668: Fire, Faith, and the Forgotten Siege That Shook Two Empires
"In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful."
By 667 CE, the world stood once again on the edge of a blade. A generation had passed since the first Arab fleet battered the harbors of Constantinople in 654 CE. That earlier siege—the one that tested the sea lanes of the Eastern Roman Empire against the newborn navy of Islam—had ended in tribute and tension. But the peace was always provisional. Now, the sons of those who had watched the domes of Constantinople from across the Bosphorus returned with vengeance in their hearts, prophecy on their tongues, and siege engines in their ships.
At the center of it all was Yazīd ibn Muʿāwiyah, son of the Umayyad caliph and heir to the first Arab dynasty. He came not alone. With him rode men whose names echoed in the mosques and memories of Muslims for centuries: ʿAbd Allāh ibn ʿAbbās, the Prophet’s cousin; ʿAbd Allāh ibn al-Zubayr, the future rebel-caliph; ʿAbd Allāh ibn ʿUmar, son of the second caliph; and Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī, the Prophet’s own host in Medina. It was a gathering of the most illustrious companions—an expedition loaded not only with swords and sails but with sanctity.
From their winter camp in Chalcedon, the Arabs looked across the waters at the City of Constantine, the last great citadel of the Roman world. In the spring of 668 CE, they struck. Arab shalandiyyāt darted across the straits, while Roman dromōnes—some bearing Greek fire—moved to intercept. Siege engines, mangonels, and fire-throwers were hauled across Thrace to batter the Theodosian walls from the landward side. And for one season—perhaps only a matter of weeks—Constantinople was besieged again, and yet, the siege is shrouded in silence.
The Roman annals—taut, evasive—say little. They feared to record what nearly broke them. Arab chroniclers, writing under Abbasid pens, erased the episode almost entirely. Yazīd’s name, later tarnished by Karbala and controversy, was pruned from glory. Even the siege itself was nearly lost to memory—preserved only in scattered fragments and unlikely witnesses. But from the shadows of history, a mosaic emerges.
In the Arabic tradition, Ibn Kathīr hints at Yazīd’s siege, noting the presence of famed Companions and the death of Abū Ayyūb in Roman lands. In the Syriac churches, chronicles like the Maronite and Zuqnīn preserve traces of the Arab army’s encampment at the land walls, its struggles, and the disease that ravaged its camp. The Latin “Spanish-Arab Chronicle” of 741 CE—written just a decade after the Umayyad conquest of Spain—calls the expedition “the greatest event of Muʿāwiyah’s reign,” describing famine and plague that forced the Arabs to retreat after two years of devastation.
Armenian fragments speak of Yazīd’s movements, of the Emperor Constantine IV watching helplessly from within the walls, and of a siege that was lifted not by force of arms, but by hardship and prayer. Even the inscriptions of Constantinople’s walls—like that of the Rhesion Gate—record repairs made in 667–668, during a time when “the godless Saracens” encamped before the city.
All of these testimonies—Arabic, Syriac, Latin, Armenian—bear the fingerprints of survival, of conquest almost achieved and almost lost. When stitched together, they restore a siege long forgotten, a battle fought not only on the waters of the Bosphorus but in the memories of empires.
This blog post revisits the second Arab siege of Constantinople, not as legend or shadow but as historical fact. It draws from the scattered sources of five languages and civilizations to reconstruct the campaign of 668–669 CE—a campaign that shook the foundations of the Roman East and scarred the collective memory of the Umayyads.
This was no mere raid. It was a turning point. A moment when the capital of Rome itself stood within reach of the Caliphate. A moment when the seas burned, the walls groaned, and the balance of the world trembled.
This is the story of how the armies of Islam returned to the gates of Constantine’s city—only to find them not yet ready to fall.
2. Background – Two Empires on the Edge
Rome After Heraclius: Ruin and Realignment
In 661 CE, the Roman Empire stood battered and diminished. The aftermath of Heraclius’ death left behind not triumph but trauma. His victory over the Sasanids had come at the cost of a shattered treasury and a state stretched to its breaking point. Syria, Palestine, Egypt, and eventually Carthage—pillars of Rome’s wealth and grain supply—were now irrevocably lost to the advancing forces of Islam. Heraclius’ successors faced a harsh geopolitical truth: the empire's ancient eastern bulwark was gone.
Constans II, Heraclius’ embattled heir, made a dramatic and controversial pivot westward. Abandoning Constantinople for Syracuse in Sicily, he sought to anchor the empire’s fate not in the old eastern heartlands, but in the still Romanized western Mediterranean. This was a strategic, if desperate, gamble: an attempt to reassert imperial authority in Italy and Africa while leaving the Balkans and Anatolia under the stewardship of his teenage son, Constantine IV. That pivot came at a cost—local discontent, ecclesiastical tension, and a dangerously thin imperial presence in the capital.
And yet, in the 660s, even as the empire reeled from crisis, it was not inert. As Peter Sarris notes in Empires of Faith, “The Eastern Roman Empire survived the collapse of its eastern provinces not only through grim tenacity, but because it adapted.” It restructured its provinces into themes—military-administrative districts led by generals, giving regional armies local stake in the defense of the empire. War was no longer Rome’s external projection—it was now its internal logic. Defense and survival were fused.
Rome was now a capital not of a Mediterranean empire but of a heavily militarized, Anatolia-focused state. One that had lost the Near East, but not yet the will to fight.
Islam Ascendant: The Rise of Muʿāwiyah’s Mediterranean Vision
Meanwhile, to the south, Islam stood transformed. With the death of Caliph ʿAlī in 661, the First Fitna—the Caliphate’s first civil war—came to a close. Out of the ashes emerged a new ruler: Muʿāwiyah ibn Abī Sufyān, governor of Syria and founder of the Umayyad dynasty. With his capital in Damascus, Muʿāwiyah inherited not only the leadership of the Muslim world, but also a strategic position from which to launch a second phase of Islamic expansion—this time, not across deserts, but seas.
Muʿāwiyah understood that the Mediterranean was now open. The Roman fleet, once dominant, had atrophied. The eastern seaboard—from Alexandria to Caesarea to Latakia—was now in Muslim hands. Using the dockyards of Egypt and Syria, Muʿāwiyah built a fleet capable of confronting Rome not just on land, but on water.
Under his rule, Syria became the new military heartland of Islam. Its cities, particularly Damascus and Homs, teemed with soldiers and engineers. Arab naval technology—previously non-existent—flourished under the guidance of former Copts and Roman defectors. Arab poets began to imagine the sea not as a barrier, but as a highway of jihad.
The conquest of the Mediterranean was not just military—it was imaginative. In this new Islamic geography, the Sea of Rome (Baḥr al-Rūm) would become a Muslim lake.
A New Frontier: The Sea as Arena of Empire
The 660s were thus years of strategic recalibration for both empires:
-
Rome, stripped of its eastern wealth, turned Anatolia into its armored shell and bet on Sicilian and African counterattacks.
-
Islam, having secured the Levant and Egypt, turned its gaze to the sea—and to Constantinople itself.
This convergence would prove decisive. As raids turned into invasions, and skirmishes into sieges, both empires found themselves confronting not just each other, but the terrifying novelty of a fully militarized, two-front war—by land and sea.
The decade would climax in 667–669 CE, when, as we shall soon see, Yazīd ibn Muʿāwiyah—crown prince of the Umayyad Caliphate—led a vast expedition to the very walls of Constantinople. It was the second such attempt after 654 CE, and the most direct assault on the Roman capital in generations.
And with it, the war would enter a new, mythic dimension.
3. Sources and Memory – Who Told the Story, and Why?
The Second Arab Siege of Constantinople is not preserved in a single voice. Rather, it emerges through a polyphony of memories, erasures, and reimaginings, shaped by theology, politics, and empire. To understand what happened between 667 and 669 CE, we must untangle the Christian, Muslim, Syriac, Armenian, and Latin threads — and ask what each source chose to preserve, what it chose to forget, and why.
Recent scholars like Marek Jankowiak have shown that what has long been accepted as the "Second Siege of Constantinople" — the alleged seven-year epic siege from 673 to 678 — is in fact a later literary construction. Their reassessment helps us reconstruct the real siege: a brief but traumatic Arab campaign in 668, led by Yazīd ibn Muʿāwiyah, and then forgotten or distorted across the centuries.
The Problem: Two Christian Narratives
Jankowiak identifies two incompatible Christian traditions that later chroniclers tried to reconcile.
1. The "Patrician Trajan" Account (via Theophanes and Nicephorus)
-
Reports a seven-year siege (673–678)
-
Daily attacks on Constantinople’s walls
-
Use of Greek fire to destroy Arab fleets
-
Major land defeat of the Arab general Sufyān b. ʿAwf
-
Ends with a tribute treaty paid by Muʿāwiyah
This is the classic Roman narrative. But Jankowiak shows Theophanes inserted a generic siege account into unrelated material, creating a pseudo-coherent epic that served the theological purpose of showcasing divine deliverance.
2. The Oriental Source (Theophilus of Edessa)
-
Detailed, dated raids across Anatolia, not a continuous siege
-
Catastrophic Arab defeat in 673/4: 30,000 killed; fleet destroyed
-
No siege of Constantinople is mentioned
-
Roman resurgence via Mardaite campaign in 677/8
-
Concludes with Muʿāwiyah suing for peace
This version — likely based on Muslim and Syriac records — presents a recovery narrative, not one of last-gasp defense.
Reconciling the Accounts: Jankowiak’s Master Narrative
What Likely Happened:
-
667–68: Yazīd’s campaign winters in Chalcedon, possibly setting up camp across the Bosphorus. This terrified Constantinople and felt like a siege, especially to ecclesiastics like Chartophylax George.
-
Spring 668: The Arabs launch a brief siege. The Maronite Chronicle and Typikon of the Great Church place the siege's end in late June 668. Disease and famine forced withdrawal.
-
668–69: Arab forces linger in Thrace, looting cities before returning. Yazīd is accompanied by senior Companions: Ibn ʿAbbās, Ibn ʿUmar, Ibn al-Zubayr, and Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī.
-
673/4: Massive Arab defeat under Sufyān b. ʿAwf. Greek fire possibly used. Fleet wrecked at Syllaeum.
-
677/8: Romans launch counterattacks (e.g. Mardaites in Lebanon).
-
678/9: Peace concluded. Arabs agree to pay 3,000 gold coins, 50 slaves, 50 horses annually.
What Do Muslim Sources Say?
Muslim historians such as al-Ṭabarī, Ibn Kathīr, and Ibn ʿAsākir largely confirm this trajectory:
-
They report a major campaign by Yazīd around 49 AH / 669 CE, involving the Prophet's Companions.
-
The army reaches Constantinople, suffers hardship, and returns.
-
The siege is not emphasized; instead, the focus is on individual heroism and suffering.
Notably, no Muslim source describes a seven-year siege.
Armenian, Syriac, and Latin Echoes — Memory from the Margins
While the Roman chronicles written within Constantinople's elite circles constructed a sweeping seven-year siege narrative, alternative voices across the Mediterranean and Near East—from Armenian bishops to Syriac patriarchs to Latin Christians in distant Spain—offer a remarkably coherent, independent testimony. These accounts, often marginalized or overlooked, align far more closely with Theophilus of Edessa’s restrained Oriental chronology than with Theophanes’ epic siege myth. Together, they help reconstruct a truer image of the Second Arab Siege.
Agapius of Mabbug, Michael the Syrian, and the Chronicle of 1234
The “Oriental Source” and the True Story of the Arab-Roman Conflict
The Christian sources of Syriac origin—particularly Agapius of Mabbug, Michael the Syrian, and the Chronicle of 1234—stand as some of the most vital counterweights to the Roman-centric accounts of the Second Arab siege of Constantinople. These works are widely recognized by scholars like Marek Jankowiak as the closest literary heirs to the now-lost chronicle of Theophilus of Edessa, a Christian Melkite writing in the courtly orbit of the Umayyads in the mid-8th century.
They form what historians now call the "Oriental strand" of the narrative. And what this strand presents is a decisively different historical arc—a story of Arab military overreach, a stinging reversal at the hands of the Romans, and a tactical Roman resurgence, not a siege that strangled the capital for seven years.
No Seven-Year Siege
These sources are clear and consistent: there was no sustained siege of Constantinople in the 670s. No mention of year-on-year assaults, no daily bombardments at the walls, no blockading fleet choking off the city. The silence here is deafening—and meaningful. Had such a prolonged siege occurred, these eastern Christian chroniclers—some of them writing within living memory—would surely have recorded it. Their omission isn't negligence. It's evidence.
This casts immediate doubt on the Theophanes-Patrician Trajan narrative, which claims a grand, multi-year siege from 673–678. That story, as Jankowiak convincingly demonstrates, is likely a theological fiction, designed to elevate Constantine IV as a divinely protected emperor, using formulaic literary devices and chronological stitching to craft an epic siege that never happened.
What Did Happen? Raids, Catastrophe, and Recovery
Instead of a siege, Agapius, Michael the Syrian, and the Chronicle of 1234 tell us about a protracted war of attrition, centered on repeated Arab raids into Anatolia. These reached their crescendo in 673/674, when a massive Arab expedition combining land and naval forces was launched into Roman territory.
The result?
A disaster for the Arabs. The Oriental sources report that:
-
30,000 Arab soldiers perished, likely due to combat, disease, and logistical collapse.
-
The Arab fleet was destroyed, almost certainly by the Romans—possibly with the use of the newly developed Greek fire.
-
The famed commander Sufyān b. ʿAwf likely perished in this campaign—a fact also recorded, if briefly, in Muslim sources like al-Ṭabarī.
This was the true turning point of the 670s—not the fabled siege, but the destruction of Arab expeditionary forces far from the walls of Constantinople.
Mardaites and the Roman Counterattack
Following the Arab catastrophe of 673/4, the Oriental sources chronicle a remarkable shift in initiative. Rather than hunkering down behind their city walls, the Romans went on the offensive.
By 677–678, the emperor Constantine IV had unleashed the Mardaites—Christian guerrillas native to the coastal highlands of Lebanon and northern Syria. These mountain warriors, backed by Roman naval logistics, raided deep into Umayyad territory, disrupting Arab control and striking terror into coastal towns.
The Chronicle of 1234 and Michael the Syrian emphasize this campaign as one of resurgent Christian power. It was not a desperate measure, but a demonstration of restored confidence. The Arab war effort faltered, not just from military defeat, but from the growing realization that the Romans could strike back.
Peace, on Roman Terms?
The Oriental sources end this arc not with the fall of Constantinople, but with Muʿāwiyah suing for peace—a point universally agreed upon across Muslim, Greek, Latin, and Syriac accounts. The treaty imposed tribute payments: gold, horses, slaves. Though Arab chroniclers tend to downplay this, their Christian counterparts present it as a capitulation.
Crucially, the Oriental strand does not frame this peace as the result of a miraculous deliverance from a siege, but as the natural outcome of a war whose tide had turned. Rome, far from being under siege, was recovering, negotiating, and even asserting itself militarily—a far cry from the besieged empire of Theophanes’ imagination.
Historiographical Value
Why does this matter?
Because Agapius, Michael the Syrian, and the Chronicle of 1234 preserve a non-imperial Christian perspective. Writing from outside Constantinople, from regions closer to the front lines, and often within Umayyad domains, these authors:
-
Had access to both Arab and Christian oral traditions.
-
Were less encumbered by Roman theological propaganda.
-
And wrote in a context where the memory of the war had not yet been overwritten by Abbasid or iconodule narratives.
As such, they are indispensable for reconstructing what really happened.
They give us:
-
A real Arab siege in 668 (corroborated by the Maronite Chronicle and Latin chronicles).
-
A major Arab defeat in 673/4 (corroborated by Muslim reports of lost commanders).
-
A Roman resurgence via the Mardaites.
-
And a treaty in 678, not from a siege lifted by divine fire, but from a strategically outmaneuvered Caliphate.
These Syriac chronicles tell a different story—not of a walled city under miracle-siege, but of a battered empire fighting back, adapting, and prevailing diplomatically and militarily. They help peel away the layered hagiography of Theophanes and expose the contours of the conflict as it was remembered beyond the Bosphorus—by eastern Christians, chroniclers of defeat, resurgence, and realpolitik.
The Maronite Chronicle
A Rare Syriac Voice from the Frontlines
The Maronite Chronicle—a near-contemporary Syriac Christian source—is among the most vivid and compelling testimonies of the Arab siege of Constantinople under Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah in 668 CE. It is, remarkably, the only early Christian chronicle that explicitly confirms that an Arab army not only advanced to the walls of Constantinople but camped outside the Theodosian fortifications, initiating a real, short-lived siege.
This entry survives on the last damaged folio of the chronicle, disconnected from the larger context of Yazīd’s expedition—yet it offers us an anecdote of astonishing detail, and unlike Theophanes' epic decades later, it breathes with the immediacy of memory.
Here is the scene:
“Yazīd, son of Muʻāwiya again went up with a powerful army. When they camped at Thrace, the Arabs dispersed for plunder, [leaving] their hirelings and young men for the shepherding of livestock and for any sort of spoils that might befall them. When those standing on the wall [saw this], they fell upon them, [killed] many of the young men and hirelings, as well as some of the Arab [men], carried off the plunder, and [re-] entered [the city].”
This was not mere raiding. The narrative continues:
“The next day, all the young men of the city assembled, along with some of those who had entered there to take refuge, as well as a few Romans. They said, “Let us go out against them.” Constantine said to them, “Do not go forth. For you have not waged a war and been victorious. Rather, you [just] stole.” They did not listen to him. Instead, having armed themselves, many people went out. In accord with Roman custom, they raised standards and banners. As soon as they went out, all the porticoes were closed and the king set up his tent on the wall, sat, and watched. The Saracens drew back and retreated far from the wall so that when [their opponents] should flee, they could not quickly escape. They stationed themselves by tribe. When [their opponents] reached them, [the Saracens] leaped up and cried out in their language, “God is great.” And immediately they fled. The Saracens ran after them until they reached [the range] of the walls’ ballistae, devastating them and taking captives..”
Constantine IV watched from a tent on the wall, opening the gates only reluctantly to survivors. This scene captures the psychological terror of a real Arab siege—and the tactical superiority the Arabs briefly held.
Crucially, this record places Yazīd’s army in direct contact with the capital, affirming what many modern historians—Jankowiak chief among them—have reconstructed from fragments: that there was one true Arab siege before 717–718, and it occurred in 668.
Chronological Glitch—but Historical Gold
The Maronite Chronicle offers one of the most vivid and near-contemporary descriptions of the Arab siege of Constantinople led by Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah. It recounts Arab forces encamped in Thrace, a Roman sortie from the city, and the devastating failure that followed—details that unmistakably describe a regular siege of Constantinople. Yet, curiously, it places this momentous event in the 21st year of Constans II’s reign, i.e., 662/3 CE.
This date is clearly mistaken, and modern scholars generally agree it reflects a chronological error, likely caused by scribal confusion with an earlier Arab raid—most plausibly the campaign of Busr b. Abī Arṭāt, which also advanced to the outskirts of Constantinople in 663, Yazid, who was 14 years old in that year, may have plausibly followed Busr in that campaign so as to in a way to "feel the ropes" of campaign season, however, as reinforced by multiple independent sources, the main campaign to Constantinople were Yazid held true power is spring 668 CE. This is firmly corroborated by:
-
The Spanish Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica, which records a spring siege and retreat due to famine and disease;
-
The Typikon of the Great Church, commemorating divine deliverance on June 25, aligning with the withdrawal date;
-
The reconstructed chronology of Yazīd’s presence in Roman territory, especially as argued by Marek Jankowiak, who place the campaign within the broader arc of Arab-Roman conflict from 667 to 669 CE.
This dating discrepancy is not just a scribal footnote—it may help explain a deeper historiographical puzzle: why Theophilus of Edessa and his dependents (like Agapius, Michael the Syrian, and the Chronicle of 1234) do not mention the 668 siege at all. If Theophilus was working from an earlier source corpus (as is likely), and if that corpus inherited the Maronite Chronicle’s error or omitted the episode due to its misplacement in the annalistic structure, then the siege of 668 might have been inadvertently buried or overlooked.
Supporting this, scholars have noted anomalies and inconsistencies in Theophilus' coverage of the 663–668 period, including his unusual reliance on Islamic sources—especially in the final years of Constans II’s reign. This might reflect an attempt to fill narrative gaps caused by lost or confused records in his main (possibly Syriac or Roman) source.
Thus, what appears at first glance to be a minor chronological glitch in the Maronite Chronicle may, in fact, be the key to understanding why such a consequential event disappeared from the Oriental source tradition altogether. Far from undermining its value, this makes the Maronite Chronicle all the more precious—a solitary but glittering shard of a larger, fractured mosaic.
Physical Evidence: The Rhesion Gate Inscription
The siege of Constantinople in 668 CE, as described in the Maronite Chronicle, is not just a literary memory preserved in ink—it’s also carved into stone.
In the central section of the Theodosian Wall, at the Rhesion Gate (modern Mevlevihane Kapı), archaeologists discovered two tabulae ansatae inscriptions etched into the northern wall of the southern tower. Despite some damage, the Greek text reads:
**+ Νικᾷ ἡ τύχη Κωνσταντίνου τοῦ θεοφυλάκτου ἡμῶν δεσπότου + + +
-
Ἀνενεώθη ἐπὶ [--]ο[-- τοῦ ἐνδοξο]τάτου ἀπὸ [ὑπάτω]ν πατρ[ικίου καὶ κουρά]τοροςτοῦ βασιλικ[ο]ῦ οἴκου [τῶν] Μαρίν[ης] ἐν ἰνδ(ικτιῶνι) ιαʹ +**
Translated, the key passage reads:
“Victory to the fortune of Constantine, our God-protected lord... It was renewed under [--]o[--, the most glorious] former [consul], patrician, and curator of the imperial household of the Mar[i]nos, in the 11th indiction + year.”
This inscription has been dated with high confidence to the 11th indiction—that is, 667/8 CE. While the indiction system recurred every fifteen years, only one of the plausible dates fits the historical context with both internal and external corroboration: 667/8. That was the very year Yazīd’s forces encamped in Thrace, clashing with Roman troops, and pressing against the outer limits of Constantinople.
The Rhesion Gate inscription thus likely marks either the Roman preparations for Yazīd’s siege, or post-siege restoration efforts in its immediate aftermath.
Chiseled Names and Political Memory
Interestingly, the last line of the first inscription was deliberately hammered out and replaced with crosses—a classic sign of damnatio memoriae, the erasure of disgraced imperial names from public monuments. Jankowiak argues that this may point to Heraclius and Tiberius, the co-emperors and brothers of Constantine IV, who were deposed in 681 and subsequently purged from official records, including some of the Acts of the Sixth Ecumenical Council.
Among the various possible years for the 11th indiction (652/3, 667/8, or 682/3), only 667/8 coincides with:
-
The presence of co-emperors who were later erased;
-
A documented siege or military threat at the city walls;
-
Corroborating literary evidence from the Maronite Chronicle, Chronicle of 1234, and even the Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica.
In short, everything points to spring 668. The Rhesion Gate's repair inscription is therefore not just a civic renovation note, but a silent witness to war—a physical testimony that Roman was preparing for, or recovering from, a very real Arab siege.
Stone and Story: Memory Materialized
This inscription, coupled with the nearby burial of Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī (as recorded by both Muslim and Christian sources), and the Typikon of Hagia Sophia’s commemoration of deliverance on June 25, gives us a triangulated picture:
-
A siege was laid in 668 CE.
-
The walls were restored, likely as a result of the siege.
-
The narrative of deliverance found its way into liturgical memory.
This wasn’t a myth born in the pages of Theophanes a century later. It was a real episode—recorded in bricks, stone, and marble, echoing the fear, preparation, and resilience of a city under genuine threat.
Liturgy as Historical Witness: The Typikon of the Great Church
While chronicles and stone inscriptions preserve the memory of sieges through prose and chisels, the liturgy of the Church of Constantinople preserves it through prayer and commemoration.
One of the most understated yet powerful pieces of evidence for the 668 siege of Constantinople is found in the Typikon of the Great Church—the liturgical calendar of Hagia Sophia itself. On June 25, the Typikon records a feast of deliverance:
Original Greek (Typikon of Hagia Sophia)
τῇ αὐτῇ ἡμέρᾳ, ἀνάμνησις τελεῖται τῆς ὑπὲρ λόγον καὶ πᾶσαν ἐλπίδα δωρηθείσης βοηθείας παρὰ τοῦ μεγάλου Θεοῦ καὶ Σωτῆρος ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ διὰ τῶν πρεσβειῶν τῆς ἀσπόρως αὐτὸν τεκούσης παναγίας Δεσποίνης ἡμῶν Θεοτόκου καὶ ἀειπαρθένου Μαρίας κατὰ τῶν διά τε γῆς καὶ θαλάσσης κυκλωσάντων τὴν καθ’ ἡμᾶς βασιλίδα πόλιν ἀθέων Σαρακηνῶν.
τῇ αὐτῇ ἡμέρᾳ, ἀνάμνησις τελεῖται τῆς ὑπὲρ λόγον καὶ πᾶσαν ἐλπίδα δωρηθείσης βοηθείας παρὰ τοῦ μεγάλου Θεοῦ καὶ Σωτῆρος ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ διὰ τῶν πρεσβειῶν τῆς ἀσπόρως αὐτὸν τεκούσης παναγίας Δεσποίνης ἡμῶν Θεοτόκου καὶ ἀειπαρθένου Μαρίας κατὰ τῶν διά τε γῆς καὶ θαλάσσης κυκλωσάντων τὴν καθ’ ἡμᾶς βασιλίδα πόλιν ἀθέων Σαρακηνῶν.
English Translation
“On this same day, a commemoration is made of the help granted beyond reason and all hope, by our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, through the intercessions of the all-holy Mistress, our Lady the Theotokos and Ever-Virgin Mary, against the godless Saracens who encircled our imperial city by both land and sea.”
“On this same day, a commemoration is made of the help granted beyond reason and all hope, by our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, through the intercessions of the all-holy Mistress, our Lady the Theotokos and Ever-Virgin Mary, against the godless Saracens who encircled our imperial city by both land and sea.”
This is not a vague allusion. The reference is precise:
-
The “godless Saracens” (i.e., Arab-Muslim forces),
-
A siege by both land and sea,
-
The imperial city itself—Constantinople—as the target,
-
And the intervention of the Virgin Mary (Theotokos), consistent with Roman theological and civic identity.
Dating the Deliverance
This commemoration on June 25 is all the more significant because the Typikon also marks the 717–718 siege—the far more famous one—on a completely different date: August 16. The June 25 entry, therefore, must refer to an earlier, separate siege, and no other event fits better than Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah’s campaign in 668 CE.
The Spanish Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica, a Latin chronicle composed in al-Andalus within living memory of the events, tells us that Yazīd’s Arab forces lifted their springtime siege due to hunger and disease. It records their departure after a two-year campaign and a final push against the city. The fact that the siege was abandoned in late spring aligns precisely with the June 25 liturgical commemoration.
Memory Transformed into Devotion
Though the Typikon and associated Synaxarion do not preserve narrative or chronological precision, their very existence reveals something deeper: that the memory of the siege was solemnized in the spiritual rhythm of the capital. Each year, Constantinople paused to give thanks for what was remembered as a miraculous escape—not through imperial might, but through divine mercy, interceded by the Theotokos.
This tradition of attributing Constantinople’s survival to divine aid—especially the protection of the Virgin Mary—became a hallmark of Roman civic theology, one that would only grow stronger after the siege of 717–718. But the fact that two separate commemorations were maintained—June 25 and August 16—tells us something important:
The siege of 668 was not an invention of later legend. It was remembered, ritualized, and marked as a day of real danger and real deliverance.
A Nile Papyrus Speaks: Bureaucracy and Boats in the Year 667/8
Among the most overlooked pieces of evidence for Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah’s 668 campaign is not a grand chronicle or a lofty inscription—but a humble fragment of administrative Greek, scribbled in Egypt at the far edge of the empire.
This papyrological scrap, found among the documents of Flavius Papas, captures a moment of imperial mobilization in a terse, bureaucratic line:
Greek Text (P.Apoll.83 l. 8–10:):Βίκτωρι διακ(όνῳ) (ὑπὲρ) [ἀ]γορασία(ς) ψωμ(ίων) λόγ(ῳ) δαπά(νης)ναυτ(ο)καρ(άβων) πεμφθ(έντων) δ(ιὰ) Γρηγορίου πιστικ(οῦ) ἐπὶ τ(ῆς) ια ἰνδικτίονοςTranslation:To Victor the deacon, concerning the purchase of bread, as an expense for the sailors of the warships sent by Gregory the pistikos (trusted agent), in the 11th indiction.
This 11th indiction (667/8 CE) corresponds exactly to the year of Yazīd’s land-and-sea siege of Constantinople. Though dry in tone, this slip of papyrus delivers invaluable insight:
-
Egypt’s resources were being mobilized—bakers, clerks, deacons, and logistics officers all swept into the orbit of the war.
-
The reference to warships (nautokaraba) confirms naval deployment, not simply local provisioning.
-
The grain requisition is designated explicitly for sailors bound for action—likely as part of the Egyptian fleet supporting Yazīd’s expedition.
Egyptian Oars on the Bosphorus
This is no isolated entry. Other papyri from the broader Aphrodito corpus mention the drafting of shipyard workers in Babylon (Old Cairo), and even a contribution by the Patriarch of Alexandria to the war effort.
Together, these fragments illuminate a forgotten dimension of the siege: that it reached not only the gates of Constantinople but the shores of the Nile. The siege was not merely a military event but a transregional campaign, taxing the administrative machinery of an empire newly governed by Arab hands.
Movses Dasxuranc’i and the Peace Embassy of 669
When Rome Bent the Knee
Among the lesser-known yet profoundly revealing witnesses to the aftermath of Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah’s campaign is the 10th-century Armenian historian Movses Dasxuranc’i, author of the History of the Caucasian Albanians. Preserving older Caucasian and Armenian traditions, Movses recounts a diplomatic mission to Damascus around 669 CE, carried out under the mediation of the Caucasian prince Juansher, son of Varaz Grigor.
This episode is not only rich in detail but also perfectly corroborates what we know of the Roman strategic condition after the 668 siege: reeling from the trauma of Yazīd’s incursion, facing internal imperial instability following the assassination of Constans II, and confronting the reality of a Caliphate now entrenched across the Levant and Anatolia.
A Mission of Desperation
According to Dasxuranc’i:
“Leading citizens of the town of Byzantium had come to [Juansher] to accept the yoke of tribute to the sons of Hagar…”
This line alone is monumental: it confirms, from a non-Arab, non-Greek source, that in the aftermath of the 668 siege, Constantinople sought peace through submission—not through negotiation from a position of strength, but by “accepting the yoke” of Arab supremacy.
The emissaries had traveled to the prince of Albania, a trusted intermediary, because direct negotiations with Damascus—seat of Caliph Muʿāwiyah—required a diplomatic go-between from the borderlands between the Christian and Islamic worlds. Juansher, a Christian nobleman known for previous dealings with both powers, was the ideal candidate.
“The celebrated lord arrived with his previous retinue and was welcomed with more reverence and esteem than on the previous occasion… [The caliph] ordered him to enter into peaceable negotiations with the honourable gentlemen who had come from the imperial city…”
What follows is a deeply diplomatic scene: Juansher is welcomed into the Caliph’s court with great honor—seated beside Muʿāwiyah at table, housed in the palace of the Caliph’s own brother, and entrusted with overseeing peace negotiations.
Not only does this underscore the importance of the mission, it also confirms that Muʿāwiyah was open to formalizing peace at a high level. The Romans were treated with unexpected courtesy, and Juansher’s eloquence and tact earned the gratitude of both the Arabs and the Romans:
“The king was greatly amazed at [Juansher’s] judicious and profound knowledge, and the ambassadors from the kingdom of Greece were no less grateful to him…”
This implies the negotiations were successful, likely resulting in the tribute treaty that both Muslim and Christian sources attest to after 678—but which may in fact have had its seeds in these earlier overtures of 669.
Peace from the Ashes of War
What does this episode tell us?
-
That the siege of 668 had severely shaken Constantinople.
-
That Yazīd’s campaign left an enduring Arab military presence in the region until late 669.
-
That Rome sent envoys not as conquerors or equals, but as supplicants, accepting tributary status to avoid further devastation.
-
And that Muʿāwiyah, always a political realist, was willing to translate battlefield gains into long-term diplomatic leverage.
This aligns neatly with the Chronicle of Theophilus, which describes the plundering of Asia Minor until 669, and with the Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica, which notes the Arab army’s two-year campaign concluding only when they returned to Damascus with spoils.
The tribute treaty, which Theophanes and Theophilus both later acknowledge, was not some distant accord hammered out after a fantasy seven-year siege. It was born of real terror, forged in the aftermath of a decisive military confrontation, and facilitated by borderland diplomacy—a glimpse into how imperial humiliation was dressed in the formal robes of protocol.
Historical Significance
Movses Dasxuranc’i’s account is therefore crucial:
-
It confirms the timing and consequence of Yazīd’s campaign from an independent source.
-
It supports the chronological collapse of Roman resilience in 668–669, not the 670s.
-
It provides diplomatic nuance to a period often caricatured as strictly military.
-
It shows that Armenian and Caucasian intermediaries were central to navigating the new order emerging between Dar al-Islam and the Roman world.
In the end, this episode tells a story that Christian Rome tried to forget, and that Abbasid-era Islamic historians had little interest in preserving: the story of a brief moment when Constantinople was cowed, the Caliphate ascendant, and diplomacy done on Arab terms.
Latin Memory from the Edge of the World: The Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica
Among the most compelling and overlooked sources for the 668 campaign of Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah is not found in the court of Constantinople, the deserts of Arabia, or the monasteries of Syria—but from al-Andalus, the westernmost edge of the Islamic world. The Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica, a Latin chronicle composed likely before 741 CE, preserves a rare and early post-conquest perspective on Umayyad imperial history.
What makes this chronicle so significant is not merely its age, but its remarkable independence:
-
It is entirely detached from Roman literary traditions and their theological framing.
-
It is unlinked to Syriac ecclesiastical sources, though likely in contact with Arab informants.
-
And yet, it conveys a narrative strikingly aligned with the best non-Roman evidence—a feat which underscores its reliability.
This suggests that it drew upon a now-lost Arabic source or oral tradition, one unfiltered by the later Abbasid historiographical suppression of Yazīd’s achievements, and one close in time to the events themselves.
What the Chronicle Says
The Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica records the following stunningly succinct but revealing account:
“Muawiyah sent 100,000 men under the command of his son to Constantinople, They surrounded it with a siege that lasted all spring, but because they could not bear the burden of hunger and disease, they left, They seized many other towns and, laden with booty, once again set their eyes on Damascus and the king who had sent them, safe and sound after a two-year absence.”
This account is astonishing in its convergence with multiple independent strands of evidence, and each detail maps directly onto what we now understand to be the true outline of the 668 campaign:
Breakdown and Corroboration
Chronicle Detail Matching Evidence Notes 100,000-man army under Muʿāwiyah’s son Islamic sources (Ibn Kathīr, al-Ṭabarī), Christian writers (Ibn ʿAsākir), Continuatio Hispana Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah leads with senior Companions of the Prophet Siege of Constantinople “all spring” Maronite Chronicle, Typikon of Hagia Sophia, Spanish Chronicle Siege occurred in spring 668, confirmed by Christian liturgical memory (25 June commemoration) Retreat due to hunger and disease Maronite Chronicle, Yazīd’s own poetry, Latin Chronicle Echoes Yazīd’s poem mocking the suffering of his own troops at Chalcedon Raiding other towns and a two-year presence Theophilus of Edessa, Agapius, Arabic sources (al-Ṭabarī) Confirms continued Arab activity in Asia Minor until 669 Return with plunder, not disgrace Muslim sources, Syriac accounts The campaign was not framed as a total failure—Yazīd returned with prestige, enough for Muʿāwiyah to name him heir
| Chronicle Detail | Matching Evidence | Notes |
|---|---|---|
| 100,000-man army under Muʿāwiyah’s son | Islamic sources (Ibn Kathīr, al-Ṭabarī), Christian writers (Ibn ʿAsākir), Continuatio Hispana | Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah leads with senior Companions of the Prophet |
| Siege of Constantinople “all spring” | Maronite Chronicle, Typikon of Hagia Sophia, Spanish Chronicle | Siege occurred in spring 668, confirmed by Christian liturgical memory (25 June commemoration) |
| Retreat due to hunger and disease | Maronite Chronicle, Yazīd’s own poetry, Latin Chronicle | Echoes Yazīd’s poem mocking the suffering of his own troops at Chalcedon |
| Raiding other towns and a two-year presence | Theophilus of Edessa, Agapius, Arabic sources (al-Ṭabarī) | Confirms continued Arab activity in Asia Minor until 669 |
| Return with plunder, not disgrace | Muslim sources, Syriac accounts | The campaign was not framed as a total failure—Yazīd returned with prestige, enough for Muʿāwiyah to name him heir |
Why This Chronicle Matters
This is not a Roman court document designed to inflate imperial heroism. It is a provincial Latin Christian account, written in the Islamic West, with no theological stake in defending either Rome or Damascus.
And yet, it tells the same story as the Maronite Chronicle, the Typikon of Hagia Sophia, and the reconstructed “Oriental” narrative of Theophilus of Edessa: a real siege of Constantinople in 668, short-lived but intense, followed by sustained operations in Roman territory, and culminating in diplomatic tribute.
Moreover, the Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica offers terminology and perspective that suggest access to Muslim informants or documents:
-
It knows Yazīd by name.
-
It understands the campaign's scale (100,000 men).
-
It acknowledges Arab success in plundering, even as it records the failure to take the capital.
This implies that the original source—possibly an Arabic chronicle or Umayyad court record—was composed before the Abbasid suppression of Yazīd’s legacy, offering us a rare glimpse into the Umayyad narrative before it was censored.
From Damascus to Córdoba: Echoes Across the Empire
The campaign of 668 left its mark not just in Syria or Constantinople—but as far as al-Andalus. That such a distant region preserved a coherent and accurate account of a short-lived siege from a generation earlier speaks to the widespread awareness of the event across the Islamic world.
This is memory before distortion—a siege that was:
-
Brief, but bold.
-
Failed, but famed.
-
Forgotten by design in Abbasid court history, yet preserved in Spain.
Final Thoughts: A Forgotten Consensus?
When aligned with:
-
The Maronite Chronicle’s account of the Roman sortie and Arab ambush,
-
The Typikon’s commemoration of divine deliverance from a siege on 25 June,
-
The inscription at the Rhesion Gate marking wall repairs,
-
The tribute negotiations recorded by Movses Dasxuranc’i,
-
And the military records in Arabic and Syriac traditions,
…the Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica offers perhaps the clearest corroboration of all: not only did the 668 siege happen, it was remembered, circulated, and respected as a formative imperial event—even in the far west, it may not be epic. But it is real.
So Why the Myth of the 7-Year Siege?
The enduring image of a seven-year Arab siege of Constantinople (673–678 CE)—so widely repeated in standard histories—can be traced back to one man: Theophanes the Confessor, writing in the early 9th century. But this widely accepted narrative, while dramatic and coherent on the surface, collapses under closer scrutiny. Thanks to the work of scholars like Marek Jankowiak, we now understand that Theophanes’ “epic” was not a record of fact, but a mosaic of confused sources, erroneous assumptions, and theological agendas.
Theophanes’ Chronicle: A Beautiful Illusion?
Theophanes, one of the few surviving Greek chroniclers of the seventh century, was not an eyewitness. He wrote over a century after the events, and crucially, he did not create his narrative from scratch. Instead, he stitched together two earlier, now-lost sources:
-
A Roman military account commonly referred to as the Chronicle of the Patrician Trajan (also used by Nicephorus).
-
A more precise, annalistically structured Oriental source, likely the work of Theophilus of Edessa—a Syriac-speaking Christian scholar who served in the Abbasid court.
Each of these sources told a different story. But instead of respecting their distinctions, Theophanes combined them into one long siege epic, giving the impression of continuous Arab attacks on Constantinople from 670/1 to 677/8. This fusion was the fatal editorial decision that birthed the myth.
How the Mistake Happened
Let’s break down what Theophanes had in front of him—and how he got it wrong:
The Oriental Source (Theophilus of Edessa)
-
Gave precise year-by-year details of Arab raids and Roman countermeasures.
-
Noted the disastrous defeat of a major Arab expedition in 673/4, including the death of 30,000 troops and the destruction of the Arab fleet—likely via Greek fire.
-
Recorded the Mardaites’ successful campaigns in Lebanon (677/8).
-
Crucially: did not mention a siege of Constantinople during the 670s.
Gave precise year-by-year details of Arab raids and Roman countermeasures.
Noted the disastrous defeat of a major Arab expedition in 673/4, including the death of 30,000 troops and the destruction of the Arab fleet—likely via Greek fire.
Recorded the Mardaites’ successful campaigns in Lebanon (677/8).
Crucially: did not mention a siege of Constantinople during the 670s.
The Patrician Trajan’s Chronicle
-
Provided a narrative-style siege tale: a prolonged Arab assault on Constantinople, daily battles at the Theodosian Walls, Arab ships wrecked by a storm near Syllaeum, and a tribute-paying peace treaty.
-
Was vague and imprecise on chronology.
-
Likely relied on oral memory, not documents.
-
May have blurred memories of two distinct events:
-
The 668 siege attempt under Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah.
-
The later, more famous siege of 717–718.
Provided a narrative-style siege tale: a prolonged Arab assault on Constantinople, daily battles at the Theodosian Walls, Arab ships wrecked by a storm near Syllaeum, and a tribute-paying peace treaty.
Was vague and imprecise on chronology.
Likely relied on oral memory, not documents.
May have blurred memories of two distinct events:
-
The 668 siege attempt under Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah.
-
The later, more famous siege of 717–718.
Theophanes’ Fusion: A Chronicle of Contradictions
Faced with two imperfect and fragmentary sources, Theophanes tried to harmonize them using his rigid annalistic format, which required placing events in specific years. He encountered several key problems:
| Problem | Result |
|---|---|
| Trajan’s source lacked clear dates | Theophanes had to guess when events occurred. |
| The Oriental source gave dated but siege-less content | He assumed the siege must be in AM 6165 (673/4)—the year of the major Arab defeat. |
| Conflicting fleet stories (Arab fleet defeated at sea, and again at Syllaeum) | He merged them into one campaign. |
| Arab generals mentioned in both stories (e.g., Sufyān b. ʿAwf) | He confused different expeditions, assuming all were part of one siege. |
| Mardaite campaign appears post-siege | He treated it as a follow-up victory, even though it marked the true turning point. |
Thus, Theophanes wove together:
-
Trajan’s siege tale (meant to describe a short siege under Yazīd or a general campaign).
-
Theophilus’ sequence of raids and counterattacks, meant to portray Roman recovery.
He turned what were scattered, loosely connected military operations into a structured, theological drama of Christian endurance and victory.
The Contradictions Exposed
The more one looks at Theophanes’ seven-year siege narrative, the more it unravels:
-
Arrival and departure of the Arab fleet are both dated to AM 6165 (673/4)—making it impossible for the siege to last seven years.
-
Other Arab raids and Roman campaigns (like wintering in Crete, African campaigns, and the Slavic siege of Thessalonica) are said to occur during the siege—which makes little sense if Constantinople was truly encircled.
-
Greek fire is mentioned in the wrong place, appearing as part of a failed fleet attack near Syllaeum, rather than in the earlier, better-attested 668 defeat.
-
The 30,000 Arabs killed by Florus, Petronas, and Cyprian? That’s actually from Theophilus, describing a field battle, not a siege.
The Myth That Worked
Despite its flaws, Theophanes’ construction became the standard narrative. Why?
-
It fit Roman theology: Constantinople, the new Rome, was saved by the Virgin Mary herself. The longer the siege, the greater the miracle.
-
It provided a symbolic symmetry: the “first” and “second” Arab sieges (668 and 717) both become testaments to divine favor.
-
It helped legitimize Constantine IV, portraying him as a steadfast defender of the city.
-
It buried Yazīd’s campaign, which would have conflicted with later Christian narratives about him as the tyrant of Karbalā’.
Modern Reconstruction: Breaking the Spell
Thanks to the critical scholarship of Marek Jankowiak, we now understand that:
-
The real siege happened in 668, not the 670s.
-
The fleet destruction and field defeat of 673/4 were separate events—not linked to a siege.
-
The peace treaty and tribute occurred after a decade of escalating raids and costly setbacks, not a single multi-year siege.
✨ Theophanes gave us a legend. The sources give us history.
Final Verdict
| Element | Theophanes' Narrative | Reality |
|---|---|---|
| 7-year siege (673–678) | ❌ No supporting evidence | Invented by combining two unrelated sources |
| Siege at Constantinople | ✅ But in 668, not 673–8 | Confirmed by Maronite Chronicle, Spanish Chronicle |
| Fleet destroyed by storm | ✅ But timing wrong | Really occurred during the 668 campaign or 673/4 defeat |
| Mardaites in Lebanon | ✅ True | From Theophilus' chronicle, but distorted by placement |
| Tribute imposed on Arabs | ✅ True | But not due to a single siege—rather from long-term war exhaustion |
In conclusion, the myth of the seven-year siege is the product of Theophanes’ editorial error, rooted in his attempt to blend an imprecise military memoir (Trajan) with a disciplined Oriental chronicle (Theophilus). While his intentions were likely sincere—creating a cohesive vision of divine deliverance—his narrative fractures under critical analysis.
When we disentangle his sources and re-date the events properly, we do not lose history—we gain clarity:
-
A real siege, in 668.
-
A real naval disaster, in 673/4.
-
A real Roman recovery, from 675 onward.
And thus, the legend becomes truth again—but not in the way Theophanes imagined.
Final Verdict – Memory, Myth, and the Mirror of Sources
As we untangle the historiographical strands of the Second Arab Siege of Constantinople, three parallel traditions emerge—Muslim, Roman (Theophanes / Patrician Trajan), and Oriental (Theophilus of Edessa). Each offers unique insights. But when rigorously compared, one emerges as the most historically reliable.
Let’s break down the major features across these three traditions:
| Feature | Muslim Sources | Theophanes / Patrician Trajan | Oriental Source (Theophilus of Edessa) |
|---|---|---|---|
| Siege of Constantinople | ❌ Not mentioned at all | ✅ Central feature (673–678) | ❌ Absent — raids, not a siege |
| Yazīd’s 668 Campaign | ✅ Confirmed in multiple Arabic chronicles (Ibn Kathīr, Ṭabarī, al-Dhahabī) | ✅ Acknowledged, but dramatically inflated and misdated | ✅ Verified by the Maronite Chronicle, Spanish Chronicle, and related Syriac/Armenian texts |
| Major Arab Defeats | ✅ Recorded: Sufyān b. ʿAwf’s annihilation; fleet losses | ✅ Attributed to Greek fire; vague timing | ✅ Anchored in 673/4 as pivotal disaster |
| Use of Greek Fire | ⚠️ Not explicitly mentioned in Muslim sources, but implied in naval collapse | ✅ Central miracle of the siege tale | ✅ Matches timing and nature of Arab fleet’s destruction in 673/4 |
| Mardaite Rebellion | ❌ Not preserved in Abbasid-filtered Muslim historiography | ✅ Appears during “siege aftermath” | ✅ Highlighted as a Roman counter-offensive in 677/8 that pressured the Caliphate |
| Peace with Tribute (678–9) | ✅ Confirmed: annual gold, horses, and captives | ✅ Emphasized as siege’s end | ✅ Matches historical diplomatic overtures recorded in both Christian and Armenian/Syriac accounts |
Analysis: Where Memory and Reality Diverge
🔹 Theophanes and the Patrician Trajan gave posterity a dramatic story—a seven-year siege of Constantinople, ending in a triumph of Christian resilience. But this narrative is more rhetorical construction than factual report:
-
It compresses unrelated events into a single siege tale.
-
It misdates Arab setbacks, likely due to confusion between Yazīd’s real siege (668) and later naval losses (673/4).
-
It reflects imperial theology, not battlefield dispatches.
In contrast...
🔹 The Oriental Source, preserved by Theophilus of Edessa and echoed in Agapius, Michael the Syrian, and the Chronicle of 1234, provides a sober, chronologically ordered sequence:
-
No siege in the 670s.
-
Real defeats for the Arabs.
-
A Roman military and diplomatic recovery.
-
A campaign of counterattacks culminating in peace and tribute.
And finally...
🔹 The Muslim chronicles, while tersee, nonetheless confirm the overall arc of events:
-
A major campaign by Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah.
-
Key Arab defeats.
-
A peace accord driven by cumulative losses—not by a miraculous siege.
The Verdict: Theophilus Wins History
-
Theophilus' chronology aligns with archaeological evidence (Rhesion Gate renovation, Chalcedon inscriptions).
-
His timeline matches Syriac and Latin accounts, including the Maronite and Spanish chronicles.
-
His narrative structure avoids contradictions, whereas Theophanes' tale is riddled with them.
🏛️ Conclusion: The so-called “ Second Siege of Constantinople (673–678)” is not a siege—it is a mythologized patchwork, born of Theophanes’ flawed editorial process. The true siege occurred in spring 668, led by Yazīd, and ended within months.
Theophilus' chronology aligns with archaeological evidence (Rhesion Gate renovation, Chalcedon inscriptions).
His timeline matches Syriac and Latin accounts, including the Maronite and Spanish chronicles.
His narrative structure avoids contradictions, whereas Theophanes' tale is riddled with them.
🏛️ Conclusion: The so-called “ Second Siege of Constantinople (673–678)” is not a siege—it is a mythologized patchwork, born of Theophanes’ flawed editorial process. The true siege occurred in spring 668, led by Yazīd, and ended within months.
Conclusion: Fragmented Memory, Unified Story
At first glance, the Christian records of the 7th-century Arab siege of Constantinople appear like a cacophony—scattered across languages, sects, and geographies. But a surprisingly coherent and vivid narrative emerges when approached with a critical eye and read against the grain of imperial memory.
The Syriac chroniclers, writing from the hills of Edessa and the monastic silence of the Maronite tradition, never mention a drawn-out siege in the 670s. Instead, they anchor the Arab incursion to a brief but terrifying assault in 668, during which Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah, son of the Caliph, marched across Asia Minor, wintered in Chalcedon, and struck at the heart of Roman memory—the walls of Constantine's city. Their record is not just accurate, but eerily specific: it tells us of famine, pestilence, a Roman sortie that failed, and a sudden retreat.
The Armenian histories, particularly Movses Dasxuranc’i, do not glorify either side. They document a Roman embassy sent to Damascus in 669, not in triumph, but in desperation—offering tribute through intermediaries like Prince Juansher of Caucasian Albania. This was no Roman victory celebration. It was diplomatic capitulation, masked in the language of protocol.
In the far west, the Latin world, newly under Arab rule, preserved its own fragment of the story. The Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica, penned in Spain not long after the Arab conquest of Iberia, confirms the essential details of Yazīd’s siege: a springtime assault, crushed not by battle but by hunger and disease. The army lingered for two years in Roman lands—raiding, plundering, surviving—before returning home to Damascus. These echoes from the periphery preserve what the center has forgotten or obscured.
Together, these sources—Syriac, Armenian, and Latin—refute the myth of Theophanes’ seven-year siege. There was no continuous blockade of Constantinople between 673–678. That notion, forged in the crucible of 9th-century Roman hagiography and empire-building, was a retrospective reconstruction, not a record of fact. It stitched together multiple events—raids, defeats, diplomacy—into a singular, epic drama meant to affirm Rome's providential survival.
But history is rarely so neat. What these marginalized voices reveal is a siege that was real but brief, desperate but not decisive, spiritually potent though politically inconclusive. Yazīd’s army did not take Constantinople—but they did reach it. They camped across the Bosphorus, fought skirmishes, left behind martyrs like Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī, and planted the seed of a myth that would blossom under the Ottomans eight centuries later.
The siege of 668 was not the end of Rome—but it was a crack in its aura of invincibility. It was the moment when Arab armies touched the edge of Roman imagination. And although the city held, the siege left behind more than just broken soldiers. It left behind memory—fragmented, contested, and enduring.
And it is by reassembling these broken shards—Syriac prayers, Armenian embassies, Latin chronicles, Arabic verses, and inscriptions on Constantinople’s gates—that we can finally see the whole mosaic again. A history not of myth, but of moment. Not of conquest, but of contact.
A real siege, in real time, with real consequences—forgotten by some, remembered by others, and only now fully understood.
4. The Campaign of Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah – What Really Happened?
What truly happened when the Umayyads launched their first major expedition against Constantinople? Was there a siege? A failed invasion? Or simply an evolving story distorted by memory and myth?
Drawing on critical scholarship—especially Marek Jankowiak’s reconstruction and methodical dismantling of Theophanes—we can now reconstruct the campaign of Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah not as the seven-year epic of Roman lore, but as a tightly timed and deeply consequential two-year expedition (667–669), culminating in a brief siege in the spring of 668.
Phase 1: The Road to Constantinople (666–667)
The campaign begins in imperial crisis. In 667 CE, the Eastern Roman Empire faced a severe internal threat: a rebellion in Anatolia by Saborius, strategos of the Armeniakon theme. His uprising, possibly backed by Persia or local magnates, directly challenged Emperor Constans II.
Muʿāwiyah, Caliph of the Umayyad state, seized the opportunity. He sent Faḍālah b. ʿUbayd al-Anṣārī into Asia Minor, establishing a forward Arab presence and offering limited support to Saborius. But when the latter died in an accident, Muʿāwiyah escalated: he chose to send his son, Yazīd, at the head of a full-scale campaign aimed at nothing less than the conquest of Constantinople.
Yazīd’s army was symbolically loaded. With him marched the most illustrious names in early Islam:
-
ʿAbdallāh b. ʿAbbās (the Prophet’s cousin),
-
ʿAbdallāh b. ʿUmar (son of Caliph ʿUmar),
-
ʿAbdallāh b. al-Zubayr (grandson of Abū Bakr),
-
and Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī (the Prophet’s host in Medina).
This was no mere raid—it was a calibrated display of legitimacy, piety, and dynastic ambition. Yazīd, still a young man, was being prepared as heir to the Caliphate, and this expedition was to be his proving ground.
Phase 2: Encampment at Chalcedon (Winter 667–668)
The Arab forces crossed Anatolia and encamped at Chalcedon, just across the Bosphorus from Constantinople. Sources place them there for the winter of 667/8. Their presence was palpable and disruptive.
Even Arabic poetic tradition preserves this memory. Yazīd is said to have composed a derisive poem from his luxurious retreat at Dayr Murrān, mocking the sufferings of the Arab troops:
“When I lie on carpets drinking a morning draught in Dayr Murrān with Umm Kulthūm—What do I care about troops suffering from fever and smallpox at Chalcedon?”
Angered by this, Muʿāwiyah forced his son to join the army and share in its hardships. Yazīd’s late arrival to the front, while a point of satire in Muslim memory, likely did little to alter the scope of the campaign.
Roman sources, too, remember this winter. A 7th-century kontakion to Saint Euphemia recalls her relics being moved from Chalcedon to Constantinople—likely a precaution in light of Arab encampment. An inscription from the Rhesion Gate (Mevlevihane kapı), dated to the 11th indiction (667/8) and later defaced—possibly in connection with the downfall of co-emperors Heraclius and Tiberius—suggests city preparations against an imminent siege.
Phase 3: The Siege of Constantinople (Spring 668)
Come spring, the Arabs struck.
The siege was short-lived, however. Both the Typikon of the Great Church and the Spanish Chronicle (Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica) confirm that the siege ended on or around June 25th, 668, not due to military defeat, but because of disease and hunger among the Arab ranks.
The Typikon, used in the Constantinopolitan liturgy, commemorates:
“The help provided… by our Saviour Jesus Christ… against the godless Saracens who were besieging our imperial city by land and sea.”
This is critical. It confirms a land and sea operation—brief, but real. This was not the prolonged siege of legend, but a decisive episode that etched itself into ecclesiastical and popular memory.
Phase 4: Withdrawal and Diplomacy (668–669)
Even after lifting the siege, Yazīd’s forces did not immediately retreat. According to the Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica, they remained in Roman territory for two years, capturing towns, pillaging, and securing plunder before returning to Damascus.
The impact of this presence was immense:
-
In Syracuse, Emperor Constans II was assassinated on July 15, 668—likely triggered by panic over the siege. A rival emperor, Mezezius, briefly took power.
-
The History of the Caucasian Albanians (Movses Dasxuranc’i) records that a Roman embassy was sent to Damascus in 669, led by Juansher, an Albanian prince, to negotiate peace. The Romans were ready to “accept the yoke of tribute” to the Caliph.
This was not a conquest—but a moment of political humiliation and recalibration. It was also a turning point for Yazīd himself. Shortly after the campaign, he led the pilgrimage to Mecca (670 CE), and was formally designated heir by Muʿāwiyah the following year.
Echoes from Syria – Ibn Kathīr and al-Dhahabī
While Abbasid historians often filtered or suppressed the memory of Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah's campaign due to his later vilification, not all Islamic voices fell silent. Two of the most important chroniclers from Syria—Ibn Kathīr (d. 1373) and al-Dhahabī (d. 1348)—offer vital witness to this pivotal episode, preserving traditions likely derived from Umayyad-era oral or written sources.
Ibn Kathīr: The First Army to Caesar's City
In his al-Bidāyah wa’l-Nihāyah, Ibn Kathīr explicitly states:
"In the year 49 [AH] Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah led an expedition into the land of the Romans until he reached Constantinople, accompanied by a group of the most eminent Companions, among them: Ibn ʿUmar, Ibn ʿAbbās, Ibn al-Zubayr, and Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī."
He follows this with a reference to the famous ḥadīth recorded in Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī:
“The first army that attacks the city of Caesar shall be forgiven.”
And then comments:
“This was the first army to reach [Constantinople], and they did not arrive there without enduring extreme hardship.”
Ibn Kathīr also notes the death of Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī during the campaign or shortly after—his burial near the city would later become a sacred Ottoman site.
Al-Dhahabī: Yazīd Leads the Expedition
In his Tārīkh al-Islām, al-Dhahabī adds concisely but powerfully:
“In this year [50 AH], there was the Expedition to Constantinople. The commander of the army was Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah, and with him were many leading figures, including Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī.”
Though brief, the statement affirms Yazīd’s central role and the expedition’s symbolic and martial weight.
Why These Accounts Matter
Both historians wrote in Damascus, once the capital of the Umayyad Caliphate, and had access to Syrian archival memory. Their accounts preserve a continuity of historical knowledge—a chain that stretches back to Umayyad times, free from the distortion that came with Abbasid hostility toward Yazīd.
They also:
-
Confirm that the campaign reached Constantinople itself, not just Asia Minor.
-
Emphasize the presence of key Companions, aligning with other sources like al-Ṭabarī and the Spanish chronicles.
-
Reflect how, despite later controversies, the early Islamic world saw the 668 campaign as a meritorious and even prophetic act, tied to a ḥadīth of great religious significance.
Historical Weight
These narratives, though concise, fill the silences left by al-Ṭabarī and others. They help us reconstruct not just the logistics, but the emotional and religious memory surrounding this first attempt to breach the gates of Constantine’s city.
Their voices affirm that this was the first real siege of Constantinople by Muslim forces—a sacred struggle, not just a strategic raid.
Ibn al-Athīr’s Witness: The Siege Remembered in Verse and Blood
While Abbasid-era historiography often glosses over Yazīd’s failed expedition to Constantinople, the 13th-century historian ʿIzz al-Dīn Ibn al-Athīr preserves one of the richest Arabic narratives of the siege. His account breathes with eyewitness detail, battlefield poetry, and political tension—and it powerfully corroborates the real siege of 668 CE reconstructed from Christian, Syriac, and Latin testimonies.
The Siege and Its Hardships
“Muʿāwiyah sent a massive army to the land of the Romans under the command of Sufyān b. ʿAwf, and ordered his son Yazīd to join them. Yazīd hesitated, feigning illness, so his father held off—until news came of the army’s suffering: famine and disease ravaging the men.”
Yazīd, lounging in comfort, composed verses mocking the hardships of the front lines:
"I care not for what their ranks endured in Chalcedon—
fever and pestilence—
while I recline on silken cushions, at ease in Dayr Murrān, with my wife Umm Kulthūm."
This moment captures the clash between elite indifference and the suffering of soldiers—a tension echoed in Umayyad poetry and mirrored in Roman and Syriac laments over the siege’s toll.
“Muʿāwiyah sent a massive army to the land of the Romans under the command of Sufyān b. ʿAwf, and ordered his son Yazīd to join them. Yazīd hesitated, feigning illness, so his father held off—until news came of the army’s suffering: famine and disease ravaging the men.”
"I care not for what their ranks endured in Chalcedon—
fever and pestilence—
while I recline on silken cushions, at ease in Dayr Murrān, with my wife Umm Kulthūm."
The Battle Outside Constantinople
“Muʿāwiyah, enraged by Yazīd’s poetry, swore he would join the army and suffer what the men had suffered. Yazīd departed, joined by more reinforcements... among them: Ibn ʿAbbās, Ibn ʿUmar, Ibn al-Zubayr, Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī, and ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz b. Zurārah al-Kilābī.”
They advanced deep into Roman territory, all the way to Constantinople. There, the Muslims and Romans clashed in repeated engagements—confirming a real and sustained encounter outside the city walls.
In the midst of it, ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz sought martyrdom with these stirring verses:
"I’ve lived many lives on many paths—
I’ve tasted ease and hardship alike.No joy blinds me, no pain makes me flinch.
I meet fate with open chest and steady hand."
He charged the enemy and fell beneath their spears.
When word reached Muʿāwiyah, he is said to have cried out:
“By God, the young man of the Arabs is dead!”And when asked, “My son or yours?”He replied: “Your son. May God reward you.”
“Muʿāwiyah, enraged by Yazīd’s poetry, swore he would join the army and suffer what the men had suffered. Yazīd departed, joined by more reinforcements... among them: Ibn ʿAbbās, Ibn ʿUmar, Ibn al-Zubayr, Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī, and ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz b. Zurārah al-Kilābī.”
A Grave at the Walls
After the siege collapsed—plagued by disease and logistics—the army withdrew. Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī, Companion of the Prophet and veteran of Badr and Uḥud, died near the city and was buried beside the Theodosian walls.
“The people of the city later sought rain by his grave.”
His tomb would become a sacred site, honored even by the Ottomans a millennium later, a testament to the campaign’s real historical and spiritual legacy.
“The people of the city later sought rain by his grave.”
Why Ibn al-Athīr Matters
Ibn al-Athīr's account is literary, historical, and confessional. It offers:
-
Confirmation of Yazīd’s campaign, its elite participants, and its objective: Constantinople.
-
A clear sequence: hardship, battle, death, retreat—matching the narrative reconstructed from the Maronite Chronicle, the Typikon of Hagia Sophia, and the Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica.
-
A poignant glimpse into early Islamic memory, shaped not just by fact, but by poetry, pride, and pain.
As with the Syriac and Latin chronicles, Ibn al-Athīr helps us recover the truth behind the myth:
The 668 siege was not an epic miracle of resistance—it was a short, bitter, and very real war on the walls of the Bosphorus.
Confirmation of Yazīd’s campaign, its elite participants, and its objective: Constantinople.
A clear sequence: hardship, battle, death, retreat—matching the narrative reconstructed from the Maronite Chronicle, the Typikon of Hagia Sophia, and the Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica.
A poignant glimpse into early Islamic memory, shaped not just by fact, but by poetry, pride, and pain.
The 668 siege was not an epic miracle of resistance—it was a short, bitter, and very real war on the walls of the Bosphorus.
Synthesis: What We Know
What emerges from this critical reconstruction is a precise, datable, multi-sourced portrait of the 668–669 Arab campaign led by Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah, which marks the Second Arab Siege of Constantinople. When aligned chronologically and cross-verified through Arabic, Syriac, Armenian, Latin, and liturgical sources—filtered through the rigorous analysis of scholars like Zuckerman and Jankowiak—the picture sharpens.
Event Timeline & Source Map
🗓️ Event 📚 Source 662/3 – Start of regular Arab raids into Anatolia Arabic annalists; Christian sources April 667 – Thomas II becomes Patriarch Theophanes 667 – Rebellion of Saborios in Anatolia Theophanes, Theophilus of Edessa 667 – Caliph Muʿāwiyah dispatches Faḍālah b. ʿUbayd, then Yazīd Arabic sources, Theophilus 667/8 – Rhesion Gate inscription (likely tied to siege) Archaeology Winter 667/8 – Yazīd and Faḍālah camp at Chalcedon Islamic poetry, Euphemia kontakion, Rhesion Gate Spring 668 – Arab siege of Constantinople Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica, Typikon of Hagia Sophia Spring 668 – Roman sortie fails Maronite Chronicle 25 June 668 – Siege lifted due to disease and hunger Spanish Chronicle, Typikon 15 July 668 – Assassination of Emperor Constans II in Syracuse Theophanes, Theophilus, Syriac sources Spring–Late 669 – Yazīd’s forces remain in Roman territory, raiding Theophilus of Edessa, Spanish Chronicle 669 – Roman envoys reach Damascus; Juansher mediates tribute Movses Dasxuranc’i November 669 – Death of Patriarch Thomas II; succession by John V Patriarchal lists 669/70 – The Romans recapture Amorion Theophanes, Theophilus 670 – Pope Vitalian rejects synodical letter from Constantinople Latin and ecclesiastical sources
| 🗓️ Event | 📚 Source |
|---|---|
| 662/3 – Start of regular Arab raids into Anatolia | Arabic annalists; Christian sources |
| April 667 – Thomas II becomes Patriarch | Theophanes |
| 667 – Rebellion of Saborios in Anatolia | Theophanes, Theophilus of Edessa |
| 667 – Caliph Muʿāwiyah dispatches Faḍālah b. ʿUbayd, then Yazīd | Arabic sources, Theophilus |
| 667/8 – Rhesion Gate inscription (likely tied to siege) | Archaeology |
| Winter 667/8 – Yazīd and Faḍālah camp at Chalcedon | Islamic poetry, Euphemia kontakion, Rhesion Gate |
| Spring 668 – Arab siege of Constantinople | Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica, Typikon of Hagia Sophia |
| Spring 668 – Roman sortie fails | Maronite Chronicle |
| 25 June 668 – Siege lifted due to disease and hunger | Spanish Chronicle, Typikon |
| 15 July 668 – Assassination of Emperor Constans II in Syracuse | Theophanes, Theophilus, Syriac sources |
| Spring–Late 669 – Yazīd’s forces remain in Roman territory, raiding | Theophilus of Edessa, Spanish Chronicle |
| 669 – Roman envoys reach Damascus; Juansher mediates tribute | Movses Dasxuranc’i |
| November 669 – Death of Patriarch Thomas II; succession by John V | Patriarchal lists |
| 669/70 – The Romans recapture Amorion | Theophanes, Theophilus |
| 670 – Pope Vitalian rejects synodical letter from Constantinople | Latin and ecclesiastical sources |
Conclusion: The Real “Second Siege” of Constantinople
The campaign of 668 CE, led by Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah, was the second attempt since 654 to seize the Roman capital—an event filtered, minimized, or misremembered in later Muslim and Roman traditions alike. It was:
-
A major imperial effort, involving some of the most illustrious Companions of the Prophet.
-
A military confrontation that reached the very walls of Constantinople—documented not only by chronicles, but archaeology, liturgy, and local inscriptions.
-
A campaign that failed not in battle, but through the brutal attrition of disease and famine.
Aftermath and Legacy
The campaign’s consequences rippled far and wide:
-
Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī died at the walls—his grave, rediscovered in 1453, became a sacred Ottoman site, symbolizing Islam’s deep connection to the city.
-
The memory of this failed siege fueled both legends and liturgies, shaping narratives for centuries.
-
Rome, shaken by the brush with collapse, saw the assassination of its emperor, tribute negotiations, and a period of military and religious restructuring.
A Mirror, Not a Monument
When filtered through Theophanes, the siege becomes a seven-year apocalyptic epic—a theological fiction more than historical fact. But the real memory, preserved in Syriac, Armenian, Latin, and early Islamic fragments, reveals something subtler:
A siege that ended before it could begin. A war of nerves and attrition. A moment when Rome felt the heat of the desert sun, and Islam touched the walls of Caesar’s city.
This was no passing raid. It was the first crucible of Roman-Islamic confrontation in the Bosphorus. And though it failed in conquest, it succeeded in reshaping imperial policy, military architecture, and religious imagination on both sides of the sea.
5. The Aftermath – Memory, Politics, and the Empire’s Pivot
The siege of 668–669, though ultimately a failure for the Umayyads, was a momentous event. It shook both empires—not because Constantinople fell, but because it almost did. And from that moment onward, both Rome and the Caliphate pivoted: politically, militarily, and ideologically.
Internal Roman Upheaval
The most immediate consequence of the siege was internal collapse. Less than three weeks after Yazīd lifted the siege, news reached the imperial court in Syracuse that Constans II had been assassinated—bludgeoned in his bath with a bucket by his own cubicularius.
In the chaos, a rival emperor—Mezezius, a handsome Armenian count of the Opsikion theme was crowned in Sicily. Zuckerman convincingly argues that this was a coup motivated by fear: the defenders in the West believed Constantinople had fallen to the Arabs and preemptively installed their own Caesar, just as in 717–718, when Sicilian soldiers “gave up hope” for the capital and crowned their own emperor, this revolt too was not treason—but a strategy for imperial continuity if the capital fell.
Eventually, Constantine IV, the young son of Constans, was crowned in the capital and crushed the rebellion. But the trauma of 668 cast a long shadow across the empire’s future strategy.
The Arab Setback
Although Arab armies remained in Roman territory for much of 668–669, no follow-up siege was attempted. The siege of Constantinople had ended in logistical disaster, not direct defeat—but the consequences were clear:
-
Starvation, disease, and attrition devastated the Arab army.
-
The death of Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī (buried near the walls) marked both a loss and a legend for Islam.
-
Yazīd’s poem, mocking the suffering of Arab troops from the comfort of a monastery near Damascus, sealed his reputation among later historians as a worldly prince—not a holy warrior.
Most tellingly, the Abbasid-era historians downplayed or entirely omitted the siege. Only ʿulamaʾ in Syria—like Ibn Kathīr and al-Dhahabī—preserved brief references to Yazīd’s campaign, with mentions of the Prophet’s prophecy about the “first army to attack Caesar’s city.” Even then, the focus shifted away from Yazīd to Abū Ayyūb, whose martyrdom could be celebrated without endorsing the Umayyads.
The memory of this campaign was erased, marginalized, and re-attributed, filtered through theological and political lenses that sought to rewrite Umayyad legacy.
The Empire Strikes Back – The Roman Recovery
While Theophanes speaks of a seven-year siege (674–678), the actual record tells a different story: by the early 670s, the Empire was no longer merely surviving—it was rebuilding and regaining the initiative.
🔹 1. War Front Shifts Away from Constantinople
From 670 onwards, no source— Syriac, Arabic, or Armenian—describes Arab forces encamped at Constantinople again. Instead:
-
Arab raids continued into Anatolia, Isauria, and Africa, often mentioned in dry one-line entries in Islamic sources.
-
Generals like Sufyān b. ʿAwf, Faḍālah b. ʿUbayd, and Yazīd b. Shajarah led campaigns—but suffered major setbacks.
Zuckerman and Jankowiak note that by 673–674, Arab raids peaked and then began to lose steam, especially after the death of Sufyān (likely in 672/3) and the naval defeat of Yazīd b. Shajarah in 677/8.
These were not just pauses—they were the signs of imperial reversal.
🔹 2. The Mardaite Guerrilla War (677–678)
Around 677/8, Roman-sponsored Mardaite forces began infiltrating northern Lebanon, harassing Umayyad supply lines and villages in the highlands. This mountain insurgency paralleled Roman naval actions along the coast.
This not only pressured Muʿāwiyah militarily, but symbolically—he could no longer project unchallenged power even in Syria’s own backyard.
🔹 3. The Peace Treaty of 678–679
Crushed by attrition, and sensing Rome’s return to strength, Muʿāwiyah offered terms. According to both Christian and Arabic sources, tribute was arranged:
-
Gold, horses, and captives were handed over annually.
-
A truce of 30 years was agreed.
This marked the first time in the Islamic era that Rome imposed terms on the Caliphate—a reversal of fortune rarely acknowledged in Muslim tradition but clear from external testimony.
Rome Was Busy Elsewhere
Even as Arab raids flared along the frontier, the core of the Empire was unthreatened. Consider:
📍 The Siege of Thessalonica (676–678)
Slavic forces blockaded Thessalonica for two years. The Miracles of Saint Demetrius reports that Emperor Constantine IV was too preoccupied with other wars to intervene immediately. Eventually, he broke the siege—further proof the capital was not under Arab blockade at the same time.
Resumption of Ecclesiastical Diplomacy
By 676–678, Constantinople resumed correspondence with Rome. The synodical letters of Patriarchs John V, Constantine, and Theodore reached the Popes.
This diplomatic flow—utterly impossible under siege—confirms that Theophanes’ seven-year narrative is untenable.
Conclusion: No Siege, But a Reckoning
The legacy of the 668 campaign was not territorial conquest—but memory:
-
A Muslim army reached the walls of Constantine’s city.
-
Rome suffered a decapitation crisis—but recovered.
-
The Caliphate met its limits, its armies overextended and its prince scorned.
And the narrative was reshaped. For the Romans, the trauma was refashioned into an epic of divine salvation. For Abbasid historians, it was buried beneath a mound of neglect.
But the truth, as revealed through Syriac, Armenian, Arabic, Latin, and Roman voices, is far more compelling:
A failed siege that broke an empire—then built it back stronger.
Conclusion – A Forgotten Siege Remembered
For over a millennium, the so-called Second Arab Siege of Constantinople has echoed through histories and homilies, wrapped in miracle and martyrdom. But when the layers of legend are peeled back, a different, clearer picture emerges—one rooted not in hagiography, but in history.
Thanks to the rigorous scholarship of Marek Jankowiak, and through the careful triangulation of Greek, Latin, Syriac, Armenian, and Arabic sources, we can now reconstruct what truly happened on the Bosphorus in 668 CE. This final verdict emerges not from any single account, but from a disciplined synthesis—witnessed in chronicles, confirmed by archaeology, and sharpened by cross-cultural critique.
A Real Siege—But Not Theophanes’ Siege
The campaign of Yazīd b. Muʿāwiyah in 668 CE was not a seven-year epic. It was a short, intense, and ultimately unsuccessful siege—yet one that marked a profound turning point.
-
Syriac sources like the Maronite Chronicle describe Arab forces encamped in Thrace, a failed Roman sortie, and a retreat spurred by famine and disease.
-
The Spanish Continuatio Byzantia-Arabica, written in al-Andalus, echoes this memory: a spring siege, a forced withdrawal, and a two-year Arab presence in Roman territory.
-
The Typikon of Hagia Sophia, commemorating divine deliverance on June 25, preserves liturgical memory of the campaign’s end.
-
Muslim historians—even amid Abbasid erasure—recall Yazīd’s expedition and the burial of Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī, whose tomb still stands as testimony.
-
Archaeological evidence, such as the Rhesion Gate inscription dated to 667/8, aligns with the siege’s footprint.
Together, these sources unveil a siege that was real, datable, and deeply human—not the bloated legend of a protracted holy war, but a short campaign that exposed Rome’s vulnerability.
Memory, Myth, and Misplacement
The myth of the “Seven-Year Siege” stems from the Chronicle of Theophanes, shaped by the theological and narrative style of the early 9th century. Theophanes wove together two discordant sources:
-
The oral recollections of the Patrician Trajan, composed half a century after the events and rich in dramatization.
-
The Oriental Source (Theophilus of Edessa), a precise and annalistically structured chronicle used by Syriac, Greek, and Arabic historians.
But Theophanes’ attempt to impose order resulted in historical distortion. He:
-
Mistook episodic raids across Anatolia for a continuous siege.
-
Misplaced the Arab naval disaster at Syllaion—a turning point in 673/4—into the siege narrative.
-
Compressed years of scattered warfare into a single, embellished epic of divine deliverance.
Modern scrutiny, especially Jankowiak’s reconstruction, exposes these contradictions. The siege is absent in Theophilus, uncorroborated by archaeology, and contradicted by military realities.
Rome Resurgent, the Caliphate Humbled
While Yazīd’s army reached the walls of Constantinople, it failed to take them. But that failure revealed a greater truth: Constantinople could, once again, be reached. No longer a distant ideal, it became a tangible target—sparking the aspirations of future Arab and Ottoman conquerors.
Yet it was Rome that endured. This was still the Roman Empire, adaptable and martial:
-
The Mardaites took the fight into Lebanon by 677/8.
-
Arab armies, like that of Sufyān b. ʿAwf, were annihilated at Syllaion by Greek fire—30,000 men lost in a single stroke.
-
Roman naval power resurged, with raids reaching Egypt’s Nile Delta and victories shifting the war’s tide by 674.
-
By 678, Constantine IV imposed a peace treaty on the Caliph—tribute in gold, horses, and captives—a diplomatic coup unseen since the empire’s darkest days.
Even church diplomacy improved. From 676–678, as the capital stood unbesieged, Constantinople and Rome exchanged envoys and synodical letters, laying groundwork for future unity.
Final Reflection – Memory Reshaped, History Recovered
History is not what is remembered—it is what can be recovered.
The siege of 668 CE was short. It was fragmentary. But it was real. It left:
-
A grave: the resting place of Abū Ayyūb al-Anṣārī, still honored today.
-
A treaty: the first peace between Caesar and Caliph.
-
A warning: that Constantinople, though mighty, was no longer untouchable.
Thanks to the patient work of historians and the voices of distant chronicles—from Edessa and Damascus to Seville and Armenia—we can now see this forgotten siege not as fiction, but as fact.
It was not the siege that defined an age, but it was the one that revealed its edge.
Works Cited
-
Arabic Works
Syriac Works
Greek Works
Latin and Western Christian Works
Continuatio Byzantia Arabica. Ed. T. Mommsen. Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Auctores Antiquissimi, vol. 11. Berlin: 1894, 334–359.Armenian Sources
Movsēs Dasxuranc’i. The History of the Caucasian Albanians, trans. C. J. F. Dowsett. London: Oxford University Press, 1961.
Comments
Post a Comment