Hello everyone, and welcome to the history of Byzantium. Episode 27. The Walking Dead For those of you who don't check how long an episode is before you begin listening, I feel on a bound to tell you that for this installment I've thrown aside the history of Rome target of half an hour and let things run a little longer.
One day around October 541 at the port city of Palusium, a sailor developed a headache. Soon after he added pains in his leg and back and a fever to his list of symptoms. The following day his shipmates began to make similar complaints. The day after that the first man had a painful swelling in his groin. While one of his friends became confused, his speech slurred, his eyes, bloodshot. By the end of the week some of them had blackened skin, while others were bedridden and delirious. Two weeks after the headache first appeared, everyone on that ship was dead.
And now it was the shocked dock workers who were complaining of headaches and fever, then the shop owners they traded with became ill, then their families. Soon the whole of Palusium was in turmoil as person after person became infected and died. The disease was a common feature of life in the ancient world. As sad as death was, it was something everyone had experienced and everyone expected. Even outbreaks of serious illness that crippled whole towns were not unheard of, but they usually didn't last long. The death toll reached neighbouring Alexandria, it's unlikely that anyone was overly concerned.
But once the docks of the second city of the empire were overrun with dead sailors, people began to realise that this disease was something new. The distinctive feature of the outbreak were the bubones, bubos in English, large dark swellings which would appear around the groin or armpit and which no one seems to have seen before, or have any record of. More alarming even than these unsightly growths was the speed at which the disease spread and killed. For four months of the Egyptian winter, the disease just kept on killing in Alexandria.
Corpse is lairotting on corners in court yards and in churches with no one to bury them. The streets became putrid with piles of the dead, so thick with flies, so slippery under foot with blood and melted flesh that it was impossible to clear them. The people were panicking, those who were ill were staggering around the streets, collapsing in public, their mouths wide open, their hands stretched out upward. Those who were able fled, while those who remained lived in constant fear that they would be next.
To add to the horror came humiliation. Alexandria was home to the Roman world's finest medical schools. The best physicians in the city were helpless in the face of the disease. They had no clue what was causing the illness or how to treat it. Even more frustratingly, they couldn't even predict the severity of the disease. Those with a mild fever were told to get on with their work only to die suddenly the following day. While those who were doctor confidently pronounced were not long for this world would struggle on for weeks before recovering. Egypt was alone during this time.
As you know ships didn't regularly sail during winter, and although a few apocalyptic warnings would have filtered along land routes, it's unlikely that anyone further north knew what had really happened. By spring 542 the worst ravages of the plague were over, and the Egyptians had to try and return to normal life. For the majority of them that meant gathering grain, loading it onto ships and sending it to the rest of the empire. Little did they know that they were about to export disease and death along with their food. So by March and April 542 the plague began to spread across the empire.
By boat the disease first appeared in Gaza, then the rubble of Antioch and finally Constantinople. Some ships never arrived, the whole crew dying on board leaving the boat to Meander across the sea. Inland the caravan routes took it to Jerusalem and Damascus, to Meira and Sikion in Anatolia, nowhere seemed safe. When the buboes appeared it was already too late to run.
In the capital Procopius was once more fortunate, or in this case perhaps not, to be an eyewitness to history unfolding. He gives us the best account of the symptoms of the disease. Victims were first gripped by a sudden fever. It fact the color of the skin, nor creators higher temperature is about illness would normally generate. Doctors and friends were initially unconcerned by this apparently languid fever. But sometime later that day, or the next, but definitely within a week, bubonic swelling appeared. Sometimes growing as large as melons and causing great discomfort. As well as the groin or the armpit the swelling would occasionally appear in the thighs or behind the ears.
Up to this point everyone seemed to suffer similarly. But once the buboes arrived, different paths would emerge. Some would enter a coma-like state, sleeping for long periods and occasionally forgetting who the people were around them. While others couldn't sleep and began to hallucinate or seem delirious, crying out in terror or running into the streets. Those tending to the sick were exhausted and of course those who had no one to look after them passed away. For a third group, the bubonic swelling became mortified and the victim died in agony. Some lost all sense of feeling before the end.
If you broke out in black postules, you wouldn't survive the day. If you vomited blood, you wouldn't survive the day. In the words of author William Rosen, for four months, Constantinople was a window onto hell. As usual the visitation began at the docks before working its way into every quarter of the city. The poor died first. Then the blues and greens forced to put aside their differences to deal with their fallen comrades. Then the artisans, tradesmen and guild members. Then the senators. Many an imperial service died. Trebonian disappears from the historical record at this point and it's tempting to assume he was one of its victims.
Death stalked the streets. Thousands were dying every day and citizens were afraid to leave their homes without wearing a tag to identify themselves in case they never returned. Those in pain or suffering hallucinations would throw themselves off buildings to escape their torment. One particularly foul-smelling home was avoided by passes by until someone went in and found 20 rotting corpses inside. A city the size of Constantinople was used to around 30 people dying every day. Within a couple of weeks the regular burial sites were overloaded with the dead.
Some bodies were tossed into the sea but this soup of decomposing flesh that this created was no solution. Christians demanded a proper burial anyway. Justinian ordered massive pits to be dug across the golden horn in the suburb of Sikai. However, as the nightmare summer dragged on, even this became full, with the unfortunate gravediggers having to pack bodies in tightly and push down on them to make room for more. The men eventually turned to the guard towers along the walls surrounding Sikai and began piling bodies in them. When the wind blew south, the stench covered the whole city.
The streets were now empty. No business of any kind was undertaken. The butcher shops, the markets, the bakeries, all ceased to be used. Famine now followed pestilence and it was considered great fortune to have enough bread to feed what remained of your family. An earthquake hit in August which only intensified the feeling that these were the end times. All court functions ceased and no one was seen in official dress, particularly once the disease decided to prove its egalitarian nature once and for all, and infected Justinian. The emperor was one of the lucky ones, left in a coma-like state for weeks he wasn't short of attendance to care for him. Theodora was left in effective control of the government, a situation we will deal with next week.
By August the plague had died down to a manageable level. Trusting Procopius' estimates of the dead is difficult, but many scholars do assume that at least 200,000 people, if not more, died during that outbreak. This in a city that had stood half a million strong. Out in the provinces the toll varied from place to place. One of our sources is a Syrian scholar called Evagrius whose personal story is deeply tragic. Although he survived the plague, he would lose his wife, his daughter, his grandson, other relatives and many servants as the plague returned in later waves. He confirms similar symptoms that Procopius describes adding sore throats and diarrhea for good measure, and pointing out that even those who caught the plague and survived would often have lisp or muscular tremors for the rest of their days.
More information comes from a monophysite clergyman who we know is John of Ephesus. He had the journey to Constantinople during this time and describes empty villages and imperial staging posts littered with corpses. As harvest time approached he saw empty fields with grain, white and erect, but no one to reap them, while flocks of sheep and other animals were living wild off the land. He also he has stories of more personal tragedies, of weddings abandoned on the day itself, when either bride or groom had died.
In addition to the horror and the grief, there also came a psychological and spiritual torment. Many victims claimed they had seen a ghostly apparition touch them just before they fell ill. While out on the coast, as one port town after another succumbed to the disease, men began to describe demonic visions out on the waves, boats with headless oarsmen glowing like fire moving around the Mediterranean to deliver God's vengeance.
During the height of the plague, a story comes to us from a city on the edge of Palestine, where apparently some demons, in the form of angels, appeared to the terrified inhabitants, telling them they would only be spared if they worshipped a bronze idol. It's fair to say that for most people in the empire this apocalyptic event was assumed to be the work of God. When John saw the bodies being squeezed into the pits at Seekai, he calls forth the image of the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God from the book of Jeremiah. And assumes that as with the flood, good Christians should be building their metaphorical arcs in order to survive.
Temporarily this may have worked, as according to Procopius, local brigands and ne'er duels changed the habits of a lifetime for fear of being struck down, visiting church regularly and being kind to those around them. Feel the disease passed when they returned to their old ways. By March 543, Justinian was back on his feet, issuing a law which declared that the epidemic was over, and calling it God's education. As William Rosen points out, we are very lucky to have Procopius, whose training and preference was for the Hellenistic historical approach to writing, which means that he notes events as he saw them, rather than putting them through a starkly Christian lens.
If the plague was God's wrath, then it seemed that God was angry at everyone. The disease took no account of gender, race, age, class, location, or even season. If agrius notes with frustration, how some were spared even when they tried to contract the disease to end their misery? Through these sources, we also hear that cattle, dogs, mice, even snakes were not immune to the plague. White even rats, swollen with bubos, were to be seen infected and dying. The plague was a devastating blow to the Byzantine Empire, just as it was to all the nations whom it touched. Estimates of the total number of dead are hard to come by, but it's assumed that most towns, cities or army camps that became infected would lose a third of their people.
The plague was not over either. Every year it would break out in a new location. In 543 it reached Africa, Italy, Elyricum, Gaul, and the border with Persia. The historian comments that the world seemed returned to its primordial silence for no voices rose in the fields. No whistling was heard of shepherds. The following year it made its way to Spain, Britain, and Ireland, with reports coming in from places as far afield as Scandinavia and the Yemen. Whether it was an island or a hilltop community, the plague seemed to find those places which it hadn't already struck. Spain would return to the same cities a few decades later and hit them again. Constantinople would suffer a recurrence in 558, 573, and 559. The same goes for Antioch, Amida, Nisbis, Rome, Thessalonica, and so on for two centuries until 747 when the last recorded outbreak took place in Naples.
To put it another way by the year 600, the Mediterranean population, was probably only 60% of what it had been in 500. The demographic growth which had helped the Byzantines see off the Germans and the Isorians, that had filled the treasury of Anastasia and allowed for the reconquests under Justinian were wiped out in a year or two. The chance for the Roman Empire to reform itself in anything like its former strength was now gone. The Byzantine world did not collapse though. Despite the death and the accompanying dislocation, life would go on.
Next week we will explore the political fallout in detail, but for the rest of this episode I want to try and answer the question of what on earth happened here. I should start by acknowledging that there is no academic consensus on what the plague was. Its origins, its makeup, or even if all those who reportedly died of plague from 540 to 740 were suffering from the same disease. Even with DNA evidence from 6th century skeletons confirming the mainstream theory, we still lack sufficient proof to be certain.
We are fairly confident though that the bacteria responsible for the plague goes by the name of Yassinia Pestys. Bacteria have been living on the earth for millions upon millions of years. They were here well before we were and have had a long time to adapt to the new environments that the arrival of mammals provided. Bacteria spend their days adapting and reproducing. That is their raison d'être. They have the ability to rewrite their genetic code by borrowing, copying, or adapting themselves to find a better means of surviving, spreading, and multiplying.
For Yassinia, its preferred home for a long time was the digestive system of the rodent, marmats, squirrels, and rats. The process was slow but steady as Yassinia passed out of one animal through its waste and then managed to find a new host. However, there is an inefficiency to that process that I am sure you can imagine, and Yassinia dreamt of a better way.
The answer came with the flea. The tiny blood sucking insect many of whom live on the backs of rodents. Although their aim is to extract blood, the process is something of a two-way street. Here then came Yassinia's chance. Who knows how many times over how many years it took for Yassinia to adapt to living temporarily in a flea's gut. A quite different environment to that of a mammal, before working out a way of being pumped back into another animal's bloodstream.
The process was utterly ingenious. Once absorbed by the flea, Yassinia would make a protein which would turn off the flea's natural defenses and prevent itself from adhering to the flea's stomach. It would then make a sort of glue out of blood. This biofilm would clump together sealing off the flea's stomach from the blood it was taking in. The flea, realizing it wasn't getting fed, would now bite frantically at anything it could, desperate to gather more life-giving blood.
As it sucked voraciously at its new target, the blood already in its foregut would be forced out, infecting the unfortunate mammal with Yassinia pesties. This ultra-cunning transportation system gave Yassinia exactly what it was looking for. Fleas, you see, are themselves very adaptive to their rodent hosts.
Some species of flea have learned to give birth at the same time as their carriers do, so that their children can move to new homes. The fleas can also, of course, jump from one rodent to another, latch on and begin feeding. So now Yassinia could spread itself more efficiently around a group of mammals infecting, replicating, and adapting.
But it was at this point that Yassinia pesties got greedy. This is also the moment when we introduce the particular species responsible for the plague. The flea was Zenopsylla Chiosus, the Oriental rat flea. This host was Ratus, Ratus, the Black Rat. The Black Rat arrived in Europe during the time of the Roman Empire, and its population density is what attracted it to Yassinia pesties.
Rats live in large groups, falling over one another to breed and get access to food, and female rats deliver litters of up to 20 pups, 5 to 7 times a year. It was staring at a gold mine of fresh bloodstreams to replicate within, and was not satisfied even with the fleas transporting them around.
You see, Zenopsylla Chiosus has little reason to leave the rat it's living on. Fleas have short lives, and so several generations of flea can live happily on the back of one rat. Despite its amazing adaptability, Yassinia could not effectively survive in every bloodstream. Some rats had hardy immune systems, and if they detected and killed Yassinia, they would remember it, develop an immunity, and possibly pass it on to their offspring.
Yassinia wanted a way to force the fleas to find new rats who had no immunity. The solution to this problem was quite simple. Yassinia would just kill the rat. Even over untold years or centuries of adapting, Yassinia developed the necessary toxins and proteins that could attack the rat's immune system and kill it.
The flea would be forced to jump to a new host and spread Yassinia far and wide amongst the colony of rats. The balance has to be right, of course. Yassinia needs time to reproduce before the rat begins to die. So the bacteria learnt to keep its poisons less poisonous at mammal body temperature. The rat could therefore live with the disease for a week without showing any symptoms until the bacteria reproduced sufficiently to raise body temperature, and then the lights would go out.
Now this new deadly strain of Yassinia presented a major problem. So it was too successful and killed all the rats. In its search for the most efficient reproduction method, Yassinia was reaching the point where it might have undermined itself. Thousands of fleas living on hundreds of rats, injecting hundreds of thousands of bacterial cells, is for the most part a stable ecosystem.
As you remember, a good number of rats will be immune to Yassinia, either through a strong immune system or acquired immunity after infection. The problem for Yassinia's survival only arises when there aren't enough of these resistant rats in a particular group.
For any rat colony, there will be a tipping point. If for some reason 80% of one group of rats became infected and die, then suddenly you've got a lot of manically hungry fleas looking for something to feed on. Naturally, they look for the nearest warm-blooded mammal to bite, and who the rats normally live next to? Humans. Of course horses, dogs, camels, whatever will get bitten too, but we are rats' constant companions.
This is because rats are so omnivorous that they feast on human garbage. They'll eat any sort of vegetable matter from seeds, nuts, leaves and fruit to less obvious fare, like paper, soap, beeswax, along with animal food and all sorts of items that humans gladly pile up day after day. So if the rat population crashes and fleas feast on the neighboring humans instead, then Yassinia pesties will enter the human bloodstream.
All the mechanisms and adaptions made for the rats' body now go out the window. The human body is of course much larger, and Yassinia had no instructions to find a balance with this new system it only cared about the rat.
So when Yassinia arrived in Palusium, it began to attack and destroy its strange new environment. The outer proteins of Yassinia pesties are designed to prevent the body from destroying it, in part by blocking the signals which would alert the body to attack, and in part by blocking the phagocytes, a type of white blood cell which would normally absorb such an intruder. Once in, Yassinia would begin replicating as fast as it could, which would often leave the area of the flea bite to turn the crotic, or leave tissue with it.
At this point the body does recognize that something is wrong and conveys the bacteria to the lymphatic system, where our blood circulates and diseases are normally attacked. However, this is where Yassinia wants to be taken. It now has access to the whole body and continues to spread and replicate. Our immune system tries to drag the disease to one of the regional lymph nodes, garrisons of white blood cells where most diseases are slowly absorbed.
The battle is fierce and the node becomes engorged with blood and cellular debris, which create the grossly swollen bubos. As you may have figured out by now, the lymph nodes can be found in the groin, the armpit, and other areas where the swelling appeared. The reason swelling of the groin was most common is simple. The tiny fleas, looking for somewhere to bite, would first come upon the legs, and so the infection would be drained toward the nearest lymph node around the crotch.
The bubonic edamers would press on the nerve endings of its victims, causing tremendous pain. As the body struggles to replace deoxygenated blood with oxygenated, the muscles surrounding the human voicebox become more acidic, which was the cause of much temporary or permanent speech problems for those who survived. They have now reached the stage where the divergences which procopious observed begin.
For those who were destined to survive, their battle would now rage, leaving them exhausted and sleepy until their body won, and often the swollen bubo would explode in a shower of pus. For others, the bubonic edamer might turn septic, and like a snake shedding its skin the tissue would collapse, often causing shock and death.
As the body heats up from battle, Yassinia begins to release its toxins. Two of its most deadly weapons interfere with the body's ability to clot blood and form platelets. This attack on the blood leads to the gangrene, or blackened extremities, chiefly toes and fingers, which 700 years later, in Yassinia's most famous appearance on the world stage, would lead to the nickname, the Black Death.
If they spread further across the body, giving the appearance of lentil like blisters as procopious identified, then death would follow swiftly. If the plague became septicemic, then victims would die of vomiting blood from internal hemorrhages. Another of Yassinia's deadly toxins are a collection of fatty acids known as lipid A. Once embedded, they cause overproduction of an enzyme which releases tumor necrosis factor, which can kill cells. Again, the result is shock, sometimes fatal.
The most fatal results though come from the third option. If Yassinia reached the highway into the lungs, then the victim would start to produce sputum. When the sputum accumulates blood, the infection moves from being bubonic to pneumonic. This meant that a victim's saliva drops were infectious and could contaminate someone being talked to within a 2 meter range. Mortality rates for pneumonic plague are 100%. Although bubonic plague is what killed most people, with a gas being that 40% of those infected would die, pneumonic plague leads to guaranteed fatality.
Like the zombie fiction which gives this episode its title, victims of the plague were unknowingly breathing a death sentence onto the loved ones who gathered around them. The tiny particles would be absorbed slowly by the unwitting victim who might then spend the best part of a month thinking themselves immune before suddenly Yassinia had replicated enough to attack. So that's what was going on in the body.
In the Byzantine Empire and beyond, I assume you can now build up a picture of how the disease spread. The diet of ratus ratus requires a good deal of water, so the rats were big fans of anywhere that was damp and had lots of food. The Nile Valley, Palusium and Alexandria were all ideal homes for the rat. And noble, Antioch and any other major city with a good source of water would do just as well.
Many diseases might flare up dramatically in one city, but having killed off so many potential hosts they would burn themselves out. And given the ancient world's slow travelling speed, most diseases would never make it all the way to a neighbouring province. This is why the plague attacking the Byzantine Empire is what turned the outbreak into a pandemic.
Once Yassinia had killed off all the susceptible Egyptians it could find, it may well have died out before the very slow caravan routes carried it out towards Libya or in the other direction towards Palestine. But fortunately for Yassinia, the Roman fleet was as good as any flea. The ships which set off from Alexandria in Spring 542 carried rat, flea and bacteria on ships filled to the brim with grain. A moving food hall to keep the rats alive and ready to spread their disease to the rats of the capital and its people. To add another gross thought to the legions conjured up already, the piles of dead bodies only provided a fresh source of food for the rats who could then go on providing incubation for more plague.
Once it reached New Shores, Yassinia was able to spread slowly inland. One by one towns would be visited and Yassinia burst to life again, feasting on untested victims. Areas which avoided the plague in the early years would be found sometime later, and major cities like Constantinople and Antioch would be revisited multiple times, usually with 15 or 20 year gaps, so that a whole generation of children would have grown up with no acquired immunity to the disease. Round and round Yassinia would go, always capable of killing thousands, so long as new humans arrived, who could be infected.
Initially, Kusro was able to continue the war with Byzantium and retreat whenever the plague broke out in a nearby town. The Persians had limited trade between the empires to designated cities, like Nisbis. This kept the Sassanids away from the plague temporarily. But once it broke through, Mesopotamia, with the Tigris and Euphrates providing a wonderful home for rats, was devastated. One chronicler notes that all was famine, madness, and fury. The few areas to avoid large-scale destruction were those where rats would not want to live. Mainly mountainous highland or desert. Wherever water and human garbage were hard to come by. We will explore this as we go on, but once more I am sure you can see the significance of a plague which repeatedly decimated those living in cities, while the Arabs out in the desert or the bulgars of the steppe were far less affected. In the next episode we will encounter such a scenario when the moors of Africa returned to the offensive.
We've seen what the disease did. We've seen what it was doing on the inside. We've looked at how it spread. But what about the question why now? Was this simply the moment when Yassinia had developed the ability to kill rats in large numbers? Or were other factors at play? The question is still open as to where exactly the deadly strain of Yassinia learned its trade.
In his excellent book, Justinian's Flea, William Rosen puts together fairly convincing conjecture about the origins of the plague. He points out that Zenopsylliciosis, the Flea in question, prefers a dry warm environment of around 20-25 degrees centigrade or 68-77 Fahrenheit. As with several other diseases, Rosen assumes that Yassinia originated around the mouth of the Nile, where many of the great African lakes are. This would have provided a comfortable home for rat, flea and bacteria, but kept it away from any large-scale human settlements.
The question is how did it get all the way up the Nile to Egypt, and then why jump to the human population at that moment? The Flea would not enjoy the hotter temperatures of the desert environment of Egypt, which would have normally prevented any journey that far north. What it would need to make such a jump would be several years of lower average temperatures. Like the sort that might occur if the sun gave forth its light without brightness, and it seemed exceedingly like the sun in eclipse for the beams it shed were not clear.
Those were the words of Procopius, who says that between 536 and 538, summers were colder, because something was blocking the sun. As I said in episode 25, the two most likely explanations for a dust avail that could cover the whole earth for two years would be a comet or meteor strike, or a huge volcanic explosion. Through dendocrinology, or the study of tree rings, we have evidence suggesting that during this period a very real drop in temperature occurred.
Could it have been enough to entice rats and fleas north toward Palusium? Could the lower temperatures in fact encourage an explosion in the rat population, as the colonies of Egypt reveled in the cooler conditions? An explosion in susceptible rats, of course, would be just what Yosinia was looking for, and as it began a great call of the unsuspecting rodents, the Flea would have been forced to look elsewhere for something to bite and landed on the ankles of that sailor in the harbor of Palusium.
It's a good theory, one that it's very hard to prove, but which fits the fact sufficiently to offer us an educated guess about the origins of the plague. In David Kees's book Catastrophe, he argues for an explosion of the Sumatran volcano Cracatoa, as the source of the dust veil.
He may well be right, but personally I'm attracted by the idea that a body from beyond the heavens struck the earth. That it was something extraterrestrial that ended up causing the plague which would devastate the Roman Empire. The Empire would never recover the strength it had in Justinian's early years, and the Eastern provinces, as you know, were destined to be conquered by the Arabs. But what if none of that was meant to be? What if the volcanic explosion had never happened or the comet had missed the earth? Would Justinian have crushed the remaining Goths, seen off the Persians and gone on to conquer Spain and leave a Roman Empire that would fight on for centuries more? It's fun to speculate.
The final word on the plague is its name. The Black Death is such a catchy title and is both more recent and more devastating that it tends to hog the headlines when it comes to human pandemics. Our plague, unfaily or not, has conventionally been called the Justinianic plague, or the plague of Justinian. Name for the Roman Emperor who strived so hard to be great and was so horrifically surprised by this turn of events.
The plague certainly defines the Emperor more than any other man, and there's a real irony that for all his lore books and the cities and army detachments and the like which he named after himself, that it's Yassinia Pestis that will be known by his name to future generations. Next week we go back to politics and see what happened while Theodora was left in charge of the Empire and the wars in Italy, Africa and Persia roll on. Despite the apocalypse unfolding around them, the Byzantines kept on fighting.
Next week is also the episode I'm using to raise funds for the future of the history of Byzantium. It will be on sale at thehistoryofbizantium.com for either $5 or any amount above that you'd like to donate. And in case anyone is still in any doubt, two weeks after that episode 29 will be back on the free feed as normal and so will episode 31 and so on. I think I'll leave this episode there for now though.
Reading constantly about the plague for several weeks leaves you feeling kind of itchy. So I will release another podcast in the middle of next week to explain what you need to do to buy episode 28. I will make it as simple as possible and I'm hugely grateful to all of you who've been so supportive. Again you can find me at thehistoryofbizantium at gmail.com or on the Facebook page.