Count Belisarius

CHAPTER 22

Belisarius was confined to his chamber for ten days. On the eleventh day King Teudel took Rome, being admitted one night with all his army by four treacherous Isaurian soldiers at the Asinarian Gate. Bessas had not constantly changed the duty roster for his guards, as Belisarius had done, or changed the locks on the gates; thus the soldiers had been able to agree with Teudel for an exact hour some days in advance. The cause of their treachery was a grievance against the captain of their company for holding back part of their com ration in order to sell it to patricians.

King Teudel's Goths immediately set about plundering the great houses of the patricians, allowing Bessas and his garrison to escape without hindrance. Teudel contented himself with what he found in the Pincian Palace — Bessas's evilly won store, which had the appearance of a royal treasury or the hoard of a successful admiral of pirates. In all Rome, a city that had recently housed half a million souls, the Goths found no more than 500 commoners and 400 persons of patrician blood — nearly all women and children, these, since most of the patricians themselves had escaped with the garrison. Teudel began pulling down the fortifications; and swore that, for its ungrateful hostility to the benignant Gothic rule of Theoderich and his descendants, the city had earned no better fate than to be burned down and reduced to the level of a sheep-walk.

Belisarius learned of this threat and wrote to him from the Port of Rome: 'King Teudel, if you do as you have threatened with Rome, the birthplace of Empire, will your name not stink in the nostrils of posterity? Be sure that it will be told and written of you: "What fifty generations of Romans toiled to build, bringing together the noblest materials and the finest architects and craftsmen procurable in the entire world, a German princeling, insulting the great dead, burned down one day as an act of spite, and at a time when it stood empty because of plague and famine." '

Teudel reflected, and refrained. Belisarius had been right in supposing that, with a Gothic King, the hypothetical verdict of posterity would weigh more than his own natural inclinations or the most practical advice of his wisest counsellors. Nevertheless, Teudel dismantled three miles of the fortifications, and removed all the gates, making an open city of it. Then, leaving strong forces behind him in the neighbourhood to pin down our forces at the Port of Rome, he set out against Bloody John, who was now at Taranto.

Bloody John did not dare to face Teudel, and so retreated hurriedly to Otranto; by which action Southern Italy, that had seemed securely his, was handed back to its Gothic rulers. Teudel, considering that the capture of Otranto was a matter of little importance, so long as Bloody John could be immobilized there, decided to march up the Adriatic coast to Ravenna, the inhabitants of which were clearly disaffected to the Imperial cause and likely to open the gates to him. With Ravenna in his hands he would be the undoubted master of Italy.

King Teudel had already begun his march up the coast when he was recalled by news which filled him with astonishment and indignation. Belisarius, true to his reputation for attempting the seemingly impossible, was once more holding Rome and ready to dispute its possession against all the Goths in Italy!

'But how,' you may well ask, 'could even Belisarius dare with his miserably inadequate forces to hold an open city against an army which could now muster 80,000 men?'

Belisarius's own answer to this question would have been: 'We must dare to make amends for our former failures.'

As soon as he was sufficiently well to sit his horse, Belisarius had reconnoitred the city with a thousand horsemen, riding out by night from the Port. He had found it wholly deserted (for the first time in its history, I suppose) and even encountered a small pack of wolves roaming in the Field of Mars — which the soldiers refrained from shooting. These wolves were regarded as a good omen, because they were animals once held sacred by the ancient Romans, Romulus the founder of Rome having been suckled by a she-wolf. Belisarius made a careful tour of the walls and finally pronounced: 'All is well, friends.'

They thought that his wits were still deranged by the fever, but he explained: 'King Teudel, being a barbarian, has scamped his task of destruction, as I expected. He has been content merely to dislodge the upper courses of stone from the rampart and push the rubble forward into the fosse. Working with vigour, we can repair the damage in a short time.'

The Gothic retaining army, informed that Belisarius was returning to the Port from his reconnaissance, ambushed him at four several points. In each case he divided his forces into three parts: one half-squadron held its ground while the other two pressed forward on cither flank and enveloped the enemy, distressing them with arrows until they abandoned their position. On this homeward ride Belisarius killed or captured more than the number of his own forces, losing some thirty men, because the Gothic squadrons consisted of lancers only and were given no opportunity to come to close quarters, but overwhelmed by arrows. Though numbering fully 15,000, this Gothic army did not again venture from its camp; and Belisarius, leaving only 500 men to guard the Port, could throw all his forces into Rome. He had with him his own 4,000 Thracians, diminished by 300, and 2,000 of Bessas's men who had fled to him when Rome was taken, and 500 regular troops, former deserters to Teudel at Spoleto, who had been persuaded to return to their allegiance. There were also a few hundred sturdy labourers gathered from the villages in the neighbourhood, mostly refugees from the city, who gladly offered to work for him if they were paid with corn and meat and a little wine.

Count Belisarius entered Rome on the Feast of the Three Kings; King Teudel did not return until the first day of February (of this new year of our Lord 547). In those twenty-five days a miracle had been accomplished. The whole fosse had been cleared of earth and nibble and planted with pointed stakes cut from the rafters of ruined houses; and the dressed stones of the rampart had been collected and laid back in place, though without mortar. The walls presented a bold face again to the enemy, and only fell short by a few feet, in the rebuilt places, of their original height. Only there were no gates, and for lack of skilled smiths and carpenters none could be improvised in that short time. Belisarius was therefore obliged to resort to the tactics of the ancient Spartans: he closed the gateways with human gates, which were his best spearmen drawn up in phalanx. We had all worked in the eight-hour shifts: soldiers, domestics, civilians, including women and children — not one of us was allowed to a void the corvie. I, a pampered eunuch, broke my well-trimmed nails on the rough stones and wearied my plump shoulders carrying baskets of earth. Belisarius was everywhere at once, like lightning in a storm.

I had been sent by Belisarius to the municipal lime kilns on the first days to sec whether any lime was available for making mortar, so that at least the angles of the walls might be strengthened; but I found only a few bags. Nailed to the wall in the President's office was a parchment document which, since it was no longer valid, I took down and kept as a memento of the siege. I copy it out here as a curiosity. It was the President's official appointment by Theoderich some years previously.

King Theoderich to the Distinguished Faustulus, President of the Lime Kilns, greeting!

It is a glorious labour indeed to serve the City of Rome! Who can doubt that lime, which is snow-white in hue and imponderable as an African sponge, is of mighty service in the construction of the most magnificent edifices? In proportion as it is itself debilitated and broken down by the fierce breath of fire, so does it lend force to massive masonry. It is a dissolvable stone, a petrifying downiness, a sandy pebble which (O wonder) burns the best when abundantly watered, without which stones do not stay nor grains of gravel commodiously cohere.

Therefore we set you, our industrious lord Faustulus, over the burning of lime and its decent distribution; that there may be plenty of this substance available both for public and private works, and that thereby people may be persuaded and encouraged confidently to build and rebuild our beloved City. Perform this well, and you shall be promoted to yet more honourable offices.

When I first read these elegant words I did not know whether to laugh or weep, they seemed so incongruous to the present desolation of the city and the barbarous Camp Latin of the soldiers who now formed its principal population. A philosophical train of thought was started in my mind, about the essentially evil nature of war, however just the cause; which I instantly smothered as monkish Christian and no more congruous to the situation than the document itself. But enough of this.

When King Teudel came within sight of the city he made an immediate attack upon us from the north-cast, sending his men in mass against the Nomentan, Tiburtine, and Praenestine Gates. I think that he expected the rebuilt walls to fall at the mere noise of his war-horns, as the walls of Jericho are said to have fallen to the war-horns of Jewish Joshua. I witnessed the cavalry-charge at the Tiburtine Gate, where I was once more at the same task that had me occupied ten years previously — serving a catapult with bolts while my mistress laid the sights. There were 10,000 Gothic lancers drawn up just out of range, and squadron by squadron they charged in column with levelled lances at the bridge that guarded the gate. It was like pouring wine into a bottle with an obstruction in the neck.

Few indeed of the Goths reached the gate, over a mound of dead and dying, to spit themselves there upon the spears of the phalanx as an Indian bear upon the quills of a porcupine. Their fearful losses were due not merely to our heavy and accurate fire from the walls, with bows, catapults, scorpions, wild asses, but to the iron caltrops which guarded the approach — a device never before used against the Goths. I have remarked that the necessary artisans for the making of new city gates were not available; but the farricr-sergcants of the army had been working night and day, employing all skilled and half-skilled men in the manufacture of these iron caltrops. A caltrop consists of four stout spikes, each a foot in length, fitted to an iron ball at such an angle that all their points are equidistant from one another. Thus, however thrown upon the ground, the caltrop always rests upon a firm triangle of spikes, with one spike sticking threateningly upward. Some call it the 'Devil's tripod". The caltrop was the family badge of Belisarius, and was embroidered in gold by my mistress's women upon the white Household standard. The motto read: 'Quocunque jeceris, stabit' — 'wheresoever you cast it, it will find its feet'. Cavalry cannot pass a position heavily strewn with caltrops unless they first dismount and carry them away one by one; otherwise the horses catch their feet in the spikes and stumble and fall impaled.

Five squadrons in succession charged this fearful barrier. The mound of dead rose higher and higher until every upward spike had spitted a man or a horse. Thus — as the rhetoricians would put it — the bridge became passable at last by reason of its very impassability. There was heavy fighting at the gate, the Gothic infantry being now engaged, and from the flanking-towers stones, boiling water, and beams came showering down upon them. Our spearmen, Isaurians, fought in relays; but since there were only fifty men in each team and the Goths came pressing forward in their hundreds and hundreds, they grew very weary. It was only my mistress's heartening presence and her promise of great rewards to every man who survived the day that kept them at their post. By midday our catapults had exhausted their supply of bolts and the wild-asses had kicked themselves to pieces. I seized a bow and found that I had not altogether forgotten my former archery practice, though my arms were feeble.

There was no pause for dinner, but we snatched mouthfuls of bread and cheese as we fought, and slaves carried around pitchers of sour wine. In the afternoon it rained heavily, the rain turned to sleet, and our bow-strings became useless. Even soldiers who usually took an honest pleasure in fighting began groaning and cursing in their distress. But the Goths suffered more than we. The approach to the gate became very slippery; our spearmen, to whom my mistress gave rough cloths to tic about their feet, had a great advantage over the enemy, who staggered and slid here and there on their wet leather soles.

The battle ended at nightfall, the Goths being held at every gate. They retired for the night, and we sent out the labourers in gangs with torches to recover bolts and arrows, for which we paid them by the bundle of fifty; while we ourselves cleared the bridges, freeing the bloody caltrops of their dead and taking plunder of golden torques and rinqs and shitts of mail.

King Teudel attacked again shortly after dawn, and again there was the same dreadful drama of slaughter, and again every bridge was held. I killed a Goth with my second arrow, striking him in the face at short range. They withdrew at noon, pursued by two squadrons of Household cuirassiers from the Praenestinc Gate; but rallied a mile away. Our whole cavalry was sent out to support these squadrons. In the battle which followed, bow and arrow once more prevailed over the lance. During these two days 15,000 Goths had been killed and many more carried away seriously wounded. Twenty thousand dead horses also strewed the battlefield. Our total losses were 450, 200 of whom were killed in the cavalry engagements.

A few days later the Goths returned to attack for the third time, but with such evident reluctance that Belisarius — who knew better than any general who ever lived, I suppose, exactly when to turn from the defensive to the offensive — went out himself against them with all the cavalry. They say that from a quarter of a mile's distance, with his strongest bow, Belisarius aimed at the Gothic standard-bearer riding ahead of the line. There was a following wind, or the shot would have been impossible: the arrow, falling from a great height, struck the standard-bearer in the groin, and pinned him to the saddle, so that the horse, pricked by the arrow, reared up and threw him. Others, jealous perhaps of Belisarius's feats, claim that the arrow was not fired by Belisarius, but by Sisifried, the guardsman who had survived Isaac's defeat; but if so, Sisifried did something extraordinary and far beyond his usual powers. The more natural account is that the arrow was Belisarius's, though perhaps Sisifried also aimed one at the standard-bearer.

King Teudel's standard tumbled to the ground; which was the worst of omens. At once our leading squadron charged to seize it, shooting from the saddle as they went, and there was bitter fighting for its possession. Two Gothic lancers were tugging at one end and two Household cuirassiers at the other. A Gothic officer hacked the staff through with a blow of his sword, and our men had to be content with the butt. This same officer chopped off the left forearm of the standard-bearer, because around the wrist was buckled a golden bracelet set with rubies and emeralds which he wished to deny to us. Then the Goths retreated, and in the pursuit lost 3,000 men more. When Belisarius returned that night he had horses to mount the remainder of his Thracians, and every man of them could at last be dressed in a mail shirt. He had lost nine men only.

Teudel broke the siege on the next day, and retired to Tivoli, first destroying all the bridges over the Tiber, upstream from Rome, with the single exception of the Mulvian, which Belisarius had already seized. Teudel was forced to bear the angry reproaches of his surviving noblemen that he had been hoodwinked by Belisarius's letter into sparing Rome from complete destruction. If he had kept to his original threat and levelled the whole city to a sheep-walk, they said, the war would not have taken this evil turn for the Goths. But when he came to Tivoli, he asked them: 'And suppose all Tivoli had been levelled with the ground? Come now, my lords, the fault at Rome — if fault it was — lies with you; for I entrusted each of you with the pulling down of a part of the Roman ramparts, but you were lazy and left too much standing. Fortunately, you have done the same thing here: so that the credit of quickly rebuilding the walls of Tivoli will be yours, as well as the fault at Rome. To work, to work, and let posterity praise you!'

Belisarius now found the necessary artisans for making new city gates. Soon the task was done and the gates in position. Before the end of February he could send a set of keys to Justinian at Constantinople; asking, in return, for reinforcements to enable him to complete the reconqucst of Italy, and money to pay the troops under his command. 'He gives twice, who gives quickly,' Belisarius wrote, 'and I trust to make speedy repayment with the person and treasures of another captive king.'

He wrote not once but three times, and my mistress wrote also to Theodora. No reply and no reinforcements came. When he had put the necessary garrisons into Ostia and Civita Vecchia, he stood in greater need of a field army than ever before, and he was now paying the regular troops as well as those of his Household with treasure from his own purse. Nor was it possible, though he tried this, to lay even the smallest taxes upon the impoverished Italians. They possessed neither money nor anything that could be exchanged for money.

Justinian at length replied that he had already sent a large army to Italy under Valerian. He commanded Belisarius and Bloody John (who had not met for three years now) to be reconciled to each other. They were to join forces at Taranto, where this army should by now have arrived.

But Valerian remained for months on the farther shore of the Adriatic, detaching only 300 men for service in Italy. It was no fault of his: Illyria was being raided again — not by Bulgars tins time, but by Slavs, in enormous undisciplined numbers — and Valerian had orders not to leave Durazzo until the danger had passed. The general commanding the Imperial Forces in Illyria dared not risk an engagement with the horde of Slavs, but followed ineffectively in their rear from district to district. His caution was due to the mutinous mood of the troops, who had not been paid for several months, and, in lieu of pay, now plundered the already plundered countryside. The whole Diocese had reached the condition described by the Jewish prophet Joel: 'That which the palmer-worm hath left, hath the locust eaten; and that which the locust hath left, hath the canker-worm eaten; and that which the canker-worm hath left, hath the caterpillar eaten.'

We did not know of this Slav invasion, or of Valerian's delay, and sailed for Taranto cheerfully. With us were all the troops that could be spared from garrison service — a mere 700 horsemen and 200 infantry. I, for one, was not sorry to say good-bye to Rome. As we left the Port of Rome early in June and were carried by a favourable breeze towards the Straits of Messina, we all had hopes of a speedy and victorious return to Constantinople. After passing through the Straits our sailing ships, now towed by the galleys, struggled against the wind along the 'sole of the buskin', as that part of Southern Italy is called because of its shape on the map. We were headed for Taranto, which lies in the angle of the buskin's high heel. But, to continue this geographical figure, we had not yet passed the ball of the foot when a tremendous north-easterly gale struck us and we were driven to take refuge at Cotrone, where was the only safe anchorage within a great many miles. At first it seemed a dangerous position: few troops, an unwalled town, the Gothic army not far away, grain scarce, the wind continuing to blow strongly from the north-cast. Belisarius persuaded all the able-bodied inhabitants of the town, men and women, to assist his infantry in fortifying the city with a stockaded rampart and a fosse; and sent the 700 cavalry ahead to hold two narrow defiles in the range of mountains, at the instep of the buskin, which enclose and protect this district of Cotrone. But the longer he viewed the situation, the better he liked it. The district was rich in grazing grounds and well stocked with cattle. He pointed out to his officers that the mountains made it a natural fortress, far more convenient for organizing his forces than Taranto. 'It was a lucky wind blew us here," he said. 'This will be the assembly-place of the armies.'

Then, while he supervised the facing of the rampart with stones and the construction of towers, still waiting for the wind to change, disaster came upon him. His 700 horsemen had hardly reached the mountain passes which he had directed them to occupy when they sighted a large force of King Teudel's lancers. These Goths were on the way to besiege Rossano, a neighbouring city on the coast between Cotrone and Taranto. It was in Rossano that Bloody John had stored all his plunder of the last three years, and many Italian noblemen had also taken refuge there. The 700 laid an ambush and routed the lancers, killing 200 of them. But victory gave them a false sense of security, so that with no Belisarius to watch them they neglected their duties, posted no sentries in the passes, despised the enemy. They spent their time foraging in small parties, or playing games, or hunting. King Teudel suddenly came against them in person one day at dawn at the head of 3,000 life-guards and caught them entirely unprepared. They fought bravely, but to no purpose. Teudel's Goths rode down all but fifty of them, who reached Cotrone with the news only a few minutes before the arrival of Teudel. The fortifications of the town were not yet completed, for they were planned on a large scale, and Belisarius had no choice but to re-embark instantly with the 200 infantry and the fifty survivors of his cavalry. Cotronc was left in Teudel's hands. The gale which had delayed our voyage to Taranto was still blowing, and carried us in a single day the whole distance to Messina in Sicily, which is 100 miles.

There is not much more to relate of Belisarius's last campaign in Italy. He drew 2,000 men from the garrisons of Sicily, and embarked them in ships for Otranto, which we reached without further accident. The 'large army' promised by Justinian presently arrived there from Spalato under Valerian, and another 'large army', direct from Constantinople, which was intended, I suppose, to clinch matters. The combined forces amounted to barely 3,000 men, most of them being untrained recruits!

Belisarius said to my mistress: 'My dearest, this army is like three drops of water on the tongue of a man dying from thirst. I confess to you that my resources are at an end. I have now spent all my personal treasure in the expenses of this war, except for a few thousand gold pieces; I have mortgaged half my property in Constantinople and sold outright my estates at Tchermen and Adrianople. Much money is owed me that I cannot collect. There is, for example, the matter that I have concealed from you, for shame — my dealings with Hcrodian, the general who commanded at Spoleto two years ago. He had borrowed fifty thousand gold pieces from me for three months, without interest; telling me, truly enough, that he had been left a large legacy by an uncle, and that he needed money for paying and feeding his troops. When, after six months, I asked him for repayment, knowing that the legacy money had arrived for him at Ravenna, he insolently threatened to sell Spoleto to the Goths if I pressed him so barbarously, and to pay me with the proceeds. When I reproached him for this answer he did indeed sell Spoleto, and became one of Teudel's boon companions. He now has my money, his legacy, and the reward for betraying Spoleto; I have nothing. The Emperor himself owes me an enormous sum for what I have advanced to the regular troops on his behalf. Of that I make no complaint; I dedicate my life to the Emperor's service, and am honoured to be his debtor. But without men and money no war can be fought.'

My mistress replied: 'Let mc go in person to Constantinople, my dearest husband. I undertake that the Empress will persuade the Emperor that cither a great army and plenty of treasure must be sent for the reconquest of Italy or that Italy must be abandoned to the Goths. You may be sure, my love, that 1 shall not delay over the business.'

So she sailed away, and I with her; and it was now mid-July. The journey was tedious because of contrary winds. We were coasting around Greece, having just passed the island of Salamis, when a ship from Salonica came bowling down the breeze on our starboard. I was standing on the forecastle, and shouted out in Latin: 'What good news have you, sailors?' For it is unlucky at sea to ask for any but good news.

The mate of the vessel shouted back:' Good news indeed. The Beast is dead.'

I cried: 'What Beast, excellent man?'

There was a confused shout in answer. The ship was almost out of hail as I shrilly repeated, 'What Beast?'

A sailor, making a trumpet of his hands, bawled back into the wind: 'Periunt ambo', meaning' Both are dead.'

Then we heard a great shout of laughter, but nothing more.

We guessed the name of one of the two Beasts correctly — the whale Porphyry; but there was much speculation in our vessel as to the identity of the other. So Porphyry had met his death at last! The account we heard at our next port of call was somewhat absurd. We were well aware that Porphyry, because of the construction of his throat, only ate small fry; but he was now credited with having pursued a flock of dolphins into shallow water close to the mouth of the river Sangarius (which flows into the Black Sea about a hundred miles to the eastward of the Bosphorus) and engulfed a dozen of them, and to have been busy chewing their bones when found stranded on a mud-bank close to the shore. What really happened, I believe, was that Porphyry and the dolphins were both in pursuit of a very large shoal of little fish, and that Porphyry was enticed into shallow water by the dolphins. In any case, the fishermen of the neighbourhood came up in boats and attacked Porphyry with axes and boat-hooks. He was so fast in the mud that he could not hoist up his tail to destroy them. However, he seemed proof against all their weapons, so they passed a number of heavy ropes around him and, by means of a pulley attached to a great tree by the river-bank, hauled him ashore. Then they fetched soldiers from a neighbouring post, who dispatched him with long spears. Porphyry measured forty-five feet in length and fifteen feet at his broadest part. He provided the district with food for many months; since what meat they could not cat fresh they smoked or pickled. In the flesh of his head — or her head, for Porphyry proved to be a cow whale — they found embedded a long arrow with white feathers, doubtless the same that Belisarius had once fired, but in the throat no blue-painted catapult-spear.

The other Beast to which the sailor had referred was no Beast at all, to my mistress's way of thinking. Indeed, so far from being good news, it was the worst news that we could possibly have received from the city: Theodora was dead. A sudden cancer beginning in her breast had spread rapidly through the whole of her body, and she had died, not without courage, after a few weeks' sickness and much pain.

Our grief was mixed with wonder. It was recollected now that the whale's first appearance in the Straits had coincided to a day with Theodora's first arrival in the city with Acacius her father — as its death had coincided with hers to the hour; and further that on the day that Belisarius and the Blue militia went out against Porphyry and wounded the beast, Theodora had been struck with a fearful aching of the head which had plagued her intermittently ever since. Was Porphyry, then, her familiar spirit?

My mistress Antonina immediately went into mourning for Theodora, and later sacrificed a black ram with pagan prayers for her ghost. She said: 'The Christian God has been placated by many masses. But Theodora secretly reverenced the Old Gods also.'

We nevertheless continued our voyage, since my mistress felt that, having come so far, she should at least attempt to make Justinian see reason about the Italian campaign.

My mistress found the Emperor by no means grieving for Theodora's death, but very jolly, like a little boy whose nurse or mother has suddenly fallen sick and left him at liberty to do all the naughty things he pleases. He had been removing from their sees or cures all the clergy with Monophysite leanings whom Theodora had protected. Also, though he was sixty-five years of age, he had begun a career of promiscuous passion, to make up for all the years of restraint under Theodora. His virility lasted him, indeed, for another fifteen years. His agents constantly searched the slave-markets for good-looking girls; and besides this he debauched the daughters of many of Theodora's ladies. To the Lady Chrysomallo's grand-daughter, who shrunk from his embraces, he said affably: 'Your grandmother was just the same, my dear. But she did what I required of her, because that was her obligation.'

He made himself Theodora's sole heir, cancelling all her legacies — including a very large one indeed to my mistress, and 5,000 in gold for myself, who was mentioned very graciously in the will.

At the audience which he granted my mistress immediately upon her arrival, she told him very plainly and precisely how matters stood in Italy. He listened with apparent concern. But, at the news that Belisarius had only 150 men of his bodyguard with him at Otranto -100 were defending Rossano, and the rest were cither killed or had been left behind in the neighbourhood of Rome — and that he was a poor man again, this evil Emperor could not conceal his satisfaction.

He said to my mistress: 'So the victorious Belisarius has acknowledged failure at last, eh? But, no, no, we cannot repay the money that he has foolishly spent in his ridiculous campaigning. Why, what a cowardly way to manage a war — to sail from this port to that, to shelter behind fortresses, to avoid battle! Eh, Narses? He should have taken a lesson from our brave John, who fears nothing. Certainly we cannot send him either more men or more money. This Count Belisarius cries in the voice of the horse-leech's daughters mentioned by King Solomon: "Give! Give!" Solomon, you will recall, held that four things are never satisfied — the grave, the lechery of a barren woman, sandy soil, fire. Had wise Solomon been living now, he would doubtless have added the name of Count Belisarius as fifth insatiate.'

When he had finished, my mistress asked quietly: 'But Italy, Your Clemency? Are you prepared to lose your dominion over Italy?'

He replied: 'No, indeed, Illustrious Lady Antonina, and for that reason we shall now recall your husband from that land and appoint a more capable commander in his stead. But we do not wish to humiliate the good fellow: we shall be careful to state in the letter that his services are needed once more against the Persians, who still dispute the possession of Colchis with us.'

She made an obeisance. 'As Your Serenity pleases. Let the order of recall be made at once. No doubt your Grand Chamberlain, the brave Narses, will be equal to the task in which my Belisarius has failed.'

Justinian replied, disregarding the irony: 'We shall give your suggestion the fullest consideration.'

He called for parchment and ink and seemed about to sign the recall there and then, but suddenly laid down the purple-stained goose-quill which had been placed in his hand. He said: 'Softly, softly! We require an undertaking from you first, best of women.'

My mistress answered: 'If it lies in my power, I will give it.'

He informed her with a crafty smile: 'We require that you sign a document breaking off the marriage-engagement between your daughter Joannina and Anastasius, my late Empress's nephew.'

My mistress Antonina thought quickly. There seemed to be no reason for refusing his demand, since at Theodora's death Anastasius had ceased to be a person of any importance. It might be that Justinian intended the girl as a bride for one of his nephews or grand-nephews — perhaps Germanus's son Justin — believing that she would bring a handsome dowry with her.

My mistress replied: 'It is my pleasure and my husband's to obey Your Serenity in all things.'

When she had signed the document that was thereupon made out for her, someone — I think young Justin — sniggered. The snigger spread among those standing near him. Justinian looked about him encouragingly and began to chuckle and roll about on his throne; unrestrained laughter soon possessed the whole audience-chamber. My mistress was embarrassed, angry, and puzzled. She made another obeisance and retired.

The fact was that my mistress had been cruelly tricked. She was wholly unaware of what had been happening all this time to her gay daughter Joannina. Joannina, now in her fifteenth year, had long anticipated her marriage-day, which had been postponed until her parents could be present at it; for with Theodora's consent she had until recently occupied a suite of the Palace with this Anastasius 'Long-Legs', with whom she was much in love, just as if she were his wife. Upon Theodora's death the usual Christian conventions had been restored at Court; Joannina was desired to return to her own suite. But although Justinian would have discountenanced the marriage of a patrician with a woman who was undeniably not a virgin, Anastasius meant to keep to the contract, being in love with the poor girl. Now my mistress had broken the contract irrevocably, had unwittingly signed away Joannina's chance of ever marrying a man of her own rank. This was a bitter shame to my mistress, and to Belisarius when he heard of it. Joannina pleaded that Theodora had forced this sin upon her, but he saw that this was clearly not the case. Justinian openly exulted in his unkingly triumph. Joannina, remaining unmarried, took the penitent's veil, for the shame that she had brought upon herself and her parents.

Meanwhile Belisarius had organized his small army, to which Bloody John joined his own — now reduced to a thousand light cavalry. They sailed from Otranto to the relief of Rossano, but a hurricane scattered the fleet, sinking some vessels. The remainder reassembled at Cotrone, some days later, and once more steered for Rossano, past which they had been blown. But by this time King Teudel was there, ready to oppose the landing. On the narrow beach his life-guards were lined up in close and embattled order, with archers well posted: it would have been suicidal to attempt a disembarkation. Nor were there any other landing-places on that dangerous coast. With grief in his heart Belisarius drew away again to Cotrone and left the garrison to choose between death and surrender. A hundred of his brave Thracians were among them.

At a council of war it was decided that Bloody John and Valerian should use their cavalry to raid Teudel's lines of communications, while Belisarius returned to Rome to strengthen the fortifications and encourage the garrison there. The war was not yet lost.

But then the summons came from Constantinople. As soon as the news that Belisarius was being recalled reached Rossano, the town surrendered. The surrender of Perugia followed. Ill consequences also attended the arrival of the news at Rome. Already there had been mutiny in the city: the soldiers had killed their new governor for selling military stores at high prices to civilians, but returned to discipline under the leadership of Diogenes, one of Belisarius's few surviving veteran officers. Diogenes prepared for the expected siege by sowing every available garden, park, and waste patch in the city with com; and, though King Teudel, returning from Rossano, captured the Port of Rome and thus cut off communications with the sea, all his attempts on the city walls were frustrated. Diogenes had now been besieged in Rome three times and well understood the task of defence. Yet there could only be one ending to the business, because the soldiers of the garrison had lost all hope of relief when they learned that Belisarius was gone.

Even the men of the Household Regiment became disaffected, complaining that they had volunteered to serve with glory under Belisarius, not to rot unpaid, ill-fed, and leaderlcss, in ruinous Rome. It was a party of Isaurians, however, not they, who sold the city again to Teudel; and Rome changed masters for the fourth time in a few years. The escaping garrison was ambushed, and only about a hundred men reached safety at Civita Vecchia, the last Imperial stronghold in the West; where Diogenes, wounded, took command. Nevertheless, a few veterans of the Household Regiment still continued to hold the mausoleum of Hadrian against all attacks — until, after many days, they, too, capitulated from a horror of eating horse-flesh; but demanded and were granted the honours of war.

King Teudel next invaded Sicily. Our troops there shut themselves up in the sea-ports and allowed him to ravage the entire island. Italy was abandoned to the Goths, except for a small fortress here and there, and Ravenna.

When Belisarius returned to Constantinople Justinian first reproached him in a blackguardly style and then — an insult scarcely to be borne — bestowed his forgiveness upon him. Belisarius, conscious that he had done far more than could be expected of a subject by the greediest and most capricious monarch, made no reply but that he remained always at the Emperor's service. His loyalty and pride forbade him to answer otherwise.

Nor had his return been altogether without danger. There was a Palace conspiracy on foot, led by a bold and revengeful Armenian general named Artaban, to assassinate the Emperor and place on the throne his nephew Germanus, whom he had treated very badly. The attempt was delayed for a few days until Belisarius should arrive in the city. It was not that Artaban and his fellow-conspirators (who included Marcellus, the Commander of the Guards) believed that Belisarius might assist them; but that, knowing of his inflexible loyalty to the Throne, they considered it safer to murder him too. He was to be struck down as he passed through the suburbs to pay his respects at the Palace. Germanus, however, when the plot was disclosed to him, pretended compliance, but hastened to inform Justinian, being in reality horrified by the infamous proposal. The conspirators were arrested on the very day that Belisarius landed, and he reached the Palace unharmed.

In the end Justinian pardoned the conspirators.

Count Belisarius was a poor man now, and could not afford to engage any more soldiers for his bodyguard. He was dependent on my mistress Antonina for everything, including his daily expenses. Yet no false shame prevented him from being her pensioner in this way. He said: 'We are not merely husband and wife, but old comrades of war whose purses are at each other's disposal, freely.' She drew upon her hidden reserves of money, and redeemed his mortgaged property. They lived quietly in a house close to the arch of Honorius on the western side of the Bull Square. (It is on this Arch that certain brass replicas of noxious insects are fixed: Apollonius of Tyana, the celebrated magician, is said to have put them there as a charm against various diseases.)

Justinian did not send Belisarius to the war in Colchis, preferring to keep him unemployed in the city. He bestowed on him his old title, 'Commander of the Armies in the East', and presently also that of 'Commander of the Imperial Guards', but allowed him to play no part whatsoever in military affairs; nor did he once call on him for advice.

Justinian's theological pamphlets had brought him little glory; and the Council that he now summoned of all the bishops in Christendom (180 or more) brought little glory on the Church. Though he forced the Council with threats to anathematize certain works repugnant to the Monophysites, whose favour he was now courting, these heretics did not in gratitude return to the Orthodox communion, but stayed obstinately outside. Moreover, the Pope Vigilius had disagreed totally with his fellow-prelates and with the Emperor as to the propriety of the anathema, and done all that he could to avoid committing himself. At last, in fear of his life, he had taken sanctuary in the Church of the Apostle Peter at Constantinople; and only after much temporizing and tergiversation consented — not being of the stuff of martyrs — to approve the findings of the Council. On his return to Italy he found himself faced with a schism; for the clergy of nearly the whole Western Church regarded the anathematized works as sound doctrine. All those bishops, however, whose sees could be controlled by the military forces of Constantinople — chiefly those in Africa and Illyria — were disciplined into conformity or else deposed and imprisoned. Those whose sees were in Italy, Sicily, France, or Spain continued obdurate.

The bishops of the West, though they had hated Theodora as a Monophysite, greatly regretted her death. They said: 'Had she been alive, she would have laughed the Emperor out of his theological pretensions, and the Council would never have been called.'