Justinian

EIGHTEEN

From Procopius Caesariensis — Secretary to General Belisarius and Historian of the Roman Expeditionary Force in Italy, to Anicius Julianus, Senator and Vir Clarissimus — greetings.

Dear ‘Cato’, I write to inform you of events as they now stand here, and of my recent activities on behalf of Libertas. Much you’ll have already heard of, but it won’t do any harm to get things ‘from the horse’s mouth’. Those extra funds you allocated me came in pretty useful. Before leaving Carthage, I was able to bribe some dissatisfied elements among the troops garrisoning Africa into stirring up a serious mutiny. This caused Belisarius no end of bother, forcing him to return to Africa from Sicily in order to quell the insurrection. While he was doing that, I managed to get a jolly little insurgency going in Sicily, by the same means as above. So by the time he’d sorted that out, his plans were badly behind schedule. All in all, I think we can congratulate ourselves on slowing things down nicely. (Pity the Huns reneged on us in Africa — no principles, these people. Even so, the scrap at the Tenth Milestone was a close-run thing.)

Well, thanks to our beloved emperor’s tight-fistedness, poor old B. — with only five thousand troops at his disposal (the same number are pinned down on garrison duties) has his hands tied. So I’ve been forced to write (following B.’s instructions) to Justinian himself appealing for reinforcements. Even with such a tiny army, B. has, unfortunately, performed wonders — taking Naples, then Rome itself, before the Goths were able to muster their host. The position at present is as follows.

True to form, Theodahad dithered — switching allegiance between his own people and Constantinople, depending on whichever side seemed at the moment most likely to win. Predictably, the Goths eventually lost patience with their Platonist monarch, and have now replaced him with one Witigis — not a noble scion of the royal Amal line, but a tough, experienced commander. Which is excellent news from our point of view. By the way, I took steps to prevent Theodahad staging a possible comeback. (Had that happened, he might have ended up handing Italy to Justinian on a plate.) Discovering that the deposed king planned to lick his wounds in Ravenna, I was able to inform an old enemy of his (plenty of those to choose from) who intercepted him en route on the Flaminian, and put him out of his misery. For the nonce, B. is holed up here in Rome. He and his staff (which of course includes myself) are comfortably enough quartered in the old imperial palace on the Pincian Hill. Meanwhile, Witigis has invested the city with a force of a hundred and fifty thousand Goths.

B. is quite the blue-eyed boy, everywhere at once: on the walls directing ballista fire against the enemy, cheering up the troops, organizing raids and sorties, smuggling in convoys of food, encouraging the citizens. . With that mile-wide smile of his, and a comradely hand always ready to clap a man on the shoulder, the soldiers will do anything for him. Everyone in Rome is queueing up to sing his praises, proclaiming how brave, generous, compassionate, and inspirational is their Great Deliverer. Positively sickening. I almost managed to get him killed the other day, which would have been a splendid coup for Libertas. He led a sortie in person (I ask you — what modern Roman general does a thing like that?) from the Flaminian Gate, mounted on a conspicuous bay horse with a white face. I got word to the Goths through a man on my (our) payroll; B. immediately became the target for a veritable blizzard of arrows and javelins, but by some miracle escaped unscathed. Which of course has only enhanced his already sky-high reputation.

The good news is that Witigis, apart from cutting the aqueducts, has managed to blockade the port of Rome,* and seal off the supply routes from Sicily and Campania. So the siege may yet succeed, forcing B. to surrender or withdraw, tail between his legs.

As arranged, I shall leave this missive by the Tomb of Cecilia Metella on the Via Appia at the place you know of, to await collection by your agens; the city walls are not so closely watched that a man of mine can’t smuggle it out. Vale.

Written at the Domus Pinciana, Roma, pridie Kalendas Septembris, in the year from the Founding of New Rome the two hundred and eighth.*

Post Scriptum.

How exactly is one supposed to date a letter these days? With no Western consuls appointed for the last three years, and no Eastern one for this year, consular dating may soon be a thing of the past, especially as our dear overlord has intimated that in future, the office may devolve on him alone. Imagine dating one’s correspondence, ‘in the-th consulship of Justinianus Augustus’. Perish the thought! So, for want of any better system, I shall stick meanwhile to dating A.R.U.C.**

From Anicius Julianus, Senator, to Procopius Caesariensis, Chronicler, greetings.

My dear ‘Regulus’, friend in Libertas, your letter arrived safely by the hand of the trusty ‘Horatius’. My congratulations on your excellent work in Africa and Sicily. As for B.’s popularity, and thus his influence concerning the citizens of Rome, I don’t think you need be too concerned. Just wait till famine bites, as the siege by Witigis begins to take effect. With priority regarding food of necessity being given to the army and its mounts, B.’s image will become severely dented. Take my word for it; in my youth I saw that happen with Odavacar at the siege of Ravenna, when Theoderic had him penned up inside the place.

As for myself, I sit here in Fanum† on the Mare Adriaticum — ‘like a great spider in the centre of its web’, as ‘Cincinnatus’, my second-in-command, put it (rather unkindly, I thought). Still, the simile is apt enough. My base here, at the junction of the Flaminian and Aemilian Ways, is the focus of routes north and south in Italy, and being directly opposite Salonae (now in imperial hands again) on the Adriatic’s eastern coast, enables me to keep in touch with my contacts in the Empire. One of these, ‘Catullus’, is an influential senator at court. (Yes, they’re all back in the Palace, as though Nika had never been.) You say that B. is desperate for reinforcements. Why don’t I get ‘Catullus’ to work on Justinian to send General Narses with more troops? If he can bring that off, we can, I think, sit back and watch the fun. Where Belisarius is all dash and brilliance, Narses is slow and exceedingly cautious — rather like Fabius Maximus of old. The two are bound to clash. With B.’s authority likely to be challenged, and the Roman command thus hopefully divided, the Goths may well recover the initiative and the Italian Expedition end in failure — or at least in stalemate.

By the way, last year Theodahad (now defunct thanks to your initiative) was nearly panicked through the eloquence of Peter the Patrician into handing over power to Justinian. Well, we couldn’t allow that to happen, so I arranged for poor Peter to be ‘taken out’, as they say. Not terminally, you understand (Libertas has principles), just clapped in prison for the nonce. My agents persuaded the new, pro-Gothic Pope, Silverius, to ‘lean’ on Theodatus (as Theodahad Romanized his name) sufficiently for him to have Peter incarcerated. I’m assured he’ll be released ere long. Meanwhile, keep up the good work. Look for further instructions at Cecilia Metella in the last week of this month. Vale.

Written at Insula Meridiana, Porta Flaminia, Fanum, VIII Ides Septembris, A.R.U.C., ducenti et octavo.*

* This was no longer Ostia, which had become silted up in the course of the previous century (and whose spectacularly well-preserved remains today rival those of Pompeii), but an altogether humbler facility — Portus.

* 31 August 537.

** Anno Regiae Urbis Conditae — From the Founding of the City (i.e. of Constantinople in AD 330).

† Fano.

* 6 September, 537.