Justinian

SEVEN

Looking across the camp fire at his friend Petrus (‘Justinian’, he corrected himself — the official name bestowed on Petrus in January as one of last year’s* consuls), Valerian felt a twinge of concern. Here they were, deep in the wilds of Aethiopia two thousand miles from Constantinople, heading a probably dangerous mission the success of which could not be guaranteed. . Yet, from his relaxed, almost carefree demeanour, you would think Petrus (‘Justinian’, he reminded himself again) didn’t have a care in the world.

Beyond the glowing circle of light from their own camp fire, hundreds of flickering dots, extending to a radius of several hundred yards, indicated the presence of the Roman expeditionary force supplemented by its Aethiopian guides. Perhaps he was being unduly apprehensive, Valerian conceded to himself. Thus far, he had to admit, the expedition had proceeded without a hitch. Sailing from the Golden Horn three months ago, the force (comprising a large contingent, mainly cavalry, from the Army of the East) had disembarked at Pelusium on the Nile Delta, marched the short distance overland to Arsinoe at the head of the Sinus Arabicus,** whence a fleet of transports (making excellent progress with a steady wind on the beam) had conveyed them to the port of Adulis on the coast of Aethiopia, a thousand miles further to the south-east at the other end of the Sinus.

Led by native guides sent to meet them at the port, the expedition had then struck inland across a rising tract of barren scrub-land to a high plateau — blessedly cool, Valerian found, after the energy-sapping heat of the coastal strip. Ahead towered a vast rampart of cliffs split by a mighty defile, before whose entrance the expedition made camp for the night. Next day, the force threaded the Great Pass, as the defile was known, through a series of striking and ever-changing scenes: groves of mimosa and laurel, flower-starred meadows, stands of pine and fir on the lower slopes and (just to remind you that this was Africa and not, say, Isauria or the Caucusus, thought Valerian) higher up, clumps of strange cactus shaped like many-branched candelabra.

The Dhu-Nuwas Expedition, AD 522-3

Beyond the Great Pass the scenery changed abruptly, the way climbing up into range upon range of stark mountains — a nightmare vision of fantastically shaped peaks, some like fangs, others like flat-topped pillars, riven by boulder-filled gullies or dizzying precipices. For weeks the column inched its way south-westwards through that fissured wilderness, whose only sign of human habitation was an occasional stone fortress impossibly perched atop sheer cliffs. At last, to everyone’s huge relief, the terrain began to descend, barren mountains giving place to rolling veldt — a sea of waving grass, relieved by crystal streams fringed by stands of sycamore fig, and stippled by herds of antelope, also a curious species of black-and-white striped horse. Although (assuming the great geographer Ptolemy was correct) Valerian reckoned they must now be midway between the line of the Tropic in the northern hemisphere and that of the Aequator, the climate, on account of the elevation of the country, was delightfully temperate — warm rather than hot by day, and cool at night. They passed many villages, each a cluster of cone-shaped thatched huts surrounded by a stockade. The inhabitants (tall, slim, brown-skinned people with, rather to Valerian’s surprise, an Arabic rather than a negro cast of countenance), negotiating with the expedition’s guides, were happy to exchange, for sticks of salt, fresh milk, bread, and meat — all much appreciated by the troops who had survived up to this point on hard tack and dried beef. In the midst of this Elysium, they came at last to Gondar* — an imposing hill-top city of stone-built houses, shops, and churches, and the agreed rendezvous with the King of Axum.

As the soldiers set up camp outside the town, Valerian recalled that fateful briefing in the Empire’s capital, when the expedition had been planned. .

Early in Justin’s reign, in the year that his friend Petrus was made consul (his name on the occasion being changed to Justinianus, as being thought more fitting for the nephew of an emperor), Valerian, along with Justinian, received a summons to attend a meeting at the palace.

A silentiarius conducted the pair to an audience chamber in which were seated Justin, wearing plain undress military uniform (he hated wearing the imperial regalia of diadem and purple robe, and avoided doing so whenever possible), and a large, red-faced, coarse-looking man, whom Valerian recognized as John the Cappadocian* — a clerk in the scrinium for military billeting. Justin waved the friends to a bench.

‘Dhu-Nuwas has invaded Arabia Felix,’** announced John, speaking in a pronounced mid-Anatolian accent. ‘What does that tell you?’ He stared expectantly at Justinian and Valerian.

When, after a lengthy pause no answer had been forthcoming, John sighed ostentatiously and continued, ‘A crisis, gentlemen, that’s what it means — a crisis linked to spices, silk, and Christianity.’ Raising his considerable bulk from his seat, he moved to an easel supporting a large wall-map showing the Arabian peninsula, the Sinus Arabicus, and the adjoining coast of Africa. With a pointer, he rapped the south-west tip of Arabia. ‘Arabia Felix — the home of an ancient race, the Sabaeans. It comes within the sphere of influence of Aethiopia, which has extended its power across the straits which the Arabs call Bab-el-Mandeb — the Gate of Tears, from shipwrecks caused by the strong currents there. Arabia Felix is now virtually an Aethiopian colony. Aethiopia, as I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, has been Christian for the past two hundred years; the Sabaeans were quite happy, it appears, to give up their primitive sun and moon worship in favour of the faith of their new masters.’

‘I don’t quite see what all this has to do with Constantinople,’ put in Justinian.

John rolled his eyes impatiently. ‘Give me strength. Aethiopia is Christian, thus entitled to the protection and support of the Christian Roman emperor. So Aethiopian control of Arabia Felix effectively means Roman control of the straits.’

‘Forgive my obtuseness,’ objected Valerian, clearly nettled by the other’s abrasive manner. ‘The Aethiopians are Coptic Christians, I believe — Monophysites, in other words. Which makes them heretics. So why should Rome support them? Also, you mentioned “Roman control of the straits”. Just why is that so important?’

‘Within the empire, Monophysites may be heretics; but outside it — well, we can’t afford to be too nice in our discriminations.’ John spoke slowly, in the tones of a schoolmaster explaining a point to a not-very-bright pupil. ‘Not if we hope to extend Rome’s influence, and build alliances beyond her frontiers. As for the importance of Roman control of the straits — I’d have thought that was blindingly obvious. But as that doesn’t appear to be the case, I suppose I must endeavour to — ’

‘Uncle,’ interrupted Justinian, with uncharacteristic heat, ‘Do we have to put up with this fellow’s rudeness? I wouldn’t have thought a little basic courtesy was too much to expect.’

Justin shifted in his chair and smiled uncomfortably. ‘It’s just his manner, nephew, nothing personal; he even speaks to me like that. Try to overlook his bluntness, if you can. I tolerate him because his advice is invariably excellent, and given without fear or favour.’ He turned to the other. ‘John,’ he went on, in conciliatory tones, ‘try to remember that Flavius Justinianus is a favoured member of my household, and that Valerianus Comes is a serving Roman officer with a distinguished record. A little tact wouldn’t come amiss.’

‘I’ll try to remember that, Serenity,’ responded John, inclining his head in mock humility. ‘To continue, gentlemen,’ he went on in tones of exaggerated politeness, ‘Roman control of the straits is important to us for two reasons. Strategically, a Roman foothold in Arabia could enable us to counter Persian influence there, while a friendly Aethiopia could in time perhaps become what used to be called a “client kingdom”, paving the way for imperial expansion in eastern Africa. Rome may have lost her Western provinces, but who’s to say she can’t extend her power to the south and east — the realms of Prester John and Alexander? Just a thought.

‘Commercially, the straits are also of enormous significance, commanding as they do the sea-routes both for spices from the Indies and silk from Serica.* Spices — essential for preserving autumn-killed meat throughout the winter. Silk, though not an article of general consumption, is of considerable importance in Roman society as a prestige possession — a badge of rank, a reward for merit. We mustn’t forget that silk and spices are important not just to Rome, but to Rome’s Eternal Enemy, Persia. Technically, we may be at peace just now. But there exists between the two powers a state of what I think we can fairly describe as “cold war” — especially on the trading front. As Persia commands the land routes, it can, at will, block supplies of silk and spices from reaching the Roman Empire. Which is why maintaining Roman control of the sea-routes is vital.’

‘And that control has now been threatened,’ put in Justin. ‘This Dhu-Nuwas that John mentioned is a prince of the Himyarites — a Jewish community in southern Arabia. Like the many other Jewish groups throughout the peninsula, it enjoys special Persian protection. In this “cold war” that John speaks of, a Jewish bloc in Arabia is useful to Persia, because it will naturally oppose the formation of any Christian — i.e. Roman-backed, regime. Hence Dhu-Nuwas’ invasion of Arabia Felix, and expulsion of its Aethiopian garrison.’ He turned to John. ‘I think that’s more or less the picture?’

The latter nodding his agreement, the emperor continued, ‘I’ve had a direct appeal, via Timothy the Patriarch of Alexandria, from Ella Atsbeha, the king of Aethiopia — or Negus of Axum, as he styles himself — for help in restoring the status quo ante.’ The briefing having now shifted from the sphere of high politics to a straightforward military one, Justin sounded briskly confident. ‘What I propose is this: that a Roman army be sent to Aethiopia, there to join forces with the Negus’ troops in a great expedition to recover Arabia Felix.’ The emperor turned to Justinian and smiled. ‘The post of Magister Militum per Orientem — Commander of the Army of the East — can become vacant, if you wish to fill it.* How does the idea of taking over, with a view to spearheading the Roman side of the expedition, appeal to you? Your friend Valerianus here, could be your second-in-command.’

Striving to conceal his alarm, Valerian tried to read his friend’s reaction: suprise, then gratification chased each other across Justinian’s features. Valerian’s heart sank as, after a longish pause, Justinian replied in a slightly awed tone, ‘I–I’d be honoured to accept, uncle. What can I say? — except to express my humble gratitude.’

‘You’ve earned it, nephew,’ said Justin warmly. ‘Without your help, and that of John here, I’d never have managed to run the Roman Empire.’

Undeniably true though Justin’s tribute to his nephew was, Valerian reflected, he felt that in accepting command of the eastern army his friend was making a profound mistake. Insofar as he possessed a gift of inspiring devoted loyalty in others, Justinian displayed undoubted leadership. But while he might be a superb administrator, he was, in Valerian’s opinion, no man of action — although clearly, from what had just transpired, he saw himself fulfilling such a role. That, Valerian was convinced, was self-deception — a state of mind usually attended by hubris. His friend’s experience of soldiering had been purely ceremonial; how would he rise to the challenge of leading an army in remote and no doubt difficult terrain, in conjunction with semi-savage tribesmen, against an enemy whose power and resources could only be guessed at? During their long friendship, Valerian recalled, there had been pointers indicating a potentially dangerous failure of nerve in moments of crisis on Justinian’s part: the incident with Nearchus from their student days, and his reaction, now three years ago, when first he learned that his uncle had been named for emperor. Well, provided not too many unforeseen complications developed, Justinian might just carry things off without mishap, Valerian supposed. And besides, he himself would be there at his friend’s side, to advise and assist.

Or, it could all go horribly wrong — like Crassus’ disastrous Parthian adventure centuries ago. The Roman financier and politician had fancied himself in the role of general, with fatal consequences for himself and for the men he led. However, no purpose would be served, Valerian decided, in telling his friend he should never have accepted the command. That would only be to sow a seed of doubt which could erode his confidence, in circumstances which called for steadfastness of purpose above all else.

Two days after the Roman force reached Gondar, the Negus (Negusa Nagast za-Ityopya, King of Kings of Aethiopia, to give him his full title) arrived at the city with part of his army — ten thousand lean, hawk-nosed warriors, armed with spears and swords, and carrying rawhide shields. A formal meeting then took place between the Roman leaders and the Negus and his entourage. The Negus, Ella Atsbeha, was, thought Valerian, an impressive figure — a tall young man with aquiline features and an air of natural dignity, which alone marked him out from his retinue. His clothing, a robe not unlike an old-fashioned Roman toga (a garment now only worn by senators), was, save for a broad red stripe along the border, identical to theirs. Justinian, arrayed in the full panoply of a Roman general with muscle cuirass and bronze-studded pteruges,* greeted the king graciously, assuring him (through interpreters) that, as a Friend of Rome, he could count on the Empire’s help in restoring Arabia Felix to Aethiopian rule. His friend seemed in his element, Valerian noted approvingly: gracious, cordial, almost regal in deportment, he was clearly creating a most favourable impression on the king and his followers. Perhaps, after all, he had misjudged Justinian and all would be well. So far, his friend’s behaviour couldn’t be faulted; on the march Justinian had projected a persona of calm composure, being invariably friendly, cheerful, and considerate towards the troops, who clearly adored him — a seeming second Caesar, another Alexander. But then, Valerian reflected, he hadn’t yet been tested.

That, however, was something that was set to change. For that very evening, news arrived that would put in jeopardy the whole expedition.

* 521.

** The Red Sea.

* In the next century, Gondar would replace Axum as the country’s capital. Ethiopia had been Christian since the 320s — nearly three centuries before St Augustine’s mission to England!

* Famous both for bluntness and efficiency, within ten years John the Cappadocian would rise from humble clerk to praetorian prefect — in effect Justinian’s chief minister. (See Notes.)

** The Yemen.

* China.

* It was occupied at the time by Hypatius, nephew of Anastasius.

* Part of a Roman officer’s military outfit, pteruges were leather strips protecting the thighs and upper arms. They are clearly depicted in statues and carvings of Roman emperors from Augustus to Justinian.