Narses (also sometimes written Nerses; Armenian: Նարսես; Greek: Ναρσής; 478–573) was, with Belisarius, one of the great generals in the service of the Byzantine Emperor Justinian I during the Roman reconquest that took place during Justinian's reign. A Romanized Armenian, Narses spent most of his life as an important eunuch in the palace of the emperors in Constantinople.
Narses was of Armenian descent and a member of the Kamsarakan Armenian noble family. His first mention in a primary source is by Procopius in AD 530. The year of Narses' birth is unknown; historians have given dates including 478, 479 and 480. The year of his death is also unknown, with dates given between 566 and 574, making him eighty-six to ninety-six years old at his death. His family and lineage is also completely unknown, with many different stories told about his origins and how he became a eunuch.
Agathias Scholasticus of Myrina described him thus: “He was a man of sound mind, and clever at adapting himself to the times. He was not versed in literature nor practiced in oratory, [but] made for it by the fertility of his wits,” and as “small and of a lean habit, but stronger and more high-spirited than would have been believed.”
Narses was a Byzantine general of Armenian ancestry active during the reigns of the emperors Maurice and Phocas in the late sixth and early seventh centuries. He commanded the army in Mesopotamia under Maurice; when Phocas overthrew Maurice and seized the throne, Narses refused to recognize the usurper. Besieged by Phocas' troops in the city of Edessa, Narses called for the Persian emperor Khosrau II to aid him and was rescued by the Persian forces. He attempted to salvage the situation with a diplomatic mission but was burned alive in Constantinople by Phocas' government after having been promised safety.
Narses (Ancient Greek: Ναρσῆς Narsês) may refer to:
No seed will grow of this barren earth. Our hope
unborn has died. I've slept in the dirt under the light
of the moon and I know our souls have perished.
Calling to those that would hear but I am deaf.
Clawing at those that would feel but I am dead to my
own fears.
Our cancer has grown into a stone. This water tastes
like poison. Your doomsday machine towers above
me to instill my vision.
Glowing pyre in the wind, like a glowing pyre in the
wind I stand to heal.
I tried to touch the feelings they have shown, our
cancer's grown into a stone. More cracks as our
ceiling caves in. This is our destiny.