Honour

CHAPTER ELEVEN

If Theodora had been a presence in the palace she had, up until now, been a discreet one. But from the day that the senate met in all its panoply — most guessed what was coming — she moved into the light. As soon as the necessary document was signed, Petrus, now to be known as Justinian in honour of his uncle, had married her, which meant on the day she observed to the anointing of her husband as co-Emperor and acknowledged Imperial Heir, Theodora was the sole occupant of the office of Empress.

The ceremony, albeit glittering, was relatively brief and entirely lacking in objections — that came as no surprise: it had been ever thus since the time of Augustus. The Senate never argued with the Imperator: they had only one recourse to action that would bring about change and that was bloody elimination of a man who always had soldiers to do his bidding.

There had to be speeches, first from Justinian promising to act for the good of all, to praise and reward virtue while bearing down on evildoing and deception. That he was not believed made no difference to the men who followed, to praise the sagacity of Justin in ensuring a peaceful handover of power while welcoming the elevation of his nephew as not just the continuation of a golden age but an opportunity to enhance and extend that rare occurrence.

Watching Petrus/Justinian was an entertaining game with which to stave off boredom as Flavius, heading the imperial guard detail, sought to discern behind that new imperial mask what the man was really thinking. If there was expression, it was so well hidden that a moving eyelash acted as evidence of feeling, even when men who saw themselves as rivals spouted paeans of praise that in their hypocrisy were grotesque.

The three nephews of Anastasius, who had some claim to the throne that Justin had occupied, were just as loud in their praises, with Hypatius speaking first, followed by his two cousins, Probus and Pompeius, who sought to outdo him and each other in grovelling. If anything indicated that all power in the empire issued from one source it was this fawning display; this trio, indeed everyone in the chamber, wanted positions from which they could enrich themselves and that could only come from imperial favour.

Vitalian excelled even them when it came to flattery, which led Flavius, once a soldier in his rebel army, to wonder how such a previously plain-spoken fellow could become so corrupted by merely spending a few years at court. He was, of course, motivated by the same concern, both for himself and his family; his two older sons now enjoyed the rank of dux in the two Phoenician provinces and had become prosperous because of it, while the youngest had been inducted into the Scholae Palatinae.

Halfway through the ceremony it was plain Justin’s mind had clouded; once more he had the air of someone at a complete loss to know where he was or what was happening and that lasted through many a sycophantic peroration, with Flavius now wondering why his nephew did not curtail the speeches until the truth dawned on him. This public demonstration of Justin’s affliction suited the new joint ruler very well; let those who occupied the great offices of state see where they must come if they required permission to initiate anything or even act on present procedures.

Only when Justin came back to lucidity did Petrus/Justinian whisper to him and the import was plain, since his uncle called forward Theodora so she could occupy the throne formerly used by Euphemia, which was a perfect way of announcing that one particular Law of Constantine was repealed, the one debarring marriages between patrician and those from a lower class. His voice seemed to gather some of its old strength as he put that into words.

‘For too long men of talent have been unable to create a life howsoever they wish, for too long able people of the wrong class, apart from eunuchs, have been blocked from advancement. From this day on my nephew and I will wish to see ancient rank play no part in the selection of the officials of empire, military or civilian. Opportunity will thus be open to all.’

Given the nature of his audience, the fact that such an announcement sent up a hum of protest was hardly surprising; high-born men accustomed to competing with each other for lucrative offices were being told that from henceforth they would have to also contend with those outside a class that had husbanded its rights for a millennium.

‘In discussion with my heir,’ Justin continued, ‘I have agreed that no precipitous changes will be made to the imperial bureaucracy. But we will, from this day on and in consultation, be seeking to find ways of introducing new blood.’

Justinian had a triumphant expression on his face now and it was not a benign one. He sat forward on his throne, reaching out at the same time to take Theodora’s hand, his thoughts so obvious they might as well have been spoken. It addressed his feelings about these men gathered: you have tried to run rings round my uncle — do not be so foolish as to attempt the same trick on me!

Justin stood, his nephew and his wife doing likewise, which obliged the whole assembly to bow, probably just as well given the looks of hate being directed at a person they saw as no more than a low-born whore. Time spent like that allowed them to compose their features before they once more raised their heads, to gaze upon the imperial trio with looks of fabricated respect. As they departed, Flavius and his Excubitor bodyguard fell in behind them, to escort the party back to the now expanded imperial suite.

‘So now, how do I address you?’ Flavius asked, once his men had been deployed and he was alone with the new imperial couple.

The response came with a sly smile. ‘Does Highness stick in your craw, Flavius?’

‘I admit it will be hard, but I managed with your uncle, so I daresay I can abide the usage with you.’

‘Just as long as you do not use his given name of Petrus!’

Flavius turned to face Theodora, to come under the gaze of a pair of near black eyes which were well short of affection, a reflection of the tone she had just employed.

‘A right, I am sure, Lady, you will reserve to yourself?’

‘What I choose to reserve to myself is no concern of yours, Flavius Belisarius.’

‘My dear,’ her husband interjected, ‘he is my friend. I was merely jesting, he may address me as he wishes.’

The response was cold. ‘You are a ruler now and an emperor can have no friends.’

‘I fear you are in for a lonely existence,’ Flavius responded, favouring Petrus with a sympathetic smile.

‘I will take care that is not so, thus it does not fall to you to concern yourself.’

The dilated nostrils sent a physical message to add to the biting verbal one, a trait that took her nose and sharpened it in a remarkable and very obvious way. Flavius did not know, but his gut feeling was acute: Theodora, striking to look at and seemingly full of purpose, even after what had just taken place, felt vulnerable and that might extend to a deep-seated fear.

That the upper classes would hate her elevation, she must know; even many an ordinary citizen would shake their heads at such a woman occupying a position that could be, as it had in the past, one of great power and influence. Had not the late Emperor Anastasius got the diadem through the bedchamber? To reach such a pinnacle, as she had, brought with it risks and it did not take too vivid an imagination to see that should she fall, her end would not be a pleasant one.

Were such concerns justified? If she did not command her husband it was plain that he rarely did anything without consulting her. He was still as besotted as he had been when Flavius first sat with them in company, the time at which he had sensed her resentment of him; Theodora wanted to be the sole fount of advice and comfort, the one person the newly coined Justinian would turn to and she resented not only that Flavius was able to bypass this, but also, it seemed, that he did so in such an easy-going manner. Sensing the need to broker a peace, Justinian spoke up.

‘I will not object, Flavius, if you call me Justinian in private, since I have never been truly enamoured of the name Petrus. But I would ask that you acknowledge my dignity in a public space.’

‘You’re too soft, husband.’

‘No, Theodora, I owe Flavius much and so do you.’

That open repudiation, sternly delivered, was not well received: those nostrils dilated even further but the sight of that was brief; Theodora abruptly spun round and left the chamber, leaving Flavius to wonder what price her husband would pay for such a public rebuke.

‘I fear your good lady does not care for me.’

‘She will come round in time, Flavius. She has been betrayed too many times in her life, lied to and even abandoned, to repose much trust in anyone.’

‘I can assume she trusts you?’

‘Let’s hope so, for if not I am in for an imperial nightmare.’

‘Then I request that you send me on some service so that I do not have to share it.’

‘Flavius, it is my intention to lead you. My uncle has granted me permission to attempt to remind the Sassanids that they have a power with whom they must contend. No more sitting and letting them do as they please and just soak up our subventions to their coffers.’

Full of enthusiasm, Justinian began to outline the plans, which involved a two-pronged assault, one in the north under his personal command, another further south in Mesopotamia to attack towards Nisibis under the command of one Libelarius. Flavius, examining the proposal, did not do so with as much confidence as that of the man outlining it, not least because of the utterly unproven military ability of Justinian. But the other factor which worried him was the excessive level of ambition.

Given such thoughts, there would have been a time, and a recent one, when Flavius might have responded with a jokily delivered ‘God help us’. Now that seemed inappropriate; if Theodora was wrong in saying an emperor could have no friends, such companions were required to show care in bringing them to their senses.

Justinian led the forces that invaded Persian Armenia but it was not from the front; he took up residence in the city of Theodosiopolis in the Roman province of Armenia Inferior and acted as commander from there. These ancient lands, the cockpit of so much Persian, Greek and Roman conflict over the centuries, had been acrimoniously split between the two empires and that meant raid and counter raid, the odd siege of a border fortress. But there had been no major incursions by either side for years and that was a situation Justinian was keen to exploit, given there should be little organised opposition.

Flavius Belisarius was given the leadership of the cavalry under the command of one Sittas, thirty years his senior, invading a region lacking a force with which to contest. He was part of an army of several thousand local levies that barely qualified as proper infantry, milities happy to partake in the destruction of any of their neighbour’s goods which could not be carried away. This did not include the various municipal treasuries taken from unfortified towns or objects of gold and silver and the coin-filled chests of the wealthier inhabitants. These, along with huge herds of horses and cattle, were brought back into Roman territory, while the crops that could not be eaten or brought out were burnt.

A cock-a-hoop Justinian, having seen the profits of what he saw as his masterful strategy, determined on another major raid, which was to be launched with high hopes and many a flowery prayer for an assured victory, this despite attempts by Flavius to suggest to him that such an incursion might run into trouble if it was pushed forward too aggressively.

He was right: this time they did not get far from the border marker posts of Armenia Inferior; the Persians were alert and awaiting them in superior numbers, which obliged Sittas to order an immediate withdrawal, though his reaction proved to be too slow. The Persians, as ever strong in their mounted arm and with a host of horse archers, moved too fast.

The Romans were forced into a post-noon battle in which their enemy chose the ground, open and waterless, with no protection on either flank, where the Sassanids could deploy two weapons which the Romans had ever struggled to contend with. First the horse archers wrought havoc, and by breaking up the various untrained milities units they destroyed any hope of holding the field. Then the Sassanids sent forward a body of their cataphract cavalry, lance-bearing armoured horsemen on equally protected substantial mounts, small in number on this occasion, but extremely effective.

Flavius was denied the chance to send forward his cavalry, who had taken the name of bucellarii from the hard biscuit that made up the base of their rations, in reality to test them in battle, which might not reverse matters but would buy time. Sittas feared to lose the one arm that might save him and nor did he seek to hold until nightfall, when it would become possible to slip away, albeit in broken groups.

He ordered an immediate retreat, one in which his already distressed units fell into chaos to become no more than a terrified rabble. Only the mounted force under Flavius, with Sittas in their midst, was able to ride clear. They returned to Theodosiopolis to find Justinian no longer present and if, at first thought it was to avoid blame for the defeat, that proved wrong.

The message of recall had come from the capital: Justin was dying and the designated successor had to be in Constantinople to claim his inheritance. Flavius was ordered to follow at once, it being obvious his friend would want close to him all those who would protect his person. Leaving the bucellarii to follow as fast as they could, he used many changes of mounts to ensure he arrived in time to pay his dying mentor his due respect.

In that he failed; Justin had passed away in a fog of debilitation, babbling of a life very far removed from that to which he had risen. The old man had harked back over sixty years to a rustic youth spent trying adult patience, scrapping for the means to eat at constant risk of a barbarian incursion, the very event that had driven him from his home and hearth in the company of his friends, one of them Flavius’s father.

Justin was not alone in sloughing off his mortal coil; by the time Flavius reached the imperial palace Vitalian too was dead, but not through age or infirmity. He had been strangled as soon as the news of Justin’s demise was promulgated, proof of just how much Justinian feared him. He would not have done the deed himself for he was not capable, but it had the Sabbatius imprint all over it; had he not advised Justin that the man be killed years before?

On meeting his now sole Emperor, it was not a subject to be mentioned, even if Flavius suspected Justinian wanted him to enquire so he could either boast of it, explain or deny culpability. Such matters, when they came together, were best left unspoken but a message had been sent to anyone inclined to trouble the new reign and that included the nephews of Anastasius.

Matters in the east had not gone well and not just in Armenia. The incursion meant to threaten Nisibis had ended in fiasco, without even a pretence of a fight and the man in charge had been dismissed. Not that Justinian seemed chastened, if anything he was more determined than ever, even when the news came that Timostratus, the dux Mesopotamiae had died at Dara, leaving the forces there without a commander.

‘I have sent word to Kavadh that, even if he must be feeling sure of his superiority, there will be no more talents coming his way. The imperial treasury is not as it should be, my uncle was too lax and too generous, as well as failing to punish those who freely lined their own purses.’

‘I am sure you advised him on that.’

‘Advised,’ Justinian replied, imbuing the word with deep and unpleasant meaning. ‘If I had a solidus for every time my advice was ignored, that to punish one of these thieves would only stir up more trouble, we could buy the Sassanid Empire wholesale.’

Flavius chuckled at the joke, which died in his throat as he realised it was not meant to be one. ‘It will mean war. If Kavadh cannot pay for peace within his own domains then he has no choice but to threaten Rome.’

‘And he will be well supported by those to whom he has passed our gold over the years. Could we pay them directly and undermine Kavadh?’

‘You could try, but the various tribes are weak individually as well as mutually lacking in trust, which bars them acting together. They would be left at the mercy of Kavadh and we would not be able to aid them if he sought to impose his authority.’

‘So he will attack us once more?’ Not waiting for a reply Justinian continued. ‘Why can we not beat him?’

It should have been unnecessary to cite the reasons but Flavius did so anyway; his numerical advantage, given by territorial proximity, better tactics and poor leadership on the Roman side, the last wrapped in caveats lest, after the loss in Armenia, it imply Justinian himself. There was also his own part in that flight back to Roman territory, though it had been made plain to him that Sittas was the man who bore responsibility.

‘But it must be possible, though it will be far from easy and luck must play a part as well as generalship.’

‘Then I hope you are gifted with both.’

The Emperor was looking at him, head canted to one side in that manner Flavius knew so well, a slight smile playing on his lips, yet one so faint it was hard to decipher the meaning.

‘Are you toying with me, Highness?’

‘No, I am not,’ came the terse reply, meant no doubt to infer that emperors did not jest.

‘You have heard of the fate of Timostratus?’ Flavius nodded, as Justinian added, ‘I do not see it as much of a loss, for he was not aggressive.’

‘Sometimes that is a good strategy.’

‘It is too often employed. You will replace Timostratus and I know you will be more active.’

Flavius was tempted to mention his lack of years and a corresponding absence of experience in high command, indeed to decline what was clearly being offered, yet he struggled to find the words, having spent the last ten years wondering at how some of those who had been given leadership of the imperial armies had ever secured their place.

He had never met Timostratus but he was one whose appointment smacked more of politics than military judgement until you remembered that Justin, who put him in place, had wanted nothing more than to keep the peace. That, under the new reign, was set to change, so the demise of the man had been fortuitous.

Was he fit to replace him? If he had been asked by anyone other than Justinian, Flavius would have replied in the affirmative. He had much to boast of: had he not been promoted to the rank of decanus in Vitalian’s rebel army, given command of men twice his age and more, when no more than a callow youth and after only serving for a short period?

With every action he had engaged in since, the pacification of insurrection, the question of the effectiveness of his personal leadership had never arisen and if he had been forced into an ignominious retreat in Armenia then that had been under the command of Sittas, who had never once sought the opinion of his junior commanders.

Justinian obvious sensed the unspoken concerns. ‘I trust you, Flavius, that is all you need.’

‘Highness.’

‘I do think it would be fitting,’ Justinian said in a slightly wounded tone, ‘to thank me.’

The arrangements made for the eastern border seemed to be a mix of pragmatic moves and political expediency. Hypatius was named as magister militum per Orientem, giving him overall authority for the borders of Asia Minor, no doubt necessary to quiet what might prove a troublesome faction within a senate testing out the will of a new emperor.

The sons of the murdered Vitalian, who had on the accession sent immediate pledges of loyalty without reference to the fate of their father, would be not only kept in the offices but would be afforded a chance to distinguish themselves under the leadership of the new dux Mesopotamiae.

The overall strategy was offensive. Since Dara had proved advantageous in holding the central part of the border, it seemed to Justinian sensible to seek to construct more forts, albeit funds did not exist for the construction of places of the same size and strength. Flavius was given orders to begin construction at Minduous to the north of Dara, the first of a planned string of fortified and garrisoned places by which the empire could hold its territory without the need for the constant raising of armies.

But first the Lakhmids had to be dealt with; allies of Kavadh, they had been raiding to the south of Dara, issuing from their own tribal lands to burn and plunder, and they required to be stopped, which had the added advantage of distraction. With an army entering Kavadh’s domains, threatening to chastise a confederate tribe, the Sassanids would be obliged to face that threat.