Justinian

TWENTY-THREE

Conveyed by a broken Prudentius, the news of the fall of Antioch and the massacre of its population came as a shattering blow to both Justinian and Theodora, though it affected them in different ways. With the success of Belisarius in Africa and Italy, Justinian had begun to assume that Roman arms, as in the glory days of Trajan, were invincible, especially since they constituted the main instrument by which his Grand Plan was being achieved. A Plan, moreover, which, Justinian believed, enjoyed divine approval. However: the capitulation of Berrhoea’s Roman garrison to Khusro, and the disgraceful flight of the six thousand Roman troops that he, Justinian, had personally sent to Antioch, suggested that perhaps, this might no longer be the case. Even Khusro’s magnanimous gesture in providing a new home for the surviving Antiochans seemed calculated to rub salt into Justinian’s wounded pride, emphasizing his powerlessness and vulnerability in the face of Persian might.

Suddenly, the emperor’s glittering self-image as God’s Appointed Vice-gerent upon Earth seemed less convincing than it had a few short months before. His old demons of self-doubt, which he had thought banished forever, began once more to stir within the dark recesses of his mind. And with self-doubt revived his old fear that he was in some way cursed, that the price of allegiance to Justinian was — as with Milan and now with Antioch — fated to be catastrophe and death.

The news about Antioch threw Theodora into an agony of uncertainty as to the fate of her beloved Macedonia. Had she perished in the slaughter? Or was she among the captives taken into exile in Persia? If the latter, then a personal appeal by a Roman empress to the Great King would surely be effective in securing her release. Convincing herself that Macedonia was now safely in Persia, she was about to send an ambassador to Khusro, when her hopes were cruelly dashed.

An aged nun, weary and travel-stained (‘bearing urgent news for the empress’ ears alone’, according to the Comes Domesticorum who interviewed her), arrived one day at the Imperial Palace and was granted an audience with the empress. Theodora’s anguished howl of misery when she heard that Macedonia was dead was audible in every part of the palace close to the audience chamber. Sister Agnes, departing with a handsome ‘dowry’ (her entree to the Metanoia* of which she was to become Mother Superior), would say nothing when asked about the cause of Theodora’s distress. For days, the empress stayed immured within her private suite, unapproachable even by the emperor, her only contact an expert limner. Between them, the empress and the artist created a likeness of Macedonia for delivery to the mosaicists adorning the Church of Sanctus Vitalius in Ravenna (then under construction, to celebrate the reintegration of Italy into the Roman Empire) with two panels depicting separately, Justinian and Theodora together with their suites. The instructions accompanying the portrait — showing a pretty, heart-shaped face, full of compassion and a lively intelligence — stated that it was to be the model for the female figure immediately to the left of the empress in the panel. ‘And so, my love,’ Theodora murmured sadly, all her tears long since wept out, ‘now you and I will be together for all time.’

When at last she emerged into public life once more, many noted that the empress had changed — afflicted from then on by some secret sorrow. Some later went so far as to suggest that the seeds of the sickness that would in a few years strike her down were sown at this time.

With Belisarius now posted to the east, Justinian’s morale began to recover. His all-conquering general would surely teach that presumptuous young puppy, Khusro, a lesson he would not easily forget. Meanwhile, Gubazes, king of the disputed territory of Lazica** (encouraged by the collapse of Roman prestige as a result of Khusro’s Syrian campaign, and resentful of the efficiency of Roman tax-collectors), had invited the Great King to replace Roman with Persian sovereignty. Khusro was only too willing to oblige; a Persian army swept through Lazica,† defeated the Roman forces there, and captured the fortified port of Petra, giving them an outlet on the Black Sea.

But with Belisarius at the head of a mighty Roman army (swollen with troops no longer needed in Italy) advancing into Persian Mesopotamia, it looked as if the Great King’s rashness in challenging the might of Rome was about to incur its just deserts. And for a time, this seemed indeed to be the scenario that was destined to unfold. On swept the Romans unop-posed, past Nisibis whose huge garrison dared not emerge to challenge them, to take the great fortress city of Sisaurana on the Tigris. And then, just as it seemed poised to descend on Lazica, the Roman advance stalled. . To everyone’s amazement and consternation (none more so than the emperor’s), Belisarius now proceeded to march his army back to Roman territory!

Speculation as to the reasons for the general’s withdrawal was rife, wild, and fevered. The consensus was that distressing news had reached Belisarius concerning the conduct of his wife, Antonina. Normally, she accompanied him on campaign, but on this occasion, so the story went, had chosen to remain in Constantinople, in order to resume a longstanding and passionate affair with a young man called Theodosius (her own adopted son!) — a liaison that Belisarius had fondly imagined to have run its course. His forbearance tested beyond endurance, the general, it was thought, had finally snapped, and was now determined to confront his wife and discover the truth, or otherwise, of the rumours concerning her.*

To Justinian, it began to seem that God had indeed decided to withdraw His favour from His former Chosen One, especially as the stalemate on the eastern front coincided with the downfall of Justinian’s invaluable finance minister, John of Cappadocia (engineered by his arch-enemy Theodora, who managed to link his name with a plot against the emperor**). The Cappadocian’s genius for raising money had helped provide the enormous financial resources needed for Justinian’s campaigns. Thus his disgrace and dismissal constituted both a major political defeat for the emperor (inflicted by his wife!), and a severe blow to his confidence. After much soul-searching however, he was able to comfort himself with the reflection that the major constituent of his Grand Plan — namely the recovery of Africa and Italy for the Roman Empire — was solidly intact.

But that reassuring consolation was about to be shattered. .

* Or Convent of Repentance — a refuge, founded by Theodora, for women forced into prostitution.

** Georgia.

† In the spring of 541.

* They proved, alas, to be only too well-founded.

** For this, also Antonina’s unbelievably steamy and tangled affair with Theodosius, see Notes for Chapter 19.