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Full text of "Theodora And The Emperor The Drama Of Justinian"

127673

The Drama of Justinian

HAROLD LAMB

Doubleday 6- Company, Inc., Garden City, N.Y.

1952

To

EDGAR J. GOODSPEED

"One who puts on the purple may never take U of. 9 '

THEODOBA, Empress of Byzantium

Contents

I The Palace by the Circus 1

II Theodora's House 27

III Revolt 63

IV Recovery of an Empire 107

V War Across the World 155

VI Justinian the Redeemer and the Demon 175

VII The Bequest of Theodora 233

VIII The First Byzantine 251

IX Emergence of Byzantium 299

Author's Note 323

Index 327

The Ten Persons

JUSTINIAN, the emperor

THEODORA, the empress

PROCOPIXJS FROM PALESTINE, an historian

BELISARIUS, the soldier

ANTONINA, an actress, his toife

JOHN OF CAPPADOCIA, the economist

NARSES, the eunuch, also a general

TRIBONIAN, master of the laws

ANTIIEMIUS FROM TRALLES, an architect

ST. BENEDICT OF MONTE CASSESTO

Theodora AND THE Emperor

I

The Palace by the Circus

T

A HERE IS ONLY A GLIMPSE OF HIM AT FIRST, COMING DOWN

from the mountains. Peter Sabbatius by name, he walked

methodically down along the swift Vardar River, until he

came to the edge of the sea.

Peter Sabbatius might have been eighteen years old, but

he always appeared older than his age. A barbarian bred in

a village of the higher mountains, he had amiable gray eyes,

untrimmed tow hair, and an earnest way of trying to please

other people. Vitality but no grace showed in his round

ruddy face and long awkward body. A son of country peas-

ants, he was on his way to the city in the hope of getting

an education, with his clothes and some lawbooks and writ-

ings of the Christian Fathers carefully packed on a likable

mule.

Somebody noticed that he believed everything he said

himself, which was unusual in that uncertain time. Peter

Sabbatius brought with him a letter from his elderly uncle

Justin, who had made the journey long before to the city

of Constantinople wearing a herder's cloak and carrying

toasted breadafter Attila's Huns had looted through the

upper Vardar Valley. Justin, it seemed, had made the journey

for two reasons: because times were hard in their uplands

2 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

after the raiding, and men from the farms were sought for

the army, to take the place of hired Germans.

So much the bearer of the letter had explained to young

Peter. The letter itself said very briefly in words printed care-

fully on a scrap of parchment: "Greeting to the son of my

sister, Flavius Petrus Sabbatius in the village of Taurisium

near to Scupi upon the upper Axius [Vardar] river." It was

signed simply Justin. But the bearer, a merchant taking loads

of eastern cloves, camphor, and sandalwood up to the Danube

forts, had told Peter the message that the ill-schooled Justin

had not been able to write out.

This almost forgotten uncle had reached the age of fifty

years without a son to bear his name at least without certain

knowledge of such a son. Moreover Justin, after long service

on the frontiers, had gained for himself a comfortable post

as an officer of the excubitors, or household guards of the

Emperor Favored by God. This post was profitable as well

as honorable. So Justin desired to make use of his good for-

tune to educate Peter at the city college. Himself, he was too

old a soldier to take to book learning, and he had heard from

his sister that Peter manifested a zeal to study. If Peter, then,

did well at college, he would be adopted by Justin and would

also be in line for a government job. If not well, no harm

would be done. After delivering the message the camphor

merchant had presented the dun mule to Peter as a free gift

of Justin.

The mule had not influenced Peter. His mother assured

him that Justin, who had gone from the river at his own age,

possessed as much cunning as he lacked schooling. It seemed

evident to Peter that his uncle desired a younger mind, able

to interpret books, to aid him in his new moneyed dignity

as officer and patrician at court. His mother said that Justin

would not have sent the dun mule unless he expected to get

back more than the price of the pack animal. And Peter

craved, more than anything else, to sit at the feet of the

masters of old-time learning, to be able to quote carelessly

THE PALACE BY THE CIRCUS 3

a line of Catullus about a charming girl, or to debate Aris-

totle's belief that a superior man is activated by ethics. Not

that he dreamed of becoming a philosopher in the ancient

sense of a lover of wisdom. He had lived too long on a farm.

With the optimism of a self-taught boy he longed to draw

into himself the magic of book learning in the city, in a

sheltered room over a garden of fine plants, where, as a

scholar and gentleman, he would be waited upon by body

slaves as Master Peter . . .

The milestone stood on the paved road at the end of the

river trail. Peter Sabbatius read the number upon the stone

with a shiver of excitement because it told him the thousands

of paces that would take him by way of this highroad to the

New Rome, Constantinopolis, the city built by Constantine,

where all the waters of the earth came together or so his

route book said. To enjoy his arrival on this coast road the

more, he turned the mule with his serving boy into the wine-

shop and stable by the milestone.

Across the road gleamed the long dark line of the sea. It

stretched from horizon to horizon, with here and there a red

sail moving. Standing under the arbor of the shop, Peter

watched a sail coming out of the sunset toward Constanti-

nople, Around him horses lifted their heads from water and

voices argued over prices in strange dialects. A carriage

drawn by white mules stopped at the arbor. It had silver

rails and a shining gold initial V, and armed riders guarded

it, although only a bearded barbarian captain stepped down

from it to drink beer and talk with a loud voice. A German

officer, it appeared, taking this carriage of the Illustrious

Vitalian eastward.

Noticing Peter's pack mule, the yellow-maned captain

stepped over to him, bowl in hand, and questioned him

amiably about his name, rank, and destination. Learning

that Peter fared alone from the northern mountains, the big

captain laughed and said that only peasants made journeys

on their legs, and there was plenty of room on the seat of

4 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

the carriage for him, Peter laughed himself because the Ger-

man spoke in dog Latin without proper verb endings.

"Youngling," quoth the good-natured man, "tie that pack

beast behind. So, you sit, and we talk and go easy. You like

that, my master?"

Petei said yes, he might, but the laden mule could not keep

up with the patrician's carriage. It always pleased him to talk

with whomever he met, even a Gothic warrior with a heavy

sword who quite evidently meant to strip him of his belong-

ings after dark on the road.

"So, we unburden the pack beast, and it goes well," de-

cided the armed man, over his bowl. When Peter thanked

him and started to refuse his offer, he drained his bowl of

beer and shouted to his outriders. They finished their drinks

and ran to the dim mule, throwing off the loads,

"Tell me no thanks," roared the Goth. "Only watch how

well it goes."

So quickly did the trained men take to horseback and to

the carriage that Peter could only watch. The jovial Goth

climbed into his seat with a shout of farewell, and the equi-

page started off with Peter's dun mule tied behind. The

escort did not even trouble to look back when they rounded

a turn in the road.

Impulsively he started to run after them. Anger stirred

him physically. Then, sensing the eyes of all those in the

wineshop on him, he stopped and went back to his packs.

Not knowing how to catch up with the armed riders, or how

to claim his animal if he did so, he accepted the fac t t of the

robbery and sold his bulkier belongings for a small price in

silver. But he kept his books, and he took to the highroad

with his boy, carrying packs.

It would be, he reflected coolly, many thousand hard paces

now before he sighted the walls of Constantinople.

Peter Sabbatius journeyed in this fashion along the sea in

that year 500 of our salvation. By the older Roman calendar

THE PALACE BY THE CIRCUS 5

it was the year 1254 from the founding of Rome on the palace

hill above the marshes of the river Tiber, But m the last cen-

turies that other, western Rome had relinquished the rule

of the world and was in reality held by Theodoric and his

Goths. During this same time New Rome had endured in

the east, a citadel of culture besieged by incoming barbarian

peoples, preserving within it the civilization of the buried

Caesars.

His mother had pointed out that this very year was the

midpoint between the birth of their Savior and the thou-

sandth year when the rule of human beings would end, and

the graves give up their dead s and the Devil return to claim

his own.

Theodora was born about that same mid-millenium year

500. Her birth from an eastern circus woman attracted no

attention at all. But at five years of age, more or less, she

came before the eyes of the assembled men of Constanti-

nople.

Just before the start of a day's races in the Hippodrome,

when masculine crowds edged into seats to gossip and lay

bets, an unscheduled event took place in the arena that had

been swept and watered for the chariots. Thiee small girls

paraded across the dirt. They had wreaths of flowers on their

joined hands and on their heads, and they plumped down

on their knees before the crowd at one side of the vast sunlit

space. No one there gave them a second glance.

Then out stepped the official annnouncer. His sharp voice

cut through the buzz of talk. These children, he proclaimed,

knelt as suppliants to the Green faction. Their father, Keeper

of the Bears, Acacius by name, employed by the Greens, had

died. Their mother had married again to support these, her

offspring. But the new husband had been refused the post

of Keeper ,of the Bears. Now the children begged their Green

faction to grant him the post.

6 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

No answer came from the throng on the Green benches.

Those who listened were more intent upon the condition

of favorite horses and the all-important selection of Green

drivers. The races were the solace of their troubled lives

Besides, somebody else had bribed the Green dancing mas-

ter to give him the job of grooming the bears.

"It is to keep these children from starving," rasped the

announcer.

"No, no!" shouts answered. "What is all this about bears?

Take them offl"

If the Green faction took no interest in its children, the

dignified announcer had no mind to waste his breath in

charity, and he strode off. The three girls, having been

coached how to behave only up to this point, did not know

what to do next.

Then they heard fainter shouts from across the arena.

"What is this? . . . Does the Green deme cast out their own

children? Ah, they would cast out their mothers, if they knew

them. . . . Come over, little girls come over here."

The invitation roared from the tiers under the portico, by

the vacant imperial gallery. It came from the Blues, the an-

tagonists of the Greens. The Blue faction of the city mixed

no more with the Green than the blue sea mingled with the

green land; at the race track or political rally as well as in

street rioting the factions opposed each other, and as soon

as the Green spectators refused the petition of the small girls

the Blues took an interest in them.

Frightened, the children knelt helplessly among their

wreaths.

"Your father can groom our bears. This way, girls/'

Whereupon the three got up and hurried across the track

to the shade of the portico. A troupe of acrobats came out

then to form a moving human pyramid, and the incident was

forgotten, except that the three girls, Comito, Theodora,

and Anastasia, became the public charge of the Blue political

faction.

THE PALACE BY THE CIRCUS 7

Because she had come from the friendly Syrian coast

where the sharing of bread is not an act of charity, the

mother of the growing girls never seemed to be able to make

ends meet in the greatest of cities. It is clear that she tried

hard to do so. Whatever happened to her latest husband, the

Syrian vanished after a while from the animal cages of the

Hippodrome and appeared in its theater. There she earned

money herself by going off with men.

Theodora at first carried her mother's stool around, in the

audience. Then, when her elder sister Comito matured

enough to catch the glance of men, Theodora followed

Comito on and off stage clad in a slave's tunic with sleeves.

Quickly enough she discovered that if she did something

funny it amused the audience. This critical audience tired

of flute music and dancing and choruses only too easily; a

bit of unconscious fun cheered it up.

By falling over a stool, by tangling herself in the flowing

scarfs of dancers, and by blowing out her cheeks when she

was slapped, Theodora began to act as an underage clown.

She did so perhaps because she could neither play the flute

nor dance well herself, but she learned how to attract an

audience by impishness.

There was a popular trick dog at that time on the Hippo-

drome theater stage. It was blind. It could count, and above

all could run among the spectators to point to the one who

might be the greatest glutton or woman fancier. For a human

actor to perform such tricks would be boring; the blind dog,

being an animal, achieved fame and profit for its trainer.

Theodora in those early years may have taken her cue from

the dog.

In the Syrian woman's family the mutual task was to earn

food and sustenance by amusing gentlemen. No reputable

women were allowed to attend the races, the plays, or the

pantomimes. Nor had the Syrian's brood any such fame as

the popular dog. Comito began to sleep with men when

barely old enough to do so.

8 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

Theodora, slight in body, delicate in features, with a mane

of black hair, did not manage to get along so easily. Acting

as mimic and child attendant upon Comito, she attracted

attention only when she could make the watchers laugh.

"No one," rumor relates, "ever saw her embarrassed/'

It would be no novelty for a ten-year-old girl to grow red

and hang her head when male hands felt her body under her

clothes. A smile, a quip, and a wriggle answered the situa-

tion better. Boldness paid off better than tears. To jump up

on a festival table and walk around above the heads of the

reclining diners with her dress pulled up to her armpits

earned guffaws and Aves of approval, and kept an underage

girl from having her dress stripped off by the servant louts

waiting around the doors for their masters to emerge from

the feast.

They say that the youthful Theodora lost no chance to

take off her clothes, or as much of them as the theater al-

lowed. She took them off herself. Like the fashionable dog,

she had to depend on her tricks, and by them she gained

some small reputation in the most sophisticated of all cities.

It is certain, however, that while she lived with her mother

she learned two things, never to forget to watch out for good

coined money and to laugh when she was hurt.

If she had had the skill of oriental girls in dancing with

flying swords, incense, or veils, she might have been a suc-

cess. If she had had the clear voice of a Greek islander, she

might have hit upon a popular song and earned pay in gold

by performing at the feasts of the aristocrats. Lacking such

talents, she had only her imagination and naturally quick

wit.

For she outgrew her role of child clown. A mature woman

of fifteen, even though unusually slender, could not amuse

an audience by getting slapped. Moreover Theodora had not

the fleshy vitality of western women; she could not hold the

eye of an aristocrat by a display of breasts or thighs. Nervous

and;, pale, her brilliant dark eyesheritage of her Syrian

THE PALACE BY THE CIRCUS 9

bloodunder brows that met across her slim forehead gave

her only an elusive, brittle beauty. At the same time her

mother's looks were fading, while Anastasia had not become

nubile. Theodora seemed to feel her responsibility for the

family, while she had little hope for herself.

Circumstances had made her a pariah in the city. A woman

of the theater was almost legally bound to serve as prostitute

when sought by a spectator; the law barred her, definitely,

from marriage with her betters unless by dispensation of

the Church, after leading a sexless life for a while. The same

law kept her children from any life but that of the circus,

unless the child were bom after the grace period of redemp-

tion.

While the law bound Theodora to a performer's life, the

huge Hippodrome was in reality her greatest antagonist

and by now she had learned to detect any influence hostile

to her. In that edifice of brick arcades and marble sheathing

lay a power against which no half-breed woman, lacking an

influential male protector, could possibly strive. It was the

power of the men, assembled from the streets of Constanti-

nople, that had, by a whim, once bestowed on her family

the pay of a keeper of the bears.

The Hippodrome was the heart of Constantinople. Stretch-

ing for a quarter mile along the height above the sea, it ac-

commodated sixty thousand spectators on its marble benches,

and when the chariots raced the trees and rooftops to the east

held almost as many more. All those thousands were bound

by delight in the speeding four-horse teams, by the lust of

gambling and the relief of hours of oblivion. Along the Spine

that divided the track shone monuments of Roman glory,

the Colossus in bronze, the giant nymph holding a warrior

in her outstretched hand, the ancient column of the twining

serpents of Delphi, and the obelisk of forgotten pharaohs of

Egypt, The portrait statue of the reigning emperor was also

there. But the crowds gave more heed to the tablets bearing

10 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

the names of famous horses, and the statue of the immortal

driver who had won his races for twelve years.

No bodies were carried out now from the small Gate of

the Dead. The games of pagan Rome, the bruising pugilists

and deadly swordsmen gladiators had ceased to exist after

the Christian Church became the supreme force in the em-

pire. The refinement of two centuries since the founding

of the city did away with the holocausts of human victims,

burned or devoured by beasts, and the conflicts of massed

animals. The bears and other beasts of the modern Hippo-

drome were merely pursued and fought by human hunters

For one thing, Asiatics like Theodora were not excited as the

earlier Romans had been by war games and the mass shed-

ding of blood.

The Hippodrome, then, had become the center of the

world of men. Women had to place their bets outside and

learn the results of the races or the rioting afterward. For

the arena served also as a rendezvous of the factions; it pro-

vided a congress for the folk of the streets. It heralded tri-

umphs and it springboarded revolts.

Curiously enough although nothing in Constantinople

was really curious except to visiting barbarians the Hip-

podrome rose against the very walls of the Sacred Palace

where the business of ruling went on methodically. There

was even a way from the rambling palace through corridors,

across a chapel, to the Kathisma, or imperial box, from which

the emperor himself could watch the finish of the races or

listen to the outcry of the crowd if it had a grievance. The

old saying that the voice of the people was the voice of God

lacked truth now that the patriarch of the Church had

become the voice of God, but the outcry of the populace

in the Hippodrome could send emperors hurrying into exile.

Several years before, Theodora had heard the terrifying

roar of the populace "Give another emperor to the Romans!"

The roar had gone on, menacing and insatiable, until after

a moment's silence it had changed to a tumult of laughter.

THE PALACE BY THE CIRCUS 11

Some wooden buildings close by burned, and a costume

keeper said she had watched some men in the street catch

a running monk and cut off his head to put it on a pole.

"Eh, it was the doing of Anastasius," a tightrope walker

assured Theodora afterward. (Although only an Egyptian

acrobat, he had been privileged to sit in the arena. ) "He

changed the orthodox words when he spoke the Trisagion,

no longer saying Holy, Mighty, Immortal Lord' as he should.

Well, some of us thought it sounded like heresy. Why should

that old goat Anastasius change our greeting to God? Per-

haps the Devil put it into his silly head. I don't know the

truth of that. Then some of the Blues turned those houses

into torches, and we all yelled c Give us another emperor!'

Anastasius ran back into the dressing room to wriggle out

of his purple and gold in fright. He bobbed back into the

box and made the announcer call out that he would never

put on the purple again, so help him. It was really funny,

and we had to laugh. We laughed so hard we told Anastasius

to go and put on his clothes again."

Anastasius was the emperor, a very old and well-meaning

person, who saved up the money in the public treasury.

Theodora never forgot that outcry of the Hippodrome crowd.

Such things she could learn only by hearsay. From every

entrance of the Sacred Palace she was barred as utterly as

from the tiny palace in the garden by the sea where an

empress in labor was carried, to bear her child in a chamber

of purple marble. How few children nowadays seemed to be

born in the purple!

A pariah, living in the side shows of the giant Hippodrome,

she had left the stage where shapelier actresses bathed in

tubs or wrestled in an odd fashion with men. The backstage

of the theater is a place of hard reality, Theodora, having no

role to pky or patron to give her prestige, became inferior

even to the drudges who mended the costumes or put make-

up on the clowns.

Ixi that reality she could only pretend that she was busy

12 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

and occupied. By trying to do so she had learned to read,

and she had a bright way of chattering with the groups

around the sporting aristocrats who sometimes wandered

from the stables to look over the actresses in their dressing

chamber. Where a quick word or an odd jest drew attention,

she sparkled. It was easy for her to mimic well-known per-

sons, and the older aristocrats found her a good companion.

But whether on a pleasure barge up the Golden Horn, or

at a feast in the gardens of the uplands, over on the Asian

shore, men would force her to submit to them until they were

satisfied. After that, seemingly, few of them desired a witty

companion. Like satiated animals, they would go to sleep

or bathe or drink more wine.

Perhaps the girl hated them as brute masters. There was

some talk remembered and enlarged upon later that such

wooers found the child clown still extant in Theodora. Gos-

sip had it that decent men lying with her in darkness had

unnatural tricks played on them, as if a demon had entered

her. It does seem as if her companions of the night would

dodge aside if they met her by day, to avoid touching her

garment or to escape her eyes,

Out of this situation Theodora found a way, although not

an easy one. She left the city. As a woman of one Hecebolus,

a bearded and self-important merchant from Tyre Her own

Syrian coast she journeyed across the great sea to- Pentapo-

lis ? in Africa, where Hecebolus was to serve as governor.

In ,that province she knew for a year the mild luxury of

a governor's house, and dislike of its master. There she had

a child, a daughter. Some time later she left the house of

Hecebolus without taking jewelry or money or even the

clothes that had been given her. After that for a while all

trace of her is lost.

During these years Peter Sabbatius had remained unno-

ticed in the city until the extraordinary happening of the

summer of 518.

THE PALACE BY THE CIRCUS 13

He studied He hardly saw the Hippodrome or the palace

area at the far point of the city. His orbit lay about the

Auditorium that crowned the third hill with its halls where

thirty-one orators and professors lectured students. At first,

awed by the immense buildings and the dressed-up throngs

hurrying over the paved streets, Peter had gone from lecture

to lecture with the zeal of a neophyte. But after a while he

ceased to be satisfied with the elderly lecturers wearing gray

robes. They wasted so much time in argument, and they had

a way of absenting themselves when the chariots raced. Since

the students could follow their own inclinations and Peter

began to believe that all Constantinopolitans went where

their inclinations led them Peter started to study on his own

account in the fine libraries, which had the additional advan-

tage of remaining open at night. There he could investigate

all the happenings of the past in the neatly copied manu-

scripts of Suetonius, Tacitus, and countless others. He en-

joyed particularly delving into the private lives of the Caesars

who had ordered those events.

Besides, Peter realized that he was older than most of the

youths of the lecture halls; he had a poor background for

the higher studies such as philosophy; he had to concentrate,

and learn to read swiftly. Then, too, his practical mind probed

for reasons and causes. Scientia potestas est, said the legend

above tfie Auditorium portico. Knowledge was indeed power

if the fcffbwledge were accurate, and not merely prating or

preaching or the endless Greek theorizing.

For a long time the tall and clumsy Peter Sabbatius be-

haved like a starving man confronted by massed tables of

unknown, delectable foods. He grudged each hour that took

him away from his labor over the books. When daylight

faded he would go out of the library, walking briskly to the

main street, the midway, Mese, toward the enticing smell

of the bakeries where he bought a fresh loaf of bread; then

on his way back he added olives and a flask of wine, to

provide his supper, which he ate on a bench in the University

14 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

Forum, almost deserted at that hour. By then the oil lamps

would be lit and he could go back to his study table until

the closing hour, when he returned to his sleeping room and

the books waiting for him there. It gave him a feeling of

comfort to stretch out by his own lamp and draw the familiar

volumes toward him. In the early hours of the morning the

noisy street below him grew quiet as the fields of Taunsium

and nothing disturbed him. Before sunrise he allowed him-

self to sleep. He had done well enough with as little sleep

during harvest time in the mountains. Only here in the city

there was an endless, strange harvest to be gathered.

Not that the barbarian-born Peter created for himself a

dream world of the books. He did penetrate such a world

of memory and imagination; at the same time he related it

to the human beings and the city around him. His hard com-

mon sense gave heed to the gossip of the bakers and the light

chatter of prostitutes waiting under the arcades. In the tav-

erns sailors had much to say of cargoes brought from the land

of Punt and the far Indian Sea. Whatever he heard went into

Peter's memory to stay; he had never learned the trick of a

cultured man, of taking notes of facts and then forgetting

them. At the same time he made the mistake of believing

almost everything he heard.

Count Vitalian reminded him of that. After finishing his

supper on the bench Peter liked to climb up the column in

the forum. Among the inscriptions about victories over the

Goths on its base, he had found a narrow door that led to a

precipitous spiral stair inside, up to the summit of the col-

umn and its statue of Theodosius the Great who had built

the mighty threefold walls of Constantinople across the land.

Everyone said these walls were impregnable.

Leaning out by the statue, Peter watched specks of light

appear in the dark streets below, as the hanging oil lamps

were lit. At such a moment his city assumed the magical

aspect of an illuminated island, surrounded by the darkness

of the harbor and the seas and the far land. He thought of

THE PALACE BY THE CIRCUS 15

it as an island of knowledge and order, secure in the darkness

of a world adrift, a Happy Island.

Then going down and out the door one evening, he almost

stepped into a passer-by. The man turned sharply and two

who followed him ran up, drawing short swords from under

their cloaks. "Let him live," said the first quickly. "For he

does not look to me like a spy, or an assassin either,"

Peter recognized Vitalian, a noble although Bulgai-born

a handsome, assured soldier who seldom showed his face by

day in the city. Hurriedly for violence made him nervous-

he explained how he used the column for a lookout.

This seemed to amuse Count Vitalian. "An island of secu-

rity?" he murmured. "Do you believe there is any such

thing?"

"Yes, Noble Vitalian. If its walls be impregnable."

"If! Theodosius had skillful engineers, and these walls will

never be crossed by barbarians until somebody is paid to

open a gate or start a riot inside." As if exasperated, the

soldier-patrician asked for Peter's name and identification.

Then he said in parting, "Don't step out of monuments after

dark, Noble Justinian. Or if you do, hire yourself a body-

guard. And for your own good, forget that you've seen me."

As if impatient at the delay, Vitalian strode off with the

two swordsmen at his back. Peter wondered if he were not

safer at his books than this distinguished soldier with his

bodyguards.

By then his uncle Justin had made good his promise and

adopted Peter Sabbatius as his son, with the name of Jus-

tinian. As Peter had suspected, his uncle thought well of his

studies because he wanted his new son to serve as his secre-

tary. Whenever letters came to the old man, he would have

Peter read them and write down his answers. Justin kept in-

sisting he could not read, but Peter caught him sometimes

conning over the written answers carefully. Although more

than sixty-five years of age, the mountaineer held his tall

16 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

body erect; he never worried about what might happen, say-

ing that you could not see Fate until the wench caught up to

you. He married the peasant girl who had followed him

faithfully. A simple soldier, he called himself, waiting to

retire with his medals to his garden. Yet he dressed with

the care of a young sportsman criticizing Peter's habit of

wearing shapeless tunics and drab cloakshe had been pro-

moted to lieutenant general after a successful campaign, and

quite abruptly he was put in a cell by his friend John the

Hunchback, Master of the Armed Forces, on the order of the

emperor. Justin had been charged with conspiracy. This

meant that Peter himself might be arrested as well, as a con-

spirator.

Startled by the news, Peter hurried by the courier road

to the Asia shore where his uncle seemingly awaited execu-

tion. Inquiring his way to headquarters, he found Justin play-

ing dominoes with John the Hunchback, who had decided

to release the prisoner. "Officially," Justin explained to his

nephew, "the commanding general has had a dream. In that

dream a mighty being appeared to himcertainly no human

being. It said to him that he should release me, because the

prisoner and his family were fated to be of great aid to his

country. That dream satisfied the emperor, our master. You

are all my family except little Lupicina."

"It was a revelation," said John the Hunchback, over his

dominoes.

"The most difficult situation," agreed Justin, "can usually

be solved by a revelation."

Peter had heard Justin's name joined to that of Count

Vitalian, who had caused trouble in the northern armed

forces. When they were alone in Justin's quarters no longer

a cell the veteran admitted that he respected Vitalian and

had discussed politics with him. It seemed that Vitalian had

angered Anastasius, the emperor, by starting rumors in the

camps that Anastasius had relapsed into heresy. This affected

the soldiers on the frontiers.

THE PALACE BY THE CIRCUS 17

"The truth is that in Vitalian, my son, you will find the

strongest will of all of us. But he is a nuisance because he

cannot be controlled. Anastasius is weak as a water lily, and

doting besides. Eh, he gets things done by making promises

which he never carries out. Vitalian is so brilliant he gives

us no peace of mind, while Anastasius keeps everything

calm." Justin sighed. "Command brings worries with it. I

had a better time with Lupicina, in the ranks of the ex-

cubitors."

Peter did not believe that. It seemed as if both Justin and

John the Hunchback, while appeasing the irresolute em-

peror, did not want to make an enemy of the determined

Vitalian. And he reflected that it was lucky for him that

Vitalian had recognized his name at Theodosius' column.

When, thereafter, Vitalian made his appearance unexpect-

edly with a small fleet of galleys filled with seditious soldiery

off the harbor of the Chrysoceras, the Golden Horn, Justin

met him with an escort of government war galleys discharg-

ing flames. This fire from the ships was contrived by chemi-

cal experts borrowed from the university.

The result of the encounter was that the restless Vitalian

turned back his prows and fled, while the simple soldier

Justin was appointed Count of the Excubitors, or commander

of the emperor's guard, and perforce took up his residence

near the Sacred Palace. There he insisted that Peter- Justinian

should join him.

And there, with his library moved to a great room over

a garden, Peter realized that he would no longer be allowed

to study at will. As Justin's adopted son he was expected to

guard the mind of his tolerant uncle, to serve as an intelli-

gent spy and adviser at need.

Henceforth he could only work at his books at night, while

Justin enjoyed his sleep, but this he continued to do as before.

Justinian as Peter was called thereafterbrought to the

palace his consuming curiosity, his instinct for fact finding

and remembering, and the quiet persistence of his peasant

18 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

blood. His good nature made a pleasant impression and at-

tracted no attention. Because he stopped to chat with the

perfectly mannered custodians of the palace as he had done

formerly with bakers and street girls, he got on their good

side and passed for a harmless busybody. Silently he had

learned the value of silence he discovered a great deal about

the workings within the palace and the tensions within its.

folk. No one else took such pains to probe into situations.

The day came, unnoticed, when he began to lead his new

father. Justin, who had acquired an education by the simple

process of adopting an educated son, did not realize that

Justinian was gaining notable importance through the celeb-

rity of his adopted father. The veteran still felt a faint con-

tempt for the studious man who, in the prime of life, had

never heard the tramp of a disciplined regiment following

him and could not parry a sword thrust at his ungainly body.

Yet because Justinian served him faithfully, the old soldier

trusted him. Justin kept the three hundred excubitors drilled

and turned out like automatons of silver and steel; otherwise

he devoted himself to enlarging his estates with the weal :h

that came by devious ways into the practiced hand of a

Count of the Excubitors. Especially since the Master >

Offices the Secretary of State was Celer, with whom lie

had shared command qn the Persian front. Having taken

hard knocks together, he and Magister Celer now watched

out for each other. His wealth, of course, would go to Justin-

ian, his sole heir.

"You should take a wife," he urged his son. "You should

have children and a proper villa. You won't have 'em unless

you marry."

There were patrician girls enough ready to mate with the

adopted son of the majestic Count of the Excubitors. Per-

haps for that reason, Justinian had not married as yet; per-

haps he did not want to change his routine of constant work

and occasional visits to attractive girls of the Mes6 arcades.

And as for the count's wife, even in the jeweled coronet and

THE PALACE BY THE CIRCUS 19

silk of court ceremonial she still resembled a dumpy camp

cook.

Such little things disturbed Justinian's sense of order. It

troubled him to discover that the Golden Milestone in the

courtyard before the Senate chamber was actually not gold

but gilded copper. This milestone marked, theoretically, the

beginning of all the routes of the empire or what remained

of the empire. Over it stood the giant statue of Augustus,

the founder, who had brought order and law and peace into

the world for the first time. Or so Roman history said.

If the Golden Milestone had proved to be an illusion, Jus-

tinian realized that the living emperor was also something

of an illusion. That is, the ailing Anastasius was far from being

an Augustus Caesar. Along with the higher officials, Justin-

ian prostrated himself when ceremony required before the

dais of porphyry and gold on which rested the scarlet-hosed

foot of the sitter on the throne, of the Autocrat, the surviving

Emperor of the Romans, He felt the impact of the throne-

room gleaming with gold mosaics under invisible lights and

wreathing incense. He heard the chime of distant silver bells,

more subtle than the call of trumpets. The figure of the mo-

tionless emperor might have been a statue encrusted with

amethysts and rubies. But he prostrated himself, as did the

others, to the majesty of Roman tradition, to the memory

of Augustus the first emperor and Constantine the founder

of his city. The real work of government, he understood now,

was carried on by such personages as Magister Celer, the

patriarch of the Church, the leaders of the senate, and the

prefects of the provinces.

Anastasius himself had been a lesser official, chosen as

consort by a widowed empress, Ariadnea kindly man who

had managed skillfully to avoid trouble ever since

The extraordinary happening of July, in the year of Our

Lord 518, was that at eighty-eight years of age Emperor

Anastasius died unexpectedly in the night before anyone had

been chosen to succeed him. It seemed to those in the Sacred

20 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

Palace at the time that Fate had intervened in their affairs.

Lacking children, Anastasius had spoken of his three

nephews, without naming one of the three. The dominant

Ariadne lay in her purple marble sarcophagus. In the mid-

summer heat most of the senators slept tranquilly in then-

distant suburban villas. So it happened that no one could be

summoned immediately to became the new Autocrat.

Tradition required that one be named without delay, and

tradition insisted that he be acceptable to the Church, the

army, and the people.

"That night," Peter the Patrician wrote afterward, "some

confusion occurred." This was a truly diplomatic understate-

-ment

The man who took advantage of the confusion was Justin-

ian. Roused by the silentiaries the noble personal attendants

of the dead emperor the two veteran commanders, Justin

and Celer, took charge of the aimed men outside and inside

the palace. Justin told his officers, "Our lord has ceased to

exist, as a man. Now they must deliberate and elect an em-

peror, guided by God," The more sophisticated Celer watched

the patriarch and high officials hurry into the portico of the

great hall at sunrise. After listening to their arguments, he

warned them briefly: "We should decide on a name quickly.

If we do, all others will follow our lead without thought.

But if we don't act quickly we'll have to follow them."

Still the arguing went on without result. As the sun rose

the stately nobles in the hall began to hear the voice of

the Hippodrome. Word of the emperor's death had passed

through the city streets, and the populace was thronging

to its meeting place. As Celer had anticipated, the people's

factions gave tongue as soon as they beheld the curtains

drawn across the imperial box. "Long live the senate! Roman

senate, do something! Where is our emperor given by God,

for the army, for the people?"

As the throng increased outside, it tired of shouting and

THE PALACE BY THE CIRCUS 21

began to act for itself. Some soldiers sighted John the Hunch-

back, and hoisted him up on a shield, announcing that he

was the choice of the army. A volley of stones from the Blue

benches greeted him. Justin's excubitors rallied to the de-

fense of his friend, and blood flowed, The not surged along

the passage to the Ivory Gate of the palace, where other

soldiers raised the Master of the Armed Forces to a table

and shouted that here was their emperor. "Bring out the

purple, you m the palace! Bring out the crown!"

But the experienced guards at the Ivory Gate refused

to open to a mob. In their turn the excubitors drove at the

rival candidate. The fighting, between trained iiien, became

deadly. It was more than unruly conflict of mobs: the faction

fortunate enough to get its candidate accepted might gain

great power.

Justinian, who had come out to watch developments, man-

aged to hold back the excubitors and escort the man on the

table away to a safe place. Whereupon the excited excubitors

seized on the son of their officer and demanded that he offer

himself as candidate. Justinian refused, and broke away.

Then the factions joined together to shout at the gatekeep-

ers to pass out the imperial regalia. This the guards would

not do without knowing the name of the man to wear the

crown. Name after name was called by the crowd, while the

guards shook their heads.

While the tumult echoed in the hall, a late-comer took

the lead there. Amantius the Chamberlain very quickly

sensed the nervous frustration of prelates and senators. With

the instinct of a politician he suggested a compromise,

naming a certain Theocritus belonging to no faction except

Amantius' own. He had come armed with gems and gold,

which he immediately turned over to the only spectator,

Justin the Count, to distribute among the quieter senators

while Amantius made the rounds after him to urge that

Theocritus' name be cried. Unmistakably, there was no more

time to waste*

22 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

Justinian noticed tins, and saw a priceless opportunity in

it. Going to his father's shoulder as Justin proceeded mechan-

ically to carry out the Chamberlain's bidding, he whispered,

"Do as he says quickly, but say nothing yourself at all."

There was such confusion in the hall that no one noticed

him. He stepped over to Magister Celer, who was glowering

at the frantic officials. Then he vanished from the hall. Justin

continued obediently to hand out wealth to men in the

corners. Clearing his throat, Magister Celer let out his voice

as if in command.

"Long live Justin, our emperor given by God!"

Both Amantius and Justin were too amazed to protest.

The senators who had been bribed added their voices for

the munificent Justin; the patriarch, with a sigh of relief,

bestowed his vote on a man who, at least, might preserve

the peace; the senators quickly agreed. They hurried the

bewildered veteran out the passage, where one of the mob

cut his lip open with a blow.

Witnesses say that Justin acted like a man amazed. But he

may well have suspected that his old comrade Celer would

cry his name.

Silence fell on the Hippodrome as the curtains of the

Kathisma were drawn back. There stood Justin, bleeding at

the mouth, and voiceless.

At sight of their commander, the excubitors roared ap-

proval; soldiers cried the name of the friend of John the

Hunchback; the Blues rose to acclaim a candidate of their

own faction. Even the Greens had nothing at the moment

against Justin. They all cried, "J us ^ n ^ August, thou wilt

conquer."

Hearing this consent of the patriarch and approval of the

army and people, the guards of the wardrobe hurried to the

box with the imperial purple mantle and scarlet hose. The

guards of the box raised the military standards from the

floor, and several held their shields as a screen over Justin

while the purple was fitted on him. A lancer placed a gold

THE PALACE BY THE CIRCUS 23

chain on Ms head for a crown, the patriarch blessed the

chain, Justin grasped the lance and a shield and stepped out

to face the Roman people, his new subjects,

Unaccountably, Magister Celer, who should have pre-

sented him then, was absent, complaining of pains in his

feet from long standing. Nor was Justinian to be seen in

the box

Justin promised five gold pieces to each soldier who had

held a shield over him, then remembered that, as Autokrator,

he should speak to the people. The patriarch prompted him.

"Emperor Caesar Justin, Victorious, ever August, says to

you " He sought for something to say. "May God aid us

to accomplish what is good for you and the state/*

"Reign as thou hast lived!" the crowd shouted excitedly.

"Be abundant to the world! Live long, Imperator! Worthy

of the city! Give us honest magistrates "

"I will give each of you a pound of silver."

"May God protect the Christian emperor."

Justin had recovered his poise. Truly he made a fine fig-

ure, although his erect head was bloody. "Our care shall be

to provide prosperity, with divine help, and keep you alto-

gether at peace/*

"Worthy of the empire, Justin, thou wilt conquer! God

will surely help thee."

In this manner, according to the chronicle of Peter the

Patrician, was the soldier Justin elected to the throne "be-

yond any expectation/*

The election, engineered by Justinian and Celer on the

spur of opportunity, had the great advantage of surprise.

No effective opposition could be formed in a few hours.

Vainly the startled Chamberlain, Amantius who had no

more money in hand spread slander that the emperor-elect

had been a swineherd and was an ignoramus, unable to sign

his name. Being a eunuch and unpopular with army officers,

Amantius rallied no following and accomplished nothing ex-

24 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROK

cept to nettle Justin, who soon convinced himself that it was

now his duty to serve his country as emperor.

There remained one final test: to manifest to the populace

that the election had taken place by divine providence, as

Celer had announced and Justin himself, prompted by the

patriarch, had repeated. Fortunately, since he had assumed

office early on a Monday, his new friends had a week to pre-

pare for his recognition in church on the coming Sunday.

Celer, still doubtful of the final result, continued to be invis-

ible while he cared for the sudden pain in his feet, and Jus-

tinian kept out of the public eye. But tales went out into the

streets and were repeated from mansion to tavern that John

the Hunchback had dreamed that Justin and his family

would be the salvation of the country, and that the dead

Anastasius also had dreamed that he would be succeeded

by the first officer to enter his chamber after his death. That

officer, unquestionably, had been Justin.

Unquestionably, too, Justin was orthodox in his religion.

Unlike Anastasius or Vitalian, he had never bothered his

head about religious whys and wherefores. As a simple sol-

dier, he had attended communion reverently; this attitude of

mind was shared by the leaders of the Blue faction wealthy

magnates who wished to preserve the status quo here in life

and hereafter beyond the grave.

So when Sunday came, the vast candlelit depths 'of the

Sancta Sophia cathedral-church were packed with orthodox

believers and their families, eager for the return of the old

religion. This assemblage was keyed by the presence of

women who had had no share in the Hippodrome election;

they wore their finest dresses and egged on their husbands

or lovers with growing excitement. For these women, satiri-

cal though they might be of their social life and even of

themselves, held blindly to religious faith and, without un-

derstanding the nature of religion very well, insisted on the

ritual of it. Their critical eyes approved the curled white

hair and fine carriage of the new Autocrat and they felt

THE PALACE BY THE CIRCUS 25

instantly sympathetic to this "Old Justin'' as they termed

him in whispers to their men.

The congregation of St. Sophia was accustomed to debate

as noisily as the crowd in the Hippodrome, and the appear-

ance of the patriarch in robes drew its vociferation upon him.

Standing without escort among the worshipers, Justinian

heard the outcry with satisfaction. "Live long, Patriarch!

Live long, Emperor! Live long, Augusta [the new empress,

Lupicina, the peasant camp follower]. Why have we been

without communion? Give us communion now, with your

hands. Ah, go up in the pulpit. Comfort us! You are orthodox.

What are you afraid of? The faith of the Trinity conquers!

Why dqn't you proclaim it? An orthodox emperor reigns at

last. Throw out the Manichaeans. Whoever does not say it

is a Manichaean himself. Throw out the falsifiers. The faith

of the emperor conquers the faith of the Augusta prevails.

Live long, the new Constantine: live long, the new Helen."

In two days it was all decided. The congregation held the

floor of St. Sophia until its demands were satisfied with prom-

ises. The congregation did not raise the question of Justin's

election, in its eagerness to have him accomplish all it

wished. His sanctification as the ruler chosen by God went

forward with only admonitions to hurry. With much truth

Justin himself could dictate a letter to the distant orthodox

Pope at Rome in the west, at Justinian's advice: "Against our

wiU we have been elected ... by favor of the Almighty, by

choice of the highest ministers of the palace and of the ven-

erable senate, after the nomination of the most powerful

army/'

This letter spoke of his wife, sensibly eno%gh, as "most

pious/' In fact the former Lupicina, now empress under the

well-sounding reign name of Euphemia, realized that the

only thing she could do effectively in the public eye was to

aid the Church. Euphemia declared that politics gave her a

headache; she seldom showed herself at court ceremonies

and began, as a religious recluse, to build a nunnery in the

26 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

city. Justinian remained almost as inconspicuous, taking the

title of Count of the Domestics (of the palace) which had

been held by the unfortunate Theocritus who was put to

death with Araantius on the charge of conspiracy.

So in the year 518 the surviving Roman Empire came

under the rule of a handsome man sixty-eight years of age

whose chief qualification was that he had been a popular

soldier. To aid him he had Justinian, whose only demon-

strated ability was that of a hard-working student.

II

Theodora's House

r NCE THEODORA. HAD HAD FRIENDS IN THE CITY OF CONSTAN-

tinople; she had never gone hungry there for long because

when the market men took down their stalls at the end of the

day they would hand out stale sesame bread or leftovers to

an alert girl who passed on to them the latest rumors of the

Mese. Uprooted from such familiar haunts, the city girl knew

hunger in Africa.

She had the feel of dirt upon her each day, sleeping in it,

soon neglecting to wash her food clean, for water no longer

poured from city aqueducts. Skeletons of children around her

would make a meal off a handful of decaying grapes from

which the flies rose to their faces. Once Theodora had taken

hours to cleanse herself in a public bath, in the scented vapor

and cooling chambers. . . .

A young circus performer with a repertory of jests and a

baby could not make a living in the desert. The desert had

its herds of thin animals and wandering black folk fearful of

being enslaved. The caravans that crossed it demanded silver

from her, she could not walk carrying a burden like the

black women. To reach the nearest great city she shared the

tent of a caravan master, and slipped out of the tent on the

night before the last for dread that she would be sold bodily

28 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

in the market at the end of the journey. But she lost her way

in the unmarked waste of clay that had never been plowed

up or made into bricks by human hand.

When she started to walk toward a square outcropping of

red rock that might have been a guardian f orl, she found that

the embrasures in the rocks were small caves. Evil-smelling

rain water stood in a hollow hewn in the rock. One other

woman lived in a cave, sleeping on a mat and eating only a

few grapes and lentils at the end of the daylight. This woman

amazed Theodora because she insisted she had been Caesaria,

a patrician owning hundreds of slaves and ordering whatevei

she fancied for a meal. Now with shrunken arms and breasts

she exposed herself to the burning sun; her skin had become

like old parchment, her fingers claws.

Yet this Caesaria abode voluntarily in the cave, believing

that by torturing her body she would gain eternal life; hap-

pily she numbered off the days when she would fast and eat

nothing. Theodora listened to her with fear and took only a

part of the green food the hermit offered her, It seemed that

the desert had many such rock residences of people from the

best society who starved themselves as a preparation for

death. Theodora believed that suicide by walking into the

sea, or buying granulated virus from a physician, would be

swifter. Secretly she thought that to become an anchorite in

the deseit must be the newest craze of the Christians of

Alexandriaalthough her hostess insisted that generations

ago a certain Hypatia had walked the streets there unes-

corted, although shapely and young, to lecture to crowds

that gathered around her. Paving a fine education in mathe-

matics and the science of the stars, Hypatia answered readily

all questions put to her, and became th^ disciple of a bishop

who saw in her an instrument for good .*' Aflpreover, Hypatia

had gained a martyr's crown, when a crowd stoned her to

death.

It seemed to Theodora that the hermit woman had a hid-

den purpose in telling her about the brilliant Hypatia.

THEODORA'S HOUSE 29

Strangely, this woman eyed her with dread-Theodora could

sense thatas if, strong and soft-skinned, she were an un-

hallowed pagan girl wandering the desert. Just as strangely

the woman looked at the baby and made an awkward at-

tempt to fix up a bed for it by laying fresh rushes on a pile

of sand. This woman, shrinking like an ancient mummy

within her baglike clothing, had never borne a child. . . .

In the great port of Alexandria, named after the legendary

conqueror of the world, Theodora left her own child at a

house of strangers. She fixed in her memory the name of the

family and the number of the house. The sickness of the foul

marshes had come on her, in her weakness. She could not

even pretend to sing in the wineshops where slim brown girls

rattled castanets against the legs of sailors for copper coins.

Beggars wailed at the food stalls in the steaming alleys;

Theodora was not yet scarred or emaciated enough to beg,

and with a flash of her stubborn temper, she resolved that she

would never hold out her hand for a coin.

To try to escape the stench of the alleys, she made her way

to a canal. A houseboat lay tied in the shade of an archway,

and she pulled herself over the side to lie down on sacks that

smelled of spices from the east.

In her fever the merchant who tended her, bringing clean

pomegranates and goat's milk, seemed to be a brisk fantastic

being. Trying to talk to him, to thank him and to ease the

ache of her body, she learned that he had set himself a task

to travel the world. How could anyone do that without

baggage or servants or money? she wondered. The merchant

explained that he was making $*book of the world. On the

houseboat he had gone up the river Nile, to discover what

made it flow.

Because of th?t%iey called him Cosmas the Merchant, but

no one knew about his book because he had not written it

down as yet. As for money, he did not need any because he

went from hostel to monastery, At such refuges the folk aided

him because he was performing a great task in writing down

30 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROK

the manifold wonders of the world. He was eastbound, to

locate the place of the sun's rising. According to the enthusi-

astic Cosmas, the sun did not rise daily out of Ocean as

Theodora had heard in Constantinople and sink again into

the same enveloping Ocean. No, it came out at dawn from

behind a very high mountain and vanished at dusk in the

same way.

Had the kind Cosmas ever seen this mountain?

Regretfully the sunburned wayfarer admitted that he had

not, as yet. But he knew it was there. In proof, did not the

sun take longer to pass around the base of the mountain

during winter, when it hung low in the heaven? Certainly in

summer, when the sun stood high, less time was needed to

pass behind the summit of the mountain.

Theodora did not quite understand that. This Cosmas

proved to be very awkward as a nurse, he stumbled over her

and prayed when she talked wildly in delirium. It seemed

ridiculous that he wanted to put the shape of the earth into a

book, when he could not even pour milk from a bowl without

spilling it down her throat. Of all things he fancied he knew

where paradise could be found. Beyond the last great river,

beyond the land of India and beyond the Land of Silk there

stretched a gigantic canal, vaster than these canals of Alex-

andria that led to the outer seas. On the far side of this canal

lay an island on which rose the mountain of paradise.

What would Cosmas do, Theodora asked with malice,

when he found himself at paradise?

Cosmas knew what would happen then. He could not enter

where Adarn and Eve had been driven out by the angel with

the flaming sword, because the sins of mankind had not yet

been cleansed. That was why no human eyes could actually

see paradise, high up where the angels sang across the stars.

There was something appealing in the clumsy Cosmas, as

there had been in the hermit Caesaria; both of them believed

in a strength that had nothing to do with their own bodies or

minds. As if they expected to find a luxurious home and

THEODORA'S HOUSE 31

garden awaiting them around an invisible corner. Appar-

3ntly they expected to die before reaching that home . . .

like the lovely Hypatia. . . .

When the lilt of flutes and fanfare of trumpets came faintly

from the shore, Theodora knew that a festival was going on,

and roused herself to go out to it in the hope of something

turning up. In Constantinople money had been thrown to

crowds during festivals. She thanked Cosmas for the fruit

and milk and said gently, "I am sure you will find the moun-

tain of the sun."

Because the Admiralty harbor was lined with residences

of white stone for the officials and potentes (magnates), who

moored their yachts to their porticoes, Theodora had to find

a fishing boat to take her there, where the northern breeze

drove away the stench and the flies.

The yachts had bright awnings up, and Theodora could

almost taste the comfort of the women upon the shaded

decks, wearing bright silk shaped to their bodies, tinkling

laughter against the mutter of men's voices. They were all

merry, speeding an imperial war galley on its way, to music.

Her bare foot tapped the gritty boards of her boat, and she

asked impulsively what admiral was returning to the capital

in such state.

After the manner of boatmen, the Syrian fishers, who did

not know the answer, shouted her question over the water

and the police of a customs skiff answered. The galley was

taking Porphyrius, the sixty-year-old unvanquished chariot-

eer, from his native city of Alexandria to appear at the games

in the imperial Hippodrome.

Closing her eyes, Theodora could see the marble tiers of

the Hippodrome, where on both the Blue and the Green side

stood a gold statue of the matchless Porphyrius

Who was giving the games?

The magnificent Vitalian, the police shouted, who had

been named consul for this new year by the pious Justin, the

emperor.

32 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

Then the police warned the fishermen back, the slim galley

turned and moved seaward with a flashing of red-tipped oais

and a fluttering of streamers. No one threw out any money.

Going back into the alleys to search for shelter, Theodora

picked her way mechanically between the garbage piles.

The memory of the Hippodrome with its wind-stirred awn-

ings followed her, mocking her.

She did not try to beg. All fastidiousness had left her and

she no longer cared where she went. . . . Cosmas had given

her food, not like a woman in need but like a suffering

animal.

When the great board in the courtyard of the basilica re-

sounded at the hour of vespers, Theodora stretched out on

the hot stones like an animal. Others waited there with

petitions for the coming of the patriarch of Alexandria, but

she lay motionless in his path to the church.

Being robed, the bearded patriarch did not pause on his

way to the altar, but he noticed the outstretched woman and

whispered to an attendant to inquire if she were sick. Weakly

Theodora admitted that she was sick only from lack of food.

It was a part* she could play without any effort, after

watching Caesaria. And after listening so long to Cosmas she

easily convinced the priests of the basilica that she sought to

be cleansed of her sins at the altar. So readily did she recover

strength in the kitchen, and so intelligently did she enter

into the views of the priests, that very soon she was taken to

the patriarch, Timothy, for his blessing.

Perhaps Theodora remembered the attention given Hy-

patia, because she contrived to be given white garments, and

she scrubbed her thin body so untiringly in the tub of the

nuns* dormitory and rinsed out her hair so often that her

whole appearance took on sweetness and almost angelic

fragility.

Under those circumstances she attracted the earnest atten-

tion of Timothy, who began to talk with her about salvation.

The grateful Theodora, in touch at last with a powerful and

THEODORA'S HOUSE 33

educated man, began to call Timothy her spiritual father.

She was careful not to try to dress or perfume her splendid

dark hair.

Without holding out her hand for money, or begging for

anything, she had been cleansed and clad and fed. More than

that, she had won the approval of a group of men who had

always been antagonistic to her.

When she went out of the cathedral courtyard with low-

ered head and hands clasped before her, even aristocrats in

their gilded carriages turned to look after the lovely religious

woman.

This approval stimulated Theodora more than the mild

wine poured into small bowls on the refectory tables. Never

before had she received so much attention. Never had she

been given the run of such a commodious dwelling. In many

ways the great church resembled the circus. It held perform-

ances for everyone who entered, at fixed hours of the day,

starting very early. Noticing that it pleased her new sponsors,

the sunburned, bearded priests, Theodora took her place

with the women near the altar rail when the singing began.

She liked the upbeat of the trained melodious voices that

echoed back from the dome. Kneeling there, she could dream,

after a nice supper, of a palace as large as this, with as many

servants caring for her.

By degrees, especially when she waited to catch Timothy's

attention, Theodora discovered that exciting things hap-

pened in the church. Strangers pleaded that they wanted to

be married; whole families trailed in with a babe to be given

a name or with somebody dying. Or a rich patrician would

come in to talk low-voiced to Timothy, asking what gift of

how much gold value he could make, to insure his soul.

Timothy faced every emergency without losing his courage

or his temper. Before answering he seemed to listen, as if to

an echo of music. He seemed to draw strength toward him

from an invisible source. Although his enthusiastic servants

did not manage to read aloud fluently from the massive,

34 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

decorated Greek and Latin books, they were quick enough to

lift up a sick woman. Like herself. Theodora wondered what

they expected of her in payment. Men, in her experience,

always expected something from a woman they fed.

After considering the many advantages and the few dis-

comforts of the church in Alexandria, she decided to keep on

with her new role.

Having discovered, or rather tested, Cosmas' method of

travel, Theodora appeared very soon in her homeland of the

Syrian coast. If she did not carry letters from Timothy, her

spiritual father, she had hit upon the key that would unlock

bishops' reception rooms. With her she brought the gossip

of the churches.

For several years she must have been fairly content, al-

though poor, because she left no record behind her. On the

kindly, sunlit coast of her birth she must have drifted among

remembered landmarks, along the waterfronts of tiny ports,

up to the cool heights of the Lebanon. Here the folk would

listen to a brisk Syrian-Romanweavers at their benches,

painters on the scaffoldings of ancient churches. More than

the mild sun, the tranquil spirit of the east that takes no

reckoning of time enveloped Theodora in her guise of church

messenger at large.

It was a Greek spirit. In markets and docks they spoke the

koing, the patois of trade; around vine-grown temples young

artists wandered, dreaming of the skill of a Praxiteles, in-

toning almost forgotten speeches of Homer. Idle, perhaps,

and visionary, like Cosmas but much more intelligently so

Theodora believed they sought for the great secrets hidden

in nature. In the forsaken garden of an island she discovered

an image of Pan, still wreathed with myrtle, and cleansed by

careful hands.

It was the spirit of nearer Asia where the Greeks had wan-

dered haphazard since Alexander's time; they had blended

with the countrvside, ehaneriner onlv the snouts of fountains

THEODORA'S HOUSE 35

or the flowering plants of a garden. Roman engineers had laid

down the hard asphalt blocks of the paved roads and raised

the massive rubble arches of aqueducts, striding from the

hills across the deserts. Theodora had her superstitions. One

of them was that you could not change the face of a land

without suffering punishment. Yet wherever Romans dwdlt

rose fortified walls, and baths, and usually race tracks. Would

the ancient gods, would Pan himself, take vengeance on these

churchgoing engineers?

A change was taking place in Theodora, without volition

on her part. Defensive and with no illusions, she distrusted

the good will of these eastern priests. No one except a few

women of the theater had befriended her before. Yet it

seemed as if these guardians of the eastern dioceses meant

to help her, after their fashion. They trusted her with mes-

sages. She felt, uncertainly, that the day would come when

she would need to compensate them. But how? Theodora

had learned how to injure those who harmed her. How would

she make amends to a friend?

Only gradually she realized that the holy men of these

shores were being persecuted. It had not occurred to her

before that the vicar of a church might not be as comfortable

as a landowner upon his estate. Timothy had been both de-

fiant and anxious. Severus, in lovely Antioch, barely spoke to

her of his great distress. It seemed that their churches, the

earliest of all, opposed the orthodoxy of Constantinople.

These Greeks, Kopts, Syrians, and Armenians, all had simple

beliefs of their own which did not fit into the hierarchy of

the New Rome. Anastasius, the emperor of beloved memory,

had protected them, but the present emperor Justin chal-

lenged them and sent inspectors to annoy them. Often Theo-

dora came upon processions of monks leaving their monas-

teries, carrying a few belongings toward the east where they

would search for a new home beyond Justin's mandate.

It seemed strange and pitiful to her that these men upon

whom she had imposed so easily should be driven out of the

36 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

homes they had built. By gossiping around the race track at

Antioch and passing among the prostitutes waiting for eve-

ningwhile they made up their hair and put on scent in the

Daphne grove, Theodora tried to find out what was hap-

jMning. The girls said the old-time festivals had been strictly

forbidden in their vast, pleasure-loving city. Justin called

them pagans I In Antioch, they declared, chariots had raced

before Constantinople, the city built to order, had changed

from killing gladiators to killing bears.

But what was happening in Constantinople?

Why, the girls said, at the games of the consul Vitalian,

that veteran Porphyrius, sixty years old, had won his races

against all competition. Porphyrius had put the crowd in a

frenzy, until the streets were illuminated at night, and Blues

and Greens paraded together in their colored mantles. Next

to the incredible Porphyrius, the crowd had acclaimed

Vitalian, a real Caesar, not like that figurehead of a Justin or

his bookish nephew Justinian. Of that triumvirate the crowd

wanted only Vitalian. So the precious pair Justinian and his

old Justin had bidden Noble Vitalian to a feast in the Delphax

dining room of the palace and had hidden assassins in the

corridor to strike a half dozen weapons into him. Of course

there had been a report circukted afterward that Vitalian

had died in a brawl. But everyone there said he had brought

no bodyguards, so that only two of his secretaries waited at

the door. Since these had been killed, they could not testify.

It was all a shame, and typical of the new hard times, ac-

cording to the girls.

Egged on by the sympathetic Theodora, the girls of the

Daphne park voiced their bitterness, They blamed the slip-

pery Justinian more than Old Justin for the Blue laws. No

soldier, in their opinion, would ever have thought of planting

police in their Daphne grove, sacred to wine and love. Such

rites of the grove might have been pagan long ago, but it was

taking the cakes and wine from the mouths of the Daphne

girls to forbid them by law. Only a brutal Roman would have

THEODORA'S HOUSE 37

passed such a law. Was it not Roman second nature to think

up laws for other folk to obey? Hypocrisy, philosophers

called it. Why, Old Justin had written to Severus, the patri-

arch of Antioch, that his blessed tongue would be cut out if

he went on preaching his sermons and him the Rock of

Christ, the fertile garden of truth!

That, Theodora admitted, was unspeakable.

Wasn't it? And furthermore what did hypocritical Jus-

tinian do but contrive to have himself named consul, with

Vitalian hardly cold in his honorary tomb. Well! At Justin-

ian's games the next new year, he made all kind of show in

the Hippodrome, sending in twenty lions and thirty panthers

to be killed and scattering gold solidi as well as silver to the

crowd he who gave a woman of the Venus Square only a

few obols for a night but darling Porphyrius would not step

into a chariot for Justinian excusing himself by having rheu-

matic pains in his arms, the old dear. So, although Justinian

spent a fortune on the games, they went cold, and the

crowd gave him only one cheer, and it was a divine retribu-

tion on the unmannerly nincompoop for ending the festival

at Daphne.

Theodora quite agreed. Whether these tidings from her old

city spelled an opportunity for her, or whether some chance

of making money drew her thither, she turned up next in

Constantinople and as mistress in Justinian's house.

Their mutual reign of five or six years had strained the

Justin- Justinian relationship without breaking it. The new

Autocrat had followed a policy of ruling with a firm hand

and otherwise letting well enough alone, and even the

Quaestor of the empire could find no fault with that. Justin

eased matters further by bringing about a reconciliation with

the Pope, in old Rome (Justinian sending his personal invita-

tion to the Pope to visit the patriarch of Constantinople).

Being an experienced soldier, Justin prevented revolts by

breaking up rioting (Justinian had eliminated the one dan-

38 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

gerous army commander when the knife men of his com-

rades the Blues killed Vitalian ) .

In the stage setting of the great hall Old Justin could

impress foreign ambassadors, Never had the palace guards

resembled statues clad in white silk, holding to silvered axes,

so perfectly as under his eye. Meanwhile the former Peter

Sabbatius was becoming the mind if not the power behind

this throne. He had years to study the work of administration

without the strain of its responsibility Voluntarily he labored

without a rest a surprising phenomenon in the Sacred Pal-

aceand other officials were amazed to discover how much

he had learned, quietly, about their duties. He had only the

failing, common to a barbarian-born, of expecting them to

accomplish whatever he suggested.

This tall, earnest Macedonian mountaineer seemed to cast

his protruding gray eyes on every desk. By listening to them

while he judged them silentlyhe made friends of the

older senators. By catching a certain John of Cappadocia

falsifying accounts in the treasury he discovered remarkable

ability in this same John and arranged for his promotion,

thereby making a grateful friend. By spending his salary

recklessly he delighted his faction, the Blue deme, which

called him Justinian the Patrician. His vanity led him to

make such generous gestures, and he liked to be called

patrician.

Had he conspired in any way against Old Justin, keen

Constantinopolitan minds would have detected it instantly,

and his uncertain career would have ended. Had he ingrati-

ated himself with field commanders of the army, he would

have stirred up watchful suspicion. Old Justin, who had

hoped to make a soldier as well as a scholar out of his

adopted son, did not understand this. "Peter/' he objected,

"you could not drill a numerus. The men know what metal is

in an officer. You can't expect 'em to respect you merely

because they've been disciplined. No, they'll watch you to

find out what you can do for 'em. Once I held Daras by

THEODORA'S HOUSE 39

telling my force of Huns that they could loot the Persians*

camp if they waited long enough. Those Huns wouldn't have

stayed put to defend a wall, but they waited for loot. Got it,

too," His tangled brows twitched with satisfaction as he re-

called the escapade. "What's that proverb? Omne jus stat in

armis. Yes, all right depends upon might. If the army won't

back you, Peter, youll waste your breath spouting laws.

Didn't any of the books teach you that?"

"They did, August," acknowledged Justinian, who always

gave the old man his title. "Yet it occurred to me the armed

forces have such respect for your leadership that it would be

presumptuous for me to drill even a company."

Pleased, but unconvinced, Justin shook his head. *Tm

feeling that hack in my foot, Peter. I can't sit a horse on

parade. But I'm not blind. The army carries the old stand-

ards, but it isn't up to the legions of Theodosius. It can only

stand behind fortifications. Mostly, it exists only on paper/'

Morosely he stared at his son's plump ruddy face. "The city

can't survive without an army. That's the situation. I don't

know what you can do about it. Remember, you can never

delegate leadership to another man."

Justinian had ideas of his own about that. It seemed to him

that Old Justin was grieving for the vanished legions of the

great conquests. Modern warfare was fought with other

weapons than swords and body armor. So he kept silent and

waited for his opportunity.

It was a long time in coming. Old Justin had a way of

pretending to be ignorant about questions he understood

very well. His pose as a simple old soldier helped him a great

deal. Because back-court gossip branded him as being too

ignorant to sign his name, he had a fine gold stencil made

with his name and title cut out on it, and in public he used

the stencil to sign his name to documents. He wanted to be

aided, not superseded, by his efficient nephew.

After thinking it over, Justin raised him to the final rank

of Most Noble, and named him honorary commander of the

40 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

excubitors, That would give the boy as he thought of him

prestige without requiring him to go into the field with

troops. In fact Justinian spent most of the daylight hours now

within the palace.

The watchful eyes of the silentiaries observed every action

of the favored man. They were the noble-born attendants of

the emperor's person, they served him alone, although they

might report to those who paid them enough. By their ac-

count, Justinian was a zealous busybody, content to wait for

the emperor's death before trying to seize power.

Yet the balance between Justinian and Old Justin had

shifted again. By now the man without a valid title had

friends in important posts, while the emperor, secluded by

tradition from his people, could do no more than make his

rare appearances under veiled lights. At his rising one morn-

ing elder senators waited on him while he was robed and

suggested that he name his son Caesar of the empire.

So quietly they insinuated the title, it took Justin a mo-

ment to reflect that the extraordinary rank of Caesar carried

with it a true dictatorship over the military. Vitalian had

been seeking it. "No!" he shouted, and clutched the purple

mantle over his cloth-of-gold tunic. "Guard yourselves, gen-

tlemen, against ever giving these to a younger manl"

Justin's anger came from his pride. He was angered the

more because influential senators had spoken for Justinian.

At that moment he might have degraded and dismissed his

adopted son. Yet he had no other near kinsman; he felt the

burning infection of the old wound in his foot; he knew that

he could live for only a few years more, and he craved the

last measure of the dignity that had come to him.

When the jeweled collar was clasped under his chin he

said more calmly, "The people have no need of a Caesar

now."

Assenting, the senators resolved to wait awhile before

persuading the old man. For Justinian, uncertain of his au-

thority at Justin's death, had convinced them it would be

THEODORAS HOUSE 41

safer for his followers if he were acknowledged by the army

and people as co-ruler now.

Then the wandering Theodora came to Justinian's house.

Many writers wondered thereafter how the woman from

the circus could have met the man who was seeking a throne.

Some said that she brought a letter from a mutual friend in

Asia. But did they have any mutual friends? Otheis wrote

that Theodora set up a spinning wheel in a poor house, and

that Justinian, passing by, noticed her beauty. Theodora may

have worked at a spinning wheel.

Justinian, however, was not hard to meet. Alone of the

elite membership of the Sacred Palace, he walked the streets

by himself and talked with the democracies the butchers,

the sailors, the corner orators, and all their like. Perhaps the

girls of the Mes6 arcades knew how the two met. Theodora

had two sisters among them,

But the house drew Theodora and Justinian together. It

was a small residence, half hidden by a garden wall, con-

nected with the enclosure of the Sacred Palace only by a

back stairway. It nestled under the high end of the vast

Hippodrome on the slope leading down to one of the en-

closed ports of the city. Since a refugee Persian prince had

lived there once, it was called the House of Hormisdas, and

it had miniature tiled rooms with a cool terrace overlooking

the Marmora Sea, beyond the masts of the ships.

For the same reason that it had suited the exiled Persian,

the house listed on the tax rolls as a palace appealed to the

more energetic Justinian, it gave him seclusion from the

watchers of the imperial palace; he could work there through

the night in quiet; he could talk with friends without being

overheard, and at need he could escape from it down a flight

of steps to a ship.

To Theodora the door of this miniature palace must have

seemed like the portal of earthly paradise to Cosmas the

Merchant. The chambers within glowed not with silver

42 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

fittings and gold wash but with carved jade and colored

marbles set in mosaic patterns. The emerald green of Spartan

marble was framed by the blood-red and white streaks of

Phrygian. Here was an incredible thing, a home and security.

Stretched on the terrace at the hour of lamplighting, Theo-

dora could close her eyes and dream that she was a favored

Illustrious lying in her villa on an island of the Marmora with

her yacht waiting beneath. But she did not permit herself to

do anything of the kind. Instead, under lowered lashes she

studied her antagonist, the man, the patrician who was also

an Illustrious. She had no illusions about such as he, in

Constantinople.

Watching him on the terrace, she realized that Justinian

was somehow different from other grandees; his garments

did not fit; he strode heavily back and forth between her and

the long tables laden with papers; for supper, although he

offered her some fruit, he took only lentils, bread, and milk.

His massive shoulders sagged and his gray eyes were lined

with fatigue that did not come from wine drinking In spite

of his bustle of activity, he seemed inwardly helpless.

She heard him tell a visitor in the hall to send a thousand

pounds of gold to Colchis, and, coming back to her on the

terrace in the twilight, he cried out as if shocked when he

blundered against a glass bowl and shattered it.

There happened one night what neither of them had

known for a long time. She slept with him, yielding him the

satisfaction of her body, and he felt passionate desire for her.

Theodora discovered that Justinian was naive, with a boy's

belief in a benevolent Fortune. She had no such illusion. Her

stay in the House of Hormisdas, she told herself, would end

in a few days.

Yet it did not come to an end. For the slender, vital Theo-

dora Justinian had the half-fatherly love of a middle-aged

man for a girl still young. They had nothing in common. His

blood was that of the insensible north, hers of the wayward

south, and Asia. For a generation, while she had kept alive

THEODORA'S HOUSE 43

by her wit, he had been protected and enriched. Her school-

ing had been in the circus, his in a libiary of his own making.

Because they were so apposite and because their mating

seemed so strange as Peter the Patrician would have said,

"beyond expectation" the chroniclers who wrote down

events invented a reason for it. Justinian, Illustrious, and

Magister Militum in Praesentalis, made a bargain with the

little daughter of the Keeper of the Bears pledging her thou-

sands of pounds of gold and large estates including the

House of Hormisdas, while she stipulated she must follow a

career of her own, more as a co-worker than a customary

wife. So they said. And at least one historian, Procopius of

Caesaria, wrote that the Devil had driven Justinian to make

this bargain with the wanton Theodora.

But she was in no position to bargain with him. The roar

of the Hippodrome crowd over her head on game days re-

minded her of that. All she could hope for at first was to

stay longer in the house, as Justinian's favorite. Realizing

that he idolized her, she devoted earnest care to her appear-

ance. A thin woman all of twenty-five years of age, with only

lustrous hair and good eyes as redeeming features, needed to

select small necklaces and pastel coloring in garments. It

suited her perfectly to do nothing but improve her appear-

ance while Justinian was absent at his unending engage-

ments. He proved to be as reliable as the water clock that

dripped off the hours in the hall. She always knew where he

was, and, having much the quicker mind, she soon learned

to anticipate what he would do. And because he believed her

to be a soul of wit, she tried to become so.

Undeniably she respected Justinian. No soothsayer of the

street arcades had ever been able to conjure up the wealth of

a province with a few words. Certainly he puzzled her, be-

cause he seemed to perform such miracles without thought

of himself, as if merely attending to details of some great

and unknown task. What purpose drove him to labor like a

slave?

44 THEODOBA AND THE EMPEROR

The memory of the pompous Hecebolus and the governor's

mansion on the African shore was still strong. Only too well

she remembered what had happened to her after Hecebolus,

Justinian was quite affected because the woman he loved

seldom ventured outside the gate of their narrow garden. It

seemed as if she always waited for his coming. Naturally he

did not realize that Theodora feared to show her face in a

public square where, soon or late, she would be recognized.

When the Quaestor was announced one evening while

Justinian studied reports under his lamps, fear stabbed at her

heart. The dignified Quaestor served as general inspector

and he was the one man everybody in the city admitted to be

honest. When Justinian neither explained her presence nor

named her to the visitor, the fear made her tense. After a

moment she realized that the two men were merely dis-

cussing the fine points of some four-horse teams Justinian

meant to offer as prizes in the Hippodrome. Cappadocian

horses.

Theodora decided not to escape, as she wanted to. "Por-

phyrius told us/' she observed, "that the Arab crossbred

teams are faster in starting than the Cappadocian, and they

can hold the barriers closer at the turns. Truly, he declared

his secret is that he drives Arabians in the stake races.*"

They looked at her then, surprised, seeing a piquant pro-

file, half veiled. "Theodora comes from his city of Alexan-

dria/' Justinian explained. "She has traveled more than you

or I, Most Noble/'

"Remarkable/ 7 The .Quaestor's eyes changed, and he be-

came thoughtful. "Remarkable. May I ask was your portrait

ever displayed at the Augusteon, Theodora?"

"No, Most Noble/'

"I thought I had seen it/ 9 He nodded at Justinian. "She

should be painted on ivory. Fortune favors you, in such a

lovely woman/*

Justinian was pleased. "The portrait shall be done at once.

Will you accept it for your collection?"

THEODORA'S HOUSE 45

"To increase my envy of your fortune? If you insist "

From that moment fear kept Theodora from sleeping. Soon

or late, the portrait would be recognized. In spite of all her

care, she would have to leave the House of Honnisdas. It

angered her that this should happen by the conceit of two

men, who wanted her likeness made, like the memorial tablet

of a favored horse. Her temper and her dread drove her to

risk everything by speaking to Justinian,

With great attention she made up her face, grimacing at

herself in the cold bronze mirror, and she chose a moment

when he was chuckling, his tousled head bent over a new

manuscript of the wars against barbarians.

"Do you know you are imagining something that does not

exist?"

It took him awhile to detach his mind from the world of

literary happenings, "There is no harm in trying, my Gift,"

he answered. He used trite sayings in his speech, and thought

of her as her name implied, the gift of God. "The senate

majority would probably agree with you. But the only way

to test my plans is to try them out. Tribonian thinks the

matter of the laws can be arranged."

His political plans. The Roman laws. Theodora nearly

sobbed with rage and exasperation. The vital feeling in her

poured out. Justinian had deceived himself in her a child

bred in the circus who had stripped off her clothes to exhibit

herself on the stage. She cried that at him, but not the cir-

cumstances of Hecebolus or her daughter.

Putting his arm around her, he smiled at her, saying she

should not have been afraid to tell him, who had been born

on a Macedonian sheep farm. He was altogether infatuated

with her. But his easy assurance did not drive the fear from

her. She made him understand what she longed for to share

his life at night in the security of her house. In that lay her

happiness. As for the rest would the Chamberlain at the

Chalke Gate of the palace allow an actress to enter?

His answer startled her. Theodora, he explained, would

46 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

need patrician rank to visit the palace, so she should have it.

After that he would marry her.

Then Theodora had to struggle to keep from crying. It was

the portrait all over again. Her likeness drawn and colored,

held up to public view. For the laughter and mockery of her

city, which craved nothing so much as a jest spiced with

slander. From the Augusteon to the Golden Gate the jest

would be whispered, how foolish Justinian had begged for

noble rank for the daughter of a bear keeper, to marry her

the slut cast off in Africa, the beggar of the caravans. Not

that her morals would disturb overmuch the women of so-

ciety who often had bear keepers among their own ancestors.

But to demand a marriage of state for a Theodora! To try to

enter the Sancta Sophia with handmaidens holding her veil

and mantle! Society would never admit her as an equal. It

would destroy her by mockery, the most cruel of weapons.

Mastering herself, she tried to argue with the stubborn

Justinian. Feeling that she was losing the only home she had

known, she tried to explain the danger clearly, as a man

would do. Suppose, by a bribe or by influence, he obtained

noble rank for her? Still the Church would not bestow the

sacrament of marriage upon an actress. The law forbade it.

And if they tried

"That law," Justinian broke in, "will have to be changed."

"But you can't!" She almost screamed at him.

"No, I can't. Justin can."

The dread did not leave Theodora until, formally named as

patrician in the court register and clad in fresh garments of

white silk, she passed behind Justinian through the statue-

like guards of .the gilded Chalk6 portal, through crowded

reception halls to the sleeping chamber of an old man who

still looked distinguished in a bedgown. No sooner had

Justin, the emperor, apologized for his illness, caused, he

said, by a wound in the Persian wars, than Theodora knew

that he would help her.

THEODORA'S HOUSE 47

Old Justin brushed back the curls of his white head and

vowed that Hypatia had come before him in the flesh. Theo-

dora, after one appraising glance, melted before his courte-

ous admiration. The splendor of her eyes, the fine line of her

throat, the swaying of her slim waist she let the emperor

note them all, to his satisfaction. She could do that, across

the barrier of fifty years.

The matter-of-fact Justinian mentioned the ancient law

that kept singers, dancers, and actresses from marrying.

"You never spoke of it before, Magister," murmured Justin,

studying Theodora. "Ridiculous. Those very women keep up

the morale of the troops. It's unchristian, to make 'em bear

their brats in sin."

Then, after asking Theodora if she knew any new songs,

he ordered a decree prepared for signature, invalidating the

unjust law against the marriage of actresses. And he urged

her to visit her ailing father-in-law by adoption at any time.

This Theodora did willingly. It still dazed her to listen to

a few word# that could set in motion vast sums, or move

multitudes here and there. Very quickly she decided that an

Autocrat was only powerless to change ceremony or the ideas

of the people. Even Justin cautioned her to make a good im-

pression on the patriarch before attempting to approach the

altar.

Oddly enough it was Justinian who had misgivings about

that, and Theodora who felt willing to risk it. To his surprise

she knelt before the venerable head of the Church as if by

right and responded fluently to his polite questions about her

basilica in Alexandria. When she lifted her lovely eyes and

begged for the patriarchal blessing, it was given her.

What Theodora anticipated happened as soon as she came

into public notice. The talk started, of course, from unknown

tongues, and the slaves of her house brought her snatches of

it, picked up when she was driven through the streets with

armed riders going before her. (These servants obeyed her

with zeal after she had spoken to them once during Jus-

48 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

tinian's absence in the dialect of the Hippodrome; they soon

decided that, while Justinian was oblivious, their mistress

was implacable and could not be deceived. ) The gossip ran

that Theodora the bride-to-be of the Master of Militia was no

other than Theodora the female clown of the circus, deter-

mined to make herself a great lady. No one, of course, re-

peated this to Justinian. And Theodora knew that such

gossip could not ridicule the woman favored by both em-

peror and patriarch. The performers of the Hippodrome were

grateful for the new law, and the spokesmen of the Blue

deme recalled that as a child Theodora had been sponsored

by their democracy. This gossip of the streets favored more

than it hurt her.

Her wedding date was set when an unexpected voice for-

bade it. Euphemia, the empress who had been the peasant

camp follower, refused her consent. This aged woman who

had already ordered her tomb would not receive into her

family a youthful and sparkling actress. Not even Justin

could change Euphemia's mind on that point. The ladies of

Augusteon society had petitioned the peasant empress not to

allow Theodora's marriage, and Euphemia, flattered by their

attention, remained adamant.

While Justinian raged helplessly, Theodora understood

Euphemia perfectly. Her marriage would have to wait.

Inwardly she was glad of the delay. It kept her in the

House of Hormisdas, and she began to feel that her home

really belonged to her. Within the small garden wall every

detail was familiar to her and important even the oleanders

growing up like trees around the pool among natural rocks

that the servants had made for her. She had not wanted a

pool of ugly Roman concrete or glaring tiles.

No other woman had occupied her chamber, since Jus-

tinian had taken the house. Justinian himself kept telling her

that, of course, but any man would say the same. The serv-

ants bore him out, and Theodora believed them because she

THEODORA'S HOUSE 49

perceived no trace of another woman no discarded comb or

forgotten letter. Perhaps she loved Justinian devotedly be-

cause she felt so secure in her house. Protected and beloved,

Theodora blossomed in new beauty, aided by her exacting

care of her flesh and hair. The first time she heard a visitor

say naturally "this house of Theodora's*' she hugged herself

joyfully.

When the games were on and the roar of the crowd drifted

down through the curtains of the windows she no longer

became tense and cold, hearing the "Nika nika nikal Win-

win win!" It was only the yelling of the men in the colos-

seum exhorting the drivers on whom they had placed their

bets.

Theodora could assure herself that she had conquered the

Hippodrome by escaping from it. It could no longer harm

her in the house of Theodora. At the same time she tried to

think of some way to avoid becoming an inmate of the Sacred

Palace. She distrusted good fortune, knowing that retribu-

tion would follow it. More than that, instinct warned her that

she must not antagonize the gods, who remained invisible

and in consequence terrible. This fear was her heritage from

forgotten ancestors in the east who had survived invisible

forces of destruction, in famine, plague, and earthquake.

Even the Romans, who had been victorious for a time over

human armies, had never been able to defeat the unknown

gods with their concrete walls and aqueduct water mains and

lead plumbing. Although Theodora hoped that the prayers of

a holy man like Timothy of Alexandria could prevail over

the powers of darkness, she did not feel at all certain of that.

Moreover, when she tried to imagine the intense and down-

right Timothy as a visitor to the Sacred Palace, she had to

laugh.

So Theodora did not explain to the servants why she had

them fetch stones from open fields for the pool, or why she

tossed fragments of meat covertly into the burning brazier

before eating.

50 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

""Promise me one thing," she urged Justinian, "that this

house and its garden will be mine to come to and to dwell in,

whatever happens."

When Justinian smiled and began to enumerate the prop-

erty holdings of his father, and his own farm estates and

merchandising ventures, she checked him and insisted that

she wanted nothing in her name but the house itself. The

next day he presented her playfully with a signed and

stamped deed to the home; this she locked away carefully,

trusting the parchment document less than the circumstance

that, being deprived of the women's chambers in the Sacred

Palace, this small property might belong to her in reality.

One hope she did not mention to Justinian. She could not

send to find her six-year-old daughter in Alexandria. The

child had become only a memory, bound up with the filth of

the alleys. Deprived of the living child, she hoped she would

bear another. A child, she knew, would hold the affection of

peasant-born Justinian. And the patrician women of Augus-

teon society practiced abortion too frequently to ridicule a

mother of children.

Unceasingly the girl of the Hippodrome was on her guard

against gossip. It suited her to confine herself to the house,

but Constantinopohtan tradition required it as well. Except

when Justinian was at home, she never let a male visitor

catch sight of her or hear her voice, When she rode forth to

the silk shops or the Armenian bazaar or the Sancta Sophia,

she veiled and took the kindly major-domo for escort as well

as the impressive outriders since Justinian relished having

her appear "in state" as he called it. He enjoyed hearing the

murmurs that followed her: "There goes Theodora,"

Theodora, however, knew what filth might be cast on her

name if she were seen to speak with another man outside

her gate. Not that she dreaded any longer coining face to

face with one who had abused her in the pleasure boats or

screened-in feasts. There was always the chance that a man

of her own age might stir her passion for him. Quite honestly

THEODORA'SHOUSE 51

Theodora believed that the best way to prevent that was not

to let it happen. It astonished her when Justinian, who had

no such qualms about her, remarked that in ancient Rome

married women had shown their faces in the streets and had

answered anyone who spoke to them.

Weren't they disgraced, Theodora wondered, behaving

like that?

No, Justinian assured her, the matrons of the Roman

respublica had all the freedom of male citizens.

Then did the wives of that time sleep with other men?

No. They were proud of their chastity and would do no

such tiling.

Under those circumstances they must have been allowed

to attend the games and theaters.

Justinian reflected, and explained that in those eaily days

of austerity there were neithei games nor plays. He thought

that the matrons, although not the daughters, attended the

mass meetings in the Forum, the temple ceremonies, and

the legio the drawing of the lots to fill the legions. But the

early Roman matrons remained spectators, being confined

otherwise to breeding children and preparing food.

This seemed to Theodora to be a strange, cold northern

way of life. After that she questioned her lover frequently

about what had changed Roman women. With some effort

she could read, but she much preferred to get answers from

Justinian, who had an amazing pattern of facts stored ia his

memory.

One evening the mistress of the House of Hormisdas felt

an involuntary thrill of physical attraction toward a stranger,

a Count Belisarius. At first sight of him in the fountain court,

she thought that no woman could ever wear such a green

tunic embroidered with eagles, a gold collar, and a bright red

cloak. But this striking blond man from the Danube, no

older than Theodora, wore them with a jeweled belt and sat

there entirely at ease, saying farewell to Justinian before

52 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

departing to take a command on the eastern front. He

seemed to be rich as well.

His companion, a dark, undersized young Syrian, hardly

dared to address the great men of whom he sat in awe.

Quickly for Theodora had learned to appraise the charac-

ters of visitors she decided that her countryman, Procopius,

felt insignificant beside the beautiful Belisarius. Her interest

in the soldier grew when she heard that he intended to take

advantage of the new law to marry an actress. Theodora felt

a vicarious jealousy, imagining Belisarius married to a per-

former like herself. She barely listened to the farewell of

polite Procopius, who bowed himself out.

Justinian told her when they had gone that this Procopius,

named after the eastern saint, was an excitable man and

therefore a poor lawyer, but he would do well enough as

legal adviser to Count Belisarius in dealing with the tricky

Persians.

"I imagined him lounging in the Augusteon."

"Procopius of Caesaria? Hardly, my Gift, considering his

ignoble birth "

*Tm a Syrian, too, beloved. I meant the young giant,

Belisarius."

"He has been lounging in the Augusteon." Justinian an-

swered her question literally. Then his gray eyes twinkled.

"Half the noble ladies of court made excuse to go there to

gaze at him."

It surprised and pleased her when he showed under-

standing of people's hidden natures. "But he's only a boy.

Why do you think he is capable of commanding two regi-

mentsF' she asked obliquely.

"I don't know anything about it, Theodora. But they are

his own comitatus that is, his own enlistment of comrades

for war." For a moment Justinian pondered and she waited,

knowing that he was referring her inquiry to another com-

partment of his orderly mind. "Justin said men know the

metal of an officer. Evidently those of his comitatus believe

THEODORA'S HOUSE S3

him efficient." He fished a note tablet out of a pile and read

swiftly. "Belisarius, the Fair, a German-born. Graduate of

military academy. Led defense of his estates beyond Danube

against Gepid and Lombard raiders. Reported entirely loyal,

and expert in tactics versus barbaiians, A good record, Theo-

dora, for so young a soldier "

It did not occur to her until long afterward that some-

thing must be lacking in an army that expected officers to

supply their own troops. Musing upon Belisarius, she mur-

mured, "I would like to see him with his com comrades."

"You should, by all means, my Gift." Twice Justinian nod-

ded his approval. "At the third hour tomorrow the new

squadrons will parade out from the Mese's end, past the

Golden Milestone."

Among the spectators at that time and place Theodora sat

in her carriage with silver rails drawn by two white mules.

The horsemen of Belisarius disappointed her because they

rode in leather rests called saddles, and they made a mass of

dull giay in cuirass and helmets. The horses wore mail too.

Cariymg only small shields with short stiff bows and light

lances, they lacked entirely the gleam and color of the ex-

cubitors. Their swords resembled curved German hacking

knives, but they had a way of keeping their mounts in a

close rank, as if one man were doing the riding of twenty.

Although he was a wealthy nobleman, Belisarius carried a

pack roll behind him like his regimental comrades.

Theodora heard old servicemen around her remark that

this comitatus could strike with its weapons at any distance

fiom fifty paces to handgrips. Before leaving she managed to

hear that Belisarius' bride-to-be was older than he, and very

wisely would follow him on the campaign where a woman

would be most desirable.

To Justinian Theodora said nothing more about Belisarius,

but she made occasion to visit Justin. Out of those visits to

cheer the soldier-emperor with a description of such new

weapons and tactics, two things transpired. Another law was

54 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

altered by degree, permitting prostitutes to marry with the

approval of their spiritual fathers of the Church. And Comito,

her elder- sister, who had been ravaged by disease, became

the wife of a fellow officer of Belisarius.

At the same time, pressed by senators who anticipated an

outbreak of war along the eastern front, the ailing Justin

named his adopted son Caesar of the empire. Gangrene was

eating its way up the veteran's leg. (Although Justinian, who

had hardly left the city for seven years, understood no more

of organizing armies than he had learned by reading Livy,

and Vegetius' Epitome of the Military Art. )

Theodora did not confide in the new Caesar of the empire

how she had contrived to get a husband for Comito because

Justinian was buried in his work at the time. Then, too,

Theodora decided wisely that her lover might not have the

same regard for Comito, a listed prostitute, that he had for

her. In the same way Justinian did not mention to his mistress

that the Caesarian title had been planned for years by others

more than himself. It was a necessary step, now that Justin

was becoming senile as well as sick. But for the first time, in

these new developments, they did not share their thoughts

as before.

Yet at that time chroniclers of the court seeking for ridic-

ulous or sensational matters to amuse their clients wrote

down that Theodora the nude actress and Justinian the

Macedonian sheepherder made an unholy bargain to gain

supreme power and share it between them. That was not

true. Nor did a demon settle upon the pair, to drive them to

do what they did thereafter.

No, they were then much in love, as man and woman.

Because the adoring Justinian believed his mistress to be

gifted with almost divine wisdom, she tried with all her great

determination to become educated and witty; because she

was devoted to him, he made a dogged effort to achieve

superhuman success. What happened to them thereafter

came when they left the House of Hormisdas.

THEODORA'S HOUSE 55

Having been raised in a poor home, Justinian, as Caesar,

gave away money like a spendthrift. He was piaised for his

generosity, and he felt the need of displaying it in fetes and

donations to the crowds, Such acclaim fed his vanity. It dis-

tressed Theodora to watch gold thrown away like confetti

when the food on their table was no better than a brick-

layer's victuals and Justinian himself wore mouse-colored,

stained mantles. Not that he could have worn gleaming satin

and gems like a Belisarius.

It startled her to discover on one of their last evenings

together upon the terrace that the awkward and earnest

Justinian was vain. As usual now he had spent the day in the

palace, and he munched bread while he studied files he had

brought back with him. Theodora, who had slept until noon,

was wide awake and much interested in a peacock she had

bought as an ornament, since they had so little drapery of

cloth-of-gold or artificial flowers fashioned from gems. When

Justinian, oblivious of her, began to end his labor by signing

documents, she went to lean on his bulky shoulder and

watch.

A wailing cry from beyond the wall caught her ear. . . .

"Crawfish and sesame, O Most Noble! Taste and smell, and

you will wonder."

The cry, in the patois of a street vender, made Theodora

giggle. She understood the many tongues of the city streets,

while Justinian really knew only the official and unmusical

Latin. An imp of mischief stirred in her. "Nobilisssimusscae-

saretmagisstermilituminpraesentaliss/* she hissed.

He started as if struck. "What is that? You sound like a

snake!"

She giggled in his ear. "Your titles, Caesar. All of them."

To her astonishment, he pushed away his documents, his

dumpy cheeks flushing. Stammering over the words, he said

such titles were honors, not to be mocked. The senate, not he,

had wished to name Justinian Caesar.

Reflecting that he was tired, and wondering at the vanity

56 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

in him, Theodora murmured regretfully and caressed his

throat. Then she slipped away, to find the peacock drowsing

on the terrace rail. But he had fixed his attention upon her.

"What do you find of such interest in the street, Theo-

dora?"

She did not want to disturb him again. "Just P e pl e >" s ^ e

said placatingly.

There was a pause, Then: "Did you ever think, Theodora,

who the people are?"

The Greek word "demos' had slipped out of her; he used

the hard word "populi!* A word to be carved in stone, on the

pedestals of their gigantic statues. Populi Romani. The peo-

ple were the Romans and the Romans were the people-

when carved upon stone. Why did all the countless statues

of dignitaries in the city tower like giants? The sensitive

Greeks never made them more than human size. "I like to

watch them/' she ventured,

"Then tell me what people are passing under your gaze?

Who are they, really?"

So challenged, she responded immediately. The fish and

seed seller, carrying woven baskets on his bare arms, was a

Greek islander, late in coming up from the harbor. The boys

playing with the wilted jasmine blooms she had thrown out

might be Jews, but no, they belonged to the Armenian from

Nisibis who had the stall at the steps with enamel work dis-

played. He got his turquoise from the Euxine trading ships,

The tall youth passing with torchbearers had his forehead

shaved, his sleeves puffed out, and his mustaches grown long

like a Hun, but he was probably merely a young gallant of

the city, aping the fashion to make himself up like a bar-

barian.

Leaning on the rail beside her, Justinian nodded his ap-

proval. It always amazed him 'to discover what his mistress

could notice in a street crowd. His mind had turned to a new

train of thought. "You have said it yourself, my Gift. A Greek

from the sea, two Armenian brats and the only citizen

THEODORA'S HOUSE 57

dresses up like a barbarian Hun. Yet such as these are the sur-

viving Roman people"

He leaned on the stone as if weary. He said senators talked

of the people because they had always done so, in speeches.

But the people no longer existed.

Curiously, Theodora gazed up at him. "Then who inhabit

the city, Justinian? Ghosts? Demons? They look very much

alive to me."

For once he did not answer like an elder teacher. His

bloodshot gray eyes squinted into the darkness above the

smoking lamps. Six hundreds of thousands of refugees in-

habited this enclosure within the Theodosian triple walls,

he declared refugees seeking protection, wealth, kinsmen,

pleasure, or simply bread and wine and fish. Not one man in

a thousand thought about the government, except to try to

escape taxation. Of the remaining few perhaps no more than

a half dozen felt personal responsibility for preserving the

empire. The other hundreds accumulated wealth, plotted for

new dignity, or simply carried out tasks assigned them.

Silently Theodora conjectured that Justinian was one of

the half dozen, with the Quaestor of course, and the three

other Illustrious. Or did Justinian really mean those three?

Until then she had thought of the government's bureaus as

caring for all the people as immutably as the stars looking

down upon the Hippodrome. Otherwise, how could a weak

and gabbling old man like Justin rule? No, the bureaus ruled,

by law. She said that.

"No, not by law." Justinian shook his head. "By custom. So

many laws have been made that a specialist can always find

one to suit his plea. Then he makes use of oratory and bribes

the judges." His eyes crinkled with amusement "How many

of the six hundred thousands do you think, Theodora, do not

lie awake nights to plan ways of avoiding those same laws?"

Because he seemed to have stopped worrying, she laughed.

"That is very true, Justinian. My Armenian boasts that he

58 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

escapes the import tax by pretending that he makes his own

enamels, So he can sell them cheaper."

Justinian's mind had taken a turn in a new direction, and

his voice was strained again. "In what do these people be-

lieve now?" He waited for her answer. "In what do they have

faith?"

Thinking of the courtyard where she had lain in the dirt,

Theodora answered that many had faith in a holy man like

Timothy of Alexandria,

'Yes, they look for leaders everywhere. They trust in no

strength of their own, and seek somebody to protect them.

Have you heard the mob in the Sancta Sophia, yelling for a

new patriarch? Do they believe, even in a church? Or do

they, instead, look for somebody with rank, to pass out privi-

leges and money? Is not money their chief standard?"

People did not put their belief into stilted words. They

wanted to be merry and forget their troubles. That had al-

ways been human nature. So Theodora decided, silently.

But Justinian would not admit as much. His mind had

gone back into bis world of books, and he told her that in the

time of Roman grandeur, before the empire, two elected con-

suls had ruled effectively because the people had obeyed the

few laws and believe^ in the Roman state.

Fleetingly she remembered the old saying that those early

Romans had conquered because they thought they could/

They must have been very conceited. "But that is over with/'

she murmured. "Everything is different

Suddenly, as if to relieve a torment of his brain, the man

beside her cried out. There was no longer a Rome. The em-

pire itself did not exist, except in written words. Their city,

surrounded by walls, was no metropolis of all the peoples but

a solitary island still standing above flooding darkness and

ignorance and savagery. To this island crowds hurried to

shelter themselves, snatching at wealth, listening to the loud-

est speeches, saying and pretending that they alone were

safe within the walls of the empire, They imagined, because

THEODORA'SHOUSE 59

they were here on their island, that their way of life would

endure. They feasted and played with ideas like toys, to avoid

thinking of the flood around them.

It seemed to Theodora that he was tortured by some de-

mon of doubt. Never before had she known Justinian to be

confused in his thoughts. Holding to his arm, she smiled up at

him and asked what he meant to do about the danger.

"What can be done?" he muttered. "Anastasius built the

Long Wall inland Justin sent soldiers against mobs. Other-

wise they merely drifted." With his head sagging, he whis-

pered, "I do not know what I can do."

It shocked Theodora, as if she had seen him crying. Jus-

tinian had seemed assured in his ceaseless labor; she had

taken his assurance for granted. Her quick temper gave an

edge to her voice. "Never let others hear you say that!"

Theodora did not know why she scolded him. But, for an

instant, he had seemed to demean himself. Not Justin nor

the impassive Behsarius would have spoken of their weak-

ness. Was the man beside her a coward?

Justinian opened his hands. "It is the truth, Theodora.

Why should I not tell the truth to you?"

For a while she did not answer. It was only clear to her

that a leader could not show his weakr*ss. If Justinian, who

had done nothing for twenty-five years but study his task of

ruling, could not trust his own ability, what did he have to

depend on? Like a mocking echo, she remembered the say-

ing, The Romans&Qonquered because they believed they

could. But Justinian had been bom a Macedonian peasant.

Theodora no longer answered impulsively. "My lord has

taken upon himself the tasks of many men." Carefully she

avoided using his titles, or her pet names for him. "So he is

weary. Can he not delegate to the others the tasks they

should perform, and do himself only the work of Justinian?"

Gently she pressed against his arm. "Surely you must always

tell me the truth, and I must do likewise. Now I will say what

I have kept in my heart with pride. You are more than the

60 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

handsome Anastasius, more than Old Justin. Of all these

people of die city only Justinian can devote himself to the

empire/*

With a heavy sigh, he blinked at the flicker of passing

torches. After waiting a moment she went down to find the

peacock wandering in the garden. The house was strange to

her new pet and in that hour it had become strange to her.

It had ceased to be a refuge.

At that point Fate intervened.

While Justinian's fears magnified the dangers that lay be-

tween him and the throne, they were great enough because

intangible. Although he was the logical candidate of the all-

powerful Blue faction and the Church itself, he remembered

too vividly the sudden tumult at the death of Anastasius to

be at all sure that the logical successor would be chosen at

the ailing Justin's death.

Although he had every qualification of a ruler, he had not

the personality to rally followers in the streets. He could

not, therefore, hope to elect himself by the right of revolt.

As for other rights, he was Justin's sole heir but only an

adopted son. He had a marvelous education, fitting him to

serve as Autocrat, but for a long time before Justin the em-

perors had been ruthless military leaders or harmless bureau-

crats. Justin, the simple old soldier, had caught the popular

fancy. But Justinian had nothing in him to catch the fancy of

the unpredictable populace. He could not even make an

election speech.

Moreover, Theodora stood in his way, being no more than

his mistress from the circus. He could have won over the

patrician women by casting her out of his house and marry-

ing one of them. This Justinian would not even think of

doing.

On their part the ladies of the Augusteon, who had nothing

at all against Justinian personally, attacked Theodora with a

phrase that the court commentators caught up.

THEODORA'S HOUSE 61

"There have been empresses who became harlots, but who

ever heard of a harlot becoming an empress?"

It was like Euphemia's feeling. These ladies had accepted

an old peasant woman as Augusta, but they would not bend

their coroneted heads to a young, lovely, and determined

actress.

Thereupon, as if by response of Fate, Euphemia died in

her bed of scarlet silk. Justinian married Theodora quietly,

without public notice or the presence of the patriarch.

With Theodora established as his wife, and with popular

enthusiasm roused by encouraging war news from Persia,

Justinian gambled swiftly. He invoked an old Roman custom

and pressed for his nomination as co-emperor.

The elderly and wealthy senatorial bloc approved of it, to

preserve the status quo. The patriarch realized that it would

aid the orthodox faith and prevent rioting in the city. Justin,

helpless in his sickbed, with the gangrene spreading from

his foot to his body, gave his consent without protest.

It was done on Easter Day, quickly, without stirring up

the Hippodrome or indulging in public debate. An official

summoned the Illustrious persons and the heads of the senate

to an empty dining hall, the-Delphax where Vitalian had

been cut down. There Justinian was given the diadem, the

purple robe, the scarlet half boots, and the scepter ., The

patriarcjb bestowed the regalia because Justin could no longer

leave his bed, and it was not advisable for the people to be-

hold the weakness of their Autocrat.

No sooner was Justinian crowned than tradition required

him to crown his consort. Silent, Theodora knelt before him

while the flaming woven jewels of empire were placed upon

her head, throat, shoulders, and waist.

There was no speech to the public, no inauguration of the

co-rulers before the worshipers in the vast Sancta Sophia.

Before that summer ended, the life of Justin flickered out.

Word sped from the gates of the Sacred Palace:

reigns. Theodora reigns/'

62 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

It was then the first day of August, 527.

The announcement of the fact drew echoes of approval.

Priests from the east recalled the devout and lovely woman

who had prayed at their altars, and hoped for much from

her; priests of the west felt assured the new emperor would

maintain their orthodox faith; experienced senators trusted

that he would keep up prosperity. On the other hand, the

democracies of the people hoped, as always, that a new ruler

might change the old tyranny and tax-squeezing.

On the first Sunday, at the hour of candlelighting, Justinian

took his seat, robed, in the carved ivory throne by the altar of

the Sancta Sophia, and heard the prayers chanted for his

name. Across from him, her slender body shimmering as the

flames caught the facets of her jewels, Theodora heard the

roar of the thousands who knelt below her in the splendor of

court attire. In her hands she held the two candles of dedi-

cation.

''Justinian, thou wilt conquerl Ever August, God will surely

aid thee! Live long, our Augustus I Live long, our pious

Augustal"

At the shouting a thrill of exultation went through her

body. More than the taste of wine or the glimpse of splendor,

it stirred anticipation in her. Never had the clown of the

Hippodrome heard such an ovation.

Ill

Revolt

JT OR JUSTINIAN THE CHANGE FROM PRIME MOVER OF THE EM-

pire to ruler was a very satisfactory one. As emperor lie

merely had to speak his thoughts aloud to have them ctoied

out. Under Justin he had served a long apprenticeship. He

knew the ways and means of getting things done.

Only, during that apprenticeship, he had thought out cer-

tain things that he meant to have done, which had not

occurred either to his court or to his people. They were

changes which only as reigning emperor could he hope to

have effected.

The first months in the palace slipped by joyously. At

forty-five years of age, in the prime of his strength, the son of

Sabbatius had a brilliant wife at his side and no discernible

enemies* Supported by the powerful Blue political party,

with a treasury temporarily filled, he needed only to play,

with his consort Theodora, the role of a benevolent bureau-

crat to make these first months stretch into years of mag-

nificent anonymity. He might have done so if he had not

possessed his peculiar imagination, with the persistence of a

peasant-born and the vanity of a self-taught man.

For the daily life of the emperor was fitted by tradition

into an old pattern. Accustomed to little sleep, Justinian

64 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

woke before sunrise and usually read from a book by the

lamp at his head, while he waited for the routine of the palace

day to begin. ( It was much easier to conform to the pattern,

he discovered, than to change it.) The rising sun struck

against lustrous wlute marble around him, and above him

the blue mosaic ceiling set with the points of gold stars

glowed as softly as the dawn sky it pictured. When the brass

ball dropped in the water clock to mark the first hour of the

day (seven, by modern clocks ) the steps of the Grand Jamtoi

sounded along the outer corridors His keys jangled as he

unlocked doors from the council hall to the Augusteon.

Finding the emperor awake at that hour, young serving-

patricians brought him water in a silver basin; they set out

fruit, dates, and barley cake; they waited to robe him in

white-sleeved silk tunic with scarlet sash After his food and

drink they fitted over him the cloak of deep purple that only

the Caesar Basileus of the empire might wear; under the

right arm it had a diagonal panel embroided with gold

thread, showing his emblems; on the right shoulder it bore

the jeweled badge of the globe and cross. On his head they

placed the diadem of priceless stones, with the four match-

less pearls hanging down. And while doing so these silenti-

aries advised him of early morning happenings, of messages

brought to him personally by hard-riding couriers who wore

the feathers of imperial service and used their eyes on the

road for spying.

At the end of the hour the Grand Janitor knocked at the

door. With the first step out of his sleeping chamber they

called it the Sacred Cubicle the son of Sabbatius ceased to

be a human personality and became the Autocrat of tradition.

Pausing for prayer in front of the holy pictures, he led his

entourage of silentiaries, guards, and eunuchs to the great

audience hall, to the small fabulous throne behind the cur-

tain. When Justinian signed for him to do so, the Grand

Chamberlain drew aside the curtain that was like a veil. Out-

side in the anteroom waited the Illustrious, the ministers, the

REVOLT 65

petitioners who sought a hearing, and whoever else Justinian

had summoned into his presence. The business of the day

began when the steward was admitted to report on the great

household of the palace. All who followed kissed the purple

hem of Justinian's cloak in salutation to the ruler chosen by

God, before arguing their affairs with the man on the throne.

Justinian could not escape from this duality. Tradition

made him the personification of power and sanctity. His de-

cision was final because he represented the will of God on

earth. If he chose, he could overrule the patriarch of the

Church. But he had to depend on his skill as a human being

to carry out such an act of divine finality. It was a two-edged

sword to take up. How much safer to stay within this strange

pattern, to sign with purple ink the documents put before

him and to refer vexatious problems to the patriarch, who

was supposed to be well instructed as to the will of God.

Even if he did that, Justinian would have remained un-

questionably the busiest man in earthly governments. There

was literally nothing that might not be brought before him

to decide, to praise or condemn from the prayer of a hermit

of the Libyan desert to the claim of an adopted orphan

against tax collectors, if both claimed a dead man's estate.

At any time between ten o'clock and noon the Grand Jani-

tor might go out into the anteroom, rattling his keys to show

the morning audience was ending. At the noon meal Justin-

ian would meet with Theodora for the first time. By two he

was expected to be back in the audience hall, or the council

chamber where his chief ministers assembled virtually his

cabinetthe Praetorian Prefect, the Logothete of the econo-

mists, the Masters of Offices and Armed Forces, and often the

patriarch himself.

The pattern itself provided for the bureaus to take routine

administration from the mind of the solitary emperor. These

surviving Roman bureaus were efficient; they ground out

their paperwork like the mills of the ancient gods, slowly but

surely. Emperors might come and go at the popular whim or

66 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

military demand, but the civil service went on functioning

unchanged. It pleased Justinian's sense of order to behold the

documents neatly marked with colored filing emblems., with

miniature purses or swords, or scrolls; reports from the prov-

inces bore the tiny mountains, streams, forests, or highways

that distinguished them; family data bore the crests of the

family concerned.

This pattern which required reading, signing, listening,

relegating tasks, and approving rather than objecting, really

fitted both Justinian's special skill and his disposition. It

tended to confine the emperor to his palace, where the son of

Sabbatius much preferred to be.

As to meeting the people at large, tradition kept him re-

mote from the crowds in the guarded Kathisma at the Hip-

podrome or, on festival days, joining in the rejoicing only by

riding a white horse with his entourage in procession through

streets cleaned and strewed with flowers in bloom, or at

night riding between the blocks of houses where lamps were

set in all the windows. In times of crisis, on the other hand,

the emperor still kept the semblance of an apparition, walk-

ing without his diadem in dark garments beside the patriarch

mounted on a white ass, as if merely to exhibit his concern

at the calamity and to relegate its remedy to the Church.

All this Justinian might have done, as Anastasius and Jus-

tin had done, if it had not been for his imagining. Under-

standing that he himself could be secure, he had grave mis-

givings as to the security of the empire. It seemed to him that

the Roman Empire was weakening and dying. Its pattern of

splendor had no reality for the peasant's son. He thought of

it as an old man kept alive by expedients of physicians.

It never occurred to Justinian that the work of the old man

might be carried on by somebody else. Other than the im-

perium of Rome, he could conceive of nothing to rule the

world. For a long time he had brooded over some means to

return to the vitality of the early empire. But how?

In his brooding over the problem he had been influenced

REVOLT 67

by the words of a seer and the inscription carved on a statue.

More than three generations before, when barbarian Van-

dals had been approaching his city of Royal Hippo, the

learned Augustine, bishop of Hippo, had finished a book

upon which he had been woiking against time. He called it

The City of God. Before the Vandals stormed and sacked

Hippo, Augustine had died.

Justinian read this book carefully, For the divinely wise

Augustine had realized that the Roman Empire was break-

ing apart and might cease to be. And Justinian, who now

wore the imperial purple, had much the same fear in his city

of Constantinople. Of the great Romans in the earlier time of

righteous Cato and ruthless Gaius Julius Caesar, Augustine

had written, ". . . by love of liberty at first and afterward by

the same desire for domination and glory they achieved great

things. For when liberty was obtained, it was not enough

unless domination also be sought."

That was it. One thing had led to another. The early city

of Rome had become a military dictatorship to gain domina-

tion, and had changed peiforce into an empire to rule its

conquests. It seemed as if Rome, changing like a chameleon,

had always tried to turn back toward its old form. Augustus

claimed to rule only with the senate, but the turbulent Nero

brushed aside the senate. Then for a while two emperors had

been named. After that, Constantine the Great had acknowl-

edged that he shared the rule with the Christian Church.

True, Constantine had made the admission because many of

his subjects had turned to the new faith of Christ the Savior.

Thus from emperor-and-senate the supreme power had come

to be emperor-and-Church. What form would it take next?

"He who gave power to Marius gave it also to Gaius

Caesar; He who gave it to Augustus gave it also to Nero," so

Augustine had written. "He who gave it to the Christian Con-

stantine gave it also to the apostate Julian whose gifted mind

was led astray by a detestable curiosity/'

68 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

Thus Augustine's book revealed the passionate hope that

when the ramparts of earthly Rome crumbled the survivors

would escape into the invisible city of salvation. It was like

saying that the citizens of Alexandria could preserve them-

selves in the deserts of the saints which Theodora had de-

scribed to him.

Yet the population of the existing empire showed no desire

to do that. Instead, throngs pressed into Constantinople, to

greet their new emperor. They could not imagine a world

without Roman rule. They fancied there would always be a

Rome, prosperous and protected by God. * . .

When Justinian rode in his carriage of state drawn by

white mules out along the Mes6, he passed through the forum

of the great Constantine. Invariably he glanced at the hon-

orary statue of the founder on its lofty column of porphyry.

He knew by heart the inscription Constantine had had carved

upon the base of the statue: **O Christ, master and ruler of

the earth y to Thee have I consecrated this obedient city, and

this sceptre and the power of Rome. Guard Thou it, and de-

liver it from every harm! 9

So Constantine had expected this city to become the new

metropolis of Rome. In the day of the founder the city, ap-

parently, had been more obedient, and the empire more

powerful. Yet the first duty of Justinian, as of Constantine,

was to preserve this city from harm. . . .

To join Theodora at the noon meal Justinian needed to go

to the women's quarters in the Daphne palace. For tradition

required the empress to have her own court and attendants.

These attendants, from chamberlain to doorkeeper, he had

selected for her with zealous pride. Theodora accepted them

all, as if delighted by his care.

Habitually and Justinian soon made a habit of everything

he did he took a turn through the garden slope on his way

to the private gate of the Daphne. From habit also he glanced

up at the stone beacon tower. This was the terminal of the

REVOLT 69

sun telegraph, wheie signal officers watched for the flashes

of messages sent by mirrors fiom station to station, from the

far frontiers. Such messages announced invasions or disasters.

Soon from the ominous eastern frontier came word of an

unexpected victory. The excited adviser there, Procopius,

wrote, 'In a day the Romans defeated the Persian army, a

thing that has not happened for a long time."

The dying Justin had probably brought it about. He had

given two young officers, Comito's husband and Count Beli-

sarius, the task of holding Daras, the new frontier fortress.

They had done so with youthful recklessness by going out to

engage the Persian army of invasion. By tactics never written

in textbooks Belisarius had held the Persians locked while a

flying contingent of Huns emerged from hiding to rout them.

When he read the detailed report of the battle, Justinian

shook his head. Obviously the victory had been gained by

the hired Huns, a remnant of Attila's armies, not by the

Romans But on the strength of the victory he took a reckless

chance himself. Over the heads of elder generals he named

Belisarius sole commander of the armed forces in the east.

It was just possible that if Behsaiius could win such a battle

he might avoid losing the war And that is what he did.

The news from the east seemed to Justinian to be an omen

of his own success. Armies might make gains elsewhere. In

his imagination a new era of recovery took shape, It seemed

to him that in some manner the decay of the state could be

arrested; walls, even those of Theodosius the Great, could be

rebuilt and made enduring; frontier armies could be mobi-

lized on a new pattern; laws could be clarified to restore

order; wealth that was now wasted in the amusements of the

rich and displays for the populace could be devoted to new

armaments. Above all a large fleet could be built, to utilize

the open routes of the sea, now that the land routes were

obstructed.

70 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

In this manner new power could be channeled from the

capital city into the provinces, which would then be able to

strengthen the city again, as in the lost days of grandeur.

It did not occur to Justinian, making his first plans in this

fashion, that his people would oppose such expense and such

activity, even while they expected Roman dominion to con-

tinueat least for their generation.

Observers in the Sacred Palace reported that the new Auto-

crat appeared to be neither a bureaucrat nor a military dic-

tator. He showed, however, two peculiarities. Keeping within

the limits of the palace, he seldom ventured beyond the

gilded bronze portals of the Chalke where the news bulletins

hung, and he did not seem to rest.

His first move toward changing the city aroused no curi-

osity. He merely asked for a fresh code of law. Theodosius

had done the same, with the result that legal experts were

still at work over thousands of manuscripts of ancient civil

laws, decrees, and decisions. It would take generations, the

experts pointed out, to copy down such a multitude *of texts

in any kind of order. (The experts of course wanted their

sinecure to last out their own lifetime, and they profited

much because only experts could pass on the existing con-

fusion between ancient laws and modern decrees. )

Justinian, however, was on his own ground when dealing

with written records. Sending for one of the experts, Tri-

bonian, an eccentric miser, he explained that he wanted pre-

served only the minimum best of the ancient laws, to meet

modern needs, He wanted, in short, a single Corpus Juris, a

Body of the Law, to apply in every hamlet of the empire.

Since Tribonian had hewn out a fortune for himself, he

should be able to bring a cosmos out of the chaos of the

Roman laws. Besides, Tribonian himself had suggested doing

something of the kind.

Immediately Tribonian pointed out the danger. Nowadays

prefects and judges were accustomed to make their own de-

cisions; if a single Body of Law were set up, like a colossal

REVOLT 71

inanimate judge, what authority would be left to the officials

to decide such all-important matters as pioperty rights? The

Body of Law itself would decide inflexibly. Before such a

Body of Law a Samaritan olive grower would have the same

lights as the Noble Tribonian.

That was exactly what Justinian wanted. He asked how

quickly it could be done, and in how many volumes, Tri-

bonian., piqued, said five years and twenty volumes if Jus-

tinian believed in miracles.

Justinian said three years and twelve volumes, and the

Noble Tribonian could choose his own assistants. If he ac-

complished the task he would be an Illustrious.

So challenged, Tribonian went to work with all his eccen-

tric energy.

Evidently Justinian hoped to bring about his new imagined

state by giving certain men the task of doing it. The gossip

gatherers of the court picked up a phrase of Tribonian's and

repeated, "He merely hopes to bring a Cosmos out of Chaos."

Constantinopolitan society smiled with appreciation, remem-

bering that it was a human failing of new emperors to order

such reform.

Officials in the War Department, howevei, demanded the

recall of Count Belisarius. The youthful commander of the

eastern front had lost his second battle with the Persians and

only saved his army by wading out to islands in the river

Euphrates. Justinian pointed out on a map that the islands

and the Euphrates were deep in Persian territory, so that

even if Belisaiius had failed in a battle, he had protected the

frontier. Belisarius stayed in command despite the elder gen-

erals.

Justinian had an instinct for picking men. He made John

of Cappadocia chief Logothete, or Economist. This manipu-

lator of finances, who had the morals of a Bulgarian bull,

could extract from the tax collectors who had been accus-

tomed to hold out a goodly portion of the money that passed

through their offices almost all the tax money due the

72 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

treasury. On the night of his promotion the burly Cappado-

cian raced his chariot up the crowded Mese to the Venus

Square and threw open the taverns to the girls and boys.

A rogue at heart, this stalwart John of Cappadocia took

care to win the affection of the street crowds. And he said

such people enjoyed their vices more than any virtues. He

had a way of speaking his mind, even to the new emperor.

Like Justinian, John was peasant-born and self-taught. They

understood each other, and a strong tie bound them together.

Whatever Justinian imagined, John was capable of contriv-

ingso long as it could be done with money, and most things

could. There the similarity between them ended. Abstemious

in his habits, Justinian was devoted to the wealthy Blue fac-

tion; gargantuan in his appetites, the Cappadocian peasant

envied the rich from whom he had been unable to steal as a

boy; he belonged to the radical Green faction. Moreover, he

hated interference, and so he had little good to say of Tri-

bonian's herculean labor with laws that interfered with John's

highhanded methods of finance. Tribonian, in his opinion,

was not only rich but a miser and a weasel.

"Blasphemy, dicing, and grabbing girls for theater brothels

are all natural vices, Thrice August," he argued. "Should we

attempt to deprive the people of their amusements?"

"They have consequences, Logothete."

"To the persons, Ever Victorious? Isn't that their concern,

not ours?"

'The consequences come upon th communities they live

in. A town, Noble Logothete, can be destroyed by the sexual

perversions of a few people."

"Sodom and Gomorrah?"

John of Cappadocia realized that he could not understand

the mind of his new master. The doctrine of divine punish-

ment was archaic that fire, plague, or earthquake would

visit a city where human sin existed. If that were true Con-

stantinople itself would have Jbeen destroyed instead of thriv-

ing for more than two centuries. He recalled that, officially,

REVOLT 73

Justinian was an orthodox churchman, and changed his tone.

"As the Augustus declares, a law should condemn every vice.

Yet how will the sublime Autokrator enforce such a law?"

When Justinian stared at him, John, who was never

abashed, described how the evening before a band of pleas-

ure-bent Blue swordsmen in a boat on the harbor had sighted

a desirable woman, a young wife out rowing with her hus-

band. They had dragged her into their boat. Whereupon,

unfortunately, she had jumped into the water and drowned.

What would the new law do in such a case of suicide-by-

compulsion?

"Hang the Blue youths " Justinian was curt.

"By all means, Ever Glorious! But, precisely, how?" When

the new Economist reflected on the remarks of the Demarch

of the favored Blue faction upon such a legalized murder of

that party's young assassins, he repressed a smile; but when

he reflected upon some of his own escapades he did not feel

so amused. "The boys really didn't kill the girl. Who would

hang them?"

"The Prefect of the city."

John of Cappadocia told his drinking companions, between

their dice throws, that the new emperor had Platonic ideas.

He must have been reading, while burning his midnight oil,

Plato's Republic that described an ideal commonwealth in

which no human being could live comfortably.

Already John sensed some public exasperation because

taxes had not been dJi&tnished. He decided that popular re-

sentment would be stirred by an attempt to enact the new

lawsso they would soon become dead letters.

No one realized thenalthough the news commentators

began to suspect it that Justinian was being influenced by

Theodora in what he planned.

The daughter of Acacius the bear keeper gained her in-

fluence over those around her very quietly. In no case was it

yielded to her until she had won it.

74 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

Tradition bound her new life as Augusta of the Roman Em-

pire. From the minute when the Grand Janitor passed noisily

through the outer corridors and softly moving patrician girls

bowed before her bed, each wearing a peplon of white em-

broidered with purple and gold, to the last minute when her

silentiaries made the rounds of the halls, locking doors for the

night, Theodora's actions were governed by palace routine.

She shared Justinian's light midday meal, and often did not

see his face again until lamplighting.

When the eunuchs of her private chambers approached

her before noon, she paraded to the bath building, with the

noble girls carrying the salts, ointments, and perfumes be-

hind her; when her Grand Chamberlain bowed before her,

Theodoia knew that her councilors had matters to discuss in

her audience hall. With apparent pleasure Theodora yielded

to the routine, while she studied all these human beings who

served her aided by her ability to understand every dialect

they spoke.

Very soon she realized that, although she was dressed and

paraded about like some fragile imperial effigy, much was

expected of her. The empress had her duties no less than the

Most Sublime Autocrat.

Long before, women had been cast to the surface of affairs

only by convulsion, as it were. Livia had been so uplifted

during the suicidal family struggles of the first Augustan age,

after Cleopatra the Egyptian, sixth of the name had risen

on the bloody tide of civil war. Here in the east Christianity

had bestowed a certain dignity on women, and in ancient

Byzantium women had shared the work of men of the palace.

Those Byzantine ladies had been too astute to remain yoked,

like the early Roman matrons and virgins, to house service

or breeding.

Theodora, who seldom read a book, learned about this

from the gracious and highborn Mistress of the Women's

Chambers, who wore purple almost as dark as her own. She

learned more from the delicate eunuch Narses of the Sacred

REVOLT 75

Cubicle, who fed his own self-esteem by admonishing

women. Narses' dignity was almost intolerable, being so

easily offended. In imagination he believed himself superior

to the generals of the army, and Theodora decided that he

would be a useful confidant but never a friend.

From him and the old bath women Theodora heard about

the ghosts. These had left vestiges of their beauty and their

unhappiness in the shadows of the Sacred Palace. The ghosts

had all been illustrious courageous Pulcheria, who had tried

to rule for the headstrong Theodosius; Ariadne, who had

gone into the Hippodrome to appeal to the people; but most

of all the Athenian, the lovely pagan who had been chosen

for her eyes and matchless figure, and who had ended her

days alone, an exile in Jerusalem. The bath slaves agreed that

the Athenian had had lovers undetected but had ruined her-

self by giving away an apple.

Whenever Theodora felt deft hands fit over her forehead

the diadem with sprays of jewels and the pearls that fell in

strings against her ears, she felt the presence of the vanished

ghosts.

Warily she attempted to appear as gracious as the Athe-

nian. Because she had so little physical strength, she lay late

in bed; because she distrusted her pallor and tense mouth,

she let the handmaidens anoint her and tint her flesh, soften-

ing the tint with powder; because she could not endure the

long work hours of a dogmatic Pulcheria, she seldom showed

herself to her councilors. She liked better to lie under cano-

pies on the roof of the Daphne, as if waiting for Justinian.

There, overlooking the Hippodrome, she could greet peti-

tioners graciously as if allowing them to disturb her rest.

Unlike Justinian, she felt no sense of security in these early

years. The patrician ladies who had opposed her marriage

did not willingly salute her as empress. At her first mistake

these women might join together to attack her.

At first she trusted nobody, and then only those women

who confessed their private troubles to her. After she had

/t) THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

aided them with money or authority, she believed they might

be loyal to her. Yet she understood too well that the rise oi a

new leader, especially in war, or a turn of popular fancy,

would send her from this palace, back to the House of Theo-

dora. Among courtiers who habitually played a part, she

proved herself to be an actress more skilled than they.

Insensibly she began to crave the luxury of her new cham-

bers. Since Justinian seldom left the palace grounds, she was

confined there. She craved the snow-chilled pomegranates

and Syrian dates the stewards placed, in gold vessels, on her

table. When she heard the familiar murmur, "Glory of the

purple the joy of the world/' her body tensed as if at the kiss

of a lover.

Theodora had visited the empty purple chamber in the

southern garden of the cypress trees. But she was not with

child by Justinian.

When Justinian wrote out the wording of his new decrees

On Marriage for Tribonian to deal with m law she sat with

him and did not smile when he wrote that women needed to

be protected from "the weakness of their sex," Such a pre-

amble did not matter, compared to the mandate that women

of any blameful past should, after marriage, become "free

women differing in no way from those who have not erred as

they/' Or that their children and inheritance should be dif-

ferent in no way.

Theodora persuaded him to put that in, and he seemed

pleased to do it. Although she watched him carefully as they

discussed it, he did not appear to wonder how much her

early life had taught her. Surely he had not forgotten that

she had amused men on a stage. Had he learned more about

her than that? Justinian never would speak of it.

Very quickly she discovered that his mind dwelt on points

of law. A particular thing, to him, was lawful or not lawful.

He did not wonder, as Theodora was apt to do, whether it

REVOLT 77

might be desirable or not. Moreover, he gave his judgment

with a deep inward contentment. Caesar had spoken.

Almost at once when she perceived that the daughter of

the bear keeper resolved that she would never beg of her

new Caesar, or worry him into doing something she wanted.

If her husband now regarded himself as clothed in the

authority of Caesar, she would appeal only to Caesar, invok-

ing the laws and if necessary the will of God to do so. She did

not relish that.

It seemed silly at times, all this breath-taking ceremonial

that surrounded them. The sleeping room she shared with

Justinian was not called the Sacred Cubicle; it remained

anonymous, put apart, as it were, for their bodies to mingle

in love. Once she stepped out of it, she was within his court,

or her own. Even in communion at the church the Augusta

was seated apart up in the balcony with her court around

her. Theodora actually saw more of her Mistress of the

Women's Chambers now than of Justinian and she felt afraid

at times of the poised elderly woman who arranged the furni-

ture of her chambers, to the very flowers in the crystal bowls,

by tradition and not by the inclination of the new empress.

Under the eyes of this Mistress, the lithe young Augusta

could not hurry across a room; she had to take slow steps as

if dragging a train. At such times she had a mad impulse to

stand on her head, just once, to observe the effect.

A day came, however, when she no longer felt frustrated

before the eyes of the Mistress. It happened because of for-

bidden wine. Since Justinian never touched it, no wine ap-

peared on the table of her private dining hall. After going

without it for a long time, Theodora began to ask the steward

for figs soaked in sweet Cyprus brandy, for honey-brew, and

grapes flavored with wine. After that, to her surprise the

water poured for her to drink changed mysteriously to a pale

wine of Cyprus. Tasting it, Theodora glanced curiously at

the table servitors. They appeared impassive as always. Then

she became aware of the Mistress standing behind her, as if

78 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

to make certain that the meal was in order. Impulsively she

sprang up and threw her arms around the patrician lady. "It's

such a nice gift!" she whispered.

The Mistress flushed, and smiled. "It's fiom our vineyard

on the island," she whispered in response.

"I'll have nothing else. Anyway, not so much fruit now."

The appearance of the wine made Theodora quite happy.

But she had learned that Justinian did nothing on impulse.

While he was writing and crossing out the novellae, as he

called them, of the new laws, she exclaimed that all brothel

keepers should be exiled from the city.

When Justinian considered that, he objected that they

were within their rights; they paid a tax for their establish-

ments and did not seek to injure anyone. Checking her exas-

peration, Theodora invoked what she could remember about

the laws.

"Will Caesar tell me this? Is a man a criminal who takes for

himself the pay of another person? Is it lawful to make an

underage girl sign a bond that profits somebody else?"

Thus she persuaded her* husband to outlaw brothel keepers.

He did not mention JoMn of Cappadocia's objections, but

wrote, ". . . for we have found out that some people travel

about the districts offering poor young girls shoes and clothes,

and in this way carry them off to dens in this fortunate city

where they are shut up and given little food and clothes,

while putting their bodies at the service of the public. These

brothel keepers have the girls sign bonds binding themselves

to this, and the keepers pocket the fees they get, Some of

these men are unholy enough to pollute girls less than ten

years of age ... we were secretly informed of this, and it

is our determination to free the city from such pollution."

The decree appropriated money to buy the release of the

girls and condemned their keepers, upon conviction, to exile.

Justinian was quite earnest in wishing to cleanse his city.

He warned John of Cappadocia, "Keep your hands clean/'

and John obediently swore that he would.

REVOLT 79

But Theodora had a different way of looking at it. It

seemed to her that "the weakness of her sex" was neither a

curse nor a physical disability but a weakness caused by the

brutal whims of males. Her body had been the test of that.

Very quickly all those who wore the propolomathe tower-

like hairdress with floating veil of the court ladies realized

that in the new Augusta they had a protectress. More, they

could bring their friends to her, to complain of a husband, to

appeal for a divorce, or demand acknowledgment of a child.

In these women who served her Theodora found her first fol-

lowing, and a most loyal one. The girls of the new Augusta

spied for her, warned her of hidden enmity, confided in her,

and never, in all that followed, betrayed her.

Before long the outer city heard about "Theodora and her

women." A fantastic story went the rounds. It made some of

the hearers laugh, but most of them grew red with indigna-

tion. It was about the patrician Timothaeus, who appealed

to the new Augusta to aid him in collecting debts from some

of her people.

Timothaeus, at that time, did cot know the risk he was

running. In his own opinion he had r a just claim, and he fan-

cied himself a much put-upon, well-meaning man. But he

had the reputation of squeezing even obols out of those who

dealt with him, and Theodora's following had taken pains to

acquaint their mistress with their view of the case.

So Timothaeus, entering confidently to the private audi-

ence hall, prepared to play his part of a defrauded benefactor.

He did not know that he entered upon a stage prepared for

him with eunuchs and the girls of the propoloma ranged in

attentive lines, and ladies of honor gathered about the throne.

It surprised him when the Chamberlain made him advance

on his knees to the step before the throne and kiss the slender

foot of the empress instead of merely inclining before her.

But Theodora made a lovely picture, smiling as if enjoying

his salutation. And Timothaeus fancied he could beg effec-

tively on his knees, although the position was painful.

80 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

"Most Clement Augusta/' he began, "hear the plea of a

devoted servant, who is, as Your Omniscience knows, also a

patrician," He paused, but Theodora said neithei yea 01 nay.

"It is hard, in these trying times, to be a patrician, and

poor "

Close to him the girls sighed in concert, murmuring, "Poor

Patrician Timothaeus!"

This chorused assent surprised the nobleman but rather

encouraged him. "May it please the Most Magnificent to le-

member that a patrician must spend money to maintain his

station in life. Moreover, I have had certain dealings "

"What a big hernia you have," intoned the eunuchs, as if

making response in church.

This time Timothaeus did not think he had heard aright.

He started to get up and remembered he had to stay on his

knees. With difficulty he resumed his carefully prepared ar-

gumentthat moneylenders, being common men, plagued a

patrician to pay Ins debts to them, while he, being a patrician,

could not say a word about money that was owed to him.

"Poor Patrician Timothaeus!"

It was the girls again. And surely like a chorus Exasper-

ated, he threw out his arms. "Let me appeal. It is outrageous!

I am burdened beyond endurance "

"What a big hernia you have!"

Choking, Timothaeus groaned, and heard a ripple of laugh-

ter. Frantically he backed out, to the refuge of the entrance.

Theodora said nothing.

But most of the powerful magnates with summer resorts

up the Bosphorus and over in Chrysopolis began to feel that

Theodora's whims and Justinian's naive ideas of reform were

dangerous. In this opinion the radicals of the city, particu-

larly the Green party, quite agreed.

The revolt came without warning. It came from the streets

of the city and it attacked the Sacred Palace.

This palace enclosure formed a separate city, as it were.

REVOLT 83

When the great founder, Constantine, had marked out the

limits of his metropolis-to-be in the year 326 of salvation he

had tried to make it appear as much as possible like the old

Rome although the beautiful point of land jutting out into

the blue waterways was actually as different as possible from

ancient Rome, built upon a malarial plain athwart a muddy

river. Constantine had pointed out seven heights, like the

ancestral seven hills, and he had built his residence on the

first and best height facing the sea, where the palace of

Byzantium had been.

The city not only outgrew Constantine's original wall but

spread over the greater Theodosian ramparts, seventeen miles

around. Procopius, the Syrian who had abandoned his legal

duties to write a history of his age, took note of this great

influx of people. "A throng of every sort of men comes to

the city from the whole world. Each of them is led by an

errand of business or some hope or chance ... to petition

the Emperor. All of these become residents, impelled by

ambition or fear. It also happens that these persons are in

want of living quarters."

As the city expanded, the palace grew over its favored

height. Other residences like the Daphne, and office struc-

tures like the senate and treasury, sprang up around the old

house of the master, to that by Justinian's time the Sacred

Palace, as it was called (from the Sacred Cubicle), formed

a labyrinth of government quarters and churches stretching

from the little House of Theodora (actually outside the en-

closure) to the equally small church of St. Irene above the

boat landing on the Golden Horn.

This kremlinlike height had its own fortified ports, beacon

tower, and protecting wall. Such massive walls had not been

known in ancient Rome; they had appeared after the first

barbarian invasions.

Not that the Sacred Palace sheltered all the great edifices.

The university, for instance, lay within the city along the

Mes6 main street. And the Hippodrome itself, which the

84 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

democratic factions still claimed as their assembly place, not

only adjoined the Sacred Palace but was connected with it

by corridors. So it was not so much that the court walled

itself off from the common people as would be the case

before long in feudal Europe but that the rulers sheltered

themselves from the ruled. That state of affairs could be

changed overnight by revolt. All segments of the people out-

side the palace walls, including the university students, held

stubbornly to their legal right of revolution if they discov-

ered they were misgoverned.

Until the winter of that year, 532, the outer population

had been annoyed rather than angered by Justinian. Against

Theodora no one spoke then. But the Economist, John of

Cappadocia, enforced the collection of taxes, and Triboman's

new laws caused anxiety Moreover, Count Belisarius and

another commander, Muiidus, a Hun or very much like a

Hun, had been recalled from the frontiers, not to preserve

peace but to start a new war.

It was Justinian's idea. The emperor wanted to prepare

an expeditionary force to be transported over the sea to re-

capture for the empire the lost province of Africa in the west,

which had been a Vandal kingdom for three generations.

It was a fantastic idea, to try to regain the lost western

empire Africa, Sicily, Italy, Spam, Gaul, and even ancient

Rome itself. Belisarius was known to have expressed no joy

at the prospect of mobilizing an army to put to sea. The last

imperial fleet sent out to recover Africa had burned mysteri-

ously; the last remembeied expedition had been led out by

the apostate Julian and had been annihilated in the deserts

of the Tigris and Euphrates. Whatever happened, the cost

would be tremendous. The Economist spoke against it openly.

"If we win, what do we win? A province. If we lose, what

do we lose? The field army, and that means everything. It's

a bad gamble."

Besides, John pointed out, there was already civil war

in Palestine, where the government was trying to suppress

REVOLT 85

the heretical Samaritans. It took soldiers and it cost money

to kill the evil-minded Samaritans.

Most of the people wanted no war at all. Street speakers,

tavern drinkers, and dockyard workers went so far as to de-

mand of their hearers that if the August Emperor would not

change his mind he must be cast out. But the emperor did

not change his mind. Preparations for war went on in the

dockyards and the Strategium barracks.

At this point one faction complained bitterly of its griev-

ances. The Green party suffered, in reality, from the domi-

neering of the favored Blues.

Now the circus factions, as they were called, had their

roots deep within the populace and far out within the prov-

inces; they were more active in turbulent Antioch and

nervous Caesaria than in the well-policed Constantinople.

Originally they had beer the defense forces of the cities,

where Blue, Green, Red, and White had been responsible

for manning certain sections of the walls. They still had

arms of sorts, but in the prevailing security they devoted

themselves more to sports than to drill. They sported their

colors, however, and fighters carried forbidden knife-swords

under their mantles. The Green color prevailed among the

poorer sort, or jobless, and in the heretical churches and

so were called Manichaeans and Jews and Samaritans by the

Blue spokesmen. (As if political parties in the present day

were formed out of the militia, Masons, athletic clubs, work-

ers' unions, betting mobs, and gangsters. )

The most dangerous element in the factions was the law-

breaking youth. The lads who prowled the city at night went

armed and aping the garb of Huns. "They got themselves

such clothing," Procopius testified, "from stolen money.

They hid small, two-edged swords along the thigh under

their mantles and they gathered in groups as soon as dark

set in, to rob their victims of clothing, gold brooches and

whatever else they had/*

By then well-to-do people habitually put on old clothes

86 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

and cheap jewelry when they ventured out after dark. The

Blue gangs counted on their immunity from arrest, and vio-

lated women by daylight, heedless of observers. After the

Blue murder gangs had driven the Green fighters from the

streets, other citizens began to call on the knife men to kill

off their own enemies.

"There even began a sort of competition among them,"

Procopius lelates, "to show off their strength and manliness

by killing with one blow any unarmed man who fell in then-

way. ... If any judge ignored the advice of these men, the

penalty of death hung over him. Money-lenders were com-

pelled to give up their contracts of debt without any money

being paid them. Sons of men of high station mingled with

the lawless youths, and tried to compel their fathers to hand

over money to them."

Girls joined the successful gangs; disheartened Greens be-

gan to change their colors or flee the city. At the same time

families and delegations trooped in from the villages and

provinces, to protest the tax levied on shopkeepeis, fanneis,

and all who owned a boat. These simple folk came to appeal

to the Emperor Chosen by God, they held to their old rights

of free speech and public assembly

That assembly began, by their reckoning, at the opening

of the games in the Hippodrome before the Ides of January,

532, Owing to the disorders, Justinian had named no consul

to provide the sports. He gave the games himself and trusted

to the Prefect of the city to keep order. "The government,"

Procopius noted with relish, "behaved like a tyranny, but not

like an effective tyranny/'

It was Sunday, During the quiet between two races, the

Demarch of the Greens stood up and called imtil he got

Justinian's attention in the imperial box. Scribes noted down

the argument that followed. Since Justinian's voice could

not carry across the arena, the announcer answered for him.

Demarch of the Greens: "Live long, Justinian Augustus.

REVOLT 87

Be victorious! Kind lord, I am aggrieved. God knows I am

oppressed, yet I fear to name the oppressor."

Announcer: "Who is he? We know him not."

"Oh, he is to be found in the Street of the Shoemakers."

"No one has wronged you."

"You know the truth, Thrice August, about the one who

oppresses me!"

"We know no one who oppresses you."

Driven to give a name, the spokesman of the Greens iden-

tified an officer of the guard. "He will perish like Judas."

"You haven't come here to watch the games; you've come

to insult your magistrates."

"My oppressor will die like Judas!"

Evidently the Greens were complaining of more than one

guardsman. Sensing the threat, Justinian retorted, through

the bull-throated announcer: "Silence, Jews, Manichaeans,

Samaritans!"

"Oh! Do you call us Jews and Samaritans? Now, the

Mother of God is with us."

There was a stirring and a muttering along the benches

where the crowd hung upon the shouted words.

Announcer: "Be silent, you or your head will be cut from

you/-

At this the orator changed his tone. He begged the Most

Magnificent not to be angered by his pleading. For he had

good reason to make his complaint at this moment. Here he

spoke for all those who could not find a way into the palace

or get a hearing in any public office. He himself had had to

enter by a back way, for mules, and truly he wished now

he had not come at all! He, who asked for a hearing, was

being threatened with execution!

Announcer: "Everyone is free to come where he wishes,

without danger."

The Demarch, skilled in oratory, faced the audience be-

hind him. "I am told that I am free, yet I must not make use

of my freedom. If a man is free but is known to be a Green,

88 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

he will be punished. Justice goes blind at sight of the Green

color. Stop all this murdering, and let us be punished law-

fully! Human beings can't endure being oppressed, as if it

were punishment by law. Would that Sabbatius had never

been born! For his son is a murderer "

With the uproar drowning Justinian's protest, the orator

flung his voice over it. "Yes, a seller of wood, a spectator here

in the morning, was cut down in the junction this afternoon.

O lord of our lives, who killed the woodman at the junction?"

Up to this point the leader of the Blues had been listening

critically. Now he gave tongue. "Your party is the only one

to enter the Hippodrome with murderers."

Demarch: "Yes, with your party. You can do murder and

run away under protection. Lord Justinian, who killed the

woodman at the junction?"

Announcer: "You yourselves."

"Justinian, who slew the son of Epigathus?"

"You are trying to fix guilt on the Blues "

*Now may the Lord God have pity on us. The Lord God

does not wrong us. I will argue willingly with anyone who

says God brings all such things to happen. Who is it that

wrongs us? Explain that!"

"You are blaspheming! Be silent!"

"If that is the pleasure of the Most Majestic! Now I know

the truth but I shall be silent. I should not have called for

justice here. Our bones will be in the earth if we stay here.

Pick up your bones, spectators!*'

At tibat signal the Green faction rushed out of the amphi-

theater with their orator, to be followed after a moment by

the aroused Blues. Street fighting began.

Watching from the roof of the Daphne palace, Theodora

kpew that Justinian had not come off well in the angry de-

bate. He had heard himself threatened, and had been unable

to quiet the mob. Old Justin had chastened the parties by

using his authority on both, in equal measure.

Justinian ordered the Prefect of the city to arrest and exe-

REVOLT 89

cute the leaders of the riot immediately. Seven men were

hurried across the harbor under guard to be hung. By odd

chance the ropes broke with the weight of two of the victims,

who survived. This stirred the superstition of spectators, and

some friars from the Hospital of St. Lawrence carried off

the survivors to safety since the hospital was a religious

sanctuary. The harassed Prefect threw a cordon of guards

around the place. By chance one of the survivors of the hang-

ing was a Green, the other a Blue.

All day Monday excitement rose in the city. Tuesday, Jus-

tinian decided to go on with the races as if there had been

no disturbance. Crowds thronged into the Hippodrome and

he was beset at once with calls to release the two who lived,

although hanged. Having been worsted in the earlier debate,

Justinian elected to be silent now. As a result, after every

race he had to listen to the shouting. "Set free the two who

were hanged by your servants and spared by the Lordl"

Whether his inaction gave the crowds courage, or whether

invisible leaders planned the revolt, Tuesday ended in gen-

eral demolition. Massed armed men paraded down the Mes6

and broke into the Praetorium, firing the buildings. Encour-

aged by such easy success, the mobs entered arsenals, seek-

ing more weapons, and smashed the portals of the Augusteon

at the end of the Mes6. They demanded that senators appear

to consult with them, and when no senators came forward,

furniture was piled in the senate house and fired. The flames

spread to the Great Church of Sancta Sophia.

After dark the conflagration became awe-inspiring as it

reached the adjoining Octagon Forum. The mobs were now

clearly under leadership. Criminals escaping from a burning

prison joined them, and the guards of noblemen antagonistic

to Justinian were seen directing them. Blues joined with

Greens always a danger sign and they found a slogan:

"Long live the humane Blue-Greens!" They also had a watch-

word, the cry of the circus: "Nika."

90 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

By the end of the night the Sacred Palace was cut off, by

fire and armed bands, from the rest of the city, Besieged in

his palace, where he had secluded himself for so long, Justin-

ian knew that his life was at stake.

Separated from the surviving city guards, protected only

by those shut up with him in the labyrinth of the palace, he

had to listen to grim news on Wednesday. Mundus, the im-

passive commander of the Herule barbarians, had gone out

with two other officials to hear the demands of the rebels.

They reported that the populace demanded the dismissal of

his executives, John of Cappodocia and Tnbonian among

them. They believed that the revolt now was a major effort

to remove the son of Sabbatius from the throne and elect one

of the nephews of Anastasius who had been passed over by

the crowning of Justin.

Hearing that, Justinian realized that the revolt had a reli-

gious impulse and was in addition the protest of his people

against the African war venture. His servants reported that

food was giving out within the palace, packed with digni-

taries who had come in for the Ides of January festival. Pent

up with such a throng, he sensed that he could depend on

very few of his courtiers. Leading senators, well aware of the

crisis, would give no official response to the rebels; the ex-

cubitors and other palace guards, of whom he was the hon-

orary commander, remained idle at their posts, except to fight

the fire outside the Chalk6 gate. He remembered Justin's

warning that such men knew the metal of a commander.

And the last thing he could do would be to lead a few hun-

dred irresolute guardsmen, gleaming with silver and gold,

into his anger-torn city. '- , ,

Instead he asked Count Belisarius and Mundus to drive

back the rebels. Luckily the field officers had with them part

of Belisarius* comitatus and a Herule regiment from the bat-

tle front. These three thousand trained men would obey their

own commanders, if they took no heed of Justinian.

REVOLT 91

Thursday morning the two sections of the aimy moved out,

around the smoldering nuns of the Great Church. But they

did not penetrate far.

A city defending itself is like no other battlefield. The

young Belisanus and the half-pagan Herule and Goth sol-

dieis were confronted by blocked-up streets and massive

buildings from which missiles poured down. When they

cleared a house they might find the 'roof burning ovei their

heads; if they broke through a barricade, loaded carts might

be rolled against them. A great marble bath building and

the skyscraping Octagon became fortresses for the poorly

armed but wildly excited populace.

Mistakenly, devout priests paraded out with candles and

holy pictures, to stop the conflict The ignorant Herules, be-

lieving themselves taken in the reai, scattered the proces-

sion, thereby arousing the throngs that watched this seem-

ing sacrilege And the conflagration broke out again, driven

by the wind, from the harbor to the Mese, enveloping a hos-

pital with all its patieots.

For two days Justinian watched from the palace roof,

hoping for some miracle of achievement. When food ran

short he ordered all persons not of the army or his own fol-

lowing to leave the gates. Some went unwillingly, but most

of them seemed glad to escape while they could. The rebels,

having no quarrel with mere senators and servants, greeted

them with cheers. But their departure nearly emptied the

palace grounds, and when Justinian hurried through the

vacant corridors he felt watchful eyes studying him as if

calculating his chances of life.

Theodora kept apart with her women in the Daphne,

where wounded men were brought in. After the first futile

day of street fighting she seemed to have lost hope of victory,

and she no longer watched, unobserved, to be certain that

her old home was safe.

By Saturday night the surviving soldiers were back within

92 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

the gates, most of them blackened with smoke and bleeding.

Belisarius wore ordinary mail and steel half helmet. Sweat

stained his blond hair and beard, and he sagged with weari-

ness. Curtly he said that his forces could hold only the ruins

of the church and Augusteon. They could not open a way

through the city.

Waiting for Justinian's response, she sensed the indecision

of her husband. The soldiers had explained the situation; no

one but he could direct them what to do next. Narses kept

whispering to her about the mistakes that had been made,

in not sending for more troops, and in letting the races go

on. It exasperated Theodora to hear this muttering. What had

been done was over with. What would they do now?

"I will go out to the people myself," announced Justinian

after he had talked with John. It surprised Theodora, this

decision to act himself. But he murmured then that he would

make a last appeal, taking the Scriptures with him. She did

not believe that talk would gain anything for them, after

their defeat.

Escorted by priests and excubitors, Justinian went out

through the corridor from the Daphne across the chapel to

the Kathisma box. The guards, eying him curiously, gave

him their rigid salute.

When the curtains were drawn back from the box, crowds

surged into the half-filled arena. Expectantly they waited

below for their emperor to speak, and Justinian began to

speak too soon and too quickly.

His hoarse voice did not carry over the stirring of the rest-

less crowd. Impassively the announcer stepped forward, past

the silvered figures holding the standards of the Roman

eagles and the cross of Constantine. The announcer's trained

voice, projecting one word at a time, quieted the mob.

"I ... the Caesar, your emperor . . . give pardon . . .

to everyone. . * . I condone ... all that has been done/'

Tense with expectancy, the populace listened with satis-

faction. Mobs of youths and bodyguards pushed into the

REVOLT 93

tiers, to hear the defeated emperor. Justinian declared that

he had dismissed his obnoxious ministers; Piobus a man

known to be honest would be the new prefect of the city.

Not a soul in the favored city would be anested. The hanged

men would be safe. Justinian pledged his faith as a Christian

and his word as emperor.

Many in the crowd were satisfied. ( If Justinian had faced

them in this way on Tuesday, the revolt might never have

gained momentum. ) But all the leaders were skeptical; they

had agreed to depose Justinian, to liquidate his following

and elect one of the nephews of Anastasius. They had gone

too far to draw back.

A single voice cut through the cadence of the announcer.

"Ass! That's all a lie'*

When thousands of human beings are tensed by conflict

and edged by uncertainty, such a voice can start them into

action, forward or back. Laughter and jeers echoed the shout.

Justinian was doomed.

He made the mistake of lifting the heavy illuminated

Gospels in both arms. His hands shook. His weak voice rose

in a cry. "Be at peace! I swear it upon these holy words* My

sins have caused the burning and killing. I alone am guilty.

I swear it. No one of you is guilty. I am guilty. I swear "

"So you swore to preserve Vitalian. Where is he now after

you shared the bread and wine of the Eucharist with him?"

The crowd, prompted by its varied leaders, roared ap-

proval. The spectacle of Justinian baited in his Hippodrome

stirred a gale of laughter and the monotonous shout: "Who

murdered Vitalian? Son of Sabbatius, who murdered Vital-

ian? Perjurer, who murdered Vitalian?*'

Justinian could make no answer, and ran from the box.

He had been condemned by the democratic convention of

his people. (Immediately the senators and officials released

from the palace learned the result of the emperor's last ap-

peal, and since the senate house had burned, and was still

held by the Gothic soldiers assembled in the nearest forum

94 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

and agreed upon the next steps, the crowning of the new

emperor, the attack upon the palace of Justinian. Since that

was the plan of the leaders of the revolt, the senators merely

had to put their consent on record. Only one voted against

the attack one who believed that no attack would be needed

because Justinian would flee the palace. )

The weary Justinian faced his remaining officers and fol-

lowers in the gold-sheathed Delphax chamber, where Theo-

dora waited. This small group remained because all of them

except Belisarius and Mundus would lose their lives when

Justinian fell. John of Cappadocia shouted out what must be

done. There was not a moment to lose a galley was manned

in the palace port, and the bullion and jewels from his vaults

were being loaded on it.

Justinian agreed that they must escape, to his Macedonian

coast. Hurried arguments rose who should be taken, and

whose goods? The troops would cover the evacuation.

Around the gleaming walls the robed domestics listened

avidly to the arguments of the grandees who had become

fugitives. Slaves slipped away to loot and report the flight

to the rebel forces.

A woman's voice was heard. Theodora stood by her chair.

"Caesar, you can leave. The sea is there. The ship is ready,

and you have money enough. I shall stay. I believe that

those who put on the imperial purple must never put it off.

May I not live upon the day when they Qease to call me

Augusta." * v*

Her slight figure turned to face the officers. "I like the old

saying that purple makes the finest shroud/^

After that there was silence. They knew sW. meant it. No

one tried to make Theodora change her mind. Justinian's

face darkened with a rush of blood, and his mouth hung

open. No officer was willing to be the first to speak again

of the evacuation. Instead they asked what else could be

done. John of Cappadocia threw his big body into. a chair

and made a motion with his hands as if washing th^m.

B E V O L T 95

The shout of the Hippodrome penetrated the uneasy si-

lence. "Nika , . nika . . . mka."

By mutual impulse the military commanders, Belisaiius

and the bandy-legged, hideous Mundus, left the conference

to go up to the roof to learn what was happening outside.

Mechanically other officers followed.

What they sighted in the Hippodrome brought Belisarius

and Mundus to frozen attention.

The populace had found its new emperor. At some time

in the night the rebel leaders had discovered that two

nephews of Anastasius had forsaken the palace and weie

in their homes. Thereupon the leaders had hurried to the

house of one, Hypatms by name, a well-meaning, middle-

aged veteran of the Persian war, fond of his gardens. In car-

rying him off triumphantly they were hindered by his wife,

Mary, who held on to him, weeping and crying out that they

were taking him to his death. With some difficulty they had

thrown off this woman.

Early in the morning Hypatius had been lifted on a shield

in the forum of Constantine, which had not been gutted by

the fire. Having no crown, or patriarch to bestow it, they had

put a gold chain on his head. After Justinian's hurried exit

from the imperial box they had thought the moment right

to present the new emperor to the throng now pressed into

the Hippodrome, and they had hurried Hypatius to the box

where the impassive guards still stood. The time, indeed, was

right. The crov/d had roared salutation, and that shout had

penetrfdted the palace walls to the Delphax chamber,

Hypatius was agitated. Half hysterical after his wife's hys-

teria, he cauglift hold of an imperial guard named Ephraim

and gave him a message of some kind to take in to the be-

sieged Justinian, Whether the nephew of Anastasius tried to

warn Justinian about the coming attack, or whether he tried

to 'clear himself of guilt, there is no knowing. It was a spoken

message, and this Ephraim, hurrying back through the corri-

dors, ran into a certain Thomas, a physician of the palace,

96 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

who was hurrying to the box to be the first to announce Jus-

tinian's flight by warship. Quite naturally, learning of this,

the guard Ephraim turned and ran back with the physician

to have a share in spreading the all-important news. When

the crowd in the Hippodrome heard that Justinian had fled,

a new tumult of rejoicing began. . . .

This, then, was what Belisarius and Mundus observed from

the roof of the palace in the full glare of noon. For long

moments the two of them remained motionless, fascinated

by the vista below. To civilian eyes it was merely uncounted

thousands of exulting townspeople swarming about the great

arena. To the trained eyes of the soldiers it showed perhaps

three tens of thousands of their enemies of the street fighting

penned within a walled amphitheater from which only nar-

row doors offered a way out. Most of the thousands had

weapons, but poor ones. As leaders they seemed to have

only rabble rousers.

Belisarius and Mundus had somewhat more than two thou-

sand disciplined men. Together they estimated distances and

time, and chances, and agreed that a surprise attack could

be made. When they ran down to the Delphax chamber,

Justinian gave his consent.

Waiting only for his first numerus to catch up its belts

and weapons, Belisarius, guided by Narses the eunuch, led

the way through the private corridors to the Kathisma doors.

These he found to be bolted against him. The guards on

the far side had no least desire to take part in the conflict,

especially when the Hypatius forces appeared to be victori-

ous. They remained deaf to Belisarius' hurried commands.

The bronze doors stayed shut.

Wasting no more time, Belisarius swung his numerus back

through the corridors. Picking up the rest of his comitatus,

he hurried out the ruined Chalk6 gate, meeting the Herules

in the blackened Augusteon. The two commanders led their

small columns around through the deserted fire zone, through

debris and smoke, while Narses, tense with excitement, hur-

REVOLT 97

ried ahead to scatter rumors and prophecies to confuse the

populace.

But these were scarcely needed Bystanders along the gut-

ted Mese kept out of the way of armored troops bound for

an unknown destination. Confusion held all the streets that

Sunday morning. Leading his column across the black ruin

of the bath building, Belisarius headed at a trot for the near-

est gate of the Hippodrome, which happened to be the one

leading to the stair to the Portico of the Blues. Mundus

raced his barbarians on to another entrance, the Gate of

Death.

Belisarius jumped out into the colonnaded portico He had

to lead. The days of the old Roman legions were gone by,

when a commander could expect his men to execute an at-

tack without going first himself But his mailed comitatus

followed, into the tumult of the crowded benches, opening

the way with their swords.

By the time the mob realized it was attacked, Belisarius

had cleared the upper tiers and his armored line was wheel-

ing down into the throngs. Groups flung themselves at the

soldiers spasmodically, leadeis yelled incoherently, before

the arrows and javelins of the comitatus killed them.

It was a strange spectacle in the Hippodrome, a line of

armed men moving slowly down into thirty times their num-

ber. If there had been any organized mass or clear-minded

commander to oppose the line it could not have done so.

But the mob tried to do a dozen things at the same time, and

the hardest thing was to climb up over the marble benches

to reach the armored line that killed every person in front

of it.

Then the Herules burst into the throng at the far end. The

barbarians had no steel on them; they had only leather and

small round shields and curved hacking swords. But they

rushed down savagely, howling their eagerness to take blood

vengeance for their comrades slain in the streets.

98 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

The turn in the fighting came when the crowd, collectively,

became insensate with fear. Belisarius knew what that turn

in a battle meant. Wiping his sword clean, he sheathed it.

Beneath him, beyond the soldiers, the throngs made thick

human clusters at the passageways, men tearing at each

other to inch themselves into a way of escape. Most of them

died, because Belisarius and Mundus held the exits toward

the city, and there was little way out toward the palace. The

weary soldiers went on killing, like surgeons operating on a

multitude of patients. Procopius says that thirty thousand

died in the Nika revolt, and that may well be the truth. Few

of the soldiers were hurt.

Hypatius and his brother Pompey sat helplessly in the

imperial box. At first they had been too stunned to move.

Then the guards of the box, perceiving the turn in the battle,

decided to hold them there. Still wearing the gold chain,

forgotten on his head, Hypatius waited until officers of Beli-

sarius came and took him by the arms, to lead him through

the corridors and the bronze doors now swung open by the

guards, into the palace. The unlucky man kept swearing that

he had sent a message to urge Justinian to attack his follow-

ers, and that he had never wished to be crowned. The gold

chain gave evidence against him and his messenger, Ephraim

the guard, said he could not remember what Hypatius had

said to him.

That evening these two nephews of the former emperor

Anastasius were put to death by the soldiers on Justinian's

order.

For days silence held the burned area, except where

women came to search for bodies in the Hippodrome. Their

wailing went on without ceasing. Many families had fled

from the city to escape the fighting. There was no one left

to carry on the revolt. For a long time there was no sem-

blance of a Blue or Green faction, and Justinian reigned

unchallenged by spokesmen.

REVOLT 99

As soon as she could Theodora went to her house. She

found it deserted with the doors locked. The servants had

sought safety in the adjoining church that Justinian had built

to add to the garden. It was a very small church, that of Sts.

Sergius and Bacchus, but beautifully designed in all its de-

tails by the young architect, Anthemius of Tralles.

So it happened that Theodora went alone with her women

of the propoloma, through the locked-up house, finding the

terrace littered with leaves and the tiled rooms smelling still

of smoke.

When you return to rooms where you have lived with the

hope of other days, the rooms may be the same, the windows

opening upon the same treetops, but they have become dif-

ferent because the feelings you shared with them have

changed. Theodora went from her sleeping chamber to the

terrace and looked instinctively at the wall where the pea-

cock had roosted in the sun. When she turned around as if

searching for something, a handmaiden stepped forward,

asking softly, "The Augusta desires?"

Theodora said that the monks of the Samson hospital no

longer had a roof over their heads; they could be sheltered

here. There were many holy men from the east wandering

the streets like beggars after the fire. They could sleep in her

house, with the new church at hand for their needs; they

could walk in the garden, where the pool needed to be

cleared of ashes.

The women who wore the propoloma murmured agree-

meiat. When they had been pent up in the Daphne, listening

to the conflict, they had realized that they owed their lives

to her, but they had not thought she was a pious Augusta.

Nor did Theodora explain why she gave up her old home.

It was an instinctive act, to end her life of those years, after

the catastrophe, and the sight of the Hippodrome, and the

certainty that Justinian was a coward unable to play the part

of emperor alone. It was, perhaps, some gesture of restitu-

tion to the monks of the east that made her give the house

100 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

to them, as if by doing so she could pay what she owed.

Her women noticed a new decision in her. Once she spoke,

she would not change her mind. At the same time she began

quietly to form a system of spies who would report to her

daily the talk and happenings in the city. The closest cells

of the spying agency were of course her women and eunuchs;

from them the cells connected outward with the markets and

harbors, and beyond the city, What happened henceforth,

Theodora wished to know each day.

Then, too, without explanation, she made a journey. De-

parting alone from the city for the first time, she crossed the

water to the Asia shore. With her own guardsmen, counsel-

ors, and ladies of honor, she went from village to village

along this far shore, turning into nearby Bithynia, passing

under the snow peak of Mount Olympus there, even riding

up to the monasteries on the heights.

Ostensibly she made the journey to give donations to refu-

gees as well as to enjoy the hot mineral baths herself. She

also contributed to the monasteries and started temporaiy

hospitals, needed during the crisis.

Actually she met in this manner with new groups of coun-

try folk, the most dependable in the empire; she made the

gesture of giving away her money, and let the Bithynians

know that she had authority upon which they could call in

an emergency. After her tour of this Asia province, she let

it be known that she wished foreign embassies to call upon

her as well as Justinian.

Such envoys she met with a new, hard brilliance. When

strangers sought her presence she obliged them to wait, often

for days, until she had learned much from her agents of their

affairs and natures. She had a way, too, of forcing dignified

men to prostrate themselves to kiss her foot, which no

Augusta had done before.

For Theodora was no longer playing a part. She had

staked everything, including her life, for empire, and had

won to the extent she was still alive. She was attempting

REVOLT 101

to learn, and to help Justinian carry out, the task of ruling

an empire without appearing to do so.

For a while after the week of terror Justinian seemed to

be in a stupor.

In fact a sense of terror lay upon Constantinople itself.

The palace and the city alike had been scarred by blood

and fire. The best part of the metropolis had become a black

waste of burned brick. Theodora and her people went about

caring for the maimed, the military commanders brought in

supplies from the suburbs, and the priests proceeded with

their business of praying for the sufferers. But the surviving

populace waited, keeping within doors, to learn what ven-

geance its emperor would take.

Justinian could not rid himself of the memory of those

sleepless nights when servitors had watched him like some

trapped animal. He found himself facing again the crowd

in the Hippodrome, trying to speak and make clear that he

meant to punish no one ... he had never meant the multi-

tude to be slain. He had been patient with them, and had

made every effort not to anger them. And his city had

burned, and most of those human beings who listened to him

that morning had been made into cadavers by the weapons

of a few Herules and hired Goths.

In Justinian's orderly world of imagination there had been

no concept of disaster so close to himself, Not understanding

what had happened, he could not think what action to take

now. Briefly he thanked the unperturbed Count Belisarius

for the brilliant operation that had saved the palace. Whereas

John of Cappadocia threw his arms around the young soldier,

kissed him, and swore that Michael Archangel could not have

done more.

A sagacious emperor like Diocletian, Justinian knew, would

have carried out a blood purge of all who had shown them-

selves in the ranks of the rebels. Justinian ordered the Hippo-

drome closed indefinitely.

102 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROB

Then, unexpectedly to all observers, he made an effort to

carry out some of the promises he had given in the Hippo-

drome. "He restored to the children of Hypatius and Pom-

pey the titles they had held before, and much of their [con-

fiscated] property. He did that also with members of the

senate who had turned against him. . . . Tribonian and

John were deprived of office, but were given back their posts

later on. Tribonian, a plausible fellow, made use of his great

learning to cover up his avarice, while John inflicted blows

on everybody, plundering wealth without respect for any

owner."

Justinian, then, gave general pardon to the survivors of

the Nika insurrection. Something odd came uito his mind at

this point. The bodies of Hypatius and Pompey lay where

they had been thrown into the sea. He, Justinian, had mur-

dered Vitalian as the crowd had charged, after swearing that

Vitalian would not be harmed. Justinian did not mention

such things again in a public speech. But so long as he lived

he put no other political offender to death.

Probably neither Justinian nor the populace perceived it,

but a change had taken place in their relations. The blood

and fire of the uprising had weakened age-old institutions.

The senate, which had played a wavering if not a treacherous

role, did not regain its former prestige. On their part, the

popular democracies were left crippled, deprived of the

Hippodrome that had been their areopagus. So two ancient

institutions, one Roman and one Greek, became moribund.

There remained a single ruler, an autocrat, facing a single

people. The great question was, how would this solitary

ruler conduct himself in the future toward his people?

Tribonian and his companions were set to a new task, to

arrive at an explanation of the laws the Roman law of the

civilized world to make clear in what way and under what

circumstances they could be enforced.

A dynamic head of state like the great Constantine would

REVOLT 103

have rebuilt the burned portion of the palace enclosure as a

fortress more secure against attack. Justinian spent weeks in

wandering afoot over the devastated zone, talking with

priests and populace. To them he made clear for the mem-

ory of the jeering rabble rankled that his city when rebuilt

would shelter no drifters and idlers; his streets would be

closed to the mobs of gamblers, beggars, and extortioners.

No longer would semi-military factions march to music in

colors of their own. Every person who came henceforth to

the gates of the new city would need to have a family, work,

or business to care for.

All the listeners agreed to that, and most of them decided

that it was a Platonic idea which could not be carried out.

For Justinian had determined in reality to rebuild the

devastated heart of the city in new splendor to erect the

monuments of an empire for public use.

In particular he set his mind on the ruined Sancta Sophia.

Through long hours of the night he sat in discussion over

drawings with young Anthemius of Tralles, who called in a

master builder of masonry, a certain Isidore, and others.

Justinian asked the architect what he had disliked about the

burned basilica, and Anthemius explained that it had been

dark, like an ugly parallelogram in shape, and so low in the

ceiling that you felt confined rather than uplifted within it,

and besides, a structure built largely of wood endured no

weight and burned down frequently. The Romans, he said,

designed magnificent baths and hippodromes but had never

been able to erect a church of God.

After this study and discussion, Justinian asked Anthemius

to design a structure radiant with the light of the sun, vast

enough to hold all who came to worship, and lofty enough to

give the feeling of the sky within it, and of such strength that

it would endure for the ages.

Seldom had a young architect been called on to build such

a new wonder of the world. (For the existing wonders had

been rather solid masses, to serve as personal tombs, like the

104 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

pyramids of ancient Egypt, or to gratify the whim of a tyrant,

like the hanging gardens in Babylon, now defunct.) Anthe-

mms sobbed for joy and declared the new wonder could be

built, to contain five thousand people and exalt them.

He would raise the structure on four piers, massive as

mountain pinnacles, with galleries behind them. He would

lift it higher upon half domes, which would be the founda-

tion of a single mighty sphaira, or central dome, lofty as a

portion of the sky. Isidore and the builders demanded stone

faced with marble not a single beam of wood for the main

structure. The incredible suspended dome, they announced,

would rest with Anthemius and the Lord God.

Other architects, who had not been given a share in the

contracts, declared that such a dome could not be built. It

was an eastern idea, not Roman at all. If built by any chance,

it would fall on the heads of those thousands of worshipers.

Businessmen grumbled that such a monstrosity, as huge as a

mountain, yet finished like a jeweled cameo brooch, could

never be paid for.

Both the experts and financiers proved to be more right

than wrong. But Justinian had the persistence of a mountain

peasant and the carelessness about money of a boy who had

never possessed it. At the end of five years the new edifice

stood completed, and it was a wonder.

Before then observers quick to sense any change from

routine within the palace noticed that Theodora had drawn

insensibly apart from Justinian, Envoys from abroad were

careful to make gifts to the court of the Augusta as well as

to the officials of the Augustus. Theodora's spies might be

anywhere; she certainly had her people to serve her, while

Justinian was immersed in building projects, and trying to

clean the streets of human refuse. Women especially sought

Theodora, who showed herself to them in lovely new dress

creations. She afforded them a sense of infinite power, while

the emperor tramped his corridors as before, or shut himself

in with papers and secretaries.

REVOLT 105

The shrewdest minds gave out the opinion that this was

a clever trick of the pair. Theodora, they said, took up one

side of a question if Justinian favored the other. By doing

that openly, they could compare notes on the quiet and solve

the secrets of all petitioners. This opinion gained belief, be-

cause the minds of the Constantinopolitans turned to what

was hidden more than to what was apparent, A few ob-

servers decided that this difference was caused only by the

determination of the sovereigns the empress merely doing

what a woman wished, the emperor following a man's

pursuits.

Baffled by this duality of the throne, most persons studied

Justinian to discover the answer to the riddle. They knew it

would be useless even if possible to watch Theodora. But

they were careful to offer their choicest gifts to the inscru-

table Theodora.

Justinian, however, did what nobody anticipated. With

his city still maimed, and his government disturbed, he in-

sisted on sending the expedition to Africa.

Having every reason for not doing so, he retuined to his

old project, that had started the Nika revolt, of attempting

to reconquer the lost half of the old Roman Empire. He said

the past could be restored. That could not be, of course.

Yet a year after the slaughter in the Hippodrome, he or-

ganized the expedition and entrusted it to Count Belisarius,

to accomplish the impossible.

IV

Recovery of an Empire

"C 1

JLLAVIUS VEGETIUS, A STUDENT AND CIVILIAN, WROTE IN HIS

Epitome of the Art of War that "Victory can be gained by

wise skill and discipline over greater numbers and untaught

courage ... a small trained armed force guarantees suc-

cess, an undisciplined throng is doomed to destruction . . .

in time of apparent peace, prepare for war."

True, Vegetius gave examples that dated back rather far,

to Julius Caesar and the handful of legions that conquered

the then savage Gauls, and the slight Roman legionaries who

had once withstood the physically powerful Germans. But

were not ids axioms still true? Justinian, who had read Vege-

tius, must have believed them to be true after witnessing the

massacre in the Hippodrome. Furthermore, Vegetius coun-

seled doing what he himself had done choosing officers from

trained, brilliant young citizens rather than relying on

foreigners.

Even though most of his officers, including Belisarius, were

born of foreign barbarians, they were Roman by inclination

and training. They had, as it were, become Romanized.

While very few ancestral Romans wanted to serve a lifetime in

the army or, if they did so, made more than routine generals

who depended on orders and sought honors for themselves.

108 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

By now Justinian had studied a good deal of history. He

must have understood what caused the downfall of the old

Roman armies. The old-style legions might have given way

before the terrifying attack of Goths on horseback with long

swords at Hadrian's City not far from Constantinople itself,

some century and a half before. Yet Roman strategists had

learned the lesson of that disaster Vegetius himself wrote

after it and had by slow degrees evolved a new army relying

on cavalry (like the Goths), protected by iron body armor

and using the weapons of the barbarians, the light spear and

longer slashing sword. These were the lancers, the cata-

phracts-the "iron-covered" and they soon added to their

equipment the stiff handy bow of the formidable barbarians

from the eastern steppes like the Huns. Such mailed and

mounted fighters made up the comitatus, or private army, of

the energetic Belisarius.

But the collapse of the old armies in the west had been

caused not so much by lack of equipment or training as by

the failure of manpower to use the equipment and by the

rotting of Rome itself, the central government that directed

the armed forces. Slave labor had enriched the estates of

wealthy citizens until they naturally forsook the dirty busi-

ness of war, while the privileged lower-class citizen and it

had been still a privilege to be registered as a Roman citizen

forsook armed service to share in the dole of grain from

Africa and the games of the Colosseum. The reigning city,

consuming instead of producing, had become a gigantic

parasite, draining sustenance from the outer provinces.

It collapsed not because the barbarians from the northern

forests or the eastern steppes invaded it, but because it began

to hire barbarians to fill the ranks deserted by its own citi-

zens. World peace, the pax Romana, seemed at that time at

least during the splendid Augustan age to be a permanent

state of affairs, and the empire an everlasting world order. It

seemed natural enough tinder those circumstances to hire

garrisons for the Limes, the frontier lines.

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIBE 109

For a long time barbaric fighters had been hired as auxil-

iaries to the armies. Then entire tribes were employed as

foederati or federates. Yet disintegration only set in when the

empire was torn apart and all standards lowered in the civil

wars of the third century after Christ. The vestige of the

empire that endured after that in the west enlisted slaves,

debased its currency, and settled accounts with barbarian

federates by ceding them territory within the frontiers.

Actually Gothic and Visigothic leaders usually tried to hold

together the semblance of Roman rule, while emperors-in-

name retreated to Ravenna, protected by encircling swamps.

Migrants under such leaders as Alaric and Gaiseric merely

marched into Rome to collect their share of the vanishing

wealth of empire.

They had settled down in various parts of the empire, to

farm their own lands, being careful to stamp the imperial

effigy upon their coins and to acknowledge the existence of

the surviving emperors, who were now in the east, in Con-

stantinople. ( Under the sagacious House of Attila, the Huns,

last comers from the steppes, had attempted to establish a

rival dominion throughout Middle Europe, based on the

Hungarian plain, but the Hunnic confederation had broken

down at Attila's death. )

Now the Vandals held Africa, the Ostrogoths ruled Italy,

the Visigoths Spain, while the more barbarous Franks over-

ran Gaul, and the distant Anglo-Saxons swept over southern

Britain.

In the east, the emperors of Constantinople had had the

advantage of observing the different stages of collapse in the

west. At times they had tried to send military aid, but they

had little to send and could not arrest the internal decay of

the west. They had shunted the Goths and Huns, the most

dangerous migrants, westward by massive gifts of gold and

by building strong fortifications along the lines of the

Danube. They had checked the tendency to hire German

fighters, en masse, not long before Justinian. Guard units like

110 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

the new excubitors were recruited from wellborn Isaurians

in the highlands of Asia Minor, or Armenians in the moun-

tains of the Caucasus.

The empire in the east, however, had not escaped without

damage. Migrating barbarians in quest of loot and land had

overrun and sacked the Greek peninsula; Justinian's home

province of Macedonia had been raided but not vitally hurt;

the fertile Asiatic provinces the Asia Minor peninsula, Syria,

Egypt, and Gyrene (where Theodora had traveled) had

been guarded so far from invasion, and their wealth served

to buy off the more dangerous barbarian peoples pressing

down upon the Euxine Sea and the line of the Danube.

Moreover, the strategists of Constantinople learned to play

off one chieftain of a horde against another a dangerous

game. Both Anastasius and Justin had tried to build more

walls, but as Vitalian had pointed out, walls meant little

without men to defend them. So the task of the occupants of

the Sacred Palace had been to find brains to balance the

weight of manpower that could be thrown against them.

They had a new weapon, the secret of which was care-

fully guarded within the War Department. Chemists had

discovered that sulphur and saltpeter, mixed in a mortar with

powdered pyrites and then treated with quicklime and other

ingredients, would burst into devastating flame when pro-

jected upon an enemy ship or troops. Flaming oil had been

employed to defend walls before then, but this chemical

flame ignited itself and could not be extinguished, even on

water. (It came to be known as Greek fire or sea fire. ) Being

still experimental the compound had to be handled care-

fully and kept out of the sun it was used only in an emer-

gency., as Justin had used it, close to Constantinople.

It was Justinian's idea to make Constantinople secure by

attacking in turn the barbarian kingdoms of the west. After

three peaceful generations they would not expect such an

attack. It could not progress far by land, but it might be

thrust unexpectedly across the Middle Sea (Mediterranean).

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 111

He had prepared for it with care by arranging a perpetual

truce, after a suitable gift of gold, with the Persian King of

kings, by sending agents to Africa to stir up sedition, and by

befriending the daughter of the great Theodoric, king of the

Goths in Italy, recently laid in his splendid tomb at Ravenna.

With the expedition launched in the spring of 533 under

command of Belisarius, after the patriarch prayed for its suc-

cess on the landing of the Golden Horn, it remained to be

seen whether Justinian could support his general and keep

the army supplied in the tremendous gamble it was taking.

For the army entrusted to Belisarius was too small to be

thrown against the warlike masses of Vandals and Goths.

Justinian himself was taking the chance that Belisarius

might elect to stay in Africa as a monarch in his own right,

it successful. The gieat Theodoric had started his career as

an officer of the empire. The African coast was fertile and

rich. If it managed to arrive there, the army might follow

Belisarius, not Justinian. The 10,000 regular infantry resented

going because for the most part they wanted leave at home

after the Persian campaign, the 400 Huns disliked putting to

sea; so the staying force lay in the several thousand cata-

phracts of Belisarius' comitatus. Moreover, the brilliant

young commander in chief had taken along his family, his

actress wife Antonina, and his grown-up godson Theodosius.

That caused trouble, but not the kind Justinian expected

Belisarius' first task was to exert the authority he was sup-

posed to have. The 500 small vessels of the flotilla, needed

to transport the army's supplies and 5000 horses, were owned

mostly by Syrian and Egyptian traders and had never taken

part in a great naval cruise. Belisarius had the upper sails

of the three flagships painted red, and lanterns hoisted to

poles above the masts at night so the ill-found mass of vessels

could follow in convoy. Whereupon his fleet-to-be nearly

piled up on itself by following blindly into a small harbor

after dark. Procopius says the seamen displayed great skill in

112 THEODORA AND THE EMPEKOR

warding off other craft with their poles. Water fouled in

defective casks. ( Antonina, wife of the commander, kept her

own supply of drinking water clean and cool by hiding it in

glass jars in the sand ballast of her ship. "She was a woman,"

commented Procopius, "with a genius for accomplishing the

most impractical things.") Biscuits furnished by the imperial

Economist (John of Cappadocia was back again in office

because only he seemed to be capable of raising enough

money for a war and the rebuilding of Constantinople at the

same time ) turned out to be moldy, and caused many deaths

from dysentery. Belisarius landed long enough to buy re-

serves of grain with his own money; he also executed by

impaling on stakes two Huns who had got drunk and killed

a comrade. This was a serious step to take. The Huns, invalu-

able in a battle, did not acknowledge that they were bound

by Roman laws or discipline. After the execution Belisarius

could not be sure if they would go into action for or against

him.

So his ill-found fleet hugged the shores, from island to

island. The army officers many of them jealous of the young

commander, and some ready to conspire against him re-

ported that their men would not accept a battle at sea

against Vandals on such vessels.

Ahead of them stretched unknown waters where barbar-

ians had roved for three generations. The soldiers did not

know what they would find there, except the charred wrecks

of the last imperial fleet to venture against the Vandal con-

querors of Africa.

They landed on Sicily beneath Mount Aetna. This hap-

pened to be Gothic soil. With his ships becalmed and his

men weakened by the long voyage, Belisarius began to show

signs of nerves. "He was restless as soon as he went ashore,"

Procopius relates. "Wondering how he could go further, his

mind was tormented because he had no idea what sort of

combatants the Vandals were or how he ought to wage war

against them, while his soldiers remained in fear, saying

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 113

they would not meet two enemies at once the Vandals and

the sea."

The Syrian Procopius had begun to admiie Belisarius, and

to his joy he was able to relieve the mind of his hero. Going

into Syracuse for information, he discovered a servant who

had left Carthage only three days before. Carthage was the

reigning city and seaport of the Vandals where the king, the

army, and the fleet would ordinarily be. Justinian, however,

had opened the way for his expedition remarkably well. His

provocateurs had stirred up anticipations of a move by the

imperial forces against the desert coast of Tripoli and the

far-off island of Sardinia. In consequence the Vandal fleet

with 5000 of the army had gone to Sardinia, while the king,

Gelimer, and his court were four days inland fiom Carthage

with no suspicion that Belisarius was at sea.

Moreover, owing to Justinian's correspondence with the

Gothic court, his fleet was given supplies at Sicily. As soon as

he could do so, Belisarius put to sea, crossing to Malta where

a favoring east wind drove his vessels ovei to the African

coast.

Their landfall came at a point known as Shoal's Head to

the Romans, but far from the coveted Carthage. The bare red

coast looked inhospitable but uninhabited. Belisarius, anxious

to advance quickly, called his commanders to his ship and

asked what they would do. This council of war voted for

remaining on shipboard and rounding the promontory to

Carthage. It would be a nine days' march without water

overland to the city, and what would happen to the army if

a storm destroyed the fleet on this shelterless coast?

The officers, apparently, wished to keep a way of escape

open. Belisarius could be both courteous and caustic. "I don't

blame you/' he answered them. "We can look for no shelter,

for a base in this desert. But I for one agree that I don't want

to meet with the Vandals and the sea at the same time. It's

true what you all say, that if a storm comes up one of two

things will happen to the ships; either they will escape far

114 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

from the coast or be sunk. And if we're still on the ships,

what else will happen to us?"

Belisarius advised marching overland with all speed, to

reach Carthage before the enemy could defend it. Then the

fleet, following along the coast, could shelter in the harbor,

and Carthage, with its wealth and supplies, would serve as a

base for future action. (In this way he would force the army

to find security in walled Carthage. )

The others, perforce, agreed. Procopius announced with

glee that it was a good omen when they found water by

digging at the first camp. But Belisarius, with his comitatus

and the Huns mounted, was in no mood to humor the expe-

dition more. He hurried the march, and severely punished

men who took fruit and livestock from a village. "These

countrymen were Romans as of old they will aid us unless

you drive them to join the Vandals. Why do you persist in

making two enemies to face?"

He forced the expedition to pay with good silver for its

food, and to keep going. (He was then following roughly the

route of the Eighth Army closing in on Rommel's Afrika

Korps, more than fourteen centuries later, when Carthage

had become Tunis. )

He did not win the race to Carthage. When the Romans

came in sight of the natural barriers of the great port the

chain of hills ending in a dry salt lake and the great lake of

Carthage they heard from their well-wishers, the farmers

who had been paid with silver, that the Vandal horsemen

were coming in from all sides. Belisarius halted his column

and built one of the old-style entrenched camps. Here he left

his baggage with the weaker units of infantry and his wife.

Then he started cautiously forward along the highroad which

ran through a long defile in the hills and between the wet

and dry lakes to Carthage. His comitatus he held in the rear

because it was the only force he could rely on not to retreat

to the fortified camp on the appearance of the Vandals.

What happened then was a matter of luck, with the differ-

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 115

ence that Belisarms was prepared for bad luck while the

inexperienced masters of Africa were not. The four hundred

Huns, sent ahead to probe the hills to the left, discovered one

body of Vandals coming out across the dry salt lake. When

they observed the glittering gold body ornaments, the fine

cloaks, and large fat horses of the noble Vandals, the Huns

lost their ill humor, or decided that these horsemen were a

more desirable enemy than the inflexible Behsanus. Their

devastating arrows swept the massed human loot in front of

them, and their swift mustangs outran the heavier horses of

the Vandals, who scattered in flight over the salt depression.

The Roman federate cavalry, advancing through the defile,

collided with the Vandal commander of Carthage, who hap-

pened to be Gelimer's brother. They rode over him and his

small escort at the Ten Mile road marker, and finding similai

detachments coming up along the road, they kept on at-

tacking, gathering up loot and looking for more Vandals.

They had almost reached Carthage itself when they sighted

Gehmer's main array trotting through the hills at the side.

Whereupon this Roman cavalry turned to fly back to protec-

tion. In so doing they encountered Belisarius with a small

following, who stopped them.

Almost anything might have happened then in the hills.

What did happen was that Gelimer, the king, reaching the

road at the Ten Mile post, found the body of his brother. No

enemies were visible. Gelimer was still a barbarian by in-

stinct, which meant that he had affection for his own family

and felt the need of burying the dead with religious ritual.

This he did on the spot, grieving, while his army waited out

the funeral. Belisarius, feeling his way along the defile, came

upon this unexpected panorama and allowed his dubious

cavalry no time to become afraid again. He led it in a

headlong charge into the startled and dismounted Vandal

array. This, believing itself to be attacked in force, mounted

in haste to ride off with Gelimer.

So at the end of the day the main Roman column found

116 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

the defile occupied only by dead bodies of the enemy. At

dark the Huns reappeared with their gleanings of brooches,

silver-plate belts, and gold-inlaid weapons. The remaining

ten miles of highway were open to Carthage, and the city

itself illuminated with lamps and flares to welcome the in-

vaders. Vandals in the walled city moved into sanctuary in

the churches. The townsfolk had been prepared by Jus-

tinian's espionage agents for this coming of the liberators

who would restore the African coast to the benevolent rule

of the empire.

Belisarius would not allow any detachment of his Romans

to enter Carthage that night. He had taken the measure of

the Vandals in combat and had no more anxiety about the

campaign, but he dreaded the looting that would follow if

his underpaid Romans entered a friendly barbarian city at

night. Even Procopius admitted that "some confusion" en-

sued whenever a Roman army entered a city.

The next morning Belisarius paraded his men in and did

not allow them out of ranks until guards had been posted

around the luxurious villas and palaces of the prosperous

city. So his entry was something of a triumph. The common

folk, egged on by Justinian's spies, threw myrtle before the

marching Romans. When the gilded eagles of the standards

passed, the Africaners wept and shouted their joy at libera-

tion after three generations. Belisarius policed the streets,

gave immunity to the Vandal nobles in the churches but

kept them there and went off to dine in Gelimer's palace, to

be waited on in royal style by the house servants. After the

reserves and baggage came in from the road camp, he let his

men rest.

Even with the port illuminated and well-wishers sailing

out to guide it in, his fleet had difficulty in entering the safe

haven of the lake of Carthage.

Luck seemed to follow his every move. The old inhabit-

ants of the coast felt religious exultation in his advent be-

cause under Justinian the old religion would be restored to

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 117

their churches. The Vandals were Arians, not orthodox be-

lievers. A Vandal vessel loaded with treasure tried to escape

and was forced back, later, by a storm, to fall intact into his

hands. And in Carthage he held the only foitified base of the

Vandal coast. At the time of their conquest of Africa the

barbarians had demolished the walls of other towns in the

logical but mistaken belief that they would be more secure

in Carthage if no other fortifications existed.

This resulted in Behsarius being secure within Carthage

while Gelimer had no such fortification available. It being

the end of summer by then, the Romans ( actually the trained

Balkans, Armenians, former Goths and Huns) aided the lib-

erated inhabitants to get in the fruit and grain crops. When

the Vandal fleet returned at last after having a very easy time

in Sardinia, it was astonished to find its home port occupied

by a Roman fleet.

The Vandal sea commander embraced his king, and they

both wept, in true German fashion, because they had lost

their city, their wives, and their crops. Whereupon they

made a vow to reconquer all, or to die.

When Gelimer mustered up all available Vandal man-

power to advance on his city, Belisarius refused to leave it.

Incapable of siege tactics, and unwilling to engage the now

dreaded Romans behind walls, Gelimer's host broke down

the aqueducts, gathered up the remains of the harvests, and

retired along the coast for a day's march, to build a camp

and wait on events.

This situation pleased Belisarius, who could get supplies

enough from Sicily by his ships. Probably those very ships

had convinced Justinian in the beginning that the impossible

could be accomplished, and the empire of the west re-

conquered.

In the time of its supremacy the empire had never main-

tained a strong navy on the Middle Sea. It had devoted its

efforts instead to developing an invincible army, With fron-

118 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

tiers far inland from the sea, this army had seldom availed

itself of sea transport, although it might have done so to

advantage. With peace enforced, the Mare Nostrum had no

need of warships. Egyptian and eastern merchants took care

of the carrying trade,

Very much the same state of affairs prevailed under the

eaily emperors at Constantinople until the Vandals began

to construct a fleet, in defiance of the law that no war vessel

might be launched without imperial permission. Leo had

tried to destroy this nascent barbarian sea power and had lost

his own fleet instead; Anastasius had built some new dro-

mons, "speeders," in the Golden Horn and these had escorted

Belisarius on his test voyage.

For it seemed possible to Justinian and his advisers that, if

the land routes were to be forever closed by hostile barbaric

manpower, still the small expeditionary forces mustered in

Constantinople might be shunted westward by sea, where

the hostile land armies could not reach them, or at least

arrive on the coast in time to prevent their landing. Islands

might be recaptured, and bases established to the west. By

regaining, as it were, the Middle Sea through naval power,

the surviving empire might recapture the surrounding coasts,

ports, and outthrust peninsulas. Having no land routes to the

west, it could open up the sea lanes.

Naturally the first step in the undertaking was the most

difficult, and Justinian had taken the sound risk of striking at

the farthest nation, the most seemingly secure, with the one

dangerous fleet. The risk had been in attempting to cross the

sea to get at the Vandals by land, while avoiding the Vandal

fleet. Although his nerves had suffered on the way, Belisarius

had accomplished this.

In doing so, he had fanned Justinian's hopes that the future

of the empire lay across the sea. . . .

Oddly enough, the appearance of the invaders from the

sea shook the spirit of the Vandals who might still have

driven off the expedition by weight of numbers. There was

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 119

a prophecy that not until soldiers came out of the sea would

the Vandalic kingdom end.

Early in their migration across the face of Europe, these

particular Asdmg Vandals had mixed with a nomadic group

from the steppes; they had gone their own way, harried

along by the more warlike Germanic migrants Driven down

to the coast of Spain, they had faced extermination, or

slavery, when Gaiseric, their one dynamic leader, had accom-

plished the miracle of transporting his people entire in

crudely made vessels to the African coast. There Gaiseric

had rounded out a miniature empire by treachery and keen

foresight, deceiving the Roman commanders more than van-

quishing them in battle. In so doing, he had discovered the

usefulness of a fleet in threatening the weakened western

empire; by ending the shipment of grain from the fertile

African coast and by raiding Italy, he had made himself

more dangerous in those last decades than Attila, who chose

to bleed the empire with tribute. Gaiseric had even raided

Rome itself, searching out concealed valuables with a care

that made his people's name proverbial. They found the

treasure of gold, the candlesticks and vessels that Titus had

looted from the Temple in Jerusalem, and Gaiseric bore off

the women of the imperial family as hostages and future

wives for his sons.

Had there been a second Gaiseric to succeed him, the

remnant of Rome in the west might have been starved and

blockaded into subjection to the new Vandalic dominion of

the sea. But the next generation relaxed from the hardships

of the long migration and conflict. As overlords of a rich

coast, with a fabulous treasure in their coffers, and only the

Berber tribes of the interior to contend with, they made life

as easy as possible, convinced that the fleet would protect

them on the sea where no rival fleet existed.

"These Vandals used to take to the baths every day, and

they enjoyed having the best sea and land food on their

tables/' Procopius observes. "They wore gold ornaments all

120 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

over their bodies, and clothed themselves in Medic [Persian]

garb which they called seric [silk]. After dressing up like

this they went to theatres and hippodromes, and most of all

to hunts. They had their dancers and mimics, with music.

They lived in pnvate parks, and gave themselves banquets,

and all kinds of sexual pleasures."

This picture of barbarians softened by the arts of civiliza-

tion had been known, also, to the strategists of Constanti-

nople. But it remained for Belisanus to prove that they were

only shadows of their ancestors.

After all the Vandahc people had gatheied in the coastal

camp of Tncamaron, Belisarius moved out his small army.

The massed Vandals came out to meet him with much show

but only shields and swords for weapons.

Immediately Belisarius began to disturb the Vandal array.

Squadrons of cataphracts rode against different points in

the rough Vandal line, drawing it into a confusion of ad-

vances and retreats. Then Belisarius' comitatus charged the

center of the Vandal mass and drove it back into the camp.

The Huns, knowing the battle decided, joined in to plunder;

Belisarius led the regular infantry hastily through his cavalry,

which was scattered in the pleasant occupation of looting

and Gelimer fled on horseback without warning his people.

At sight of the king riding off, panic emptied the camp of all

Vandals who could get to a horse or run.

After that, Belisarius lost control of his army entire. All the

women, the valuable property and hoarded gold of the small

African empire were left witiun the wooden palisades of the

camp, and the Romans ransacked it through the night. Their

commander tried to prevent the taking of women against

their will. He had no sleep himself, because any enemy force

could have cut its way through the wine-soaked encamp-

ment. But no Vandals appeared. At sunrise his trumpets

rounded up a few of the comitatus. Taking them to a hill, he

sobered them down and led them into the camp to beat a

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 121

semblance of order into the others and escort the Vandalic

treasure to safety in Carthage.

By the end of the day Belisarius had his army together

again and had started cavalry in pursuit of the fleeing Geli-

mer. The war, as such, was over. Belisarius had won it by

brilliant leadership and by using in battle only his depend-

able cavalry, with the four hundred Huns. Those same Huns

immediately begged to be sent back to their homeland in

the steppes with the great wealth they had won, and the

young conqueror of a continent had to swear that he would

do so, although he hated to lose four hundred supremely able

fighters. The Huns, it seemed, were weary of civilization and

homesick for their prairies.

Without a courageous leader, with their women and towns

lost, the scattered Vandals roved around as partisans, mi-

grated to the interior, or offered to serve under Belisarius.

They had paid a heavy price for their devotion to the baths

and theaters of Roman civilization. Gelimer, cornered on a

mountain where the Berber tribes protected him, could not

endure life among savages and sent to the Roman officers to

beg for a loaf of real bread, a sponge to bathe with, and a

lyre to sing his miseries. The officers, rightly interpreting this

request as a bid for terms of surrender, sent back with the

desired articles a suggestion that the Vandal lord consent to

travel to Constantinople, to occupy a luxurious estate with

good servants, and a pension and esteem from Justinian, the

emperor. Gelimer agreed, if Belisarius would swear that the

estate and other stipends would be forthcoming. Belisarius

did so.

Now throughout this unusual campaign the co-operation

between Justinian in the capital and Belisarius in die field

had been almost perfect. Justinian had given his commanding

general full authority. (No other official, of whatever rank,

was allowed to question that authority. ) "Your orders shall

be as orders given by myself/'

Justinian's first message after the news of Tricamaron was

122 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

typical; he congratulated his soldier on the victoiy and asked

that the islands of the sea be gathered in also. Being now

possessed of the Vandalic shipping as well as his own misfit

fleet, Belisarius was able to seize for the empire its former

areas along the Tripolitan coast (thereby joining the new

province of Africa to Egypt), the craggy islands of Corsica

and Sardinia, and even the far trading ports at the Gates of

Hercules (heights of Gibraltar and Ceuta). He conciliated

the interested Berber chieftains with medals, regalia, and

money, while he planned new frontier posts to keep them

out. His rule now stretched across the west of the Middle

Sea, so long lost to Rome.

Then, abruptly, he was recalled. Procopius explains indig-

nantly that some officers, jealous of his success, slandered

him by writing secretly to Constantinople that Belisarius was

preparing to set himself up as king in the new conquest,

Procopius adds that Belisarius heard of the accusation from

his informants in the city, and that Justinian himself ignored

the letters. What Justinian did, however, was to send out a

legate, Solomon the eunuch, with an invitation to Belisarius

to make the voyage back to the city with Gelimer and the

Vandalic treasure. As to that, Belisarius must please himself;

he might stay or return as he thought best.

This put the general of the western army in a dilemma. He

knew that he was needed in Africa. Yet to stay there would

make it appear that he had refused his emperor's summons.

On this point his wife Antonina expressed herself sharply:

her husband had only one safe alternative, to go back, face

Justinian, receive his honors as victor, and finish the palace

he was building by the Golden Gate. (Like many another

ambitious woman and Antonina was some years older than

the handsome Belisarius she had more fear of plotting at

home than of foreign enemies on the horizon, even if her

husband believed the opposite to be true. )

He went. Leaving Africa to the rule of Solomon the

eunuch, he sailed in the new fleet with the captive Vandals,

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 123

the gold bullion, and most of his comitatus, his biscuit eaters

(buccelarii "hard-bread eaters" the hardtack-feeding pro-

fessional soldiers), to back him up if the need arose. As he

had promised, he also took along the homesick Huns.

But he knew he should never have left Africa to play

politics.

Justinian was jealous of the careless man who could face

danger and turn difficulty to his own advantage. Laboring as

he did with his mind eighteen hours a day, Justinian had the

illusion that he slaved against hostile forces. He had not

taken a rest because he did not know how to rest. Whereas

the unthinking Belisarius greeted him as cheerily as if the

soldier had landed from a year's outing. "Our thanks go to

you/' Justinian said stiffly, "as our devoted benefactor."

When Belisarius reported that the treasure of Solomon the

king had turned up in Africa, Justinian remarked that it had

brought ill fortune to Titus, who took it from Jerusalem, and

to the Vandals, who carried it off from Rome. Theodora was

pleased with Belisarius and eager to see this celebrated treas-

ure of the Jews. Instinctively she disliked the war in the

west, and she felt relieved that Belisarius was back again

with such incredible gains. She said gaily that the ominous

treasure could always be sent back to its place in Jerusalem,

but Justinian did not approve of that.

He was more than fair to Belisarius in public recognition.

He named the victor consul for the coming year, and ordered

a triumph to be staged for him in the old Roman way. No

such triumph had been held since the time of Constantine,

and perhaps Justinian wanted to revive memories of ancient

conquests.

Whatever he desired, the city turned out to cheer Beli-

sarius. The Constantinopolitans cleaned the whole of the

Mese, strewing this main street with myrtle and hiding

vacant lots in the old burned area behind emblems of vic-

tory and floral wreaths. They crowded every tier of the Hip-

124 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

podrome, under the bright silk awnings, where soothsayers

and stargazers rose to proclaim the advent of a new Golden

Age, and to pick up the silver tossed them. Even favored

charioteers took seats in the audience, without display, and

acrobats did not show off on the vast empty track.

Watching from the imperial box with her noblewomen,

Theodora could tell where Belisarius was marching in; she

recognized the roar of delight rising from the new Baths of

Zeuxippus, and the musical shouts of applause from the

Augusteon gateway.

Then, with the chanting of a hymn, monks and priests

marched into the arena with incense swinging, and the

grandees of the empire riding after. But Belisarius rode no

horse, nor did he wear the laurel crown of a triumph of the

old days.

In a soldier's mantle and half helmet he walked on foot, at

the head of his biscuit eaters who had triumphed at the Ten

Mile and at Tricamaron.

The masses in the Hippodrome raised no chant of greeting,

they threw down no flowers or rings. For once, they wept

and shouted and beat their hands together.

Behind Belisarius and the comitatus rode the Huns and

behind them walked Gelimer, the vanquished king, in his

robes with his nofelity escorting him, and all bearing chains

for the occasion on their wrists. Behind them paced the

horses and carts bearing the Vqndal treasure, with the seven-

branched candlestick, the sktfwbread table overlaid with

gold, and the golden Seat of Mercy, from the Temple at

Jerusalem. * *

Eying the jnoody, flabby face of her husband, Theodora

wondered if it had been generosity or weakness that had

induced him to give this triumph to a better man. For Jus-

tinian would never draw from his people the adulation that

had been given Belisarius. . . .

Alone, and unperceived by Theodora, however, Justinian

recorded his claim to victory. He wrote it upon a manuscript

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 125

that was the second edition of the new Code of Law. Care-

fully he traced the words: "In nomine Domini nostri lesu

Christi In the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, the'Emperor,

Caesar, Flavius Justinian, victor over the Goths, Franks, Ger-

mans, Slavs, Alans, Vandals and Africa itselfthe pious,

happy, renowned conqueior in triumph, always August,"

So he signed himself, at that time. Peter Sabbatius had

become in his own estimation victor not only oyer the Van-

dals but Africa itself without mention of Belisanus and not

only that, but over all the surrounding barbarian kingdoms

and peoples, some of whom barely knew his name. Then he

had added every triumphal epithet of the real Caesars of

ancient Rome. Scipio Africanus, who conquered ancient Car-

thage and Hannibal, had been content with less.

Was Justinian maudlin with yanity or insape with hope

after his first succqssful campaigfi? Hardly. Certainly he was

vain in the solitude of his study and hopeful, and he jnust

have known that what was inscribed fc the C6de' : would be

read by other eyes for ages. Apparen&f hetputt'pn record all

that he intended the empire to achieve. Yet the sum of it,

the subjection of all barbaric powers that bad invaded Roman

frontiers, was impossible to achieve.

Elsewhere Justinian added to^ils persona^^rfccord of would-

be triumphs. "Divine providence enabl^'us to end the

Persian wars with an Everlasting Peac, to overthrow the

Vandal nation and to join again to the Epipire, Carthage,

and even all Libya to bring by our wafechfid care the ancient

laws out of the heavy burden of age into new beauty and

this is an achievement which no one before us hoped for, or

believed to be possible/' ^

Again he wrote that he had accomplished tnis "by un-

wearied toil and hardship through the watches of the night."

So Justinian compared himself to a conquering soldier.

And what he recorded indelibly for future generations he

meant to accomplish. He meant to persist until he did it.

Secretively, witnessed only by his candle flame, he was

126 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

laying plans beyond the comprehension of others for Jus-

tinian to become in the eyes of the world Justinian the Great

On Palm Sunday Theodora sat beside Justinian in the

throne seats behind the decorated table of the Triclinium,

when the grandees came in to salute their sovereigns, to offer

gifts and verses in their honor. Paul the Silentiary read a

poem in praise of the beauty of Theodora; Gelimer, who had

been a king, bowed his head he had been forced to do so at

first and some said he muttered words from Scripture:

"Vanity of vanities all is vanity." A monk of the east held

up his pilgrim staff and recited a greeting to Theodora the

Augusta: "The empress sustained by God," he cried, "to aid

the oppressed/' This greeting came from Severus, patriarch

of Antioch. For those who sought an audience with the sov-

ereigns had learned that Theodora could do more for them,

if she so desired, than Justinian.

Belisarius came, followed by admirers, tossing out gold to

the throng at the Augusteon gate. (He had kept a great share

of the spoils of the VandaHc war, and Justinian had not

objected.) His wife Antonina wore a collar of pearls and a

shoulder vest sewn with rubies; she bent her bejeweled head

before the other actress, Theodora, mui'muring salutation to

the glory of the purple, while she ached with envy. She was

older than Theodora, and she looked like a dressed-up

matron she, the wife of the foremost man in the empire

before the dark, piquant beauty of the circus brat. And

Theodora cried out clear salutation to the most noble lady

Antonina, while she reflected how her spies repeated that

Antonina smuggled the handsome Theodosius, godson of her

husband, into her chamber at night. , . .

The little Syrian, Procopius, watched the illumination of

the Sacred Palace to which, as a staff secretary, he was sum-

moned only for duty. Robed eunuchs like Narses and Solo-

mon held responsibility and gained honor there, but not

Procopius. Restlessly he wandered through the lighted gar-

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 127

den paths at the edge of the sea, wheie the nobles exercised

their favorite horses by day, and young excubitors off duty

embraced their girls after sunset. By the boat landing he

noticed a dark statue, more slender than Roman work. It was

made of imperial porphyry, designed by Anthemius of

Tralles as a portrait of Theodora. It was a beautiful statue,

he said, "but not as beautiful as Theodora herself, and it

reveals clearly, even far off, that it bears the likeness of an

Empress."

At such times Procopius felt a strange love akin to hatred

for the Syrian woman. He sat alone by the statue, with a

sense of possessing it, and a longing to destroy the likeness

of an empress, so that Theodora herself might become a

wanton woman again.

The sensitive Procopius imagined at times that the city

itself impelled its people to do strange things. Justinian

would talk to him kindly, but his mind would be off else-

where as if drawn from his body by some malignant power;

Antonina, who schemed to advance the career of his beloved

Belisarius, could not keep her eyes off the stupid, golden-

haired Theodosius. Surely the Christian God for the moody

Procopius believed in miracles, even pagan ones, more than

in the remote, idealized divinity of the Christians had never

intended such weaklings to have such power.

In the closed chambers of the strategists during that spring

of 535 Belisarius the Most Noble Consul of the Roman Em-

pire learned that Italy was to be restored next to the empire,

and that he would be sent to accomplish it. He objected.

Africa was not secure yet, he said, and they did not have men

enough to face the Goths.

The strategists showed him on wall maps of the Middle

Sea how they meant to do it. Of course they understood that

not even Belisarius could be sent to land on the ancestral

peninsula and retake Rome itself, as he had so brilliantly-

liberated Carthage. No, his new expedition would sail to

128 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

Sicily, as if on its way back to Carthage. He would explain

that he was merely stopping over there, then he could easily

overpower the Gothic garrisons in Sicily. The natives would

not oppose him. The way had been prepared for him by

secret agents, as in Africa. Meanwhile his old acquaintance,

the courageous Mundus, would lead another expedition, the

western frontier force, through the Dalmatian ranges down

to the strait across from the heel of the boot of the Italian

peninsula. Simultaneously, Belisarius would cross the other

strait, from Sicily to Messina, on the toe of the Italian boot

Striking inland rapidly, these two expeditions could meet,

cutting off the extreme south of Italy below, say, Neapolis

(Naples). That military operation could be accomplished,

could it not?

Considering it, Belisarius admitted that it could easily be

done, except for one thing. The Goths.

The strategists complimented him on his acumen. How

right he was, to mention the Gothic nation as the decisive

factor in the new war! Were not these German Ostrogoths a

real nation in arms, victors over the old legions at Hadrian's

City? Indeed yes. And they had not taken to Roman vices

like the Vandals, They did not even limit their children by

abortion; they bred like animals. But they had one weakness

that could destroy them.

Whereupon the strategists revealed to Belisarius how they

were exploiting this weakness of the Goths, to prepare the

way for him to attack. . . .

The weakness of the Goths lay in their kings. For they had

the Germanic notion that one man of one family must rule.

They believed in mythical heroes, descendants of their one-

eyed Woden. Their present heroic hence kingly family was

the Amalung. The late Theodoric, greatest of the Amals, had

seized Italy from the other Germans and had ruled wisely,

although handicapped by his sense of personal honor. He

had actually kept intact the Roman bureaus under his Ger-

man army, also intact. But his solitary grandson had died not

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 129

long after him, and his handsome, educated daughter Amala-

suntha had tried desperately to follow Theodoric's example

in keeping peace and order. Germans, however, would not be

ruled by a solitary womaneven after the resourceful Amala-

suntha had contrived the deaths of the three Gothic nobles

most outspoken against her. Those deaths, although neces-

sary, had started a blood feud. And Germans would leave

everything else to carry on a blood feud.

Amalasuntha had appealed to Justinian, who immediately

offered her sanctuary in Constantinople and sent a fast

dromon to transport her thither with her personal treasuie.

But the anxious Amalasuntha had changed her mind, like a

woman. She had not availed herself of the ship; she had kept

on good terms with the empire, instead, by offering supplies

to Belisarius in Sicily when he voyaged against the Vandals;

then she had offered herself in marriage to her cousin, the

other Amal, a scheming man who tried to write poetry and

called himself a philosopher. A woman's mistake. What hap-

pened? The Philosopher, having been duly crowned king by

the Gothic warriors, then had the lovely Amalasuntha

drowned, while swimming, by henchmen of the three purged

nobles.

No sooner had he murdered his wife than the Philosopher

began to fear for his life having raised up a blood feud

against himself and agents from Constantinople persuaded

him to appeal to Justinian. The Philosopher made the mis-

take of fancying himself to be as clever as the Roman agents.

He had tried to carry water on both shoulders by making

secretive offers to Justinian to yield up territory in Italy in

return for a pledge of security for himself.

The Philosopher began to be more afraid, for the still bar-

baric German nobles were sniffing suspiciously around the

pond where the Amal woman had deceased, and they dis-

liked any man, Amal or not, who called himself a philoso-

pher. At this point a special agent, a very gifted and persua-

sive agent, Peter the Ambassador, played upon the growing

130 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

fears of the Philosopher The two of them had met secretly

along the Appian Highway, and the Philosopher asked anx-

iously if Justinian were not pleased by his offer. Peter said he

supposed so.

Then the Philosopher that was the code name for the

Gothic king in the secret files of Constantinopleworried

because Peter appeared dubious about Justinian being

pleased. "But if/ 5 he asked, "he is not pleased at all, what will

happen?"

"Why then/* said Peter the Ambassador, "you will have to

wage a war, Most Noble Lord/'

"What! Would that be fair, my dear ambassador?"

"And why would it not be fair and fitting? You, Most

Noble Sir, are a philosopher; Justinian is a worthy emperor

of the Romans; is it not fair that you should reap the results

of your thinking and planning; is it not fitting that Justinian

should seek to regain the land that was Roman of old?"

The more he pondered the words of Peter, the more this

kst surviving Amal became worried. He realized that Jus-

tinian had a quarrel with him for eliminating the talented

Amalasuntha, who had been, officially, under imperial pro-

tection. Only too well he realized that the chivalrous Gothic

nobles would kill him as a traitor with their shields and

swords if they had evidence of his dealing with Justinian.

At this point the strategists who had ordered Peter to stay

close to die Philosopher-king planned to loose Belisarius'

expedition upon Sicily and Mundus' force upon the opposite

Dalmatian coast. As soon as that was done, Peter would have

a new hold on the scheming Philosopher, who might be per-

suaded to yield up half Italy without further conflict. He was

like that man Damocles who feasted with a sword suspended

over him by a single hair; Peter could always betray him to

the noble Goths; if, on the other hand, the noble Goths killed

the Philosopher, they would have another blood feud to work

out among themselves, and no leader at all. There were no

more Amalung heirs.

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 131

Therefore, whatever happened, the formidable Goths

would be without a leader, and might be thrown into civil

war. Belisarius could count on that. And more.

The old Roman populace, being orthodox Catholics, would

join the invaders against the Arian Goths. More, Justinian, in

his careful planning, had set up another enemy for the Goths

to deal with. He had sent a written offer to the still more

barbarous long of the Franks, who had only the last year

engulfed the Burgundians beyond the Alps. The proposal ran

as follows: "The Goths who seized by violence Italy, which

is ours, have refused to give back the land, where they com-

mit other acts of violence. Such injustice is not to be endured.

We have been compelled to take the field against them. This

war will be yours as well as ours, because you are joined to

us by the orthodox faith which rejects the Anan heresy, and

by the enmity we both share toward the Goths."

This suggestion had been accompanied by massive gifts,

with the promise of more to come if the valiant Franks

moved across the Alps to raid north Italy. Nothing was more

certain than that a true barbarian would snatch at gifts

offered him for looting a neighbor's lands. In fact, the

Prankish king had done so.

If events, inconceivably, should go contrary to plan within

Italy, Belisarius could count on the Franks coming in, thus

catching the Goths between hammer and anvil.

When the strategists had revealed all this staging for his

attack, they asked: did the Illustrious Belisarius find any flaw

in their planning?

The attentive Belisarius could not point out a flaw. It

humbled and amazed him to learn the care and labor that

had made his task easier. For the victor at Carthage could

not think clearly in terms of such, high strategy. He never

learned to do so. He could visualize a conflict only by

thinking of the numbers of enemy in front of him. And no

one in the conferences had spoken about that.

When Belisarius hesitated, Justinian spoke.

132 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

"The world is growing old."

Usually the dumpy body of the emperor sat impassive at a

conference. Now some instinct forced him to explain his

brooding. He said it seemed to him as if they sat talking in

a lighted city, while all around them lamps were dimming

and going out. From remote Britain, where Angles and

Saxons held their kingships in huts, to the forests beyond the

Danube where voiceless Slavs stole tools to dig the earth,

barbarians had become masters of civilized men. These bar-

barians had taken on the vices of the Romans. The former

Romans, on their part, became brutalized while they strug-

gled for food with the tribal farmers. The tools in their hands

were old tools. No people outside of Constantinople knew

how to make new ones, nowadays. Water flowed, out there,

in ancient aqueducts, until they broke down. No one rebuilt

them. The civilized world was dying slowly of old age.

Constantinople, Justinian said., could survive from year to

year by bribing chieftains of hordes to fight each other, and

by ceaselessly repairing the old fortifications. It was like a

tired old man, buying the food he could not produce for

himself. The city could buy more years for itself.

Or it could go out of its walls. To re-enter the darkening

hinterland, bringing its arts of manufacture and living back,

land by land, into the lost empire. It could enlighten the

barbarian hordes by conquering them, one by one. By en-

forcing again civilized Law.

To accomplish this he, Justinian, was building a new fleet

and a new army to take the place of the vanished legions of

Constantine. He was asking Belisarius to take the second

step outward by recovering the dying Rome. Belisarius

would conquer. He would march in another triumph through

the forum of the great Trajan, under the arch of Titus. But

in so doing he would be the harbinger of a new world of

intelligence. He would lead the way for a new empire, with

one church and one law.

So Justinian said, not eloquently but earnestly. He looked

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 133

so old himself, with his eyes dull in folds of white flesh.

Belisarius felt grateful to be serving a man who exhausted

himself in labor for other people. Justinian's vision, as he

thought of it, inspired him, so that he longed to lead his

comitatus under the arch of triumph in the old Rome. And

Antonina egged him on, urging that this was his opportunity,

while she planned to add to the new palace of Belisarius an

enclosed garden court in the style of Pompeii so unfortu-

nately buried by a volcano.

Preparations went on swiftly. The Mese hummed with

whispered secrets of Belisarius' expedition. Yet when the

strategists informed Belisarius of the strength of the expedi-

tion, he shook his head mutely. To his own comitatus they

would add two mounted regiments, and four thousand Isau-

rian infantry, with some federated Huns and Moors from

Africa. Isaurians, Huns, and Moors to discipline. Eleven

thousand men in all, to land in Italy where sixty or seventy

thousand Gothic horsemen might assemble.

"The name of Belisarius/' cried Narses eagerly, "is worth

ten thousand men."

"Twenty thousand!" echoed the Constable ( Comes stabuli

the Count of the Stables).

Belisarius did not know how to argue with the dukes and

counts of the strategic council who planned to usher in a

new era by force. Better than they, he knew that a time

would come inevitably when his army would need to stand

against the massed Goths, who would not suspend a battle to

hold burial services, "Grant me twenty thousand," he begged,

"and I will ask for no more."

Then Justinian pointed out that Belisarius was forgetting

the advantage of the ships. Going in on their fleets, both

Belisarius and Mundus could land where they chose, avoid-

ing the Goths. They could withdraw to safety at any time

So the new armies would escape danger. He promised that

Belisarius would command twenty thousand by the second

stage of the war.

134 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

Belisarius sailed that autumn. He could not have refused,

in any case, because the quick little war the strategists

planned had already begun. It was to last, however, for

eighteen years, and to become a world war.

The landing at Catania in Sicily went as the strategists

had planned; the island was deceived, surprised, and over-

run swiftly. The Gothic garrisons made a stand only behind

the walls of Panormus (Palermo), whence Belisarius forced

them out by the fire of archers he placed in the mastheads of

his ships, laying the vessels against the waterfront wall. It

seemed to Procopius that it was a fine omen that his hero

should end his year as consul in the captured stronghold of

Sicily.

Then in came Solomon the eunuch, exhausted after being

rowed over from Africa, telling his story in one brief word,

"Rebellion."

Half the varied Romans left on duty in Africa under

Solomon had gone off with the Vandal and Moorish partisans,

declaring that they were a Soldiers* Republic. Wine and ease

had turned their minds to politics; tax collectors from Con-

stantinople had angered them by claiming all conquered

farming land for the state; orthodox priests, raging against

Arian heretics, had made the former Vandal womennow

the soldiers* women hysterical by barring them from church

doors and calif rig their newborn children pagans. Solomon

himself had barely escaped assassination in a church, and

had fled to sea in a small rowing vessel.

Belisarius decided that he could leave Sicily for a few days,

no more. Solomon was temporarily discredited as a com-

mander. For a few days the Goths, lacking ships, could make

no move against his island of Sicily.

Selecting each man himself, he ordered a hundred of his

cataphracts into a fast galley.

"What more are you taking?" demanded Antonina.

"No more can leave here/'

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 135

"Are you mad, Belisarius, or do you crave a noble Roman

suicide in the ancient fashion? May I ask what do you

intend to do with me?"

"You will stay with the comitatus and keep up appearances

that I am cruising the island ports."

Belisarius could not delay for a woman's mood But Theo-

dora's spies reported that when he left his wife in that fashion

she summoned Theodosius the godson to carry her orders

and attend her at night.

While Antonina solaced herself with the hesitating Theo-

dosius, Belisarius was too preoccupied to take thought of

anything in Sicily, His fast galley landed him and his hun-

dred picked men in Carthage by night. Through the streets

he rode with his standards and veterans, and word that

Belisarius was back brought out the regulars who had not

gone off to be a Soldiers' Republic, with some Moors who

admired him, and even ex- Vandals who decided they would

be safest with him, Belisarius' name, in Carthage, mustered

two thousand fighting men, whom he led out at once toward

the rebel army.

This dwindled in numbers at the news that Belisarius was

back in command. It grew still smaller when the rebels

sighted his familiar restless figure beneath the old standards

of the cross and the eagles* When it had to form ranks to

face him, there was confusion in carrying out the orders of

the new officers of the Soldiers* Republic, And as at Tricam-

aron, Belisarius led a charge directly at the confusion, avoid-

ing the steadier front of the rebellious regulars. Before the

charge Vandal partisans, Moorish looters, and escaped slaves

gave way and ran. The regulars laid down their arms and

appealed to Belisarius.

It troubled him greatly that these soldiers did not speak of

the empire; they spoke of Justinian's men, and the republic,

as if all armed men served not the empire itself but fought

either for or against Justinian. They explained that they had

not deserted Belisarius; they had merely killed the tax-

136 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

gathereis the Squeezers who had tried to take away the

land they had won; they had only beaten the police who had

driven their women away from holy communion. 1

Belisarius showed them a coin of gold, a solidus with Jus-

tinian's head on it. They were soldiers, he told them, paid by

the solidi of the empire, and they had deserted their service

to loot. A soldier, he said, must be guided by nothing but the

orders of the emperor who paid him.

They said many of their officers had held back their pay, or

else Justinian had not sent the money, and they wanted

Belisarius to remain in command over them.

That he could not do. Restoring what order he could

among the African garrisons, he hurried back to Syracuse

with his escort. There Antonina complained that the other

army commanders had refused to carry out her requests.

Angered, Belisarius summoned them to explain why they

had not heeded his wife, left in his place. The Roman officers

informed him that they did not care to carry out the orders

of a woman, and particularly such a woman. Then Belisarius

learned of the gossip that his wife had been intimate with

his godson. He did not believe it. Consequently a certain

bitterness came between him and his lieutenants in Sicily.

But at the moment Belisarius had a greater anxiety, in the

form of a new order from Justinian.

The timetable of the strategists in Constantinople had

broken down at another place. Over on the Dalmatian coast

the small expedition under Mundus, the former Herule, had

encountered Goths in surprising strength. Being still a bar-

barian by nature, Mundus had given battle and had been

killed. The Goths had suffered but they had remained on the

coast, while the surviving Romans withdrew into the moun-

a The soldiers had a just grievance New recruits were paid only one gold

piece a year; veterans received one com for each year of their service; they

all depended on land allotments near the frontiers for a living Apparently

they had claimed such landholdmgs in Africa, and these had been taken from

them hy the assessors. But the Vandal women may have caused them to

revolt.

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 137

tains, losing touch with the expectant fleet. Justinian had sent

the Most Noble Constantian, Constable of the Empire, to

restore the Dalmatian prong of the pincers that had been

intended to nip off southern Italy.

Justinian now ordered Belisarius to proceed with the in-

vasion of Italy as planned. Although Mundus had been de-

feated before reaching the heel of the Italian boot, Belisarius

was to cross to the toe, at the Strait of Messina,

To Belisarius this request came as an order Not knowing,

as Justinian knew, what was happening elsewhere, the soldier

accepted the order to go forward After calculating how few

detachments he could leave as garrisons in Sicily, he took to

his ships and crossed the tide-ripped narrow strait between

legendary, perilous Scylla and Charybdis from the heights

of Messina. There he had a bit of his famous luck, because

the Gothic coastal commander, not knowing his strength,

surrendered.

Yet Belisarius, forming his march column on the tip of the

toe of Italy, faced the one situation he had dreaded. With

no more than eighty-five hundred men he was marching

toward the aroused Gothic nation in arms.

Aware that his command would have little chance in the

open against the mass of mounted Goths, he took the road

to Naples, Probably he hoped to do as he had done in Africa,

slip into a great city and use it for a base. Because he was

desperately anxious, he rode the length of the Roman column

with all his officers, calling out that luck was with them and

victory in sight. He called for the battle hymn, and the deep

chant of the Trisagion sounded after him, from regiment to

regiment. "Holy, Mighty, Immortal Lord "

To Theodora, in Constantinople, it seemed as if the war

council had really gambled on Belisarius alone. Until then

the single-minded soldier had accomplished every task given

him. The strategists, no fools by any means, wanted to make

the test whether Belisarius without aid could master all the

138 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

Goths. As to that, Theodora had no opinion. Having spoken

her mind once in a war council during the Nika revolt, she

did not do so again.

Meanwhile the news from Italy upset all the well-laid

plans of Justinian's strategists. They had counted on the co-

operation of the Gothic king, the Philosopher, who was being

kept in play by their agent, Peter.

The distraught Philosopher failed to be of further service,

because the Gothic chieftains and warriors realized that this

was a war in which their king seemed to be hindering more

than aiding them. Aroused, they had called an old-fashioned

German council of warriors and had elected one of them-

selves, a noble named Vitigis, to be their king to carry on the

war. The unfortunate Philosopher, fleeing to Ravenna, had

been followed by a Gothic knight, who had slain the last of

the Amals with proper ceremony.

(Vitigis, who had the German virtue of personal courage,

was given a daughter of the murdered Amalasuntha for wife,

to keep the semblance of Amal blood in the kingship; but his

election changed the situation in Italy decisively. It ended

the orderly nation of Theodoric and turned the Goths again

into a barbaric army in conflict with the imperial armies. )

A third point of the timetable of the civilized strategists in

their attack on the barbarians miscarried about this time.

The Franks, or some of them, duly appeared on this side of

the Alps. Expecting to plunder a countryside, however, they

found a great Gothic army gathering in the north. Shrewdly,

Vitigis greeted them as if they had come on a friendly visit,

and they decided to wait where they were, to discover what

military force the emperor could produce, and what further

gifts he was prepared to make to them. With the Prankish

visitors halted, Vitigis sent to Justinian to ask why he would

not restore the peace between Goths and Romans.

What Justinian answered is not known. But he did not

agree to a peace.

Theodora had no faith in the western war. She simply felt

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 139

convinced that the heart of the empire lay in the east, where

beat the pulse of peaceful trade, where grew an abundance

of all that was needed, where stirred the spirit of religious

faith as she knew it. It had been her home, and it might be

a refuge when retribution came after the war effort in the

west.

She hated the Roman fasces carried before her pompously

the ancient axes tied up in bundles of sticks and she was

cold to ardent writers like Procopius who invoked the phrases

of Caesar and long-dead Suetonius. Envoys from' the west,

prostrating themselves to her scarlet slippers, were often

startled at hearing something like the hissing of snakes among

the girls behind the throne seat. The girls were only whis-

pering "Illustrissimi" as Theodora pronounced it.

Outwardly and astute politicians like John of Cappadocia

watched her movements closely she devoted herself to a

garden estate in the Asia suburbs which she had made into

a home for prostitutes, and to her old home, now known

as the House of the Monks. There the monks and pilgrims

from the east lodged themselves in huts through the garden;

they sang hymns of praise when Theodora made her daily

visits, and the beggars hanging around the gate yelled for

alms. She talked with them all, the venerable wanderers and

the professional beggars, learning from them each day about

happenings in Antioch, and thriving Alexandria, and her be-

loved Syrian coast.

"Monks from Egypt or monkeys from Africa," grumbled

John, the Economist, of Cappadocia, "they all get coin from

the bitch. Who provides her with the gold coins? The state.

And that means you and I, my brothers.'*

John did not add that what he took out of the revenues

for himself he kept. Already the self-made financier antici-

pated that he would come to conflict with the smiling, im-

placable empress. Shrewdly he realized that if Justinian ever

had to decide which of the two would have to depart the

palace it would not be John of Cappadocia, He ventured to

140 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

attack Theodora before she could attack him Her early life,

her secretive scheming, and her demands for money all these

lay open to challenge. . . .

Their first skirmish took place after the arrival of Saba.

A shriveled anchorite, ninety years of age, Saba came out

of the wilderness of the river Jordan to make a plea for

Jerusalem. Justinian welcomed Saba as if he had been a liv-

ing saint, sending an imperial dromon to usher his ship into

the Golden Horn and going afoot to take Saba by the hand

and help him into the palace. (John sensed Theodora's prod-

ding in this display of reverence. )

But before Justinian on the throne, the aged anchorite

neither bowed his hairy head nor spoke with respect. The

splendor of the palace seemed to Saba to be the evil glory

of a Sardanapalus. In Jerusalem, he declared, the church of

the Theotokos the Mother of God was falling into ruin;

the sick lay in the streets; the people no longer had money

to pay Caesar's tax collectors.

Justinian expressed his dismay and regret. Yet Saba was

obdurate as a rock of the wilderness. Instead of words, he

wanted deeds. Specifically, the anchorite demanded five

things: a hospital for the sick of Jerusalem, a year's relief

from taxation for the poor, a fine church for the Mother of

God, repair of the ruined hostels for pilgrims, and a fort to

protect them from the raids of Saracens.

Disturbed by the fiery words of the anchorite, Justinian

was worried by the immediate protest of his Economist.

John showed him that while he was building his Great

Church and waging a war in Italy he could not possibly

undertake to make over Jerusalem in that fashion. ''There

is a point where the possible becomes the impossible, Thrice

August. Already you have gone twice beyond what the

treasury could afford. A third undertaking will make it neces-

sary for you to stop one of the others. Make the decision

yourselfdon't let these cavemen and column-sitters per-

suade you to madness."

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 141

In his argument he said nothing about Theodoia's allow-

ance or her way of persuading. When he heard from his spies

the story of how Saba was summoned to Theodora's court,

he roared with delight. It seemed that Theodora stepped

down from her throne to kneel before the aged alms-seeker

and beg, surprisingly, that^he would pray she might bear a

child.

At that, Saba was silent long moments, and looked from

her to the silk-clad ladies and the gold-sheathed chamber.

In answer he said merely, "God will preserve the glory of

your empire/' And the empress went pale with anxiety.

John's friends repeated the story with gusto. "God for-

bid," he shouted, "that another such as she should issue from

her womb,"

John could not believe at first that Justinian agreed to all

of Saba's demands. Theodora persuaded him that the distress

in the city of Christ was greater than any need in Constanti-

nople. Somehow she could tell him that the roof of the

basilica of Bethlehem, that protected the cavern, had fallen

in, and how many people slept in niches of the rocks around

Gethsemane. As far away as that, she had eyes and ears to

serve her.

When he left the Golden Horn, Saba carried with him a

guaranty that all the five things he asked for would be done.

After that a great treasure was sent to Jerusalem. Jews of

the city besought the emperor to return the golden spoils of

the temple. "It is unthinkable that they should rest in any

other place than the altar of Solomon." Justinian remembered

that when the candlesticks and the table of gold had rested

in Rome the city had been Si eked by the Vandals; when they

had been held in Carthage, Carthage had fallen. In the year

535 he sent them back by the hand of an envoy to Jerusalem.

To ease his weariness at such times the son of Sabbatius

would go to the site of the new Great Church. When he

approached the stone piers rising skyward in their envelop-

142 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

mg scaffolding, he dismissed his retinue and walked among

the workmen as a spectator. It was cheering as food or sleep,

to see the masses of stonework rising by a fraction each day,

and he begrudged the storms that kept Isidore's masons fiom

the scaffolding. Aheady the outer skeleton of the sanctuary

at the east was taking shape. Justinian had asked that the

sanctuary be sheathed entirely in silver. When John the

Economist complained that it would take two thousand

pounds of the precious metal to accomplish that, the em-

peror said it would need forty thousand pounds to line the

sanctuary entire.

More than money, however, was needed to lift the Great

Church to a height never before attempted. Anthemius said

that the great hall of Ctesiphon where Khusrau held his court

sprang to ninety-five feet fiom the desert earth. But the sum-

mit of the crowning dome of the Great Church would be

nearly twice that height. Already at the lower levels they

had encountered trouble owing to what Isidore the Miletan

called the perversity of materials. The weight of incredible

masses, and the resulting strains and horizontal thrusts, had

been calculated many times; they were known as nearly as

mathematics could reveal them and Isidore had mastered

the equations of that other Greek, Archimedes, in dealing

with unprecedented forces. His plans, then, were correct;

the rising stonework was sound and adequate. Still, things

happened beyond their ability to calculate. /

Mortar, apparently entirely dried between the stone

courses, yielded another fraction of a tenth of a cubit wW

the courses felt the burden of immen'se weight *did on theiti.

Green Carystian marble flaked off under pressure that por-

phyry endured without harm. There came a day after a driv-

ing-storm when both Anthemius and Isidore reached the end

of their resources. Cracks appeared in the twff fcttain piers on

the east side. These piers were the foundations of the mid-

way vaults upon which the great dome itself would be

anchored. The cracks showed when tho "binding" arch was

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 143

being flung from the immense square piers. The ends of the

arch curved up from each pier but did not meet as yet. Their

two arms curved up into space in readiness to join together,

across more than a hundred feet of space.

Work was stopped when the cracks appeared. Critics of

the undertaking thronged to see the cracks, and observed

that now the mad builders must understand that their Great

Church could never have its dome. Justinian haunted the

building area, listening to the arguments. Unable to follow

the mathematics of Isidore, he asked the master builder if

he had made a mistake in his calculations. The harassed

Isidore swore that he had not.

His critics pointed to the cracks, "Here is the proof that

this Greek erred."

Justinian still questioned Isidore. "You calculated that the

piers would take the strain when the arch was finished and

in place? You thought they would stand?"

"As I live, Most Magnificent! I did not think. I know."

"Then finish the arch and see what happens."

To quiet the objections .of the workmen, Justinian gave

them a direct order to join the arms of the arch. After this

was done and the side arches flung out from the piers, the

cracks ceased to spread; the great piers stood. (After four-

teen hundred years they stand as Isidore planned them. )

Theodora persuaded Anthemius to design something for

her. Beauty she wanted, and the intimacy of small size. Near

the center of the city Anthemius rebuilt the church of

thp Apostles., where the tombs of the earlier emperors lay,

w^ere the lighting was dim and the five domes merely cov-

ered the altar and the shrines. Going into it, she was never

far from one of the shrines. (It has been destroyed, after

nine hundred years, but its likeness survives in St. Mark's

at Venice, tferpied from it.)

Meanwhile Theodora claimed every pound of gold due

yearly to the Augu$a of the empire. And that at a time

144 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

when money was urgently needed for the war, "The treasury

must melt silver cups," growled John, "but this Augusta of

ours calls unceasingly for gold for what? For more jewels

and a fine estate for sluts. This she-devil has genius. She

bleeds Justinian to satisfy her whims." And he started the

rumor that Theodora had arranged for the murder of the

beautiful Amalasuntha, being jealous. But Theodora, con-

fined to the Sacred Palace, was jealous of no unknown

Gothic queen. She had not killed Amalasuntha. The Philoso-

pher had done that, to make himself secure upon a throne,

when he had thought Justinian favored him.

Unperceived even by John, Theodora was seeking to

change the rule of the empire, to turn it away from the

Catholic and militant west, toward the tolerant and fertile

east. She did not explain that to Justinian, who was so occu-

pied with the war, on top of his other labors. Nor did she

explain that she had marked his money-getter, John of Cap-

padocia, for destruction.

All that summer of 536 the city of Constantinople awaited

tidings from the western front more eagerly even than the

results of the races now restored in the Hippodrome. The

progress of their hero Belisarius excited all the wine drinkers

along the Mese, . . . Belisarius had reached Neapolis . . .

he was stopped there by the massive wall . . . why did not

the loyal Romans open the gates? . . . The Gothic garrison

prevented, and Belisarius could not afford a siege. . . .

Where was the Gothic army? . . .

Belisarius was in Neapolis, He had liberated the great

port by climbing in through an aqueduct after shutting off

the water ... he had disappeared with his army ... in

defeat? He had never been defeated . . . but where could

he have taken an army, to escape the Goths? An army can-

not be hidden. . . .

In Rome itself! Before the Ides of December, he had

slipped into Rome! Aided by God, Belisarius had conquered!

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 145

No one in Constantinople realized how desperately Beli-

sarius had tried to avoid being penned within ancient Rome.

Like a vast brown monument, the older city lay inert on

its malarial plain. A parasite, perishing when it had been

cut off from the outer world, it maintained feeble life within

its shell of skyscrapers, triumphal forums, and vaulted baths.

Its population had dwindled and become provincial. Tene-

ment families did their housekeeping on the pent roofs of

the Capitoline palaces; grass grew in the Circus Maximus,

where the chariot races had become seedy affairs, compared

to the games in the eastern Hippodrome. Damp infested the

porticoed villas, yet the heat of the sun tormented the streets.

Only the clustered basilica of St. Peter on the road outside

the walls had vital life in it, being the home of the orthodox

Pope.

Belisarius had tried to keep out of this imposing but dan-

gerous monument, by holding the northern roads and hill

passes. Procopius, excited by beholding his hero defending

the Rome of the Caesars, records their futile attempt to hold

the bridge of the last river above Rome. "Belisarius, although

he was safe enough, would not stay back in the general's

post of command but went into the front rank like a sol-

dier ... it happened he was riding a gray horse with a

white blaze. The Goths began to cry out 'Shoot at the horse

with the blaze* and to close in upon him to strike with their

spears and swords. Belisarius kept turning from side to side,

and his guards held out their shields to protect both rider

and horse ... in this way the Romans escaped and raced

back to the fortifications of Rome, with the barbarians press-

ing them, to the Salarian Gate. But the people of Rome, fear-

ing that the enemy would rush in with the fugitives and get

inside the fortifications., were not willing to open the gate,

although Belisarius urged them again and again to do so.

For those who peered over the wall did not recognize the

man calling out to them with his head covered by dust and

146 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

blood, and they could not see very well, either, because it

was the end of the day, about sunset."

Locked out of his city in this manner, the desperate com-

mander tried a bluff. Wheeling the portion of his comitatus

pinned against the wall with him, he headed what seemed

in the dim light to be a sally against the pursuing Gothic

horsemen. These prudently turned back. After that he was

able to get the gate opened.

But he was inside with five thousand of his veteranstoo

few to defend all points along the great circuit of the walls

with their fifteen gates and two gaps where the sluggish

Tiber flowed through. Outside those walls the main host of

Goths gathered in stockaded camps. They seemed to number

about thirty thousand armed horsemen with as many more

general utility men. Their bright robes and gleaming helmets

made a disheartening display to Roman eyes. Promptly they

sent in envoys to observe the situation inside, and to suggest

that Belisarius surrender the city. It was well enough for a

warrior, the bearded Goths said, to show his bravery. But

to be courageous was one thing, to be rash was another.

And Belisarius would be rash indeed if he tried to defend

the city. They offered the Roman commander the privilege

of marching his army out, unmolested, with its weapons and

supplies, to any port on the sea.

Belisarius must have felt the force of these arguments

Vitigis and the Gothic nobles would have kept their word, if

he had surrendered the city. Still barbaric by nature, they

held to the old German notions that it was glorious to die in

battle and dishonorable to break a pledged word.

He answered with careless arrogance, a fine figure of a

soldier among his officers who always made a good showing,

"The time will come when you will want to hide your heads,

even under thistles, and find no shelter anywhere. As for

Rome ... so long as Belisarius lives, it will never be given

up."

With what delight did the tense Procopius write down

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 147

these resounding words of his hero! They had the effect of

puzzling and impressing the watchful Goths, who fancied

that the Roman commander must rely on some support un-

perceived by them. That was what Behsarius desired, who

knew there was no such support forthcoming.

Quickly he rid himself of one danger, by oidering all

women, children, and servitors of the citizens to be marched

out. As an afterthought he added, all women and children of

his own comitatus. For in some mysterious manner his cata-

phracts accumulated women followers wherever they went.

Antonina, however, stayed.

Vitigis allowed this column of helpless folk to pass out. The

Goths had not learned the nicety of present-day warfare that

attacks the population of cities to weaken a nation's will to

resist

So began the famous siege of Rome, which Belisarius had

tried to avoid. He could rely only on the skill, ingenuity, and

imagination of civilized humans to overcome the unthinking

tenacity of barbarians. The civilized defenders relied on war

machines and mental quickness. They easily beat off the

massed attack of the Goths with clumsy siege engines ( drawn

by oxen toward the walls ), although at one point the officer

at Hadrian's tomb (now the Castello di Sant' Angelo) had to

break up the antique statues at a critical moment to use as

missiles.

The Goths gave up the attempt to match machines against

machines. They broke down the aqueducts that carried water

into the city but could not stop the Tiber flowing in; they

gave up trying to launch rafts and boats down the river when

Roman engineers constructed booms at the river's entrance

and exit, with war engines to protect the booms.

Almost from the first, however, the conqueror of Africa

had trouble with the citizens of Rome. This populace still

remembered and remembered too well its glory of the past

when it had been the center of the civilized world. Its orators

still made speeches, and greeted the surprising reappearance

148 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

of an imperial army with an enthusiasm that was not entirely

deflated by the sending away of their families and the pros-

pect of half rations. Many citizens wanted to enlist m the

army, and Belisarms had trouble in keeping them from trying

to fight m a battle; he organized them as a home guard, after

walling up most of the gates, to prevent enthusiastic or

treacherous citizens from opening them.

"The populace of Rome/* Procopius explains, "was quite

unacquainted with the real evils of war and siege. So they

began to be distressed when they could no longer bathe, or

have as much food as before, and when they had to lose sleep

watching the circuit wall, while the enemy plundered their

fields and possessions outside. They began also to suspect

that the city would be captured, and to complain because

they, who had quarreled with no one, should suffer discom-

fort with danger added."

The senators, their spokesmen, were highly educated and

asked questions that Belisarius could not answer. If he had

come by order of the emperor, they asked, why had he

brought too small a force to defend the city?

Belisarius, however, was doing his best to keep the conflict

outside the mammoth walls. He was doing something never

dreamed of by Vegetius defending a city by mounted cav-

alrymen. The Goths could never refuse the challenge of

mounted enemies riding against them. So he played on their

eagerness as an organist plays on the keys of his instrument

planting a detachment of his men close to the walls where

Goths charged into the fire of engines mounted above send-

ing picked squadrons galloping against a Gothic camp, to

retire on a full regiment sallying from a gate as the Goths

streamed forward in a wild charge.

The size of the city walls gave him one advantage. The en-

campments of the Goths necessarily spread around a still

greater perimeter. His cataphracts could bedevil one camp

before another came up to join in the battle. At night his

swiftly striking units went out with watchdogs to warn and

RECOVERY OF AX EMPIRE 149

guide them. By the time the Goths had puzzled out the an-

swer to one such tactical trick, Belisarius had another ready

to bother them. The civilized thinker could keep a trick

ahead of the barbarian who reasoned from past experience.

The river also served him well. It took the clumsy Goths

a long time to cross from one bank of the Tiber to the other,

whereas the Romans had bridges inside the city. Belisarius

played the game of now-on-this-side, now-on-that to the limit

of his imagination, and even risked moving out the Roman

citizens as a decoy, keeping them close to the wall with strict

orders to run headlong if attacked. When the Goths assem-

bled at this point, he launched his comitatus in a galloping

attack on the far side of the river. Some of the citizens made

the mistake of trying to stand against the Goths before they

ran.

During all this sleight-of-hand maneuvering of cavalry

from sheltering walls, the Roman geneial contrived to get in

provisions from the countryside. His enemies could not man-

age to keep a tight cordon around the city. Small columns of

the dreaded gray riders filtered through ravines to outlying

towns. They drove off Gothic patrols with volleys of arrows.

( The Goths could not or would not learn to use the destruc-

tive power bow from the saddle; their archers remained afoot

which was one of the reasons why Belisarius avoided a

ranged battle that would bring Gothic bows into action.)

Then the flying column of Romans would prepare ostenta-

tiously to defend a town or hilltop; the stubborn Goths would

assemble to launch an attack upon the position, only to find

that the elusive horsemen had gone off, to circle back to the

city with a pack train of precious corn, or a herd of cattle.

The Romans experimented with the Tiber as well, Discov-

ering that small galleys could navigate up the river from the

coast to the city, they built wooden shields along the galleys*

rails and ran the gantlet of the winding river almost at will.

Yet only small detachments appeared from Constantinople

150 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

to relieve the city their number about balancing the Roman

losses.

With all his virtuosity, Belisarius did not break the tenac-

ity of the barbarians. Stoically, they endured their losses, and

the Roman garrison could not afford to lose one soldier to five

foemen. Summer came, and no harvest could be brought into

the city; half rations weakened the soft civilians, who became

clamorous in their insistence that he give battle to Vitigis. If

he had been so successful in small engagements, they argued,

why did he not end the siege and all their misery with one

general engagement? What had become of the power of the

great Justinian that the people of Rome should be aban-

doned to starve?

Until then Belisarius had risked only small numbers of his

veteransand secured some advantage for them in every

clash against equal forces of Goths. Either he was forced by

the populace to lead out his army, as Procopius asserts, 01

he decided to take the gamble.

In the great battle that resulted, however, the civilized

army could make no headway against the numbers and

physical courage of the German barbarians. Belisanus only

saved the bulk of his command by sacrificing the best of his

Isaurian infantry.

The real war had begun. And Belisarius wrote to Justinian

in the Sacred Palace that he must have effective aid. In the

streets he had heard his men called "Greeks" and "Imperial-

ists/* He had heard muttering that the Romans in Italy had

fared better under the wise Theodoric and the gifted Amala-

suntha than under the ambition of the "eastern emperor."

The good will of these Romans had been exhausted; the Pope

at St. Peter's sought peace for the land, and the time had

come when Constantinople must send to the west greater

strength than five thousand mercenaries. Yet Belisarius, the

soldier, felt guilty in trying to explain this to his emperor in

writing.

". . . as to the prospect from now on, I wish it were bet-

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 151

ter, for your cause. I shall never hide from you what it is my

duty to explain, and youis to act upon. So, send weapons and

trained men to us in sufficient numbers to let us engage the

enemy in this war with equal strength. We ought not to trust

too long to fortune, for fortune does not go on too long with-

out changing. Do you, Emperor, take this thought to your

heart: if the barbarians gain the victory now, we shall be

thrown out of Italy and lose the army, and have to bear the

shame of our conduct of the war. For we should be looked

upon as having ruined the Romans, the men who forsook

their safety to aid your empire. . . ."

Strain was telling on Belisarius, as at the first landing in

Sicily. Autumn set in; he had held the walls of Rome by mere

expedients for nearly eleven months without relief, and had

seen his veterans mangled by the Goths. The strain showed

in his outbreaks of exasperation his arrest of the Pope, Sil-

verius, on evidence of an anonymous letter, his sending the

faithful Procopius down to Naples to search for reinforce-

ments. Then he ordered Antonina to follow the secretary.

Perhaps he fancied Antonina might go east to beg aid from

Theodora. Certainly he brooded over his wife, who com-

plained of the trusted officers who had linked her name to

the handsome Theodosius. Seeking to believe both his com-

manders and Antonina, Belisarius, like many another man,

found that he could believe neither. He sensed the stirring of

intrigue about him, and hated it. His ablest lieutenant, Con-

stantine, he condemned to execution. Constantine, enraged

by Belisarius' disciplining., had drawn a knife and struck at

the commander, apparently convinced that Antonina had

egged Belisarius on to humiliate him.

Belisarius 3 state of nervous fatigue was not helped by his

awareness that he was being made to serve as an instrument

in another conflict that had nothing to do with the war. He

could only guess what that conflict might be. No sign of it

showed on the surface. In the east, behind closed doors, Jus-

152 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

tinian and Theodora for the first time were in bitter opposi-

tion to each other.

It started when Theodora's friends, Severus, patriarch of

Antioch, and Anthimius, patriarch of Constantinople, defied

the emperor's authority. Angered, Justinian called a council

that deposed and anathematized both patriarchs. (Theodora

fought for them with all her energy; Justinian claimed the

need of drawing closer to the clergy of Rome now that his

army was besieged there. More than that, as emperor, he felt

that his authority must prevail over the churches in the east

as well as in the west a feeling that Theodora did not share. )

Apparently defeated by her husband, Theodora threw all

her resources into an effort to aid her friends the patriarchs.

She worked secretly so secretly that it is not clear today

what actually happened. It seems as if she sought to break

Justinian's control of the churches by bringing about an

agreement between Rome and the patriarchs of the east. Un-

able to invoke either council or law to do so, she schemed

with individuals. No one knows exactly how.

There was the dubious letter implicating the Pope Silverius

with the Goths. (Silverius had first favored Theodora's idea,

then opposed it. ) Belisarius and Antonrna found themselves

carrying out the veiled commands of the Augusta, sending

Silverius away, then recalling him. There was the appearance

in Rome of the deacon, Vigilius, who had spent years in Con-

stantinople in talk with the empress and was inclined to aid

her.

As to all this Belisarius could have no certainty. Antonina,

corresponding with Theodora, departed in urgent haste for

home. It was understood in Rome that Vigilius would be the

next Pope. . . .

In Constantinople, to everyone's surprise the original cause

of the conflict, the exiled Anthimius, disappeared from sight.

Rumor had it that the patriarch might have been killed by

some unknown means.

Actually Theodora had smuggled him into her apartments.

RECOVERY OF AN EMPIRE 153

There among the ladies of honor Anthimius remained hidden

from outer eyes. None of her women gave away Theodora's

secret.

The time came when Justinian heard of a ghost that walked

Theodora's chambers. The ghost wore no ceremonial robes

but greatly resembled the missing patriarch. He took her to

the closed gate of the small purple palace, because no one

followed them there, to question her as to the truth of this.

"Is Anthimius alive and within our doors?"

Theodora shook her head, as if utterly surprised. One who

was exiled and laid under anathema could not be sheltered

within the Sacred Palace.

Then Theodora begged something of her husband the em-

peror. A woman could not understand controversy in religion.

She only knew that the revered Anthimius had given her the

bread and wine of the Sacrament. It was the old rite of the

oriental fathers. Would not Justinian grant one thing to her?

Would he not protect Anthimius, who was no longer patri-

arch but was still a priest able to give the Sacrament?

Justinian could not be persuaded to grant this. He had

signed the edict of exile; he could not revoke it. To do so

would be to make a mockery of his authority. The former

patriarch must go from the city, into exile.

His insistence left her no alternative but to obey. Deeply

troubled, Theodora murmured her acquiescence, and cast

about her for some sign as to what she might do. It was im-

possible now to hide the elderly priest within the palace, nor

could she bring herself to send Anthimius out like a criminal

seeking a road to take him beyond the observation of the

prefects of the Roman Empire. In such a moment of frustra-

tion she was accustomed to look for a sign to guide her.

There was nothing visible out of the ordinary. Below at the

boat landing, the emperor's barge waited for his summons

as usual; overhead swallows whirled around the pyramid roof

of the purple chamber . . . they turned as if at a signal and

flew across the water ... far out on the rocks there was the

154 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

white speck of Leander's tower, and across the strait, far off,

the red roof of her home for prostitute girls. Within sight,

yet in Asia . . .

"Justinian," she answered suddenly,

Anthimius will go into exile from your palace."

"That is wise."

At the first opportunity Theodora took the imperial barge

to cross the water to visit her asylum that some women called

the Penitentiary. Seemingly in a restless mood, she led her

escort down to explore the shore until she came to a project-

ing point that had been made into a garden. It was known as

Hieron, and the empress admired it, expressing such delight

in it that her chamberlain wondered if she might not build a

summerhouse upon it. Theodora said she would call upon

the architect Anthemius to design a large dwelling for her on

the point.

There, at Hieron, she could quarter herself in a palace

apart from the Sacred Palace; there Anthimius could go into

exile, no more than two miles from his Great Church, and

protected by her.

She was glad that the name of Hieron meant The Sanctu-

ary.

V

War Across the World

J.T BECAME CLEAK AT LAST TO JUSTINIAN AND HIS COUNCIL OF

war that Balisanus was, in fact, at bay in Rome. Disappointed

because his spectacular general had ceased to perform mira-

cles, Justinian grudgingly recalled regiments from the north-

ern frontier to send to Italy. There were so few regiments, to

meet so many needs!

By weakening the garrisons along the Danube, Justinian

courted new danger. Across that river frontier Slavs were

drifting like shadows; behind them tribal Herules looted the

forest towns; behind them an unknown force, the terrifying

Avars of the steppes, pressed south.

"These Slavs dwell in pitiful hovels, apart from each

other," notes Procopius. "Tall and hard-muscled, they all look

alike and often lack even a shirt or cloak to cover them. They

shift around constantly. For they live in a hard way, without

comforts. No one man rules them, nor do they believe in Fate.

Instead they worship the god that sends the lightning. In

old times they were known as the Scattered, or perhaps the

Sowers, because they get hold of a great amount of land to

cultivate/*

The first reinforcements were small enough. John, the

nephew of Vitalian, landed with eighteen hundred cata-

156 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

phracts on the heel of Italy and rode to Naples, as the ill-fated

Mundus had been expected to do. There, too, three thousand

Isaurian infantry sailed in with a convoy of corn ships. They

picked up the delighted Procopius and the relieved Antonina

and proceeded by the coast road and the sea toward Rome

Then Belisarius' famous luck seemed to favor him again.

No sooner had they heard of the arrival of the fleet in Ostia

at the Tiber's mouth than the Goths asked for a tiuce to dis-

cuss terms. Actually the barbarian encampments, wearied by

siege warfare, had heard report of an imperial army and fleet

coming in. Upon their anxiety Belisarius played, to bring in

his rescuers safely.

The Gothic envoys this time found him amused and ap-

parently indifferent to their anxiety. When they asked the

old question, why had the empire, after taking no heed of

Vandal raids or Visigoth invasion, suddenly attacked their

Gothic kingdom, he gave them a harsh answer. Italy was not

a Gothic kingdom but a part of the empire. When they

offered to cede Sicily, Belisarius laughed. He held Sicily al-

ready, for the emperor. "Should I give you the island of

Britain in exchange?'* he asked, amused. "It's much larger

and has more population."

It upset the envoys of Vitigis to find him so hard and mock-

ing. He barely listened to their feelers about surrendering

land in southern Italy and even paying an indemnity in gold.

All they could gain from him was a three months' truce, to

allow them to forward their offers to Justinian. And they left

the truce conference with the feeling that the unpredictable

commander saw his way to victory.

That night Belisarius slipped out the Appian Gate with a

veteran following to meet and escort back John and the re-

lieving cavalry, and his wife. The infantry transports and

grain ships he brought up the Tiber by occupying the strong

points along the river abandoned by the Goths during the

truce.

When the troubled Goths accused him truthfully of break-

WAR ACROSS THE WORLD 157

ing the sworn truce, the Roman commander proceeded to

rupture it still more by launching John and the best of the

cavalry north in the geneial direction of Ravenna, the capital

city of Vitigis and his people. This cavalry column rode as if

expecting battle and looted its living from the countryside.

By then Vitigis and his army began to believe that Beli-

sarius meant to end the truce by attacking them. They heard

that the Roman cavalry had seized a fortified town, one day's

ride from Ravenna, while still another imperial fleet had

been sighted off the coast. So the Goths burned their pali-

saded camps and started to march back to Ravenna.

Savagely Belisarius launched his forces in Rome after them,

striking the rear of their host at the Milvian Bridge where

he had nearly been killed a year before. After that, the

withdrawal of the Goths turned into a race for Ariminum

(Rimini) in the hills where the Roman cavalry column had

quartered itself.

Vitigis, with force enough under his hand to defeat all the

Romans, seemed to fear that Belisarius was trying to slip into

Ravenna as he had managed to do into Rome. Abandoning

central Italy, he hurried north to encircle Ariminum. He had

been defeated not by a battle but by the truce with Belisarius.

Once he began to retreat, Vitigis never regained the initia-

tive. The imagination of the civilized leader had, in the end,

broken the tenacity of the barbarian. After a year and nine

days Belisarius was able to leave Rome, and he did so imme-

diately. Nor did he ever willingly return to the monumental

ancestral Rome.

What the inventive Balkan soldier might have accom-

plished by following at the heels of the discouraged Gothic

king will never be known. For Belisarius received an unex-

pected reinforcement that stopped him in his tracks.

The new imperial fleet that had been reported on the way

actually came in, that spring of 538. It brought the surprising

strength of five thousand regular infantry and two thousand

hired Herulian Huns. With these added to his command,

158 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

Belisarius would have had almost the twenty thousand effec-

tives promised by Justinian. The new arrivals, however, were

commanded by the eunuch Narses, who had managed to

make himself indispensable to Justinian at the palace. He

brought to Italy his doglike devotion to his master and his

febrile enthusiasm for warfare. In addition he brought a let-

ter of authority that acted like a blow on Belisarius. The letter

explained that the new general was to obey Belisarius "in

everything that served the welfare of the state."

Read casually, this phrase seemed to put Narses under the

orders of Belisarius. Read carefully, it might instruct the

eunuch to obey only such orders as he believed fitting for the

imperial interest. He had been sent as a check on the veteran

leader. Understanding this, the forthright Belisarius wrote at

once to Constantinople to ask if he or Narses were to com-

mand. Justinian delayed answering.

The advent of Narses ended the remarkable teamwork be-

tween the studious planner in the palace and the brilliant

soldier in the field.

Civilian intrigue had entered the war. When Belisarius had

sailed on that first forlorn hope, to steal across the sea to re-

mote Africa, the great families of Constantinople had not

been concerned. Now, with the ancient western empire half

restored, they began to consider their own interests. Some of

the lords of the court were related to the Constantine who

had been executed; some members of the Sacred Senate held

long-forgotten propertiesor claims to properties in the

west. It was quite easy for experienced orators to argue that

Belisarius, who had done nicely in Africa and Sicily, had

failed to defend Rome.

The intrigue at home also worked against Belisarius

through his officers. The headstrong cavalry leader, John,

who had got himself penned up in Ariminum, being a mem-

ber of the great VitaHan's family, held himself to be at least

the equal of a rich but obscure barbarian. The newly arrived

WAR ACROSS THE WORLD 159

officers understood that Narses was to take over from Beli-

sarius at the first mistake, and acted accordingly.

Moreover, the gossip at the Augusteon made much of the

scandal of Antonina. Ildiger, the young son-m-Iaw of actress

Antonina, had been the first to grapple with the ill-fated Con-

stantine when the general lunged at Belisarius with a knife.

Her young son Photius, fathered by another man before Beli-

sarius, had complained of his mother to Belisarius, after

Antonina had tried to have Photius sent out of her sight by

inciting the other officers to abuse him. Instead of dismissing

Photius, Belisarius kept this boy officer with him and exiled

his own godson Theodosius, in spite of Antonina's efforts to

keep her lover near her.

Procopius, who had observed all these happenings within

Belisarius* family, dispensed juicy bits of scandal to eager

correspondents in high society at home who made much of

him on that account. It flattered the little Syrian to be so

treated, and he began to enlarge upon the stupidity of

Belisarius as a husband in the pungent style of Suetonius,

whereas he had copied the style of Thucydides in his com-

mentary on the war. Actually Belisarius seems to have been

devoted to his wife, and intent only on carrying out his duty;

but to Constantinopolitan minds it appeared incredible that

so dumb a husband could be an astute general of the army.

The first clash between Belisarius and Narses in Italy did

no harm; in fact it brought about an unexpected victory. The

one urgent task of the enlarged Roman army was to extricate

the cavalry caught in Ariminum, against Belisarius' instruc-

tions. (John had refused to get out in time when ordered to

do so. ) To Narses, who had all an amateur's eagerness to end

the war with one big battle, it appeared that the combined

Roman forces must hurry against Vitigis and the Goths en-

camped around Ariminum. To Belisarius, who had watched

Gothic swords at dose quarters slashing above the wall of

the barbarians* shields, it appeared certain that his new con-

160 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

tingents could not be thiown into such a battle. Yet he knew

the erring cavalry must be got out of the fortress.

In the end they did this, as Narses wanted and Belisarius

planned. The veteran leader brought separate columns into

the hills around Ariminum and maneuvered a fleet in from

the sea, to make it appear that Vitigis was being surrounded,

Again, as at Rome, the nerves of the Goths gave way before

an invisible menace, and their retreat to Ravenna became a

route. Ildiger forced his way into the besieged town with

cataphracts.

"You have Ildiger to thank/' Belisarius told his general of

cavalry, "that you are still alive."

"No," John answered arrogantly, "I have Narses alone to

thank for that."

This cleavage in the Roman command affected all the

army and resulted after a year in the disaster at Milan.

Far in the north, almost under the Alps, the populace of

the great city of Milan (Mediolanum) had gone over to the

imperialists and had been given a Roman garrison in ac-

knowledgment of its good will. But Milan lay in a far corner

of the vast valley of the Po (Padus ) that stretched across the

base of the Italian peninsula, above the hilly mid-region. This

valley of the Po had become the particular home of the

Gothic settlers, who naturally retreated there before the slow

advance of the Roman columns. Very soon after the Roman

garrison appeared in the city, Goths gathered around Milan

and were joined by the savage Franks and Burgundians, who

had been hovering about the passes of the Alps and had just

received a massive payment of gold from Vitigis.

When Belisarius heard of the siege of Milan he was far

south clearing the last Gothic strongholds among the hills.

Some of them, like Perugia, rested dizzily on the cliffs, and

he would not move on into the plain of the Po until these

trouble spots had been captured. He ordered the nearest

Roman commanders to advance and relieve Milan. A hap-

hazard host of Goths and tribal Franks did not seem to him

WAR ACROSS THE WORLD 161

too difficult to disperse, and Narses had been eagei to take

charge of the advanced divisions.

One of the commanders happened to be John, nephew of

Vitalian, and he replied that he took orders only from Narses.

By the time Belisarius could communicate with the eunuch

the population of Milan was starving; before Narses managed

to assemble a strong force and reach the city the barbanans

broke into it, raping the women, herding off the survivois to

slavery, and gutting the buildings with fire The flesh of its

bishop they threw to packs of dogs by wav of burial.

Belisarius arrived only in time to ride through rums smell-

ing of burned flesh. Narses beheld the effect of the war he

was waging. The massacre had come about through their

divided command.

Wisely, but too late, Justinian recalled Narses. After the

year lost in hesitation Belisarius resumed his solitary task of

protecting the populace while driving out the Goths without

risking a battle. Patiently he began to form the Italian peas-

antry into some kind of an aimy by sending his biscuit eaters

into the villages to drill them.

Justinian had tried to ease the feelings of the brittle Narses

by explaining that the eunuch was too important to the

treasury and the palace to be spared, but Narses 5 pride had

been injured and he spread the report around that he ex-

pected only the worst news from the west where Belisarius,

intoxicated by authority and victoryalthough Narses had

gained the victory at Ariminum was preparing to name him-

self emperor in the west.

This word reached the ears of Theodora through her serv-

ants. She said to Justinian, "Have you not cringing souls

enough around you, that you try to make your one honest

servant into a pattern-patterer?"

Impatiently Justinian shook his graying head. "IVe never

doubted Belisarius. But he must not fail me/*

Curiously she reflected that five years before Justinian

162 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

would have spoken of the empire, not himself. Of late he

seemed obsessed with a silent purpose that concerned only

Justinian.

Then the two thousand Herulian horse, committed to Italy

under Narses, reappeared at Constantinople. Surprised, Jus-

tinian asked his secretaries why and how these barbarians

had left the Italian front. Priscus, the master of the secre-

taries, explained: the Herulians had been irked by Behsarius'

discipline; they had come back to join their old commander,

Narses,

Justinian relied on the efficient and deferential Priscus,

who could answer questions instantly. Priscus had a way of

entering the study with his head bent in rigid attention.

"But how did they come?" demanded Justinian fretfully.

"There is no record of their transport by sea."

"As the Most Glorious says. Illustrious Belisanus, Master

of the Armed Forces, would furnish them with no ships.

After the Illustrious held back their pay, the Herulian cav-

alry rode around through the land, foraging for their supplies

from the Dalmatian mountains to Hadrian's City/'

As the precise Priscus put it, Belisarius seemed to have

caused the desertion of the valuable but unruly federate cav-

alry. Having no officer at the palace capable of disciplining

the Hunrric horsemen, Justinian was obliged to let Narses

do so, and to give them back pay for the time of their long

journey overland. It occurred to him that the obliging Priscus

might have an understanding with Narses, but Justinian was

confident of the eunuch's devotion to himself.

Theodora held a very different opinion of young Priscus,

who flattered Justinian by acting like an efficient slave in the

presence of an all-wise master. By the reports of her spies,

Priscus sold information to more than Narses, and had put

his bribes so high that he had been able to buy an interest

in the Greek shipping firm handling the Carthage trade, as

well as in vineyards and estates in the growing suburban port

of Nicomedia. When off duty, this Priscus was accustomed to

WAR ACROSS THE WORLD 163

leave the city by the Bucoleon harbor near her old house.

There he entered a sailing caique as if for a pleasure sail, but

in reality to cross to Nicomedia and to change his dress on

the way, to land on the Asia shore as a wealthy promoter who

was surprisingly well informed of the economic plans of the

Sacred Palace.

When she informed Justinian of this double life of his chief

secretary, he shook his head moodily. Priscus had become

necessary to him. Most officials accumulated money, now

that vast sums passed through the Sacred Palace, in spite of

the new laws. Unlike Theodora, Justinian depended on his

executives. Laboring as he did in his study, he had to trust

the execution of his plans to others. During the emergency

of the war he could not rid himself of the tools with which he

worked. Besides, he understood very well that the empress

meant to rid him of the necessary Economist, John of Cap-

padocia.

"I shall have Priscus' accounts examined," he said, "and

the fiscal court will take back his estates, in fines."

But he put off doing it, and Priscus disappeared.

When the chief secretary entered his caique one evening,

he found strange Greek boatmen hoisting the sail. As soon as

they left the harbor lights behind, these silent boatmen

brought him, instead of his fashionable businessman's suit-

ing, a coarse monk's robe to put on. They explained, in answer

to his questions, that it would be necessary for him to wear

it because he was being taken to a monastery on an island. It

was not a jest, Priscus discovered, because they began to

clip and shave the hair from his head, to prepare him to take

the vows of poverty and obedience to the laws of God.

s *Who sent you?" Priscus demanded, wondering how much

he would have to pay his captors to ransom himself.

"One whose slipper you have never kissed."

Priscus decided to go to the monastery and remain there

as long as Theodora lived.

By then Theodora had a flotilk of her own. She needed an

104 THEODORA AND IJdLJt t, >1 i' LK u K

array of small ferryboats to ply between the city and the

palace she had persuaded Justinian to build across the strait.

A summer palace, she called it necessary for her health and

his relaxation. Since Justinian seldom left the Sacred Palace

long enough to venture on a boat, this resort at Hieron be-

came her private preserve. From its marble-paved terraces

her people could watch the lights of the distant city, and no

one could watch them Down at the bottom of the garden

small breakwaters sheltered her boats from the Bosphorus

current, and from observation.

After a while Theodora moved most of her court to Hieron.

From Grand Chamberlain to guards, however, she brought

over only those she could trust.

So it happened that she saw the comet in the sky that

spring from the secluded terrace of her new home. The comet

traced a fiery arc across the vault of the sky. "It's like a

swordfisV Theodora commented.

Immediately she asked the patriarch, Anthimius, the mean-

ing of the apparition. He had been smuggled across the water

to Hieron where he could walk, secure from observation,

in the garden at night. Like Justinian, he shook his head

moodily. "The sign, my daughter, is of evil to come."

"What evil? And to whom?"

Cosmas had explained to her how the vault of the firma-

ment hung suspended over the flat floor of the earth, and

Theodora remembered because it seemed like a circus tent,

studded with the stars instead of bangles. The nature of the

stars, however, did not interest her so much as the fiery sign

in the sky.

After considering the immensity above them, Anthimius

agreed that it was like a tent, for the prophet Isaiah had said

it stretched out as a tent to dwell in. Yet the blessed David

said of its Creator: He that hath founded the earth upon its

own stability. Thus the very earth upon which they sat at

the moment rested only upon the staying power bestowed by

the Lord. The things of the earth, then, existed in this invis-

WAR ACROSS THE WORLD 165

ible balance the fish with water, the birds with the air, plant

life with the soil, animal life with the plants, and man in

balance with all.

Silently Theodora agreed. You adjusted youiself to life in

a precarious kind of balance, and survived.

"Theodora Augusta," added Anthimius, nursing his staff,

"this fire in the sky is unearthly. It has bioken through the

balance of created things, for it is not true fire, nor a star, nor

a new sun. We must expect that because of it the balance

upon earth will also be broken very soon. When that occurs,

earthquakes may rend the ground, or the sea will rage in its

depths, or plague may visit the sons of men for their sins.

Our poor wisdom cannot foretell the nature of a divine visita-

tion, but I think there is so much sin in Constantinople across

the water that plague may appear there."

Theodora reflected that they would be safe in Hieron. But

it seemed to her that calamity had already begun with the

war.

The war was spieading like a conflagration. In his stxidy

Justinian brooded over the miscarriage of his plan. Five years

before he had planned simply for Belisarius to take back

Italy from the Ostrogoths and their Philosopher. Now, in

the spring of 539, hordes of Franks and Burgundians were

swarming into the valley of the Po, slaying the inhabitants

and dying themselves of disease caused by heat and strange

water.

And all the way to the east, other barbarians were moving

restlessly toward the wealth of the imperial cities. He had

anticipated this, and strengthened the line of forts along the

Danube. But Slavic tribes slipped between the forts. The

skeleton garrisons could not leave their ramparts.

His secret intelligence brought him evidence that the des-

perate Vitigis was sending gifts and envoys to all such peo-

ples beyond the borders, urging them to strike against the

empire Vitigis was fighting. These savage peoples accepted

166 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

Justinian's payments but no longer sought to be hired as

federates; they sneaked forward to loot instead.

Then when the grass gave good grazing and the crops stood

high, a new power broke through the line of the Danube.

Led by an aggressive khan, and yielding to the pressure of

the Avars behind them, the Bulgarian Huns swept down into

the Macedonian mountains and through Greece as far as the

Corinth isthmus, where walled fortification stopped them

and turned them aside toward Constantinople itself. This

savage clan fed on the country, killing adult people, driving

off women and children as slaves; it emerged from the valleys

of Thrace and approached the Long Wall built by Anastasms.

The only available field army was in northern Italy, where

Behsarius warded off multitudes of ax-throwing Franks while

he penned the Goths closer into Ravenna. Justinian urged

Belisarius to hasten.

Then he received news that appalled him. Somehow Vitigis

had smuggled emissaries through the empire, in the train of

Syrian merchants, to reach Ctesiphon, the reigning city of

the King of kings of the Persians. After that the tidings from

the east were altogether bad. Sittas, the veteran commander

there he who had married the actress Comito, sister of Theo-

dorawas killed; in the Caucasus the Armenians staged one

of their periodic revolts. And at Ctesiphon the Persians lis-

tened to the arguments of the Gothic spokesmen, that they

should not wait for Justinian to regain the empire of the

Middle Sea and the west but should strike him now in the

east while he was weak. Breaking the perpetual truce on a

slight pretext, the Persian monarch prepared to do just that.

And there was no semblance of a Roman army in the east.

Faced by catastrophe where he had least expected it, Jus-

tinian wrote again to Belisarius to return. Almost with resig-

nation he heard that the Huns were across the Long Wall.

That line of stonework offered no obstacle unless tens of

thousands of trained men were on it. Methodically the no-

mads began to glut the towns within sight of Constantinople.

WAR ACROSS THE WORLD 167

Moving under cover of night, some of the Huns penetrated

to the water barrier of the Bosphorus and crossed o\er on

rafts. The imperial troops were bunched up behind the foiti-

fications of the towns, whither the country people fled.

From the roof of the Hieron palace, Theodora and An-

thimius beheld the glare of fires where villas burned; refu-

gees streamed into the garden. Both the exiled patriarch and

the actress-empress were accustomed to calamity. Theodora

had herself rowed over to the private dock of the Sacred

Palace and sought Justinian where she knew he would be, in

his study.

Sleepless as usual, he was walking about among the piled

reports, while the Constable and other members of the stra-

tegic council waited outside. He thought the Huns would

follow their nature and retire with their loot and multitudes

of captives. It was a terrible raid, but still a raid of a few

thousand horsemen. The east, he believed, held the greater

danger. Not for three generations had the eastern front been

broken through. Belisarius must take his army there without

further delay.

"The Persians are religious fanatics," he muttered. "If they

find a route open, they will fancy their Sun-god favors them,

and rush in. If they are opposed they may be doubtful and

go away. Belisarius knows how to make them doubt."

"Then why/' the empress asked viciously, "did you send

him into the west?"

While she watched the puffy, wearied face, he stumbled

against a stand and upset a vase that broke. Paul, the captain

of the silentiaries, entered without a sound. Clumsily Jus-

tinian bent to pick up the pieces, while Paul knelt to aid him,

It was ridiculous to watch the emperor and his officer gather-

ing up bits of useless pottery.

In that moment a fantastic thought came to her. Upon the

brilliant Belisarius the fate of the empire seemed to rest. Yet

the awkward, tired man fumbling with a broken vase was the

only staying force in the empire. Of all the thousands in the

168 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

Sacied Palace at that difficult time he was the only one who

cared nothing about himself.

"Justinian/' she said quietly, "you will conquer."

The tide of ill fortune seemed to ebb then, In the autumn

the Huns began to withdraw, while their horses could still

graze on the crops. The Persians, after assembling a inarch-

ing host, waited for the heat to lessen in the desert stretches.

Belisarius piessed closer to the defenses of Ravenna. And the

besieged Vitigis smuggled through Gothic spokesmen, who

offered Justinian terms To gain a pledged peace they would

give up Italy south of the Po and surrender half their treasure

(All Germans from the time of the legendary Nibelungs

hoarded their gold, jewels, and silver as a tieasure instead of

spending it like a civilized people. )

At the same time a couiier arrived from Belisarius with the

advice not to make terms with the Goths, as they were on

the verge of defeat.

In his study Justinian could not understand his general's

warning. Ironically, the Goths and their king had taken shel-

ter in the one impregnable point of Italywhere the last em-

perors in the west had sought security. Ravenna, embellished

by the great Theodoric whose victories had been pictured in

mosaics on the church walls lay barred from the sea by

shallows, sand bars, and marshes. Its walls rose from the

dank encircling marshes, infested by frogs, as mosquitoes in-

fested the air. The very bodies in the cemeteries were said to

float away, while living men became inanimate. No army

could occupy the swamps that surrounded the walls, where

only a single causeway led to the city. So situated, Ravenna

had never been captured by assault, and with the formidable

Goths inside it Justinian saw no way by which the Roman

army could win it.

The terms offered by the Goths suited his plans. Vitigis,

humbled and confined to the upper valley of the Po, would

WAR ACROSS THE WORLD 169

offer a buffer to the encroaching Franks. Belisarius, released,

could be moved in time to the east.

His strategists agreed.

Without delay Justinian signed and sealed the written

treaty of peace, and advised the Gothic envoys to take it di-

rect to Vitigis before allowing Belisarius to see it.

There he made his mistake. If he had journeyed himself to

Italy, the result might have been very different. Not since

the month of the triumph of the Vandal war had the emperor

talked face to face with the master of his armed forces. In-

evitably, the Goths accepted the terms and notified Belisarius

of the treaty which he was to sign, to end the war.

Belisarius refused to sign it or to end the war. This stirred

instant suspicion among the Goths. They had encountered

trickery before from Constantinople; they feared Belisarius

and lost trust in a signed piece of parchment which he re-

fused to sign.

This had no sooner been reported to the Sacred Palace

than an agent who had slipped out of Ravenna arrived on a

fast galley with incredible news. The Gothic army had of-

fered its allegiance to Belisarius as emperor in the west.

The strategists were aghast at their blindness. Here was

the explanation of the mystery! How astutely the commander

of the army had misled them, getting them to recall the de-

voted Narses, ridding himself of the intransigeant Huns! The

rest of the army he held, as it were, in the palm of his hand.

How quickly Africa and Sicily would hail him as emperor.

How eagerly the Roman people in Italy would carry out the

orders of their liberator, backed by the familiar military

power of the Goths. Of course the Goths would rather share

their lands and treasure with Belisarius than to surrender

them to the eastern empire. Naturally Vitigis had agreed to

become Belisarius' vassal in the north; it would be easier than

to remain leader of a defeated and disappointed people.

Fragile little Narses smiled bleaHy. They had been warned,

170 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

he pointed out, by himself. The triumph in the Hippodrome

had turned Belisarius' head. And there was nothing they

could do about it.

To Theodora it seemed to be a stroke of genius. She could

laugh heartily at the simplicity of it. In it she saw the handi-

work of two women Matasuntha, his Amal bride taken by

force, hated Vitigis. Had not Matasuntha burned the ware-

houses that stored the grain of Ravenna, to deprive Vitigis'

men of food? Then, too, Belisarius' wife must have egged him

on to it.

Only Justinian lemained stubbornly incredulous, mutter-

ing that Belisarius would not break faith.

The next courier, early in that spring of 540, came in from

Ravenna itself. A young officer, flushed and cold with stage

fright, faced Justinian on the thione and laid at his feet a

strange old crown He identified himself as captain in the

comitatus of Belisarius. The crown he brought back was the

crown of Valens, taken from the emperor's body at the rout

near Hadrian's City, eight generations before.

The war was over, the boy officer declared, with Vitigis

captive, the Goths disarmed, Ravenna taken without the loss

of a single Roman or Gothic life. Belisarius now held all

Italy, from Sicily to the Alps, in the name of the Ever August,

Ever Victorious Emperor Justinian.

Slumped in his throne, Justinian listened.

Belisarius had tricked the Goths, the boy explained

eagerly. Really, he had believed that the only way to over-

come the Gothic people was to defeat them utterly not to

make terms that would leave them a nation in arms across a

river. So when they offered him an emperor's crown, he pre-

tended to accept it, and discussed it much with his wife, who

wanted it done in order to be overheard. He replied to the

delegation of Goths that he was willing to rule over them,

and under his rule no man should be put to death or deprived

of his home or belongings. But Belisarius thought the public

proclamation of his crowning should be made in Ravenna

WAR ACROSS THE WORLD 171

itself, before the old Roman cathedral. To this the Goths

agreed.

Then Behsarius called a council of liis officers, showing

them a copy of the tieaty signed without his knowledge in

Constantinople. He asked them whether Italy should not be

regained entire, instead, and the Goths subdued entire, if it

could be done without loss. And they agreed.

It was so simple, after that, Belisanus nding in full regalia

along the causeway, with only his comitatus behind him, and

riding through the open gate, between the crowds of Goths

where the women, seeing for the first time the small and

dingy figures of the Roman soldiers, spat into the faces of

their men, for submitting to such poor specimens riding on

to the cathedral, taking Matasuntha under his protection, as

a princess of the Amals and announcing to all that he ruled

not as emperor but as commander of the emperor. He said

he would take the crown of the dead Valens that the Goths

had treasured.

That was all. He put Vitigis under guard. His comitatus

held the streets, while the Goths, waiting to greet him as

emperor, were scattered and leaderless. The other Roman

units were marching in, while ships brought fresh grain up

the waterways. Behsarius only had to post a guard over the

Gothic treasure. The populace hurried to ease its hunger

with the corn from the Roman ships.

Now Belisanus waited to consolidate the conquest, before

bringing back Vitigis with his nobles and Gothic volunteers,

and the treasure of Theodoric, as he had brought back Geli-

mer and the Vandal hoard.

When the officer had finished his report, Justinian placed

a chain of gold around his neck, named him a patrician, and

wrote hastily to Belisarius begging him to come east at once.

For the third time as once before in Africa, and again in

Sicily Belisaxius was recalled before his work could be fin-

ished, in Italy. Extricating his comitatus as best he could

172 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

from the war aiea, he embarked foi Constantinople with it

Disordered Italy he had to leave in the hands of the remain-

ing Roman officers. But piecious weeks had been lost.

When he walked for the second time in triumph down the

Mese at the head of his veterans, the crowds of Constanti-

nople roared his name. For he escorted not only the con-

quered Gothic king and nobles but the standards of the

Roman legions that had been lost to the Goths at Hadrian's

City. The crowds Gelimer and the Vandalic nobles among

them realized that this was a greater triumph than the con-

quest of Africa Yet the greeting to Belisarius lacked the ex-

ultation of the earlier triumph. There was no ovation in the

Hippodrome, no display of the great Gothic treasure. Justin-

ian gave order that it should not be shown.

But the crowds in the streets rendered Belisarius a silent

tribute. "They took delight in watching him as he came forth

from his house each day. His coining forth was like a crowded

festival procession." So the admiring Procopius reported. "He

was tall and remarkably handsome ... in desperate situa-

tions he showed himself untroubled, and after great success

he did not give way to indulgence. At any rate, no one ever

saw Belisarius intoxicated."

Justinian's congratulations were brief and cold. Ironically,

this should have been Peter Sabbatius' greatest hour, for the

Middle Sea had come back to Roman rule, with ancestral

Rome and Ravenna. In his signature now, Peter Sabbatius

could truthfully inscribe himself as victor over Goths and

Franks. He had restored the vital points of the western

empire.

But in those last months the empire had been wounded

in the east. Justinian showed Belisarius the record of the

calamity, the thousands of people lost to the Bulgarian Huns,

the total of towns ravaged and villages burned, the crops

destroyed and cattle driven off.

That much Belisarius had been prepared to see. It startled

him to read on, to the calamity on the Persian front. The

WAR ACROSS THE WORLD 173

King of kings had broken through, devastating towns that

had been secure behind the frontier while Behsarms and

Sittas had served there.

"Antiochl" he cried.

The second city of the empire had been overrun by the

Persian army. The Persians were through to the shore of the

Middle Sea that had not seen an enemy for centuries.

"Khusrau went in swimming in the sea," observed Justinian

tonelessly, "to mock us."

To Justinian, the planner in the palace, it seemed as if

Belisarius had brought about the catastrophe by disobeying

orders. To Belisarius, the soldier in the field, it had been un-

thinkable to abandon the battle that had gone on for four

exhausting years, in the months when he had had the end in

sight. The emperor had never been close to the reality of the

battle over the sea, while the commander had not understood,

because he could not understand, the strategy of the empire.

Again Belisarius was hurried with his wearied comitatus

from Constantinople, to meet a much more powerful enemy.

This time the strategists in the Sacred Palace did not demon-

strate to him how his task might be performed. Justinian

would look at no more maps and would listen to no plans of

retired generals or intelligence agents. He had gambled on

peace to keep the Persian front quiet, and had lost. There

was no way to demonstrate how the host of the King of

kings could be turned back. He simply trusted Belisarius

to contrive some way to do it, with five thousand men.

To Theodora the news from the east had been a stunning

blow. Her city of Antioch, with the girls of the Daphne grove

and the priests of the venerable Severus, had become a char-

nel house of blood and misery. She resented the hollow vic-

tory in the west, and for the first time she believed that

Belisarius could be dangerous.

VI

Justinian the Redeemer and

the Demon

./JL/TER FOURTEEN YEARS OF RULING FROM THE SACRED PALACE,

Justinian began to realize that, while he had succeeded in

carrying on the war abroad, he had failed in his government

at home.

The wall map in the strategic conference chamber showed

him the recovery of the empire in the west. Upon it the

names of liberated areas had been neatly marked although

no longer by the skilled hand of his secretary, Priscus. The

Dalmatian coast. Tripolitana. The Prefecture of Africa. The

Prefecture of Italy. The islands of the western sea. The coast

of Visigothic Spain (where his ships had taken in the trading

ports like Malaca and Cadiz [Gadira], and had ventured

out into the swell of the vast, mysterious Ocean).

In imagination Justinian voyaged himself, out to the limits

of his new empire beyond the sea. It was again the Mare

Nostrum of the Romans. But he felt a thrill of pure delight

when he rode forth in a procession from the Chalke. Beyond

that gate lay a new city, his creation.

The burned area, the scar of the Nika revolt, had vanished.

That remarkable team, Anthemius the architect and Isidore

the engineer, had filled the area with lustrous marble. Wide

boulevards stemmed out from the Junction, and the baths

176 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

of Zeuxippus shone with light at night. Off in the cypress

trees rose the lovely St. Irene, dedicated to peace. Close to

it stood the asylum for mental incurables and paralytics that

Theodora had persuaded him to add to the imperial gardens.

As Justinian lode, wearing the diadem, past the Augusteon,

he listened intently to the cadenced cry of the crowds: "For-

tunate is thy city, Thrice August! Merciful is our emperor,

chosen bv God."

*

Beneath him lay the artificial lake of the great cistern with

its columns majestic as the courtyard of a palace a miracle

ot construction, flowing with the water of his aqueduct. Se-

cretly he believed that his people should compare him to Solo-

mon the king, who had given the first temple to Jerusalem,

or at least to Augustus Caesar, who had found so many brick

fronts in ancient Rome and had left them marble faades.

When he dismounted at the portico of the Great Church

all sense of pride left Justinian, Humbly he walked into the

structure that had been raised for the Lord God. So vast it

was, he felt insignificant, moving across its pavement that

gleamed with the blue of cornflowers in the grass of

earth. . . .

Procopius, returning from the war, had been startled when

he first entered iWmore noble than those structures which

are merely huge, it abounds in sunlight and in the sun's rays

reflected from the marble. Indeed you could say that the

radiance comes from within it ... so marvellous in its

grace, yet terrifying in its seeming insecurity. For it appears

somehow to float on air rather than rest on its base/'

What was the secret of the Great Church? Anthemius,

who designed it, could not tell. Procopius insisted that no

matter how often you entered it the feeling was the same.

It might be that here God loved to dwell.

Secretly Justinian planned an addition to the Augusteon

in the form of an heroic statue of himself. He had thought

JUSTINIAN REDEEMER AND DEMON 177

out just how it should appear, mounted oi course on a fine

horse going foiward, the bronze figure steadfast in ancient

Roman armor, but without sword or shield. ( To suggest that,

as a warrior, he sought to wage no battles. ) One hand would

hold the globe of the world, surmounted by a cross; the other

hand would stretch out toward the horizon. Together they

would indicate how he sought to bring the world under one

empire and one church and one law. So far he had not dis-

cussed the heroic statue with his architects because they

would tell Theodora about it, and she might try to make it

seem ridiculous.

About that time Justinian did an odd thing. He ordered

that his portrait, stamped on the medals of the empire, should

no longer appear in old-fashioned Roman armor. Apparently

he did not wish to appear henceforth as the soldier-emperor

of the earlier portraits.

As it was, the patricians who frequented the stone benches

of the Augusteon complained of his new buildings. "He

spares no expense/' they observed, "and spares no property

belonging to any of us/'

Just then he was sparing no expense in rebuilding Antioch

entire, after its destruction by the Persians. By the plans of

his engineers the course of its river, the Orontes, would be

shifted, and new squares and market places erected on

marble paving. The new city would be larger, and he had

decreed that its name be changed to God's City in spite

of Theodora's objection that the name of Antioch could not

be changed to Theopolis by his order. She had given fifty

thousand pieces of gold, her year's income, to buy marble

and columns for Antioch.

While he had improved the stonework, as it were, of his

dominion, Justinian realized that he had managed to do lit-

tle for the people. In the eager first years before the Nika

revolt he had contemplated a new social order. Liberty, he

stated by decree, was a natural condition of man, and slavery

an artificial state, contrary to nature. He had planned a new

178 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

era for the toiling citizens of Constantinople, by laising the

inferior classes and lessening the privileges of the magnates.

What had he managed to change?

His Praetor of the People sent patrols through the streets

to chase robbeis, move on idlers, and break up gatherings.

His regulation of labor did not prevent the stalls of the Street

of the Weavers from laboring after dark by lamplight; chil-

dren still tended the charcoal furnaces in the Street of the

Silversmiths, peasants in the outlying farms still would not

leave the fields of their fathers, to work as enlightened labor-

ers. No, slavery and labor existed within the families as be-

fore.

He had attempted, after a fashion, to foster individuality

among his myriad subjects. He had tried to make an end of

the privileges of parties like the Blues and Gieens and classes

like the magnates. This concept of a subject as an individual

came from Egypt and Theodora's lands. It was not under-

stood in Constantinople.

He had made a new code of laws "to bring about decent

order in the state by law"-to put a lawbook, as it were, into

the hands of every man and woman, so that they could claim

their civil rights. They were still afraid to go into court unless

they knew what the judge would decide. "They hold fast,"

Tribonian commented cynically, "to the right of bribery." Yet

rumor related that Tribonian now named Quaestor of the

empire could only be approached by bribing the officials

at his door. Certainly the new Quaestor had acquired a pala-

tial mansion decorated with ivory and gold, and enlivened

with a mechanical organ. Living next door to the millionaire

Tribonian, Anthemius the Architect no respecter of persons

had arranged huge mirrors in the sun so that the glaring

sunlight was reflected through all Tribonian's windows and

the curtains had to be drawn. When Tribonian went to law

and obtained a decision against the mirrors, the resourceful

Anthemius arranged an earthquake beneath the Quaestor's

house.

JUSTINIAN REDEEMER AND DEMON 179

These new laws enfranchised women, granting them rights

in divorce and in holding property. They set penalties for

homosexuality and the castration of boys Yet the laws did

not perceptibly change human nature in a dozen years.

Women who appealed to Theodora, however, found that

they had no need of a legal court. She had a way of putting

male plaintiffs to open ridicule. One of her girl protegees she

had married to a young patrician, who had talked about it

afterward in the streets, complaining that his bride had

proved to be no virgin. Until the day when he was escorted

to a public square by strange servitors and made a spectacle

by being tossed in a blanket. "Whereby most of the men,"

Procopius relates, "were very glad to remain silent and es-

cape such scourging."

Observers noticed that this empress who had been a hussy

would follow her own judgment in deciding an appeal, while

the emperor would listen to petitioners kindly, and try to

make them carry out his new laws. "As if/' wrote Procopius,

envying the pair on the twin thrones, ''he had put on the

imperial garb only upon the condition that he should change

everything else into another form/'

Justinian's attempt to revive what had been best in the past

was failing. His praetors and consuls belonged to the Rome

of the monuments, Their silver gleaming chariots and the

fasces carried before them no longer stirred the crowds that

shouted when the riders of Belisarius passed with a shrilling

of flutes. New nations were taking shape within the old im-

perial frontiers. An Armenian chieftain of shepherds would

not change his treatment of his wife by the Latin warning

of a Corpus Juris; an Arab seaman, peering through the heat

haze for the white loom of Sinai, would not heed a Roman

navigation law.

By the ancient Latin Way of Italy, on the summit of Monte

Cassino, the younger Benedict of Nursia was building a clois-

ter on the site of a pagan shrine. Into this refuge men were

escaping from the war-devastated cities, They were shelter-

ISO THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

ing themselves in the cloister, laismg their food in the fields,

in a way of Lie that \vould soon be known as the Benedictine.

While the son of Sabbatius failed to understand his Roman

people, he had a good grasp of Roman economy. Patiently

he had delved into the lecords of the past to learn when that

economy had prospered, and when it had failed especially

in the time of his two heroes, Augustus and Constantine.

Under Augustus the small upper class of patricians had

held the posts of responsibility and had contributed most to

support the state, while the large lower class of plebeians had

kept on with the farming and the soldiering. Matters had

gone well enough, despite the extravagance of half-insane

emperors and the blight of slave labor, until a change had

taken place in the economy itself.

The eastern portion of the new empire began to manufac-

ture most of the things that Rome craved but could no longer

pay for. Byzantium and the Syrian coast, for instance, had an

abundance of such luxuries as sandalwood, sugar cane, pearls,

camphor, and silk. Moreover, the east manufactured the finer

textiles, glassware, dyes, and all the stuff of higher civiliza-

tion. And the ships of eastern ports brought such prized

articles to the Tiber.

To pay for all this Rome sent gold eastward, and it did

not return. Then a human migration set in toward such afflu-

ent cities as Alexandria and Antioch, and it, too, did not

journey home again.

So Constantine the Great had merely been following the

drift of his gold and people when he moved his capital to

the New Rome where stable industry prevailed.

Because of that, the Roman economy remained, more than

two centuries after Constantine, the only financial system

of the civilized world. Benedict himself could hardly have

conceived of the things taxes and money that were not

Caesar's.

J U S T I X I A N R E D E E M E R AND DEMON 181

Now in Constantinople taxation was based on property,

Every fifteen years a land survey took census of people, crops,

belongings even dogs being listed. After the assessors closed

their books inspectors made checks from time to time, Indi-

viduals without property paid a head tax (although not in

the great cities, which tended to be favored over the coun-

try areas). Customs officials collected duties at the ports. Ex-

actors took in a tax in kind for supplying the army such as

corn, wine, oil, meat, and horses.

This heavy taxation caused people to leave their farms and

ships some even burned then: trading and fishing vessels

to go to the cities. It also caused the more distant cities like

Alexandria and Antioch to rebel against Constantinople

where the taxes originated.

Under Anastasius the much-detested chrysargyron, 01 gold-

tax-on-profits, was repealed. It had taken a percentage from

the earnings even of prostitutes and so the rumor ran beg-

gars. The civilian tax bureaus were kept separate from the

military administration, and certain classes like teachers or

war veterans had exemption from taxation. Another class,

however, managed to exempt itself. The wealthiest mag-

nates, with immense landholdings in fertile districts like Cap-

padocia, had come to hire their own bodyguard armies, staffs

of collectors, and even judges. It was not easy for the govern-

ment bureaus to assess and collect taxes from such powerful

nobles, who usually had influence in the senate chamber and

the Delphax dining hall. Yet Anastasius left a gold reserve

of 324,000 pieces in the treasury when he died.

The state had several monopolies, including the important

papyrus reed (to make papyri sheets from which paper was

to get its name) from Egypt, and the rare purple dye that

came from the seacoast of Syria. It also controlled the salt-

works and metal mines. The most vital monopoly was gold.

From mining and imports from such coasts as Colchis of

"golden fleece" fame the precious metal flowed into the

treasury. Export of it was forbidden. (Frontier posts main-

182 THEODORA AXD THE EMPEROR

tained a rigid check on articles passing in and out of the

customs. ) Most of the gold went to the mint to be coined.

These Roman solid! were the standard of the world, as then

known. Being the cuirency of international trade, they found

their way to the huts of the uncouth Anglo-Saxons, and east-

ward as far as half -legendary India. The new Prankish kings

minted coins with Roman identification on the reverse. Even

the cultured Persian shahinshahs kept a tacit agreement to

use the Roman gold coins, and minted only silver money for

themselves. (When Justinian paid gold bullion to Ctesiphon

for his "perpetual truce" he stipulated that the gold was to be

used for ornaments, not coinage. )

While he had been a free agent under Old Justin, the son

of Sabbatius had fallen to wondering why this system, that

ground out revenues as steadily as the mills of the ancient

gods, failed to fill up the treasury. So much was collected,

according to the books. So little materialized in actual coin

or goods. He had asked John the Economist what proportion

actually got to the treasury, and his financial wizard reported

impassively,

This startled Justinian and roused his indignation. The

zealous emperor and the wily Cappadocian worked out to-

gether the causes of the leakage and wastage, as follows:

The government bureaus were overrun with personnel.

(Numbers should be cut down and working hours length-

ened. )

High officials were apt to speculate with the goods passing

through their hands. (No official must buy or sell property

in bulk.)

Such officials often kept private prisons; they charged fees

for documents and even sold jobs to bidders. (Paper work

must be cut to a tenth, no fees charged, and no money taken

for employment)

Routine services like the post, with its stations and carriers,

had been expanded, to put more individuals on the pay roll.

JUSTINIAN REDEEMER AND DEMON 183

In similar fashion military garrisons far from the city drew

pay for men long dead or deserted. . . .

"More people live off taxes than pay them/' declared John.

Justinian and John devised drastic remedies for the leak-

ages of money. John, with his gift for money-getting, also

suggested new sources of revenue. By making grain a state

monopoly, they could squeeze out speculators and add profits

to the treasury. John thought up death taxes to soak the mag-

nates he hated, and a withholding tithe on soldiers* pay.

Hence Justinian's exhortation to officials: "Gather in the full

total of taxes due."

His aim was the protection of the peasants against the

wealthy landlords. Now until then there had been a live-and-

let-live climate in the empire, over such vital things as money

and taxes. Officials and citizens had adjusted themselves to

the mutual need of gathering in money to support their fami-

lies, if not to accumulate wealth. Justinian's idea disturbed

this comfortable climate. It seemed clear to him that the gov-

ernment should economize, while the citizenry paid in full.

And he showed great persistence in carrying out an idea,

regardless of its effect on individuals. "Pay up the taxes

promptly, because our large undertakings cannot be man-

aged without money."

To cut expenditures, at first, he scaled down allowances for

army supplies and pay; he asked for a reduction in the live-

stock kept by postal stations (which resulted so the story runs

in asses taking the place of the old-time horses and mules ) .

Expensive transport agencies were eliminated, so that peas-

ant women were seen carrying in grain and fuel that had

been carted before. In the provinces he cut down govern-

ment personnel by doubling up duties. In so doing he tried

the dangerous experiment of merging civilian and military

duties in a new type of official called the Exarch a sort of

general agent. "In certain of our provinces, the civil and

military governors quarrel steadily with each other, not about

j.01 1 ii & U D O l\ A A X D 1 H E EMPEROR

how the\ can benefit but about how they can more oppress

our subjects. So we have thought it right in these cases to

combine the two charges to form one office, and to give the

old name of praetor to the new governor/'

He named the new-era official a praetor Justinianus.

Promptly the popular voice christened the new executive a

"Justinian." So his idea-men came to be ^Justinians." These

early attempts at public economy, with heavier popular pay-

ment of taxes, resulted in the lowering of the spirit of the

armed forces, which Belisarius felt, and the near-failure of

military supplies, which was not entirely the fault of John

of Cappadocia, and the outbreak of the Nika revolt, which

Justinian himself experienced at first hand. Nevertheless,

since his ideas seemed to be right, he persisted in them.

The Vandalic and Gothic warsat least as handled by

Belisarius paid for themselves at first by the captured

treasure-trove. But the rebuilding of burned Constantinople

especially of the Great Church became a drain on the

treasury. So John the Economist, recalled to duty, was asked

to find new sources of revenue, and did so with ingenuity.

Fortification along the now menaced frontiers was intensi-

fied, but the army gained little more money or men. Then

the raid of the Bulgarian Huns wrought havoc in the harvests

as well as the towns, and the Persian invasion destroyed

Antioch, while driving off a portion of the people to be set-

tled at Ctesiphon.

In Italy, also, the appearance of the imperial tax collectors,

soon after Belisarius left, discouraged the native Romans,

who had been under the strain of the war. The chief of them,

a certain Alexander, called "The Scissors" for his ability in

clipping gold coins, tried to impose the fixed scale of taxation

on Goths and Italians who had not known heavy taxation.

This resulted in unrest, with which officers like Ildiger and

John the nephew of Vitalian could not, or would not, cope.

Perhaps the financial blight in Syria, which had not been

invaded for long generations, had more vital consequence.

JUSTINIAN REDEEMER AND DEMON 185

Until then, whatever happened in the west, the revenues

from Egypt and Asia Minor and Syria had sustained the

empire.

Despite his setbacks, Justinian went on with his building

and his new era of government. Time would remedy the

damages, he believed, if the revenues came in. "The people

must make an increased effort/* he declared, u to cany on the

war/' And he pointed out an untouched source of revenue m

the wealthy magnates who had escaped the general taxation.

"It is shameful/' he announced to the "Justinian" in Cappa-

docia, "to relate how lawlessly the managers of great estates

march about with bodyguards behind them, and throngs fol-

lowing after, on their way to rob common folk of everything/'

And he accused the Cappadocians truthfully of bribing them-

selves into ownership of government grazing lands and herds,

"The land owned there hitherto by the treasury has become

practically all private/'

Naturally the foremost Cappadocian was John the Econo-

mist, whose estates ran along entire rivers of that mountain-

ous land, whose palace in the city housed a bevy of girls and

boys with an imitation forest of jewel-leafed trees upon

which mechanical golden birds sang during the feasts.

"Would any but a madman/* he roared at his friends, "ask

you to keep your hands clean, while you conjure up a new

Antioch, and put monasteries for monks on Mount Sinai, with

foreign legion forts in Africa? I understand at last why our

pious Augusta wanted a madhouse here in these very gar-

dens. Our ever victorious Augustus will have a luxurious cell,

with running water and a view over the sea/'

Cappadocian John now "J ^ Most Glorious Praetorian

Prefect of the East, ex-Consul and Patrician* could fling

barbed slander at his sovereigns. As a power in the empire

second only to Justinian, he did not fear to do so.

Nor did he try to keep his hands clean. Grim tales were

told in the streets, of how he extracted money. A patrician

who had refused to report his private jewels for assessment

1S6 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

was tortured in the cellars of John's palace, until he walked

back to his home, collected his valuables, and threw them

at the feet of the Economist without a word. A veteran,

assessed a tax of twenty solidi, swore that he did not have

the coins to pay. Kept under abusive questioning by inspec-

tors, he said he would go with them to search for the money,

which he had mislaid. When they went into his home after

him they found the ex-soldier had hanged himself to a beam.

Such reports as these were brought to Theodora by her spies.

"The Empress Theodora hated John above all others,"

Procopius wrote in the history that he kept secretly. "While

he gave offense to the woman by the evil he did, he was not

minded to conciliate her by flattery. Openly he set himself

against her, slandering her to the emperor . . , when the

queen discovered this she intended to kill the man, but could

not do it because the Emperor Justinian set great store by

him."

Justinian, in fact, refused to dismiss John again. No one

else, he insisted stubbornly, could keep the treasury from

breaking down during the crisis.

The day came when Theodora decided that she or the

Cappadocian must fall. She had more than personal hatred

for him. As Praetorian Prefect, John now held unlimited

power over her eastern homeland; he opposed the rebuilding

of her beloved Antioch; he wore the imperial purple. If Jus-

tinian should sicken, John could seize the palace, backed by

his hired comitatus.

Well aware of his danger, the truculent Cappadocian

guarded himself carefully. At night his bodyguards shielded

him, and John himself inspected his sleeping quarters closely,

waking often at night to look out the entrances. But the

woman from the circus never made use of assassins, or poison.

Instead, Theodora invited Antonina to talk with her.

When Belisarius departed for the Persian frontier "taking

the hopes of all Romans with him/* Procopius relates he left

JUSTINIAN REDEEMER AND DEMON 1ST

his wife in the city. At the moment Antonina must hav e been

torn by lesentment at Justinian's cold treatment of the hero

of Italy, and by envy of the beautiful Theodora. The two

actresses were consumed by ambition; both ciaved the luxury

of their palaces; neither had inhibitions to restiain hei. But

Theodora was the more adroit in dissimulation, and knew,

besides, exactly what she wanted done.

In facing Antonina, across a table laden with nectared

fruits, after dismissing the white-robed silentiaries and the

graceful girls of the propoloma, she availed herself of a very

useful weapon. She told the truth about John of Cappa-

docia.

Distrusting Theodora profoundly, Antonina felt a familiai

stab of jealousy, finding herself waited upon as the guest of

the empress. She also felt certain of the obvious truth that,

by removing John the archpolitician, she would aid Beli-

sarius, who had no instinct for politics. With John out of

the way, Antonina herself would be a step nearer the Sacred

Palace when Belisarius returned with the army ... he

would contrive another victory, of course . . .

But how, she wondered, could John be removed?

Theodora explained that John had a weakness. He acted

on impulse. If the gifted wife of the Most Glorious Beli-

sarius could persuade him to talk carelessly, Theodora could

arrange for witnesses to overhear them.

When she ransacked her mind to discover any harm in the

suggestion, Antonina found none. Skillfully, then, she made

use of the one person John cared for, his adolescent daugh-

ter. The girl was attached to Antonina, and the actress con-

fided in her how brutally Justinian and Theodora had treated

her husband. By playing upon the girl's devotion to her

father, Antonina brought their confidences to the point where

it seemed as if both could free themselves from the domina-

tion of Theodora by removing the erring Justinian from the

throne. This, Antonina admitted, could not be done by Beli-

sarius alone or by John alone. But what if they agreed to act

188 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

together? Would it not be accoiding to the will o God, to

brmg about such a happy release for everyone?

Thrilled by the confidence of Antonina, the girl almost ran

to her father. Would he not talk with the wife of Belisanus

himself, as she had done? John, who would have believed

no one else, believed his daughter's story. Even his alert sus-

picion could not trace Antonina's rather foolish proposal to

Theodora. In any conversation Antonina would incriminate

herself equally with him. Besides, John was very curious to

learn how far Antonina would go. It would be something

new to hear of the white knight Belisarius in the role of a

court conspirator.

With the adolescent girl acting as go-between, Antonina

set an evening for the conference, in the garden of Rufin-

ianae, a new country villa of Belisarius. Thither she would

go herself on the pretext of preparing to journey on, to join

Belisarius.

"It was perfectly done," Theodora assured her. "And our

gratitude will reward your devotion."

Before the day of the rendezvous, Theodora approached

Justinian with one of her customary sarcasms about the ex-

actions of his Economist. The man was capable of stealing

the throne!

Justinian, as usual, wanted the name of her informant.

"The wife of the Illustrious Belisarius."

"You would discover a plot in every whisper/'

"Perhaps/' Theodora seemed to dismiss the matter, which

was not characteristic of her. "In any event, Caesar will dis-

cover if there be truth in it."

Her departure left some uncertainty in Justinian's pre-

occupied mind. After making inquiries, he sent a warning

message to John through a mutual friend. "Under no condi-

tions hold any secret talk with Antonina."

This intrigued John, rather than deterred him. It seemed

desirable to hear what the emperor did not wish him to hear.

But he had his bodyguards follow him to the meeting.

JUSTIN TAX REDEEMER AND DEMON 189

Theodora had chosen her witnesses with inspiration Mar-

cellus, a guard captain whose thoughts did not stray beyond

duty, and Narses. They had an armed following and her

authority to arrest John if they heard treason discussed, and

to kill him if he resisted.

So, as if upon a theater stage, John made his entrance to

the dark garden where the two officers waited behind a trel-

lised wall, with John's swordsmen concealed behind him.

Antonina played her part well; John spoke his mind freely;

the listeners heard sufficient treason to bring them out with

a rush. In the free-for-all that ensued in the dark, one man

was wounded Marcellus, When he heard Narses' voice, John

broke away and escaped with his guards.

If he had gone straight to Justinian he might have escaped

entire. In his excitement he remembered the emperor's warn-

ing with new dread. If Antonina had baited the trap for

Narses, he decided too quickly, Justinian must have ordered

the trap set. And he fled to sanctuary in a church.

With the testimony of Narses, and the wound of Marcel-

lus, and the flight of John to act upon, Justinian could only

strip the Praetorian Prefect of all rank and confiscate his

property as belonging to a traitor. In sanctuary, John was

ordered to accept priesthood he refused to be ordained as

a bishop and exile to a church outside Constantinople.

Probably Theodora suggested it.

Very quickly Justinian showed signs of relenting. Much

of the culprit's wealth was restored. Since John had as much

more concealed, he began to live luxuriously as a priest he

had refused to perform the offices at the altar, and so had

kept open a way of return to his civil eminence. Wagers were

made in the city that the Cappadocian would shed his robe

for a cloak again.

Sheer luck prevented this. A fellow priest who disliked

him intensely was murdered by a band of youths, and John

was suspected of arranging it, although he had not done so.

Stripped of his robe and his belongings again, he was com-

190 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

pelled to stand naked as any felon, to be beaten with scourges

by strange inquisitors who paid no heed to his whispered

offers of gold.

Between scourgings they demanded all the details of his

misspent life. Writhing with pain and humiliation, John

could not think up answers to satisfy his examiners.

"Who sent the extortioners after the twenty solidi of the

ex-soldier . , . who ordered the skull compressor for his tor-

ture chambers . . . why did the Ephesian dancer drown her-

self in the garden pool of the Praetorian Prefect of the East?"

Only one person would have sent such anonymous ques-

tioners with scourges in their hands; Theodora alone could

have uncovered so many details of John's past life.

She had not finished with him. By due sentence of the

judges in his case the property he had gathered back during

his exile in church was confiscated again. One robe, a coarse

garment worth only a few obols, by Procopius' estimate,

covered his nakedness. So clad, he was escorted to a vessel

by new and unnamed guardians who did not reveal his desti-

nation. At sea he was obliged to beg bread and water from

the crew. Then, put ashore at a port in Egypt and given a

beggar's bowl, he was allowed to glean scraps of food and

copper coins in the streets before being shut up for the night

in a cell.

So the beggars of the waterfront where Theodora had

starved beheld the daily spectacle of the ex-patrician, ex-

consul, ex-Economist competing with them for charity. This

ended the career of John of Cappadocia but did not break his

spirit. Before long he made an attempt to regain favor with

the treasury by reporting how a clique of Alexandrine busi-

nessmen escaped their tax assessment.

Antonina had played her part so well, and had received

such evidence of favor within the portals of the Sacred

Palace, that she went with great anticipation to be given her

JUSTIN TAX REDEEMER AND DEM OX 191

reward when a messenger of the empiess announced that a

rare gift awaited her in the Daphne court. There she found

Theodora seated in state, with the Mistress of the Palace, the

Chamberlain, and the coterie of patrician girls attending her.

When Antonina made her formal prostration, she decided

that Theodora had never seemed more piquant and benign.

Even upon the throne seat the empress conveyed a sense of

sly intimacy between them. Actually, she spoke as if in dis-

creet jest. "Dearest patiician lady, yesterday a single pearl

came to my hand, such as I had never seen before. Do you

wish to see it? If you do, I shall show it you nay, I shall not

begrudge it you."

The solitary pearl, Antonina reflected swiftly, must be

magnificent, if Theodora would exhibit it before the court.

And surely Theodora meant to offer it, or she would not have

hinted at begrudging it. Of course! It would be a queenly

gesture, when the wife of Belisarius admiied the pearl, to

make a gift of it. "Indeed," murmured Antonina, "if it please

Your Clemency to show it."

Theodora nodded to a eunuch, who went to draw back the

curtain from a door. Out stepped Theodosius.

A splendid chlamys covered his familiar figure, eagles of

woven gold shone on his cloak, emeralds gleamed in artificial

leaves of ivy around his notable blond hair. At sight of the

man with whom she had been too intimate, whom slander

had named her pretty golden boy, Antonina was speechless.

The silent dignitaries of the court watched her. Theodora

waited. (The empress, it was learned later, had summoned

back Photius, the son of Antonina, who had been protected

by Belisarius after his accusation of his mother; questioned at

Hieron, Photius had disclosed where Theodosius hid himself

in a monastery; the order of Theodora had brought the nearly

desperate godson of Belisarius from his hiding to the Sacred

Palace unseen. )

Theodora waited. Rigid in the too massive jewels of her

192 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

court dress, beet-red with humiliation and surprise, Antonina

forced words from her lips. "I thankmy benevolent Mis-

tress, the ever merciful Augusta."

Xo one answered. Perfumed and anointed, Theodosius was

tongue-tied. When Antonina turned blindly and stumbled

out, he followed.

After receiving her gif t, Antonina hurried out of Constanti-

nople to journey as fast as carriages could take her to Beli-

sarius in the east. She did not dream again of advancing

herself in the Sacred Palace.

Having heard of her scheming against the Cappadocian

and her public appearance with Theodosius for rumor ran

more swiftly from Byzantium than couriers could travel the

downright Belisarius was angered and resentful. For a while

he kept Antonina shut up like a culprit. But she appeared

more devoted to him than before, and she no longer nagged

him about his lack of ambition. Procopius says she practiced

magic arts on him, but the Syrian historian had begun to

write with a venomous pen of the great ones above him.

Before long Antonina resumed her place at Belisarius' side.

She never forgave Theodora, but she never tiied again to

match her wits against the empress.

The troubled Photius and the unhappy Theodosius were

held in loose confinement. Apparently at liberty in the city,

Theodosius discovered that he could not leave it. Drinking

too much wine in the heat, he died of dysentery soon there-

after. Antonina took no observable notice of his death. Her

son Photius found that he could not leave the walls of Hieron,

where he served Theodora as hostage and informant. That is,

he escaped twice to neighboring sanctuaries, only to be

brought back by her servitors. The third time he got away to

Jerusalem, and there took the tonsure of a monk. Either

Theodora was content to have him in that distant sanctuary,

or she was too preoccupied to bother about him at that point.

Those who feared her and their number increased daily-

whispered that the cellars of her summer palace at Hieron

JUSTI XT AN REDEEMER A X D DEM OX 193

engulfed unfortunates who ciossed her will. The cellars had

been made into cells. Yet it was a strange prison from which

everyone managed to escape. It was a strange torment they

endured there, from which they emerged without scars on

their flesh but with new personalities ... so 'Theodora's

punishments" became proverbial in the city, with the em-

peror's new 'Justinians/'

With the passing of the Swordfish comet, a fresh phenome-

non appeared. It was in the water this time, a monster from

the mysterious outer Ocean. Invisible most of the time in the

depths of the Marmora and Bosphorus, the great monster

emerged to disport itself around rowing caiques or pleasure

barges, often overturning the small vessels and drowning

their occupants. Natural scientists from the university said it

was a leviathan known as a whale, which must have strayed

from the deeper seas.

The whale could not be wounded by arrows or javelins.

The Constantinopolitans christened it Porphyrius either in

memory of the famous charioteer or after a famous philoso-

pher. By some illogical process of thought, gossip connected

the misdeeds of Porphyrius with the unpredictable attacks of

the mistress of Hieron across the water. Then, as tragedies

seemed to multiply throughout the empire, many reflected

that the fire of the comet in the sky and the leviathan

emerging from the deeps must be tokens of the Revelation

foretold in the Scriptures in which the great Harlot should

come to land riding upon the Beast, to judge all men.

This popular concept of approaching doom was based

upon an actual fact. Until then Justinian and Theodora had

appeared to oppose each other readily enough. In conse-

quence the different factions and suppliants had appealed to

the sovereign favoring them. Those sentenced by the emperor

felt sure of a hearing before the empress. This dualism of

control had brought about a healthy political climate, clear

194 THEODORA AXD THE EMPEROR

of clouds of oppression. Now it began to appear that the

exquisite woman who spent so much time resting her body in

bed and refreshing herself in scented baths or so it seemed

really controlled events. Theodora had become more im-

placable than Justinian, who spent eighteen hours a day in

judging and deciding.

And that was true.

"In their trickery," Procopius relates, "they pretended

openly to take opposite sides, but secretly they were in full

agreement with each other . . . this tyrant who seemed so

good-natured and Theodora who was actually most harsh

and exceedingly difficult."

Now cunning, by Constantinopolitan standards, was a

virtue. To have been hoodwinked by the distinguished

couple on the throne would have amused and pleased the

sophisticates of the city. But to realize at long last that Theo-

dora had become a force behind Justinian's tearing down and

rebuilding of the state made them afraid, What was her

ultimate purpose?

Apparently she had merely the venial sins of Augusteon

societyambition, lust for power, avarice for gold. Yet Vigil-

ius, her confidant of earlier years, had become the Pope in

Rome; contrariwise the patriarch Anthimius, exiled by de-

cree, was her confidant just across the water; the powerful

John of Cappadocia had become a beggar in Africa. More

than that. Pillar-sitting saints of the east came to Constanti-

nople at her bidding. A hermit, Zooras, stalked through the

Sacred Palace to the very thrones of the sovereigns, calling

them sinners who gave no bread to the starving folk of the

eastern deserts. Neither of the imperial pair tried to hush the

hermit. Theodora listened without emotion, but Justinian

fainted or fell into a coma. "What can you do with such an

overbearing man?" he asked when he recovered.

"Theodora's monks," they were called. They took their

stand at the Venus statue in the square of the brothels, and

harangued the aristocratic clients; they pulled their lice-

JUSTINIAN' REDEEMER AND DEMON 195

infested robes over the clean red garments of prostitutes;

they sat in their dirt at the Baths of Zeuxippus, calling upon

the bathers to take thought for their souls; they appeared like

skeletons at feasts in Chrysopolis, spoiling the taste of the

spiced pheasants.

What was the woman after, the feasters wondered, who

already possessed everything that a human soul could desire?

In that spring of 542, Theodora was more than forty years

of age and certain that she would never give a son to Jus-

tinian. It was fantastic that she should have a young grand-

son, the child of her daughter in Alexandria, who could never

be brought to her side, even at Hieron. At the same time she

felt that she was losing her influence over her husband, who

had begun to treat her as a rival. In her anxiety the woman

of the circus found only two things to consult, her mirror and

Anthimius.

More often now she crossed the water to escape from the

palace and the sight of the Hippodrome. In the garden of

Hieron she could rest, while the old Anthimius put aside his

books to listen to her. Being still exiled and under anathema,

he had no one else to tell him of happenings outside the

garden. Oddly enough he had become greatly interested in

the obscure happenings close to him, like the rising of the

constellations at night.

"Must one thing be destroyed," she asked, "to give life to

another? Must that always happen?"

"My daughter is too wise to believe that."

"Your daughter is too stupid to believe otherwise, at this

moment."

But the patriarch could never cease to think of her as the

empress who sought for guidance. There were four angels of

destruction, he declared, who visited the earth bringing in-

vasion, war, pestilence, or famine. "Invasion has come and

passed. War has come."

"Does not one bring the other?"

196 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

At every question, Anthimius fingered his beard or glanced

longingly at his Scriptures, from which he longed to quote.

"One may follow the other, at God's will."

There was hunger enough in Italy, where the stubborn

Goths had taken up arms again. Yet Justinian urged his

generals to press the enemy.

Philosophers in Greece had argued such questions, she

supposed, since the time of Aristotle. Justinian had closed

the ancient School of Athens, because it was pagan, and

seven philosophers had fled from the empire to refuge in

Persia.

If he could be kept from enforcing his will. But he believed

that the will of the emperor must prevail over other powers.

Having created the new laws, he confiscated the property of

lawbreakers, and in so doing put himself above the law. Jus-

tinian persisted in keeping within his walls. Confined in that

manner, his tiring mind could not always sift out flattery and

lies from the unceasing reports and petitions brought in to

him.

Always she had one question to answer. Was Justinian so

pent up with his thoughts that he lost his grip on realities?

(He issued so many decrees that could not be carried out.)

Was he a prey to megalomania? Did he imagine, now, that he

could shape the minds and control the actions of the Oecu-

menon, the known world? Watching him in the Sacred

Palace, she often thought so.

Or had he become like an ascetic of the desert taking so

little food, burning from his mind all qualities except imagi-

nation alone? The imagination that pictured a world united

under his hands, vivified by one religious faith, obedient to

one law? When he sat motionless in the Great Church where

the dome rose above him like the vault of the night sky, it

seemed to her that this was the case.

She did not know the answer to the question. It was only

certain that, visibly weakening, he would not alter what he

imagined must be done.

JUSTINIAN REDEEMER AND DEMON 197

"The pestilence," she told Anthimius one evening, "has

begun."

Reports of it came first from the Red Sea shores, then from

Alexandria. It seemed to move inland from the coasts, so it

must have been carried by ships. It passed down the Nile,

then jumped to the Palestine shore, entered Jerusalem, and

advanced up the Syrian coast.

Superstitious tales ran before it. Invisible specters, the peo-

ple said, entered the streets striking down one human being

after another. The deaths made no pattern. In their secluded

gardens, the rich would be touched by the specters; devoted

souls in prayer before the altar might be stricken by the pain

and swelling.

"Men became mad and attacked each other," a refugee

from Syria told Theodora. "And they went out into the moun-

tains to die."

Anxiously Theodora asked the opinions of physicians. They

could only shake their heads, pointing out that since nurses

and the buriers of the dead usually escaped, it could not be

contagious. The plague seemed to move upon an invisible

transit of its own. The physicians added that Constantinople

was well protected against disease.

Refugees, however, were coming in from Alexandria, In

her anxiety, Theodora sent to Egypt. There the daughter

born to her before her marriage had matured and given birth

to a boy, now a half-grown child. When the pestilence in-

creased, instead of lessening, Theodora sent her servants for

the boy.

It was simple enough to have an unknown youngster trans-

ported with other fugitives, to an island near the city. No

one, in Constantinople as yet, knew Theodora's secret.

She confessed it all to Anthimius, who considered it in

silence. There could be no place, they both knew, for a child

in the palace who was not of Justinian's blood.

"Because of its sins/' he said, "this city will not escape. The

pestilence will not cease until it has come within these gates.

198 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

What happens then will be according to the will of the

Lord/'

The first consequence of the plague, however, was the

change in the war in Persia.

This war in the east, to which Belisarius had been sum-

moned, was no more than an episode in a conflict of eleven

centuries. It was really not so much a war as a meeting of

peoples.

In almost legendary times the first onrush of the Iranian

nomads had carried them into the west, over wealthy Croesus,

on the shore of the Middle Sea. These formidable Iranians

were an "Aryan" (Iranian) people like the Greeks who held

that sea. In the ebb and flow of conflict and trade between

them, the Iranians easily assimilated Hellenic culture a: 1

became known to the Greeks as Persians after the founding

of their far palace city, Persepolis. There had been efforts

of one antagonist to crush the other the Persians under

"Xerxes" penetrating once as far as Salamis, the Greeks under

Alexander of Macedon sweeping through the Persian domain

as far as India. Under the Parthian dynasty the easterners

sorely troubled the early Roman emperois with their Parthian

arrows.

After the emperors moved to Constantinople, and the Per-

sian Shahinshahs to Ctesiphon by the Tigris and Euphrates,

the ebb and flow intensified. Religion divided the antago-

nists when the Romans became Christians, the Persians re-

maining Zoroastrians. The unfortunate Julian tried to reach

Ctesiphon and died in the deserts after the breakup of his

army; another emperor, Valerian, became captive to a vic-

torious Persian. But neither antagonist had been able to

master the other for long. The military conflicts had been

no more than episodes in the long clash and mingling of the

two human entities.

"We are like two lighthouses," a Persian ambassador once

declared in Constantinople, "that illuminate the world/*

JUSTINIAN REDEEMER AND DEMON 199

So it was. Did not the three legendary Magi, the "kings of

the east/' journey to Bethlehem? The laws of the Medes and

the Persians became proverbial before Justinian's Code. A

Persian prince designed Theodora's house and sons of reign-

ing monarchs had been sent to the rival court for an educa-

tion. Even the Vandals copied Persian dress. In the Sacred

Palace the staging of visual splendor imitated similar effects

at Ctesiphon, where the carpets were woven of silver orna-

ments upon a gold ground, and emeralds gave color to artifi-

cial lawns, and strings of pearls formed streams. From Dio-

cletian's time, emperors had clad themselves in Persian

regalia. Their courts adopted the prostration of the land of

the Magi. Insensibly, in so doing, these eastern emperors had

assumed some of the semidivine attributes of the "King of

I- gs, companion of the stars, brother of the sun." The em-

p ^rors had become something more than human. The very

crowds of the Hippodrome, with nostalgic memory of a van-

ishing democracy, saluted them as "chosen by God/'

At the same time Roman culture penetrated the east. It

was carried thither mostly by refugees. There the self -exiled

Nestorian Christians followed their own way of life and built

their churches patiently through Asia exerting an influence

on the Asiatics as great as the conquest of Alexander They

could do so because the Zoroastrians were, in the main, toler-

ant of other religions. Khusrau himself welcomed to his court

seven of the pagan philosophers, fugitives from the School of

Athens, closed by Justinian. With them the Persian monarch

debated the ethics of Aristotle, and when the fugitives be-

came homesick he sent them back with honor to Justinian,

requesting his rival not to persecute them. (Justinian agreed

not to do so, and kept his word. )

The chivalric, impetuous Khusrau differed entirely from

the cautious, stubborn Justinian. The Roman was defensive,

the Persian who spent his life in the saddle aggressive; the

Roman was monarch of an empire built upon ancient democ-

racies, clinging to the coasts of the sea, sustaining itself labo-

200 THEODORA AXD THE EMPEROR

dously by trade; the Persian, greatest of a dynasty, the

Sassaman, ruled by sheer ability a feudal dominion, agricul-

tural, intensely religious, confined to the inland continent.

The Sassanians declared, "There can be no power without an

army, no army without money, no money without agricul-

ture, and no agriculture without justice."

Khusrau Anushirvan Adil was called "The Just." And he

was the son of a philosophic reformer king. He had accepted

the "peipetual truce" with Justinian to put his own house in

order by purging Mazdakean communist cults internally and

driving the dangerous White Huns eastward. While thus

engaged he jested with Justinian, who did not appreciate

jests. "Surely you owe us part of the Vandal treasure, because

without our aid in keeping hands off, you would never have

got it."

Justinian sought earnestly to keep the peace along the

stabilized frontier between them, and to keep trade circu-

lating. But Khusrau turned to war in the Caucasus, and rode

to Antioch. There, magnanimously, he left one gate un-

guarded for civilians to escape, and he sent back a captured

relic, a fragment of the True Cross. He said this was no use

to him, and the Christians revered it. Besides, he meant to

ride to Jerusalem himself, very soon.

Behind his gasconades, however, Khusrau the Just had a

purpose well understood by the son of Sabbatius. The Per-

sians were attempting to break through the Roman frontier

cordon to the seas to the Euxine itself by forcing the passes

of the Caucasus, and to the vital Middle Sea at the Syrian

coast. Khusrau's bath in the Middle Sea had been symbolic

of his intentions. At the same time he mocked the Romans

by building two suburbs near Ctesiphon which he named

"AntioclT and "New Rome*' while he populated them with

captives taken in the war.

Then Justinian sent Belisarius east to stop Khusrau. There

was nothing else he could send.

JUSTINIAN REDEEMER AND DEMON 201

The champion of the Romans returned warily to the shat-

teied eastern front in those years of decision, 540-542. As

usual, he faced a seemingly impossible task.

Ahead of him, the frontier itself stretched from the no-

man's land of the far northern steppes where roved the

Hunnic tribes, through the Caucasus mountain barrier, with

its restless Armenians and Lasgis, down through the foothills

of the great trade routes, into the southern prairies and

deserts six hundred miles of geographical difficulties. Only

in the foothill region did the Romans have forts like Daras

to guard the roads.

To defend this vast terrain Belisarius could dispose of

barely twenty thousand men, who could be counted on to

stand against the Persians only behind walls. Against him the

Persian Asuaran or noble-born knights might send horsemen

in overwhelming numbers, who could ride around fortifi-

cations.

As usual, he could rely entirely only on his veteran comi-

tatus. The Vandal and Goth volunteers good swordsmen in

a stand-up affray sickened in the eastern heat, and drank

heavily to ease their sickness; they could not be prevented

from plundering and killing off the native population, at a

time when Belisarius was trying to rally support from Arab

tribesmen and Armenian villagers.

Perhaps Belisarius lacked the inspired decision of his early

years. Before moving at all, he delayed to call the leaders of

his motley command into council, to explain what he wanted

done. It was seldom done as he wanted. A flying column of

tribesmen that he sent into Persian territory vanished with its

loot. When he concentrated around the key forts of the

Daras-Euphrates mid-region, a strong Persian army by-

passed him, to forge through the Caucasus heights and cap-

ture the port of Petra "The Rock" on the vital shore of the

Euxine. The loss of Petra alarmed Justinian.

Once Belisarius showed a flash of his old skill. Crossing

the Euphrates, he maneuvered and tricked a Persian strong-

202 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

hold into surrender. (This success caused Kiiusrau to return

to the Caucasus. )

But at Constantinople Justinian heard complaints that

Belisarius remained inactive and afraid to face the army of

the Sassanian king. The loss of Petra rankled. When Beli-

sarius continued to hang back from the enemy, Justinian

summoned him to the palace for consultation.

Early in the spring of 542 the sun telegraph flashed its

warning from the river Euphrates to Constantinople. The

mirrored flashes spelled out their message: Khusrau was on

the march up the river, with Jerusalem as his objective.

At the time, Belisarius was in conference with Justinian.

The emperor ordered his general to safeguard the Holy City,

There were no troops in Palestine.

Immediately Belisarius started back over the six hundred

f

miles of post roads to the Euphrates. Through the Bithynian

hills he raced, changing horses as he reached each station.

On the highlands by Ancyra (Ankara) he changed to char-

iots drawn by picked teams. Leaving the forested valleys of

Cappadocia, he sped southeast, through ancient Armenian

towns. Then he came out on the post route made centuries

before by Persian kings for their own convenience.

In the foothills he met a courier from Buzes and the other

army commanders. They reported that Khusrau was ad-

vancing up the Euphrates in great strength; since they did

not know where he would strike, they were concentrating

around the defenses of Hierapolis, between Edessa and

Antioch, where they hoped that Belisarius could reach them

without being cut off by the Persians.

Now Hierapolis lay along the defense line of the foothills

through which Belisarius was hurrying. Far to the south, the

Persian army could swing west across the great plains,

grazing on the fresh grass not yet killed by summer heat. By

following a caravan track to the south it could reach Damas-

cus and enter Jerusalem unopposed.

JUSTIN I AX REDEEMER A X D DEMON 203

To check Khusrau's march at this point, Belisarius would

need to drag his mixed command out of its defenses, down

into the Mesopotamian plain. That might well be the end of

his field army of twelve thousand men. To do so at all, the

anxious generalissimo would need to cope with the appre-

hensions of his officers and the dread of the still unseen

Persians that permeated the small army.

Under the circumstances, he must have pondered carefully

the wording of his answer to the commanders at the Hier-

apolis base to cajole them and sting them mto action. "If

Chosroes [Khusrau] were moving against another people

than the Roman, your plan would be well chosen for the

greatest possible safety. But since he is advancing against a

territory of the Emperor Justinian that is without defense,

you will accomplish nothing except to save yourselves with-

out a fight. And that would rightly be called not salvation but

treason."

Belisarius added that he was proceeding direct to the cara-

van town of Europos on the lower river, where they should

join him by forced marches. Whether the commanders were

reassured, or stung, by his irony, they hurried after him.

Picking up contingents of armed men as he rode, Belisarius

reached the desert junction point of Europos before the Per-

sians. By then he had his veteran household troops with him.

But scouts brought in the worst possible news. Khusrau had

crossed the river below them. The Persian engineers, it

seemed, had demountable bridges in which the wooden por-

tions fitted together on iron hooks. The host of many tens of

thousands was on the Roman side of the river. No obstacle,

not so much as a canal, remained between the invaders and

Belisarius.

The situation being as bad as it could be, Belisarius put a

bold face on it. By sending a mounted regiment to maneuver

along the far bank, he made a pretense of closing in on the

Persians the one thing he could not do, in reality. Then he

204 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

waited to see how the Persians would react. ( Meanwhile the

regiments from Hierapohs were coming in hourly. )

Khusrau was younger and more impulsive. With the Ro-

mans showing themselves at Europos, he could not turn aside

toward the coast. Not, at least, without learning something

of their strength and purpose. Why were they marching

heedlessly into the open, instead of staying as usual behind

their walls? When he discovered that Belisarius awaited him

at the caravan junction, he became more thoughtful. He

longed to know what land of a man this legendary Roman

might be, and what he meant to do in his peculiar situation.

Quickly enough Khusrau's royal curiosity impelled him to

send an envoy to find out. Selecting an experienced diplomat,

Abandanes, he instructed him to make some excuse for a

conference, to study the Roman commander face to face, and

to observe the equipment and spirit of this odd northern

army.

With a spasm of hope, Belisarius agreed to receive the

Persian. Then, rapidly, he arranged his stage as he had done

at Rome with the Goths, to bewilder a diplomat-spy. Hurry-

ing out a way from Europos, he set up a festive pavilion on

a rise, and gave careful stage directions to his veteran but

varied followers.

When Abandanes was led within the Roman lines he be-

held no military formation at all. On one side of him dark

horsemen cantered about, making test of their bows. What

would they be? the envoy of Khusrau asked. Moors, his

guides informed him, from the farthest corner of the earth.

On the other side blond young giants clustered about packs

of dogs, trying out their javelins. And what were these?

Vandals they were who, like the Moorish riders, had been

conquered by Belisarius and had come to serve him. What

were they all doing? Why, preparing to hunt gazelles and

hares.

No one except the guides paid any apparent attention to

the Persian. When he neared the pavilion on the hill, Aban-

JUSTIX1 AX REDEEMER AND D E M O X 205

danes found himself in the midst oi other hunters, and ath-

letes pitching the stone and wrestling. He learned they were

Goths, Balkans, and Dalmatian Slavs, at their usual games.

All seemed physical giants Belisarius had picked them for

size heeding only theii sports.

Fierce-looking riders on shaggy ponies swept near, tossing

a ram's head from hand to hand the only game the Herulian

Huns knew. Climbing the hill, Abandanes could not guess

the number of soldiers because they extended to the sky line.

There might be a thousand of them or a hundred thousand.

Not a helmet or breastplate could be seen, except on Beli-

sarius.

In silvered cuirass, pleated satin hit, and plumed half

helmet the celebrated general amused himself with his staff

over fruit and wine. Courteously but without great interest

he greeted the Persian, who studied every line of his face.

When Abandanes assumed a herald's portentous tone, to de-

clare that his lord the King of kings had failed to receive

ransom and tribute payments of gold from Caesar (Justinian)

and so, therefore, had entered the dominion of Caesar with

his armed strength, Belisarius interrupted as if not wishing to

be bothered by official business.

"Then Choesroes doesn't act at all like other men. If they

have a dispute with a neighbor, they discuss it first, and if

they aren't satisfied, then they go to war. But he comes into

the midst of the Romans the first tiling, and afterward begins

to suggest a peace."

"He has said no word about peace."

"Then why did you come here?"

The shrewd Persian, not caring to explain that, wondered

audibly why Caesar's illustrious general should occupy him-

self with trifles, instead of the vital matter of the safety of

his land. At this Belisarius laughed. Why shouldn't he and

his men amuse themselves? The Roman Empire lay safe

within its encircling forts; it was Khusrau who had en-

dangered his state by venturing himself among the Romans.

206 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

The bluff succeeded. Abandanes reported to his king that

he, at least, had never seen such soldiers, and their leader

surely had courage and sagacity. Moreover, the Romans

made such display of heedlessness, they must have great

stiength at hand. If so, then Khusrau had really endangered

himself by advancing among them. It might be well to delay

while doing as Belisarius suggested, sending terms for Jus-

tinian to accept or not.

The upshot of the comedy of the Roman-army-on-holiday

was that the Persian army disengaged itself and retired

slowly down the Euphrates. Belisarius, who had no least wish

to prevent it, followed warily. Recrossing the river, Khusrau

abandoned the campaign, talcing a hostage from the Romans

as pledge for the truce interval while he negotiated with

Justinian. He also sacked a Roman town on the far bank, an

incident that had its consequences later at Constantinople.

Procopius, who was very glad to be still alive on the bank

of the Euphrates, asserts that this maneuvering of Belisarius

was a greater triumph than the victories in Africa and Italy.

Jerusalem was saved. While Belisarius' prompt action un-

doubtedly turned the Persians back with the wreckage of

only one town, the actual cause of Khusrau's withdrawal

must have been tidings that the plague was spreading

through the Roman lands.

It entered the province of Syria. By trading ships and high-

ways the pestilence moved inexorably toward Constantino-

ple. (The rats that slipped from the grain ships at the docks

of the Golden Horn carried the bubonic germs into the

streets of the city; the lice and fleas of the caravans infected

human beings along the roads.)

Waiting on the Euphrates frontier, for once relaxed and

reasonably tee of care, Belisarius was surprised to receive a

peremptory summons to return with Buzes and other com-

manders to conference in the Sacred Palace. The order had

the familiar signature Justinian Caesar Imp. traced by a

woman's hand. The couriers who brought it said the plague

JUSTINIAN REDEEMER AND DEMON 207

had seized the capital and Theodora Augusta was issuing

orders.

Belisarius discussed it with his staff and then obeved the

y

Older.

'The disease reached Byzantium in the middle of the

spring when I happened to be diere. It seized on people in

this manner: they felt a sudden fever, when just w T akened

from sleep or even when walking about. Being of a languid

sort, this fever roused no suspicion of danger at first in those

afflicted, or in the physicians attending them. But sometimes

on the same day, sometimes on the day following, a bubonic

swelling developed in the groin or armpit, 01 beside the ears

or on the thigh. There followed either a deep coma or violent

delirium. Those under the coma forgot their friends and

seemed to be sleeping. If they were cared for, they would

eat without waking; if not, they would die at once."

So Procopius records the symptoms of the most terrible

plague for a thousand years of history.

"Those who were delirious could not sleep, and those at-

tending them suffered from exhaustion. They could not easily

take food, and if water chanced to be near, they wished to

fall into it. If neither coma nor delirium came on, the bubonic

swelling decayed and the sufferer died . . . suffering came

without warning, and recovery was due to no external cause.

Only when the swelling rose and a discharge of pus began,

it happened that many escaped.

"At first each man attended to the dead in his house. After-

ward, people shut themselves within their doors and would

not answer calls. The dead were carried to the edge of the

sea and flung down. Slaves wandered about without masters,

and masters lost the service of their slaves. Nay, those who

in the past delighted in baseness, shook off their unrighteous-

ness and zealously practised the duties of religion. Then, i

they had the disease and rid themselves of it, they went back

to their former baseness, feeling themselves safe.

208 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

"During this time you seldom saw a man in the streets.

Within this city, so provided with good things, starvation

was running apace. For those still alive kept sitting within

their houses. Nor would you see one wearing the [official]

chlamys, especially after the emperor became ill. Yes, in the

city that held dominion over all the Roman Empire, men

wore the clothing of private citizens/'

While he was able to do so, Justinian had tried to check

the spread of the pestilence. Physicians could suggest no

remedies or rather each one had a different thing to try.

Military patrols were sent out from the palace, and funds

were allotted for food. Supply ships no longer put in. For a

while trenches outside the walls served for graves; then the

officer in charge of burials had bodies thrown into the towers

of the fortifications across the harbor. When the wind blew

from that quarter it brought the stench back into the city.

After a time the soldiers reported that they handled five

thousand bodies a day.

It seemed as if the pestilence must dimmish after that, but it

took its toll for two months more, and in the end perhaps half

the inhabitants came down with it. Yet in spite of the urging

of Theodora and Narses, Justinian refused to leave his palace.

Hieron, secluded in its gardens across the water, escaped

with few deaths. But the thronged kbyrinth of the Sacred

Palace became a nightmare abode. A lamenting crowd

pressed against the brazen Chalk6 to beseech aid from the

emperor. The marble benches of the Augusteon were de-

serted. In the corridors guards strained their eyes to catch a

glimpse of the elusive demons that seized upon their vic-

tims and passed on.

Justinian discovered that it quieted the throngs to see him

close by. Always the emperor had been visible only as a with-

drawn figure, robed and raised above them. Not that the

throngs had any knowledge of the human being, Peter, son

of Sabbatius. They recognized only the wearer of the diadem,

resplendent as an archajagel.

JUSTINIAN REDEEMER AND DEMON 209

Understanding that, he sat long hours in the hall of audi-

ence; daily at a fixed hour he moved in procession out of his

doors through the crowds to the wailing mass at the portico

of the Great Church. He walked afoot without his diadem,

with incense swinging, beside the patriarch to his seat in the

church, to the chant of the Trisagion. He heard the agony in

voices below him: "Give bread to thy people . . * drive out

the demons of Hades that have entered thy city ... let the

saints witness, we have suffered enough . . . Thrice August,

give aidl"

By sitting there, hour after hour, Justinian gave the only

aid he could.

The days disturbed Theodora. Leaving the palace after the

long ordeal in the Great Church, she entered her canopied

barge, to be borne to her own house. There the lowered

voices of her women, the touch of massage, the fresh smell

of growing things relieved her exhaustion. The messengers

from the island assured her that her young grandson was

vital with health, and safe from contact with fugitives from

the city. It seemed as if in crossing the water each day she

escaped death. She hated to go back.

Yet in Hieron, shaped by her will, with every flower bowl

and brazier made to suit her taste, she began to feel nar-

rowed within herself. She could not understand her malaise.

It was like the feeling of the earliest days in the Hippodrome

when no man protected her or wanted to hire Theodora the

mimic.

Anthimius only shook his head. It mattered not at all

where she might be, he thought. In the desert, water could

flow from a rock, a cloud might give covering, and a fire give

light in the night.

When the messenger came from Narses to inform her that

Justinian lay ill with fever, she went to her sleeping chamber

to sit alone for a while by the alabaster screen of the window.

In the soft blued light from the gossamer curtains she re-

laxed in the quiet ttat she craved Then she called her hand-

210 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

maidens to dress her for public appearance without diadem,

jewels, or veil. She told the Mistress of the Wardrobe that

they would move into the Daphne.

There she took her place by Justinian's bed.

After the third day of vigil there were signs that Justinian

would recover. He had fallen into the coma of the pestilence;

the swelling discharged and his flesh became wet instead of

dry with the fever. Narses, who had waited like a grieving

dog in a corner of the chamber, curled up and slept.

Each day Theodora took Justinian's place in the procession

to the Great Church. As he had done, she listened to the

exhortation of the people. So long as they had sight of the

imperial power, they held to an irrational hope, although the

bodies were still carried by the thousands across the harbor

to the deserted suburb.

Justinian came out of his coma too slowly. It was evident

that his speech and memory had been affected. Although

only the silentiaries of his chambers, the physicians, and offi-

cials like Narses had been allowed knowledge of his sickness,

the news seeped out into the streets.

There the rumor became connected with the presence of

Theodora. Gossip had it that the empress called in a mad

hermit who laid a spell upon Justinian, depriving him of

speech and thought. "She who has given birth t& no child/'

women added, "must have the curse of God upon her."

When the death toll for a day dropped below three thou-

sand, Theodora sent announcers through the streets, to cry

that the pestilence was ceasing and Justinian recovering. She

had the Hippodrome thrown open, with choruses, dancers,

and mimics to perform.

The day came when she went with Justinian to the im-

perial box, taking the throng in the Hippodrome by surprise,

During the tumult of rejoicing few observers noticed that

Justinian said nothing, barely moved, and was led out very

quickly.

< He will take the salutation of foreign envoys, command-

JUSTINIAN REDEEM EB AND DEMON 211

ing officers, and some petitioners in the morning audience/'

she assured the anxious Master of Offices. "Then, between

us, we will hear their urgencies. We will promise that the

Augustus may pass upon all questions, and the next day we

will return the answers ourselves."

It was possible to do this, because Justinian needed only

to be seated on the throne, which could be obscured with

clouds of incense, during the silent prostration. Then the

veils could be let down before him, while he was carried

back to his bed.

On her part Theodora had little sleep. Never before had

she been called upon to play so many roles, and to pretend

so much. Within the hours of an afternoon's sitting in the

Triclinium she might have to flatter the pride of an ambassa-

dor of the beastlike Avars, who brought silver talismans and

expected to be kden with bar gold; she might show herself

implacable to the revered priests of the Franks, and then

listen sympathetically to missionaries from Colchis who pro-

tested the waging of the war Justinian would not cease, or

match wits with a silk-clad satrap of Persia, who took any

refusal as a slight to his King of kings, while he schemed for

advantages.

Then there were the anxieties. Peter Barsymes, the clever

Syrian who had taken the Cappadocian's place, complained

that the generals in Italy were using their troops to seize local

property claimed for taxes by the Economist, Alexander the

Scissors; at Alexandria, after the passing of the pestilence, a

mad revivalist drew mobs after him by preaching the end of

the world.

There was the horror of starvation setting in. ...

One face that peered up at her in awe seemed faintly

familiar. Middle-aged and plump, it was still the face of

Cosmas the Merchant, who had nursed her in her wander-

ings. She cut short his labored salutation. "Good Cosmas, did

you ever find the mountain of the sun?"

Surprised, he stared at the beautiful empress. No, lie had

212 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

not managed to do that, Cosmas explained; but he had fared

to the mountains of the river Nile that flowed out of Paradise;

his eyes had beheld uncanny giraffes, and dragons of the sea.

Evidently he did not recognize Theodora. And Cosmas him-

self now wore a monk's robe. "Lo, I have discovered," he

cried, "the hidden shape of the earth."

"Where did you see that?"

"Here in the treasury I beheld its form. For the earth hath

a Christian shape. Venly it is flat as the golden table of the

temple of Jerusalem, and the stars light it from above, like

the flames in the candlestick.

"And the wavy line around the edge of the holy table,"

Cosmas added triumphantly, "is the sign of the Ocean that

surrounds us."

In the evening, when she had bathed, Theodora would sit

by the sick man, telling him what turn events had taken,

while Narses listened closely. Although Justinian could speak

only a word at a time, he seemed to have his old memory for

details. By degrees she learned to sense his thoughts from

his intonation.

"Petra," he repeated over and over. The Rock. The seaport

of the Caucasus. It must be recaptured and the passes of the

Caucasus freed from Persian control. And this at a moment

when Peter Barsymes had made excuse to hold back the pay

of the army posts on the Italian front.

"St. Vitalis," Justinian whispered, pointing to the mosaic

pattern of the sky on the ceiling. The church of St. Vitalis in

Ravenna. It was ordered to be stripped of the mosaics that

pictured the religion of Theodoric and Arian Goths. Justinian

wanted portraits of himself and his empress to be set in the

walls.

Slyly he touched her face with his plump finger, mur-

muring something about a gift. Some gift for her? He per-

sisted in saying the word, until she understood. It had been

years since he had called her "My Gift."

As time went on, both she and Narses realized that, while

JUSTINIAN REDEEMER AND DEMON 213

Justinian was recovering his physical strength, his mind had

altered. Although it seemed tenacious as always, some inten-

sity had gone from it. He did not leave his sleeping loom

willingly. Instead of reading voraciously as he had been

accustomed to do, he liked to have her read to him.

"What if he had died?" Narses dared to ask once, when

Justinian slept. "Would the senate and the army have sup-

ported you, or Belisarius?"

That night Theodora signed the order recalling the Master

of the Armed Forces and his generals from the east.

No other man in the empire had served Justinian so un-

questioningly, or had less mind to conspiracy. That very in-

tegrity made Belisarius dangerous. With Justinian gone, or

incapacitated, the victorious soldier might listen to new ad-

visers who would find him an ideal figurehead to set upon

the throne. Ironically, the very wars begun by Justinian

made it necessary for Belisarius to succeed him. Nor would

Antonina have the least mercy for the widowed empress.

Theodora struck swiftly. Upon the arrival of the command-

ers, she had Buzes escorted to Hieron and confined, for her

questioning. Evidence had come to her, she assured Buzes,

that he, a soldier of an old aristocratic family, had talked in

the east of a successor to the Caesar of the empire. Of what

successor? And what had been planned by whom?

The startled general insisted that he had merely talked

about the pestilence, and what might happen in Constanti-

nople. After a while he admitted that he and several others

but not Belisarius had agreed that they would not accept an

emperor chosen in the city during their absence.

With this one detail confirmed, Theodora kept Buzes out

of communication (to release him after two years, a silent

and cautious man). To her court in the Sacred Palace, with

Narses at her side, she summoned Belisarius.

There she played the part of a judge, cold and implacable.

Belisarius had been the one man she admired once, in the

214 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

House of Hormisdas, she had thought of him as a husband.

Knowing him to be courageous, and having no valid evidence

against him, she struck at his pride, and took from him what

lie valued intensely, his hold upon the army.

She denied the rumor that there was a charge of treason

against the Master of the Armed Forces, Yet there remained

the facts that he had hesitated to take action in the east, had

allowed the Persians to break through the Caucasus, had

looked on while Khusrau laid waste a Roman town, and had

talked foolishly with his staff officers.

All of this Belisarius denied instantly. If the empress, he

demanded, had doubt of his courage she should allow him

to return to his duty and he would satisfy her.

In answer Theodora showed him an order from Justinian,

depriving him of his eastern command, confiscating his prop-

erty, and taking away the comitatus of veterans that had fol-

lowed him for twenty-four years. Upon Belisarius himself no

direct punishment was inflicted. Thereafter, he might go

where he wished and do what he pleased.

Perhaps the most savage blow was the loss of his house-

hold troops. The famous comitatus was to be divided among

the high officers even the eunuch commanders in Constan-

tinople by lot. Theodora made certain that Belisarius could

not muster again the personal army he had trained for a

generation. Acting as she did, with Narses at her side, most

spectators would conclude that she had been influenced by

the eunuch.

Without protest, the conqueror of Gelimer and Vitigis ac-

cepted his demotion. In the desolation of the epidemic's end,

there was no public outcry. People merely wondered at

seeing the first general of the empire going about the streets

without escort or fife-playing.

The grieving Procopius, however, had much to say, be-

hind barred doors. His hero had been made a victim of the

hatred of the wanton Theodora, who had cast a blight on

the empire. Had not the evil demons of the plague appeared

JUSTINIAN REDEEMER AND DEMON 215

where Theodora had sinned unspeakably in those early years

of wandering over the very track of the plague, from Alex-

andria to Constantinople?

Perhaps because Belisarius accepted disgrace without

complaint, but more probably because she had planned it so

from the first, Theodora appeared to relent. An imperial

messenger walked into his house and handed him a written

decree. "You are the best judge of your actions of the past.

Now all charges against you are dismissed. Your life is safe.

Let your actions show what your feelings are, in truth,

toward us."

At once Belisarius asked to be restored to command in the

east. This Justinian and Theodora refused. They returned

two thirds of the soldier's property the equivalent of six

thousand pounds of gold, by tally of the assessors. With that

he was allowed to go back to the army. Not, however, as

Master of the Armed Forces, but as Constable. This, being

little more than a court title, gave the brilliant soldier no

direct command.

Because the conflict in Italy had gone from bad to woise,

Belisarius was ordered to go there to raise an army. His

comitatus that had been the spearhead of his campaigns was

scattered over the map. No amount of gold could restore the

matchless body of men.

As she had meant to do, Theodora had broken down the

legend that surrounded Belisarius, and in so doing she had

made an irretrievable mistake.

The Roman strategy of defense, sharpened by Justinian,

relied on barriers of fortified posts, with a fleet in readiness

to transport a small mobile army to any danger point. Beli-

sarius had been the brains of that striking force, his comi-

tatus the veteran nucleus of the army.

When he left the presence of his master and mistress, the

single-minded soldier must have realized that Justinian was

a sick man, no longer the architect of predestination. Per-

haps, also, he wondered if he had not caused calamity in

216 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

Italy by refusing to agree to Justinian's peace with the Goths;

perhaps for the first time he saw himself as he leally was, a

gifted commander of a single army who had never been able

to bring a war to an end.

Theodora had not finished with him. Before he embarked,

uncomplaining, for the western front she invited him to talk

with her, alone upon the canopied roof of the Daphne.

Never had she made such an appeal as this to Belisarius.

What she confided in him and what he may have objected,

we do not know. In the end she drew a pledge from him,

knowing that he would keep a pledge. Between the two of

them, his young daughter Joannina was betrothed to Theo-

dora's grandson Anastasius, to be married when they came of

age. Belisarius had no other child, nor had she.

With the end of the summer the plague lessened in Con-

stantinople. After it came the hunger.

From all the outlying provinces except Africa and the far

shores of the Euxine appeals poured in from the exarchs and

prefects for the basic foodsbread, salt, olive oil, and wine.

It was strange to hear the cry of starving people in the

wealthiest of the world's domains. Gold could not buy bread

where no grain had been harvested.

The mechanism of supply had broken down. The delicate

apparatus by which crops were bought, to be distributed

by ships and transport trains to the cities, had ceased to

operate. More barbaric communities where each village pro-

duced its own grain and livestock fared better. Thronging

the forest lands, Goths, Herules, Bulgars, and Slavs suffered

less than the multitudes pressing into the cities.

Theodora found it hard to believe some of the reports that

reached her, telling of districts changed as if visited by an

earthquake. No shipping moved from the docks of Ephesus,

because no crews remained to sail them. The streets of

Pelusium lay deserted by the people, who had fled into the

desert haunts of Sinai. Looms in Bithynia had been aban-

JUSTINIAN REDEEMER AND DEMON 217

loned for lack of wool, Irrigation wheels turned steadily in

he Orontes River, but they watered fields where no seed had

>een planted.

"The world is accursed," a refugee cried at her, "for foxes

atten in my village, while my people dig roots in the wilder-

tess"

The breakdown in human relationships was the greatest

rvil. Children survived without parents; the men of a family

iad been lost; mills lacked owners to operate them; soldiers

eleased from the fighting fronts wandered in search of their

amilies. . . .

Theodora felt her helplessness. Justinian's mind could no

Dnger grasp what suffering went on, far from the city. Their

>rivate reserves of coin had been spent. Impatiently she chal-

enged Peter Barsymes to find stocks of food. The new

..ogothete had promised her to accomplish more than the

^appadocian; his dark eyes admired her covertly, even when

te excused himselfwhich John had never done. He needed

noney, vast sums of it.

Fleetingly she wished to hand over her caskets of jewels

o him, but she would not part with the precious stones.

Man," she cried at Peter, "do something!"

Inclining his head as if he had expected her words, he

tinted that there was a way to double the amount of coin

Q the treasury without adding any gold.

"We are not sorcerers, to turn lead into gold."

No, Peter admitted, they were not; but she had power to

lo so by recoining the old gold into twice as many solidi

f she could coax Justinian to do it.

To Theodora it appeared as if they were being punished

or their attempt to change the natural order of life. Clearly

snough the deserts of the hermits, the remote islands of fisher

oik, and barbarian mountain villages had been spared. Jus-

inian, struggling against his weakness, fancied that the

orces opposed to him had been strengthened by the pesti-

ence.

218 THEODORA AND THE EMPEROR

Magnates who had kept their bodyguard-armies seized

what they needed, and enforced their own laws. Peasant

farmers rebelled against paying taxes for devastated lands

Peter Barsymes put his fears into blunt words. "We are im-

poverished. We cannot bring back wealth, because years

must pass before normal crops can be gathered inor taxes."

Justinian longed then for the mad genius of John of Cappa-

docia, to ward off the poverty of the treasury. For Peter in-

sisted that they could stave off disaster by lowering the gold

content in coins, to possess more expendable money during

the crisis. This Justinian would not do. Only by one sixth did

he allow the Economist to lessen the gold in a solidus. Nor

would he reduce the tax scale, except to allow a captured

city or a devastated district a year's exemption from taxes.

Meanwhile government agencies bought what supplies they

could by requisition

"The Caesars of old," he muttered, "cheapened the gold

aureus to one half its worth, and by so doing they cheated

their people."

"As Caesar says/'

That evening Theodora was walking with him along the

bridle path by the hospital of the sick in mind.

"The hunger will end," Justinian insisted, "but if we

cheapen the coinage that will go on and on."

Over them passed the night breeze from the Bosphorus,

toward the glow of sunset. Lifting her tired head to the

breeze, Theodora heard a burst of song in the dusk on the

water.

"What are the seamen laughing at?" demanded Justinian.

"They do not see us, Caesar. No, they are singing, not

laughing, and I think they are from the Ionian islands." By

force of habit she interpreted the voices to him. Of late he

found it hard to understand them, and he became suspicious

of shouting. Theodora laughed herself, and explained. "They

are singing 'Why did you break the statue by the fountain,

Old Man? Into pieces you broke it and something alive flew

JUSTINIAN REDEEMER AND DEMON 219

away. Old Man, something flew away on the wind toward

the stars, and you did it by breaking the statue in pieces/ "

"A pagan song!"

Yes, a pagan song. Something young and alive rising fiom

the dead, broken statue. Catching her breath, she appealed

suddenly to the man at her side. "How many are the statues

of the old Caesars, the Julians and the Constantines! Why do

you bind your thoughts to them? We've never set eyes on

Rome. Peter comes from my land, and Narses from the Ar-