Triumph (18 page)

The men who surrounded the Emperor were politicians, still too many of them patricians, greedy for advancement in both sinecures for themselves and income and employment for their relatives. They counselled a person who enjoyed untrammelled power against any individual and as a defence against arbitrary judgement they formed self-protective cliques to temper that power.

Justinian stood abruptly. ‘Come with me.’

There being no doubt as to whom he was addressing, Flavius could again hear a sound, this time made up of sighs and grunts. Narses got a black look before he obeyed, following Justinian out of the audience chamber and tailing him to his private apartments where, once past the guards, his servants, no doubt well able to read the imperial mood, quickly left them alone.

‘You seem not to fear angering me.’

‘I admit to my guilt.’

‘And if I said I am tempted to send you to the dungeons so that you may see the folly of that?’

A swift and shallow bow of the head was appropriate; Justinian was just capricious enough to follow up on such a suggestion. ‘You have that right, Excellency, though I cannot think it would raise respect for you anywhere should you exercise it.’

‘That sounds very much like a threat.’

‘It was not intended as one.’

‘I sense an overmighty subject, one who thinks himself my equal.’

‘Since I cannot be both I will settle to be a subject.’

If it was unstated both knew what they were talking about: Ravenna.

‘Can you not see how you have diminished me by the way you have just behaved?’

‘I see that I have treated you as I have always done, honouring your office while remembering how you always welcomed that I told you the truth.’

‘Are you so sure I welcomed it?’

‘I am very sure that you should, as did your uncle.’

‘Do not quote him to me.’

‘I do so only to remind you that you once reposed the same faith in me that he did.’

‘While you have no notion of how many voices I hear that tell me such trust is misplaced.’

‘Which you have good grounds to ignore since I am standing before you.’

‘I am assailed by strident declarations that your actions in Italy, not least in the way you have lined your purse and dragged out the campaign, need serious enquiry.’

‘Narses will be behind that.’

‘He is not alone. Do not forget that Constantinus had a powerful family and you had him executed like a common thief.’

‘The memory of that affords me no pleasure but I had to act with equity for the sake of the army.’

‘I am pressed from other places, Flavius.’

The given name at last, and that had the one so blessed wondering if part of what Justinian was up to was an act. Surely he did not believe that his most faithful and successful general would divert money to his personal coffers or extend a campaign unnecessarily to add lustre to his name, those being the twin and all too common allegations made against the effective by the envious?

Exposed to a drip feed of accusation, had the Emperor reacted
in public merely to display a level of displeasure that would satisfy the many Belisarius enemies, which would include not just the likes of Narses but any one of his counsellors troubled or made to feel insecure by his success?

How many had been jockeying for the command that Flavius had come to take on even if, as
magister militum per Orientem
it was his by right. Field generalship brought rewards of its own, but to the avaricious it also presented great opportunities for personal enrichment. If Narses and the Constantinus family had sent hares running against him, there were many who would be willing to join in the chase if only to advance their own prospects.

The spectre of Theodora could also lie at the back of this but that was, as a defence, unmentionable. Flavius might be truthful with Justinian but he knew what areas not to stray into, matters too sensitive to be alluded to and she was the primary one. If he could not comprehend the bond that united them, Flavius knew it to be so unbreakable that not even the most intimate companion could refer to its negative aspects.

‘If I am to be examined I can hardly proceed to the duty for which I have been recalled.’

Justinian had never been good at disguising a sly thought: the head canted and there was no eye contact so that Flavius, who possibly knew him too well, was given the impression of a sudden idea entering the imperial mind and what followed did not do anything to dent that impression.

‘The eastern border is paramount. I am prepared to pay Khusrow for peace, but only to a certain level, and I am also willing to protect you, Flavius, from the accusations made against you.’

This was a point at which other generals, eager for glory, might have suggested it would be better to crush Khusrow than bribe him.
It being a subject often discussed between them, as it had been when Justinian’s uncle wore the purple, it was not one Flavius would advance, for it had long been held by wiser heads that to subdue and occupy the whole of Persia was a recipe for ultimate disaster.

If the Roman Empire struggled to hold onto what it already had, and could contemplate expansion back into once held provinces where the population could be counted on to provide some sort of welcome, territorial conquests in the east were too big a mouthful to chew on. Quite apart from the sheer amount of land needed to be conquered then controlled, success would bring the empire up against the formidable forces that troubled the eastern Sassanid frontier and in many senses stopped its kings from too many adventures beyond the Euphrates.

The sly thought? Justinian would not set in train an enquiry into any behaviour in Italy, but he would not kill off the notion entirely. Why give up a point of pressure that could be applied without being mentioned? If Flavius failed against Khusrow, such an accusation could be allowed to resurface in order that the Emperor could defend his own standing.

‘The sooner I am gone the better,’ Flavius said.

That got eager nodded agreement, but Justinian did not pick upon the deeper meaning in what seemed like eagerness to get back to a theatre of war. More pressing to Flavius was to get away from what he saw as a sink of iniquity and one in which being present was much more threatening than any of the many battlefields on which he had risked his life.

Soon the pair were bowed over maps, examining the various possibilities that Khusrow might engage in. The eastern border was a twisting line of over five hundred leagues, peopled by fickle tribes that were well used to taking advantage if Rome seemed to be winning
over Persia and vice versa. He had several routes in which he could launch an invasion and all had to be guarded against. If Flavius was to have the top command he was in need of competent subordinates.

There were imperial troops on the frontier but not enough; allies would be needed and part of the task of the
magister per Orientem
was to first engage them and then properly employ their levies. Justinian too had a responsibility, and that was to provide prompt and regular pay for those in his service, not always forthcoming at the times in which it should and that, gently alluded to, pointed up one of the limits of imperial power.

The Emperor could propose but it was up to the bureaucracy to dispose and gold meant to pay soldiers had a way of being delayed in its true purpose so that such men, by lending it out at interest, could enrich themselves with no thought to the ultimate consequence of their peculation.

‘Do not fail, Flavius,’ Justinian said in conclusion, the grave look on his face somewhat manufactured. ‘There are too many here in the palace who would take pleasure from such an outcome.’

‘I will do what is required of me, Excellency.’

The tone of that, Flavius deliberately employed; it was not rousing words of assurance, it was a warning that his emperor also must do as was required. If there were pinches in the distribution of supplies, he must either root them out or find a way to bypass them.

T
here was no way to avoid the Empress Theodora even in such a sprawling palace. Given the way she fawned over Antonina and made a point of visiting their shared apartments on a daily basis made it doubly impossible. Seeing them together it was hard to know who was the ruler and who the subject, so close were they in their thinking and interactions.

Instead of behaving like grown women they acted like a pair of prepubescent girls and their jokes at his expense, usually built around the notion that it took more than good intentions to make a good ruler, became repetitively wearing and many times he had to bite his tongue to avoid blurting out that Antonina would have made an atrocious queen.

In one sense life had become less complicated. Theodosius had seemingly decided that Antonina’s behaviour, never even remotely discreet, was too life-threatening and had departed for Ephesus, the story being that he was intent on becoming a monk, which got from Photius the response that pigs might fly.

Originally cast down by what she called the loss of her dearest (and platonic) companion, Antonina was always able revive her spirits in the company of the Empress and did so. Their shared history gave
them much to talk and laugh about and the only relief for Flavius, not eager to hear even a hint of their previous adventures in their long past places of employment, or to being told how lucky he was to have such a wonderful wife, was to make his excuses and leave and get on with the business of preparing for the forthcoming campaign.

In this he had engaged his stepson, now mature and responsible, as a replacement for Procopius and if Photius lacked that functionary’s natural skill he made up for it in his enthusiasm and sheer application, not that the task of supply was ever straightforward. Too many people had a lock on such things as weapons and armour from the imperial manufactories, and if they demanded a bribe to provide the equipment needed – Flavius Belisarius could appeal directly to Justinian – they would not let anything pass out of their possession without it being plain how much they were being put out by such demands.

When it came to forward supplies of food and feed for the thousands of horses required to successfully campaign, indeed for the mounts themselves, that fell within the remit of John the Cappadocian. There Flavius found a level of avarice that provided an almost insurmountable bar to his needs in both the quantity and quality of that which was required. The threat of imperial intervention he casually dismissed and it was odd that the person most incensed by his inaction was the Empress.

‘Ask Antonina,’ was her response when he queried why she was so openly furious at John’s behaviour. There was also the question of how she knew of his intransigence: Flavius had never complained to her, she being the last person he felt he could look to for aid.

‘Theodora hates him,’ was his wife’s answer as they dined together. The temptation to respond that John was in abundant company had to be bitten back. ‘And he and I could well cross swords if he continues to behave as he does.’

‘Not literally, I hope. He might have the girth of a pregnant sow but I doubt you would best him.’

The smirk that accompanied the joke made Antonina angry and she spat back at him over the table on which they were dining. ‘He diminishes you at every opportunity. Would you have me listen to him insult you and let it pass?’

‘Me?’

‘Don’t sound surprised, Husband. You know he hates you.’

‘I know he resents my success. I would be indifferent to that if he did not control the supply of what my army requires.’

‘You should not be,’ Antonina replied in that exasperated tone often adopted by wives who despair of their husband’s apparent passivity. ‘The way you let people talk of you sometimes—’

‘I have two choices, Antonina, which is either to ignore it or take a weapon to the miscreant. Given I suspect John is not alone in his envy, that might result in the palace corridors running with blood.’

‘It may come to that if the Cappadocian’s ambitions are not checked.’

‘What ambitions?’

‘So you are blind as well as a fool.’

That was too close to the bone for Flavius; even if she was referring to another matter entirely, the spectre of Theodosius had been raised. Right now that particular grit in the oyster of his marriage had absented himself, Flavius thought because Photius was present.

‘I am neither, which you well know.’

Antonina entirely missed the allusion, locked up as she was in her thoughts on the Cappadocian. Not wishing to dip his toe in that particular septic well, Flavius avoided a direct reference to her possible infidelities and returned to generalities.

‘It surprises me that you care so much.’

‘Why should that be?’

Antonina was good at showing offence, just as in many times past she had shown a real facility for affection. Her whole body now seemed to react as if there was some inner spring animating her anger, and as she responded her tone of voice went through at least three different, all equally dramatic, phases: fury, bellicosity, then an icy form of triumph.

‘You think I would let that fat slug insult the man to whom I am married and just let it pass? I will give him a piece of my mind. He’ll slink away when I am finished with him, I can tell you.’ She fixed him with a glare. ‘But, of course, you don’t care, do you?’

‘Is there a particular reason why Theodora so hates him?’

The slow shake of his wife’s head, allied to the look of despairing wonder, spoke volumes. ‘Do you not see him for what he is?’

‘Fat, wealthy, full of conceit and, as I have found, impervious to censure. Justinian will not listen when I complain of him.’

‘Which makes Theodora despair, for he is as blind as you seem to be.’ Her eating knife was waving now and she was addressing him as if he was indeed short on brains. ‘The Cappadocian has spent the last ten years filling offices with men that owe everything to him. Why would he do that?’

‘He’s doing it on behalf of Justinian, who put him in place to change the nature of the bureaucracy and break the power of the patricians.’

‘Good for him, then, that in the process he has amassed a cohort of men who will support him.’

‘In what?’

The eyes went to the roof above her head in exasperation. ‘He wants the throne for himself, and the man sat on it is too blind to see. Thank God he has a wife with a sharper eye.’

‘John for emperor,’ Flavius chuckled. ‘The notion is absurd.’

‘Is it, Flavius? He is the richest man in the empire.’

‘It takes more than money to rise to the purple.’

‘Then how did Justinus manage it? Have you not told me the tale a hundred times of the coffers full of gold that were given to the officers of the Excubitors?’

The memory nearly brought her husband to the blush; he did indeed recall the way Justinian – he had been Petrus Sabbatius then – had conspired to get his uncle, who held the office of
comes Excubitorum
, elevated to the recently vacated throne by diverting money provided by another courtier for a different candidate to gain the prize.

Flavius had been involved in the conspiracy but his discomfort was brought on by the memory of his lack of an ability to see in what he was being embroiled. If others had been duped, not least the man elevated by the intrigue, so too had he.

‘The Excubitors were supporting one of their own and a man in whom they had faith, and quite rightly. Recall that the Hippodrome hailed their choice.’

That was dismissed with an airy wave. ‘Oh, I know. You never tire of telling me how sainted was Justinus, the true paragon and surrogate father to whom you owe everything. I just hope you are not so forthcoming with his nephew.’

‘I have never thought it too wise to overpraise his uncle to Justinian, but I have had occasion to remind him that when we talk of him, we speak of a man of some virtue.’

‘Words that cannot be applied to the Cappadocian.’

‘He will never rise to the purple. First of all he would have to kill Justinian, which, given he is one of the most suspicious men in creation, will be near to impossible. From what I can observe too, his Excubitor bodyguard are fiercely loyal.’

‘And if he were to die naturally, what then?’

Flavius crossed himself then, but as he did so the underlying concerns of his wife surfaced for they would be those of her great friend. Theodora, bereft of Justinian, would be exposed and perhaps John would have a chance, and the obvious conclusion to such a line of reasoning was obvious. The Empress was not one to wait to be thrown to the wolves, which rendered John’s position one of some danger.

It made him glad he was about to go on campaign, this being the thing he had always hated about the capital, the endless plotting of one faction against another, and at the peak of such schemes there were too many souls who saw themselves as better able to rule than the incumbent emperor. It had been true when Anastatius was alive, was so when Justinus ruled and would be rife, too, under his nephew.

‘It is near blasphemous to even consider such a thing, Antonina. Now I beg you, let us leave John to his peculations and change the subject.’

‘Promise me you will challenge him if he insults you in person.’

‘So that I can kill him? Fat and wobbly John, who has never been a soldier, never fought in a battle and as far as I know would be lost in how to use a sword?’

‘He knows how to employ his tongue.’

‘Just as I know what would shame me, Antonina. If I fight, it will be with a man who can match me, not some useless tub of lard.’

Which was as good a way as he could think of telling his wife he was not going to stick a sword in the Cappadocian’s belly just to please her friend the Empress.

‘I had no idea how much I would miss Antonina while she campaigned with you, but I do now and I desire to keep her close.’

‘Your Highness could have sent for her at any time and I am sure
my wife would have sped back to your side.’

It was fascinating watching Theodora, who seemed to have the ability to believe whatever she was saying whenever she was saying it. It was she who had insisted that Antonina accompany him to North Africa and subsequently to Italy so that his wife could act as her spy. If her behaviour with Theodosius, whom she insisted was an innocent companion, was a great unmentionable in their marriage, the act of her betrayal in corresponding with the Empress was a greater one. Nor could he, tempted as he was to be honest, mention it to Theodora.

Like her husband and indeed his wife she had aged, so that the dark beauty which had at one time impressed him was now faded. Her face was sagging and no amount of powder or unction could disguise that the skin that had once been as smooth as milk was now lined and broken.

In fairness, while harbouring these thoughts, Flavius had to admit that time had changed him also. His beard was no longer jet black but tinged at the extremities with grey and he wondered if he shaved it off what he would discover underneath. If the bags under his eyes were any indication, then he would be in for a shock.

Yet he was bound to wonder what lay behind this request that Antonina stay with her in Constantinople and the spectre of Theodosius came immediately to mind. Theodora would no doubt happily facilitate such a liaison, given her own behaviour within the palace was a constant source of both speculation and jibes.

Try as he might, Flavius was once more reminded that he had never quite got to grips regarding her relationship with Justinian. He knew, from his time spent in the company of the young Petrus, when he himself had been an innocent youth willing to be corrupted by the much more experienced debauchee, that his proclivities were not straightforward.

Justinian took great pleasure in being the voyeur and it was rumoured that Theodora was only too willing to indulge that particular taste, even with multiple partners. Against that was one simple fact: every ruler or consort was the subject of scurrilous accusations and they always seemed to centre on their sexual preferences. There was not one disgusting act he knew of that had not at some time been attached to their names.

‘I find myself on the horns of dilemma, Highness.’

It was amusing to observe Theodora’s confusion, for his response had thrown her and there was some pleasure in that, even more in playing out a game in which he would gain no more; as empress and consort she had power of her own – more vitally, she had a hold over her husband.

‘I have become accustomed to have Antonina by my side. Will I be the successful soldier still if I am denied her support?’

Theodora was no fool; she knew he was toying with her but she too was forced to indulge in pretence. Not even an empress could always be open and now she found no trouble in arranging her features to convey sadness.

‘It pains me to deprive you of that, Flavius. But I hope and pray you will see my need for companionship, just as I appreciate yours and have in the past done much to facilitate it.’

‘You have been most gracious.’

That made her purse her lips, which made very apparent the small vertical wrinkles between that and her nose. Flavius knew he was sailing close to a dangerous shore in baiting her and so was quick to add, ‘Of course, I would not dream of denying you that company in which I take so much pleasure.’

Theodora could not keep a trace of a hiss out of her reply. ‘Then it falls to me to thank you for – what did you say – “being gracious”.’

‘Now if you will forgive me, Highness, I have to attend upon the Emperor and outline to him how I plan to thwart the designs of Khusrow.’

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the Sassanids would cross the border once more. Khusrow had again demanded a huge sum of money from Justinian as well as an annual stipend to keep the peace, an ultimatum that had originally been agreed to. Using the excuse that the Sassanids had broken various pledges, the offer had been withdrawn. If only to save face Khusrow must react.

The question was not just how to counter the threat but to comprehensively defeat the enemy. Cheering news had just come that Martinus, sent ahead to Dara with the Belisarian
comitatus
, had with the help of the garrison repulsed an attempt by the Sassanids to take the great fortress on which any defence of the frontier must rest. With the season for campaigning well over, Khusrow had retired back into his own territory.