining the defining features of Nikephoros’ anecdotes and suggesting how these criteria might be used for further research across the broader historiographical corpus.
The reception of Bryennios’ Material for History and its anecdotal style
Nikephoros adopts an unconventional approach by choosing not to classify his work as ‘history’ but entitling it Ὕλη ἱστορίας (‘Material for History’). Vlada Stanković has argued that Nikephoros uses the term ὕλη to assert the ‘truthfulness’ of his work and to emphasize that it was based on his personal recollections or those of his family members.Footnote 2 According to Stanković, this is reflected in the structure and style of the work, which he sees as a composition of ‘facts’ that ‘lacks rearrangement or excessive elaboration’.Footnote 3 Nikephoros explains his choice of title as follows:
Εἰ δὲ μὴ πασῶν ἐφικέσθαι δυνηθείη ὁ λόγος, ἐπισυριττέτω τούτῳ μηδείς· οὔτε γὰρ ἱστορίαν συγγράφειν προῄρημαι οὔτε πλέκειν ἐκείνῳ ἐγκώμιον – μόλις γὰρ ἂν πρὸς ταῦτα ἥ τε Θουκυδίδου δεινότης καὶ τὸ Δημοσθένους ἐξήρκεσε μεγαλόφωνον – ἀλλ’ ἀφορμήν τινα παρασχεῖν βουλόμενος τοῖς τὰ ἐκείνου συγγράφειν ἐθέλουσι πρὸς ταυτηνὶ τὴν γραφὴν ἐξώρμησα· ταύτῃ τοι καὶ Ὕλη ἱστορίας ὄνομα ἔστω τῷ λόγῳ. Ἀρκτέον οὖν ἡμῖν ἐντεῦθεν.
But if my narrative fails to tell them all [Alexios Komnenos’ deeds], let no one mock it. In fact, I have neither set out to write a history nor to compose a eulogy to him – for the forcefulness of Thucydides and the grandiloquence of Demosthenes would hardly suffice – but it is with the intention to provide resources to those who plan to write about his deeds that I set out on this present work. This is why the title of my narrative should be Material for History. Let us start now.Footnote 4
This passage reveals Nikephoros’ feigned modesty as well as his commitment to rhetorical directness. He admits his lack of Thucydides’ forcefulness (δεινότης) in historiography and Demosthenes’ eloquence (μεγαλόφωνον) in eulogy, both stylistic considerations.Footnote 5 Such declarations of modesty often serve as topoi in historical proems, but in Nikephoros’ work, this modesty is evident in practice too. As will be shown in the analysis below, Nikephoros’ style, which might be described as ‘raw’ by modern standards, does not guarantee factual accuracy or reliance on personal experience but is characterized by anecdotes that blend simple yet effective oral storytelling elements in written form that give the illusion of truth.
Photios’ Bibliotheca similarly uses the phrase ὕλη ἱστορίας in relation to style. In his review of Olympiodoros’ fifth-century history, Photios criticizes Olympiodoros’ style as too simple (ἀφελείᾳ) and vulgar (χυδαιολογίαν) to be considered history, noting that even Olympiodoros saw his work as merely material for historical composition (ὕλη συγγραφῆς and ὕλη ἱστορίας).Footnote 6 Still, Photios devotes one of his longest entries to this work, recounting its stories in detail, which suggests that, though its style placed it outside the highest historical genre, it retained narrative appeal.
The raw and anecdotal nature of Bryennios’ Material for History has significantly influenced its modern reception. Alexander Kazhdan described it as a ‘memoir’ and ‘forerunner of romance’, ‘with the core of the tale being the marriage of Alexios and Irene’.Footnote 7 According to Kazhdan, Nikephoros departs from the conventional focus on imperial actions, what he would presumably classify as history, and instead foregrounds aristocratic rivalries.Footnote 8 Such labels effectively exclude Bryennios’ narrative from the genre of classicizing historiography and its prestige in Byzantine studies.Footnote 9 Since genre has long served as a criterion for defining and valuing Byzantine literature, for both Byzantine authors and modern scholars from Karl Krumbacher to Herbert Hunger,Footnote 10 such classifications have had a lasting impact on the work’s reception. Although Paul Gautier’s critical edition and French translation appeared in 1975, a comprehensive analysis of Nikephoros’ history only emerged with Leonora Neville’s Heroes and Romans in Twelfth-Century Byzantium in 2012.Footnote 11
Bryennios’ work long remained overshadowed by other historical writings of the period, especially Anna Komnene’s Alexiad. Remarkably, it was debates over the Alexiad’s authorship that brought his anecdotes into focus. At a 1989 conference, James Howard-Johnston (in)famously asserted that much of the Alexiad was Bryennios’ work, noting the shared anecdotes between the two histories and claiming that Anna, as an imperial princess with different intellectual pursuits, lacked both the life experience and inclination to compose a historical narrative.Footnote 12 While Howard-Johnston briefly analysed Nikephoros’ skills as an author, later scholarship focused mainly on affirming Anna’s authorship rather than analysing Nikephoros’ narrative technique.Footnote 13 The neglect of Nikephoros’ work prompted Elizabeth Jeffreys’ 2003 chapter ‘Nikephoros Bryennios reconsidered’.Footnote 14 Jeffreys connects Nikephoros’ use of anecdotes to the schedographic educational practices of the twelfth century, in which students studied excerpts rather than complete texts.Footnote 15 She suggests that his education may have been curtailed, limiting his engagement with complete literary compositions and thus fostering his preference for anecdotal writing.Footnote 16 Jeffreys finds Nikephoros noteworthy not for his authorial skills but for his willingness, as a military aristocrat, to undertake a historical work.Footnote 17
As mentioned earlier, the real re-evaluation of Nikephoros materialized only in 2012 through Neville’s comprehensive study of the ancient Roman values permeating Nikephoros’ narrative.Footnote 18 Neville emphasizes the Byzantine penchant for narrative complexity and demonstrates that Nikephoros blends factual accounts with literary flair to convey a distinct outlook on historical events. She describes Nikephoros’ history as ‘made up of fairly short stories woven together into a larger narrative’ and with individual episodes that could provide ‘an evening’s entertainment without overly burdening an audience’ but does not focus on this quality specifically.Footnote 19 After reviewing expectations from Byzantine history writing, both Byzantine and modern, this article will offer the first sustained attempt to address fundamental questions about the storytelling mechanics of Nikephoros’ anecdotes.
Anecdotes and the pleasure of historiography
Anecdotes are usually defined as short, amusing, or interesting stories about well-known incidents and persons.Footnote 20 They tend to centre on a single event or scene,Footnote 21 often capturing interest by unveiling hidden or private aspects of famous individuals.Footnote 22 They typically follow a three-act structure of ‘exposition, encounter or crisis, and resolution’ and feature quotes in the form of bons mots.Footnote 23 Though often preserved in writing, they retain traits of oral storytelling.Footnote 24 The form we now call the ‘anecdote’ ultimately traces back to Prokopios’ Secret History.Footnote 25 Rediscovered in 1623 by a Vatican archivist, it was given the names Anekdota (meaning unpublished material in Greek) and Historia Arcana (Secret History).Footnote 26 Its sensational stories soon inspired seventeenth- and eighteenth-century collections of entertaining tales about the elite, shaping the understanding of the term that endures today.Footnote 27
In modern scholarship on Byzantine historical writing, however, the anecdote is not treated as a fixed category. Scholars variously refer to such embedded stories as digressions, anecdotes, or episodes, with no consensus on their definition or narrative role. Byzantine authors used the term parekbasis for digressions disrupting the narrative flow, and modern scholars have often followed suit. Yet, attitudes toward digression have differed across time. In a recent collected volume titled Storytelling in Byzantium, several contributors argue that digressions interrupt the plot and reduce clarity.Footnote 28 Likewise, echoing his judgment of Nikephoros’ work, Alexander Kazhdan claimed that George the Monk should not be regarded as a historian: his primary focus was entertaining the audience with ‘anecdotes, miraculous phenomena, and atrocities’ and not on ‘factuality’ or ‘sequence of events’.Footnote 29 Yet, George the Monk’s enduring popularity in his time and the frequent reuse of his anecdotes suggest that Byzantines valued these narrative units rather differently.Footnote 30
Other scholars have emphasized the functioning of anecdotes. Anthony Kaldellis, for instance, rejects the view that Prokopios’ Wars is filled with ‘merely silly and entertaining digressions’, arguing instead that they carry subversive political force.Footnote 31 Kaldellis introduces a terminological shift, preferring the term ‘anecdotes’ over ‘digressions’, as he attributes a distinct purpose to Prokopios’ embedded short narratives; yet, this shift does not fully engage with the formal qualities associated with anecdotes. Ralph-Johannes Lilie has likewise stressed the anecdote’s role in characterization through deeds and in offering commentary on events.Footnote 32 These perspectives, although valuable in their own right, focus either on content or on how anecdotes relate to the whole. They do not, however, discuss their narrative impact.
Byzantines themselves seem to have valued the infusion of pleasure (ἡδονή) into historical writing by means of storytelling and digressions, actively seeking it and assessing the styles that produced it. Photios, for example, applying Hermogenes’ stylistic criteria, acknowledges the sweetness (γλυκύτης) of Herodotus’ myths (μυθολογίαι) and digressions (παρεκβάσεις), even when they occasionally obscured historical understanding and the appropriate form of historical writing.Footnote 33 Photios notes that Ctesias’ use of digressions surpasses that of Herodotus, highlighting their judicious timing.Footnote 34 He states that ‘the pleasure (ἡδονή) derived from Ctesias’ history stems for the most part from the construction of his stories, which possess much emotion and surprise, along with nearly mythical embellishments’ (Ἡ δὲ ἡδονὴ τῆς ἱστορίας αὐτοῦ τὸ πλεῖστον ἐν τῇ τῶν διηγημάτων αὐτοῦ γίνεται διασκευῇ τὸ παθητικὸν καὶ ἀπροσδόκητον ἐχούσῃ πολύ, καὶ τὸ ἐγγὺς τοῦ μυθώδους αὐτὴν διαποικίλλειν).Footnote 35 Thus, while poorly placed or long digressions were criticized, well-crafted ones that sustained suspense and emotion were desirable.
Such views are also found in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Michael Attaleiates, perhaps the most didactic Byzantine historian of the eleventh century, boasts of ‘having extended his narrative’ (εἶτα παρατείνας τὸν λόγον) and ‘having adorned it as if with certain seasonings’ (ἐξαρτύσας, ὡς ἐν ἡδύσμασί τισι), and of producing a diverse book (ποικίλην τινὰ βίβλον) like a meadow teeming with flowers (ὥσπερ λειμῶνα τοῖς ἄνθεσι βρύουσαν).Footnote 36 Similar sentiments are articulated in the twelfth century. In a verse scholium on Thucydides, Tzetzes (addressing Thucydides himself) outlines the proper qualities of historical writing:
Τῶν ἱστορούντων τεχνικὸν λόγον νόει
σαφῆ μετ’ ὄγκου, πειστικόν, γλυκὺν ἅμα
καὶ γοργὸν οὗ χρή, πῇ δὲ καὶ μῆκος φέρειν
Understand the kind of speech that is appropriate for historians:
clear with grandeur, persuasive, yet sweet
and dense where necessary, but in other places expansive.Footnote 37
Similarly, Eustathios of Thessalonike, another twelfth-century scholar, praises Homer for spicing up his poem with additional historical narratives (ἱστορίαι) that break up monotony and relax the reader.Footnote 38 He likewise values expanding the narrative through means including but not limited to the ‘insertion of additional episodes’ and ‘historical narratives’.Footnote 39 Taken together, these reflections show that Byzantine scholars had an eye to their readers’ interests and considered seasoning, sweetening, and expanding the narrative with digressions and embedded narratives essential for creating a pleasant and engaging reading experience.
Recently, there has been a paradigm shift in approaching the literariness of and entertainment in Byzantine literature and history writing. Paul Magdalino argues that Byzantine histories, as works of literature, contain elements that are designed to entertain.Footnote 40 Likewise, Lilie underlines that ‘Byzantines placed much greater value in the entertainment factor’.Footnote 41 Significantly, Stratis Papaioannou has pointed out that Byzantine historians took ‘pleasure’ in their digressions and defended their value.Footnote 42 He has also argued that Byzantine rhetorical culture placed pleasure and sensory engagement at the core of the reading experience, alongside rather than subordinate to moral or scholarly aims.Footnote 43
To scrutinize the distinct appeal of Nikephoros’ anecdotes, I here employ the narratological concepts of eventfulness, tellability, narrativity, and immersion. While scholars have emphasized these concepts’ importance in narrative effectiveness,Footnote 44 they have not been previously applied to the analysis of anecdotes or Byzantine historiography. This approach provides a fresh lens for understanding not only the narrative appeal of Nikephoros’ work but also the use of anecdotes in Byzantine history writing.
Eventfulness and tellability in Bryennios’ anecdotes
In narrative theory, an event signifies a change of state with regard to a character or a situation within a narrative. These shifts can either follow a logical and predictable trajectory or unfold in unpredictable ways.Footnote 45 Eventfulness refers to the extent to which narratives integrate unexpected occurrences deviating from anticipated outcomes.Footnote 46 This quality is not strictly defined; rather, it depends on contextual factors such as genre conventions, cultural context, and audience interpretation.Footnote 47
Eventfulness plays a crucial role in determining a story’s ‘tellability’, which is a term used to refer to a narrative’s ‘newsworthiness’ and suitability of being recounted.Footnote 48 According to Labov and Weletzky, the pioneering sociolinguists of oral storytelling, most narratives ‘emphasize the strange and unusual character of the situation’, introducing an ‘element of mystery’ that serves as the focal ‘point’ of storytelling.Footnote 49 Storytellers further underscore such points with evaluative comments.Footnote 50 When assessing whether an event is worth telling (and whether the point will land), storytellers must consider its relevance to the intended audience.Footnote 51 Furthermore, just like eventfulness, tellability hinges not only on deviations from the anticipated narrative trajectory but on the degree to which these events deviate from ‘canonicity’ or represent a ‘violation of cultural norms’.Footnote 52
Byzantine appreciation for eventfulness in historical narratives is exemplified by Photios’ aforementioned admiration for the unforeseen twists in Ctesias. Likewise, Eustathios praises the Iliad for its unexpected turns, surprising twists, and novelty in expression.Footnote 53 He specifically remarks that a scene without surprise would be ‘simple and not worth hearing’ (ἁπλοῦν … καὶ οὐκ ἐπιστρεπτικὸν ἀκοῆς).Footnote 54 Nikephoros’ anecdotes seem to exhibit notable degrees of eventfulness and tellability by Byzantine standards. They portray prominent figures embroiled in extraordinary circumstances, either transgressing cultural norms to scandalous degrees or embodying cultural virtues so exceptional that their actions are worthy of retelling. Nikephoros specifically draws attention to the extraordinary nature of these stories and their worthiness of being told.Footnote 55 He also depicts the emotive responses of characters within the narratives, who often express astonishment, disbelief, or amusement.Footnote 56
Most of these features appear in the anecdote summarized at the start of the article. Nikephoros opens by stressing its eventfulness and tellability: ‘It was then that the teachers of the two little ones accomplished an action which deserves to be remembered’ (Ἐνταῦθα δέδραστό τι παρὰ τῶν παιδαγωγῶν τῶν νέων ἄξιον μνήμης).Footnote 57 Eunuchs, usually depicted as timid or sinister in Byzantine sources, here display unexpected heroism by orchestrating the escape and enduring torture.Footnote 58 Nikephoros specifically underlines these aspects by calling the plan ‘prudent and at the same time daring’ (συνετὴν ἅμα καὶ τολμηράν).Footnote 59 He remarks, ‘it was a sight to see the endurance of this eunuch, frail in body yet displaying a spirit worthy of admiration and beyond words’ (ἦν ἰδεῖν ὑπομονὴν ἀνδρὸς ἐκτομίου, ἀσθενοῦς μὲν τῷ σώματι, γενναίου δέ, ὡς ἔδειξε, τὴν ψυχὴν ἐπαίνων ἀξίαν καὶ λόγου κρείττονα).Footnote 60
Another striking example of eventfulness and tellability in Nikephoros’ anecdotes appears in his account of the trial of Anna Dalassene, the formidable mother of Emperor Alexios I Komnenos, during the Doukai persecution of Romanos IV Diogenes and his supporters.Footnote 61 Nikephoros starts the anecdote by immediately pointing to its tellability and eventfulness, stating that ‘The one who ever bears a grudge against good people [sc. the devil] caused a persecution against the Komnenoi and it must be said what it was’ (Ὁ δὲ τοῖς καλοῖς βασκαίνων ἀεὶ διωγμόν τινα ἐξήγειρε κατὰ τῶν Κομνηνῶν καὶ ὅστις λεκτέον).Footnote 62 Dalassene, a mother and a well-known noblewoman whom Nikephoros describes with the epithets ‘noble, valiant, and prudent’ (εὐγενὴς καὶ γενναία καὶ σώφρων), is accused of scheming against the Doukai with calumny and fabricated letters.Footnote 63 The episode is exceptional both because Byzantine women were expected to be compliant and because such accusations clash with Dalassene’s moral and social stature.Footnote 64 Nikephoros further emphasizes the absurdity of the situation by noting that the young emperor Michael Doukas was ashamed (ᾐδέσθη) to be present at the trial.Footnote 65 In court, Dalassene makes a dramatic gesture. She suddenly reveals an image of the ‘Supreme Judge’ (Christ) hidden under her coat, declaring, ‘Here is the Judge who will decide today between you and me. Take a good look at Him and render a sentence not unworthy of the Judge who knows the secrets’ (‘οὗτος’, ἔφη, ‘δικαστὴς ἐμοῦ τε καὶ ὑμῶν καθίσταται σήμερον, πρὸς ὃν ἀτενίζοντες ψήφους ἐκφέρετε μὴ ἀναξίας τοῦ δικαστοῦ τοῦ εἰδότος τὰ κρύφια’).Footnote 66 Dalassene’s defiant act, the anecdote’s centrepiece and its bon mot, challenges courtroom decorum and awakens some of those present to her innocence. Yet, Dalassene is convicted. The anecdote reaches a resolution. Nikephoros exclaims, ‘What stupidity! What presumption! O fools!’ (Βαβαὶ τῆς ἀσυνεσίας. Ποία πρόληψις, ὦ ἐμβρόντητοι …), a reaction that further underscores the eventfulness and heightened tellability of this anecdote.Footnote 67
Modern theorists of narrative have emphasized that humour, particularly transgressive humour, plays an important role in stories’ tellability.Footnote 68 The use of physical comedy, mockery, and derision for entertainment in Byzantine culture has been extensively explored in eleventh and twelfth-century Byzantine literary sources.Footnote 69 Specifically, analyses of historical narratives have revealed a penchant for ‘farcical humour’, featuring exaggerated situations and absurdities, ‘ribald slapstick’ characterized by coarse, vulgar, and exaggerated actions, often involving physical comedy. In addition, there is an inclination to Schadenfreude along with tendencies towards cruel humiliation, ‘obscenity’, and ‘crudity’. These elements are particularly evident in ‘anecdotes’ that feature bodily functions such as defecation or urination.Footnote 70 Nikephoros demonstrates a keen awareness of these comic traditions, especially when depicting characters who challenge social norms, as in the case of Caesar John Doukas’s grandchildren’s escape, where the eunuch tutor uses a feigned bathroom break to aid their getaway.
Another cruel ‘comical’ anecdote that features a bodily function is the treatment of the eunuch Protovestiarios John.Footnote 71 When young Alexios Komnenos, then a general, fails to act against the rebel Nikephoros Melissenos, Emperor Nikephoros III Botaneiates transfers troops under Alexios’ control to Protovestiarios John. During the handover, Alexios, owing to his reckless youth, does a swaggering farewell ride to the troops by riding his horse without holding its reins. Protovestiarios John imitates the gesture, and, as Nikephoros notes, ‘the eunuch John forgot what kind of person he was’ (Ὁ γοῦν ἐκτομίας Ἰωάννης ἐπιλαθόμενος οἷον ἑαυτοῦ).Footnote 72 The soldiers respond with laughter and mockery, mimicking the sound of eunuchs urinating with the sound ‘klou klou’.Footnote 73 The episode exemplifies how bodily and transgressive humour heightens a story’s tellability by provoking laughter within the storyworld.
Narrativity and the illusion of authenticity and orality in anecdotes
Besides being highly eventful and tellable, Nikephoros’ anecdotes demonstrate a high degree of narrativity. Gérard Prince defines narrativity as the degree to which a text displays features that make it ‘more prototypically narrative-like’, hence, ‘more immediately identified, processed, and interpreted as narratives’.Footnote 74 Narrativity, in his view, is a scalar feature that increases with the presence of various culturally contingent elements. However, among the more common features that heighten narrativity, he notes, is the extent to which a narrative forms an ‘autonomous whole’ of connected events featuring conflicts that resonate with human experiences.Footnote 75
On the level of the individual anecdotes, Nikephoros features characters in eventful and tellable situations that he shapes into recognizable and autonomous narrative units. As can be seen in the aforementioned anecdotes, Nikephoros employs a simple linear storyline centring on one event and following a three-act structure comprising exposition, crisis, and resolution.Footnote 76 Such narrative arrangement gives his episodes the coherence and completeness that Prince associates with high narrativity. In narrative structures such as these, opening phrases such as ‘one day’, ‘once upon a time’, or ‘they say’ establish a narrative’s starting point, while concluding phrases such as ‘and they lived happily ever after’ provide closure.Footnote 77 As we have seen in earlier examples, Nikephoros’ anecdotes are notable for their explicit beginnings and endings, punctuated by the narrator’s comments that signal the story’s beginning or conclusion while underscoring its significance. Prince observes that narrativity increases when such commentary actively guides the audience.Footnote 78
In the Material for History, character movements also play a role in marking the beginning and end of anecdotes. For example, in Anna Dalassene’s trial, the anecdote begins with Anna Dalassene entering the courtroom (Εἴσεισι γοῦν ἡ γενναία καὶ μεγαλόψυχος φαιδρῷ τῷ προσώπῳ); at the end of the tale, she is exiled to the Prinkipos island.Footnote 79 In the anecdote of Caesar John Doukas’ grandchildren, the action in the anecdote starts with both Roussel de Bailleul and the captives arriving at Bithynia. The anecdote ends when the escape party reaches Nikomedeia ‘at the first smile of day’ (μειδιώσης ἡμέρας), which emphasizes the feeling of reaching safety and concludes the main event of the anecdote.Footnote 80 These spatial markers and clear narrative openings and closures transform historical episodes into stories with distinct temporal arcs and event sequences.
On the level of the larger work, these anecdotes enhance narrativity by being connected to one another and feeding into the broader historical narrative. When introducing or concluding an anecdote, Nikephoros carefully situates it within the flow of events. For example, the escape of John Doukas’ grandchildren begins against the backdrop of Roussel de Bailleul’s movements after the battle along the Sangarios, when he encamps at a fortress while plotting to overthrow the Roman Empire.Footnote 81 The story ends with the children’s departure. Yet, Nikephoros does not allow the thread to close entirely. He concludes by hinting, ‘Thus it happened that one of the Caesar’s hostage grandsons was saved, but more on that later’ (οὕτως συνέβη σωθῆναι τὸν ἕνα τῶν ὁμηρευόντων ἐκγόνων τοῦ καίσαρος, ἀλλὰ ταῦτα μὲν ὕστερον), leaving readers to anticipate what comes next while connecting the anecdote to the larger narrative.Footnote 82 By creating continuity across episodes and generating readerly anticipation, Nikephoros makes discrete stories part of the whole.
Furthermore, aware of the potential difficulty for readers in following the connections among his anecdotes, Nikephoros occasionally provides contextual cues. One example appears in his broader account of the Doukai’s consolidation of power after Emperor Romanos IV’s capture by the Turkish sultan Alp Arslan following the Battle of Manzikert. Nikephoros interlaces several developments as the Doukai faction moves to eliminate Romanos’ remaining allies in both the capital and Anatolia. While narrating the events in Anatolia, Nikephoros introduces Romanos’ ally Chatatourios as an able and noble general of Armenian origin who, out of gratitude for past favours, comes to Romanos’ aid at a critical moment.Footnote 83 He then recounts the trial of Anna Dalassene, another supporter of Romanos, in Constantinople.Footnote 84 After this, the narrative returns to Kilikia, where Nikephoros resumes the story of Chatatourios, who is captured naked in the mountains by Andronikos Doukas. At this point, Nikephoros explicitly reminds the reader of Chatatourios’ earlier mention by stating ‘Chatatourios the Armenian, whom the narrative has already mentioned above’ (τῷ Χατατουρίῳ Ἀρμενίῳ, ὃν φθάσας ἐδήλωσεν ἄνωθεν ὁ λόγος) before narrating the anecdote in full.Footnote 85 This cross-reference functions as a signpost that guides the readers. As such, Nikephoros sustains narrative coherence and reinforces the sense of a unified story unfolding across multiple locales.
Marie-Laure Ryan’s ‘window’ metaphor offers a useful lens for understanding the discursive strategies of narrativity at work throughout Nikephoros’ text. Ryan underlines that although events may occur simultaneously and in different locations within a narrative, they must be sequentially presented in discourse.Footnote 86 She draws attention to the ability of narratives to shift their focus across different corners of the reference world, referring to each distinct space and time as narrative windows.Footnote 87 She emphasizes the narrator’s crucial role in facilitating these transitions through ‘transition-signalling sentences’.Footnote 88 All of the above elements, such as explicit openings and closures, character movements, and the narrator’s commentary, can be understood as transition-signalling sentences that manage the ‘windows’ of Nikephoros’ anecdotes. By guiding the reader across these narrative windows, Nikephoros ensures that each anecdote remains both a self-contained unit and a connected fragment within the unfolding historical narrative.
Monika Fludernik’s work further clarifies how Nikephoros’ anecdotes achieve narrativity. Fludernik argues that anecdotes, especially historical anecdotes, occupy a unique position at the intersection of written and oral genres. She considers anecdotes sophisticated literary pieces that project an illusion of truth and authentic oral storytelling in written form; it is precisely this sense of naturalness that endows them with a high degree of narrativity.Footnote 89 Fludernik’s insights converge with similar observations in Byzantine literary studies. Charis Messis and Stratis Papaioannou, for instance, note that in Byzantine rhetorical training students were expected to recognize, memorize, and reproduce short stories (ἱστορίαι) from Greco-Roman and Byzantine history, Greek mythology, and everyday life. They posit that such short stories shared structural and thematic elements with earlier orally originating stories (διηγήσεις) and themselves ‘simulated orality’.Footnote 90 In this way, their findings parallel Fludernik’s emphasis on the oral underpinnings of anecdotes and their narrativity, but within a specifically Byzantine literary context.
I identify three specific techniques in Nikephoros’ anecdotes that contribute to the illusion of oral storytelling and authenticity: the use of rhetorical questions, the insertion of direct discourse, and the use of the present tense at key narrative moments. His rhetorical questions simulate oral practices of tellability, where storytellers highlight the extraordinary to capture attention.Footnote 91 These questions anticipate the audience’s ‘how’ and ‘why’ and underscore the remarkable nature of events. For instance, in describing Isaac Komnenos’ plan to lure Patriarch Emilian out of Antioch, Nikephoros asks, ‘but what is he engineering?’ (Ἀλλὰ τί μηχανᾶται;) before unfolding Isaac’s scheme in the present tense, too.Footnote 92 Nikephoros reveals the plan of Eunuch Nikephoritzes similarly with a present-tense question and answer.Footnote 93 Finally, Nikephoros inserts exhortations to his readers, as when he rebukes Anna Dalassene’s punishment. Such interjections extend the sense of dialogue and sustain the illusion of spontaneous storytelling.
Nikephoros also includes dialogues and direct quotations alongside present-tense depictions of accompanying gestures and movements. These have important effects on the impact of Nikephoros’ storytelling. Direct discourse, scholars note, creates moments of full viewpoint alignment between narrator, character, and audience, simulating the effect of live conversation.Footnote 94 Likewise, research has demonstrated that readers are more likely to adopt a character’s perspective when stories are told in the present.Footnote 95 Furthermore, Fludernik, drawing on oral storytelling, shows that switches to the present typically mark turning points of heightened tellability and suspense.Footnote 96 In Western medieval writings, the present tense has been viewed as a vestige of orality, often used at climactic moments,Footnote 97 as well as a marker of ‘vividness’ and ‘immediacy’.Footnote 98 More recently, Zuzana Dzurillová and Markéta Kulhánková have shown that the historical present marks narrative turns and draws attention to salient events in both the higher register Grottaferrata and the lower register Escorial versions of Digenes Akrites. While in the Grottaferrata version historical present is relatively rare, in the Escorial version it clusters around verbs of motion and speech, slowing narration, amplifying visualization, and fostering immersion. Dzurillová and Kulhánková connect this dynamic to E’s closer connection to orality.Footnote 99 Similar dynamics are evident in Nikephoros’ use of the present tense. For example, Anna Dalassene ‘enters’ (εἴσεισι) the courtroom in the present tense; her dramatic act of displaying the cross is likewise narrated in the present (ἐξάγει) and is followed by her direct speech to the jury. The actions that feature direct discourse and present tense form the anecdote’s most climactic moment.
As Messis and Papaioannou highlight, ‘the [Byzantine] literature, whether learned or less learned, which was produced and circulated primarily in written form was oriented almost always also toward orality in the sense that it anticipated or was expected to be read (also) aloud and to be heard by an audience’.Footnote 100 Of twelfth-century literature Mullett notes that even ‘[t]he most uncompromisingly literary works, it is now accepted, were written for performance in the theatra of Constantinople’.Footnote 101 The features that lend Nikephoros’ anecdotes the illusion of oral storytelling should therefore be considered in their reading contexts. These anecdotes are particularly well suited to dramatized and performative readings in which readers assumed certain postures or appearances and even acted out dialogues by giving voices to different characters.Footnote 102 Nikephoros’ narrative, moreover, was produced under the patronage of Eirene Doukaina, herself associated with a theatron. While I do not argue that all Byzantine anecdotes were composed with performance in mind or that Nikephoros’ history was intended exclusively for performance, the twelfth-century literary context, and its potential interaction with written narratives, cannot be disregarded when assessing the efficacy of Nikephoros’ anecdotes.
Immersion and experientiality in Bryennios’ writings
In the preceding sections, I examined the qualities that make Nikephoros’ anecdotes eventful, tellable, recognizably narrative-like, and evocative of oral storytelling. In this section, I turn to the immediate impact of Nikephoros’ anecdotes on their audiences. The correspondence between Nikephoros and Michael Italikos, a member of Eirene Doukaina’s theatron, provides valuable insight into how Nikephoros’ writings were received in his lifetime. Italikos writes:
Σὺ δέ μοι λέγε, εἰ βούλει, καὶ λόχους καὶ φάλαγγας καὶ τὰ παντοδαπὰ τούτων σχήματα καὶ τὰς παρατάξεις καὶ τὰς συντάξεις καὶ τοὺς οὐραγωγοὺς καὶ τοὺς λοχαγοὺς καὶ τοὺς ἡμιλοχίτας ἢ διμοιρίτας καὶ τὰς σὰς ὑπερφαλαγγώσεις, ἵνα καὶ πλέον καταπλήξῃς ἡμᾶς τοῖς ὀνόμασιν. Ἀλλὰ τούτοις μὲν ἐφόβησας, τοῖς δὲ Παφλαγονικοῖς ὀνόμασι καὶ διέχεας, ὥσπερ ἀπὸ τραγῳδίας εἰς κωμῳδίαν μεταβιβάζων τὸν λόγον· ἐγὼ μὲν γὰρ εὐθὺς ἀκούσας τὸν παρ’ αὐτοῖς ὑποστάτην καὶ τὸν † κατηχάριον † ἐξεκάγχασα, οἷον ἐγὼ τοῖς τοιούτοις ἐκθνῄσκων τῷ γέλωτι, καὶ σύ μοι πολλάκις μετεδίδους πολλῶν τοιούτων χαρίτων, ἵνα μᾶλλον γελῶ αὐτός.
Tell me, if you wish, about ambushes and phalanxes, and all their various formations and deployments and arrangements, and leaders and captains, or skirmishers and detachments, and your outflanking manoeuvres, so that you may astonish us more with these names. While with these names [sc. military vocabulary] you frightened us, with the names of the Paphlagonians you entertained us, transferring the discourse from tragedy to comedy. For I, upon hearing the …, burst into laughter immediately, as if on the point of dying with laughter, and many times you imparted to me many such charms that I might laugh even more.Footnote 103
It is not certain that this passage refers to the Material for History, but the content and style that Italikos highlights make it likely. Italikos delights in Nikephoros’ blend of serious themes with humour. He appreciates the relief from weighty military discourse. He becomes relaxed (διαχέω) through entertainment and feels as if he might ‘die of laughter’ (οἷον ἐγὼ τοῖς τοιούτοις ἐκθνῄσκων τῷ γέλωτι). Centuries later, Howard-Johnston would describe the same quality, noting that reading Nikephoros feels like being ‘whisked away from the deadening influence of a classicizing mandarin culture to living contemporary storytelling’.Footnote 104 Both responses point to a shared experience of pleasurable immersion, meaning the deep mental, emotional, and visceral involvement of the audience in Nikephoros’ anecdotes.
At the core of immersion lies experientiality, a term coined by Fludernik to describe a narrative’s capacity to evoke real-life experiences.Footnote 105 Embodied cognition, a theory of mind, offers a useful framework for understanding this effect. Rejecting the view of the mind as a detached information processor, it posits that cognition is rooted in sensorimotor and bodily experience. A breakthrough in this approach has been the discovery of mirror neurons: premotor cells activated both when performing and observing purposeful actions. This mechanism, known as motor resonance, also operates in reading, where action verbs and sensory cues elicit unconscious simulations of the described movement in the reader, as if they were experiencing the events themselves.Footnote 106 Thus, according to Marco Caracciolo and Karin Kukkonen, who developed embodied narratology, narratives rich in action verbs and vivid sensory or affective detail foster immersion by engaging the reader’s embodied cognition.Footnote 107 Such cognitive mechanisms can help explain why Nikephoros’ simple yet action-driven and detail-rich narratives have retained their immediacy across time.
The episode of the escape of Caesar John Doukas’ grandchildren, which foregrounds step-by-step character actions and sensorimotor detail, offers a clear example of how Nikephoros’ anecdotes stimulate embodied cognition. Instead of relying on rhetorical flourish, his storytelling gains force from concrete physical and perceptual details that simulate the atmosphere of the scene. First, Nikephoros begins by stressing that the farmer knew the routes ‘precisely’ (ἀκριβῶς), that he could guide the fugitives ‘at night’ (νύκτωρ), ‘off the beaten path’ (ἔξω τρίβου), and ‘through the mountains’ (μεταξὺ διελθεῖν ὄρη).Footnote 108 Darkness, hidden tracks, and rugged terrain encourage the reader to model mentally the physical space and its challenges by evoking sensations of sight, balance, and movement even before the journey begins. During the escape, the farmer is told to wait outside (τὸν μὲν ἀγρότην ἔξω εἴασαν), while the tutors stay inside to watch the guards (αὐτοὶ δὲ ἔνδον ὄντες παρετήρουν τοὺς φύλακας), waiting for the right moment to act.Footnote 109 This contrast of physical positioning creates an embodied spatial awareness of hiding, waiting, and taking action, and draws the reader into the tension of the scene. A touch of physical comedy lightens the suspense when the eunuch who was caught pretends to help a boy relieve himself and raises his voice (γεγωνοτέρᾳ ἐκέχρητο … τῇ φωνῇ) to warn the others.Footnote 110 Here, bodily functions and vocal gestures not only provide comic relief but activate the reader’s sensorimotor circuits.
Next, the barbarians beat the eunuch who was caught to force a confession, while the farmer and the other eunuch escape through the mountains.Footnote 111 Nikephoros’ narrative here is rich with transitive verbs describing physical and perceptual actions. For example, phrases such as ‘each one immediately beat the tutor’ (εὐθὺς ὡς εἶχεν ἕκαστος ἔτυπτε τὸν παιδαγωγόν) and ‘crushed his legs with clubs’ (ὡς καὶ τὰ σκέλη τούτου καταθλᾶσθαι ῥοπάλοις) convey violent and tactile engagement, while ‘taking turns carrying the boy on their shoulders’ (τὸν παῖδα ἐπωμάδιον φέροντες ἐναλλάξ) evokes physical exertion and movement.Footnote 112 The sequence of action verbs encodes goal-directed motions that sustains immersion by continuously activating sensorimotor processes.Footnote 113 At the end, after the arduous escape, Nikephoros eases the tension by noting that the children reached Nikomedeia ‘at the first smile of day’ (μειδιώσης ἡμέρας).Footnote 114 In essence, throughout the episode, tension, humor, and relief are conveyed in ways that act on the reader’s mind through bodily descriptions and sensorimotor details, producing sensations not unlike the laughter that burst from Italikos or the feeling of being whisked away that Howard-Johnston describes.
Conclusion
This article has offered a narratological analysis to identify the elements that make Nikephoros’ anecdotes pleasurable for their audience. In the Material for History, anecdotes emerge as highly eventful and tellable episodes that spotlight renowned figures in extraordinary circumstances. They also display a high degree of narrativity, combining clear, self-contained arcs with integration into the larger narrative. Their style is simple yet immersive, drawing readers into the scene through action verbs and sensory detail. By blending oral storytelling cues with written form, they create an illusion of authenticity and are ideally suited to performative readings. Nikephoros’ anecdotes thus deserve greater recognition as instances of storytelling at its finest.
While this article has necessarily confined itself to a single historical work, the elements of anecdotes identified here, such as eventfulness, tellability, narrativity, and immersion, can be expanded and tested across a wider range of Byzantine historical works. In doing so, they may serve as a systematic framework for defining the narrative form of anecdotes more clearly and distinguishing them from digressions, a distinction that remains ambiguous in current scholarship. Applying these narratological criteria makes it possible to ask a new set of questions about how anecdotes contribute to their host narratives as well as about the anecdotes themselves. What sort of events were considered worth telling in histories? How is narrativity achieved in historiography that is seemingly made up of episodes and stories? What features affected the enjoyment derived from reading or listening to historical narratives? As scholarship increasingly recognizes the literariness and pleasure of historiography, such features deserve renewed attention not only for the significant role they played in a rhetorical culture that valued them but also for their long afterlife, as they were repeatedly reused by Byzantine historians and still sustain interest and give pleasure.
Piril Us MacLennan is a PhD candidate in Greek literature at the Department of Literary Studies at Ghent University. Her FWO-funded project (11C1422N), Making Narratives of an Empire’s Unmaking, examines how eleventh- and twelfth-century Byzantine historians construct imperial space through tools and concepts drawn from the spatial turn and post-classical narratology. It focuses on the role of spatial narration, terminology, and description in engaging audiences, fostering immersion, and shaping the reception of ideological messages. She is particularly interested in embedded narratives from the same period and their immersive qualities. She holds a Master’s degree in Byzantine History from Boğaziçi University.
Open access
