Theodoric

THIRTY-SEVEN

From Rufius Petronius Nicomachus Cethegus to Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius, Magister Officiorum, greetings.

Dear friend and fellow Anular, I write to warn you of a very real and pressing danger facing many in the Senate, and especially yourself.

Theoderic has long nurtured suspicions that correspondence between senators in Italy and the court in Constantinople has been of a treasonable nature. Alas, he now has proof. You may remember that at our last meeting I mentioned a leading senator, one Albinus. It has come to my attention (I have ‘ears’ in the corridors of power here) that a letter of his to Justin has been intercepted by Cyprian, the Referendarius, or head of security. The contents could scarcely be more damning: it openly invites the emperor (he infers Justinian, of course, as opposed to Justin) to free Italy from the Ostrogothic yoke! Now, had the letter been written by some naive aristocratic youth indulging in a spot of wishful thinking, Cyprian might conceivably have let it pass. However, Albinus being a pillar of the Senate and from the great family of the Decii, the matter could not be overlooked.

If Cyprian could be portrayed as acting out of malice, it might help Albinus’ case; but I fear it would be unproductive to pursue that line. Cyprian, unfortunately, is one of that dreadful tribe of ‘honest plodders’ — not overendowed with brains but thorough, and conscientious to a fault. Two years ago he was sent on a mission to Constantinople; it would be surprising if, while there, he failed to overhear some of the talk swirling about concerning change of regime in Italy. If he goes ahead and gives evidence — which he is virtually bound to do — it will be in a full session of the Consistory which you, Anicius, as Master of Offices will be required to attend. In that event, little short of a miracle can save Albinus.

I come now to a second matter, which concerns yourself. Bad news, I’m afraid. Another letter has been intercepted, this time one of yours, also addressed to Justin. In it you say you hope for ‘libertas Romana’ — which is code, of course, for Byzantine intervention in Italy. Dear boy, your indiscretion passes belief; I need hardly point out that you now stand in the very greatest danger, should Cyprian disclose the letter’s contents. There is, however, one glimmer of hope. Thanks to my network of inquisitores, I have managed to, let us say, ‘liberate’ the original epistle. (So you owe me one, my friend.) Cyprian’s team will undoubtedly attempt to reproduce a copy from memory, but comparison of hands will enable you to claim it to be a forgery. That may be enough to put you in the clear. Let’s hope so; our old enemies in the Senate — Faustus niger and the rest of the anti-Laurentius brigade — will be salivating at the chance to pull you down. Your friend and colleague Symmachus, our new Caput Senatus (old Festus at last having gone to claim his Heavenly reward), will naturally speak up for you, and his views do carry weight.

As soon as you have read this letter, burn it. Now is a time for keeping heads down and saving skins. So, please, no outbreaks of Roman nobilitas or soul-baring, weaknesses to which I feel you may be prone. Meanwhile, as it says in the Bible, ‘be strong and of a good courage’. Vale.

Written at the Villa Jovis, Caelian District, Roma, pridie Kalendas Octobris, in the Year of the Consuls Justinus Augustus and Opilio.*

Shaken, barely able to absorb Cathegus’ chilling revelations, Boethius set about reducing the letter to ashes.

*

In the great reception hall of Theoderic’s palace in Verona, the consistorium awaited the arrival of the king. This court, which dealt with important matters affecting Romans as opposed to Goths, was made up of Comites Primi Ordinis, Counts of the First Order, mostly Romans, none of rank below Spectabilis. Chief among them, by virtue of his being the Magister Officiorum, was Boethius. Facing each other in front of the court stood the tall, commanding figure of Albinus, his senatorial toga lending him an air of dignity, and his accuser, Cyprian, a bluff-looking individual with a weatherbeaten face.

Looking angry and upset, leaning on a stick, Theoderic shuffled in and seated himself on a throne-like chair to one side of the chamber. At a signal from the king, an official invited Cyprian to declare the charge.

‘Your Majesty, honourable members of this court,’ declared the Referendarius, his voice still showing a trace of the clipped vowels of the Aventine slums where he had been raised, ‘the charge is treason, as this letter will make clear.’ He handed a small scroll of vellum to a steward and instructed him to show it to Albinus. ‘You do not deny that this is yours, Senator?’ Cyprian enquired politely.

Albinus glanced briefly at the document and shrugged. ‘Certainly I wrote that,’ he affirmed carelessly, as though the letter were of little consequence.

‘With Your Majesty’s permission,’ continued Cyprian, ‘I shall read the relevant section to the court. Then you may all judge its import for yourselves. In the following passage, Albinus is directly addressing the emperor.

‘“. . most honoured Augustus, all Italy cries out for your assistance. Only let the sun of your presence shine upon this benighted land, and her present afflictions would dissolve and vanish like mist at break of day.”’ He looked round at the rapt faces of the Spectabiles. ‘If that ain’t-is not treason, gentlemen, I don’t know what is.’

Theoderic leant forward, a hectic spot burning in each cheek. ‘Albinus,’ he said in a low, hoarse voice, ‘have you anything to say?’

Drawing himself up to his full impressive height, Albinus bowed to the king. ‘Your Majesty, members of this court,’ he began in an urbane and reasonable tone, ‘take any sample of the contents of the diplomatic bag of correspondence destined for Constantinople. I guarantee it would contain many phrases of polished flattery such as diplomacy requires, which — taken out of context — could be made to appear just as “treasonable” as the excerpt you have just had read to you. I was merely suggesting to the emperor that a state visit would prove of inestimable benefit in smoothing away the unfortunate misunderstandings that have recently arisen between Ravenna and Byzantium. If that is treason, I am happy to plead guilty to the charge.’

Boethius, who had listened with growing admiration, decided that, notwithstanding Cethegus’ sensible advice, he must speak up in the senator’s defence, or he would not be able to live with himself. Was it Roman patriotism that prompted him, or merely a sense of solidarity with, and loyalty to, his own class? He could not be sure. All he knew was that silence — prudent but cowardly — was not an option. Rising to his feet, he heard himself exclaim, ‘The charge is false, Serenity! If Albinus is guilty, then I and the entire Senate are also guilty. If men can be condemned on such a trumped-up accusation, it is a sorry day indeed for Roman justice.’

A stunned silence followed his outburst. Theoderic stared at his Master of Offices with shocked incredulity. ‘Anicius Boethius, are you blind as well as deaf?’

‘Neither, Serenity,’ declared Boethius, the enormity of his declaration beginning to sink in. Well, it was too late to row back now. He must continue on the course he had set himself — even though it might be destined for the rocks. ‘My only concern is that the light of truth should so illumine the minds of all present that they do not, through a misunderstanding of the sense of a few phrases, condemn a noble Roman who is innocent.’

‘Then, Magister,’ broke in Cyprian, sounding uncomfortable, ‘you force me — reluctantly, I may say — to disclose the contents of a letter you yourself wrote to the emperor. I had hoped, as it is not strictly germane to the case we are here to examine, that I could avoid doing so, but you leave me no choice.’ Producing another letter, he read aloud, ‘“It is my hope, and also that of many senators, that libertas Romana may soon be restored to Italy.”’

‘It is a forgery!’ declared Boethius, his heart beginning to pound and his palms to sweat. ‘Anyone familiar with my hand will testify to that.’

‘It is a copy,’ countered Cyprian, ‘written admittedly from memory.’ An edge of anger entered his voice as he continued, ‘The original was stolen from my office. And you, Magister, dare talk about the light of truth.’ He looked round the assembly, then at Theoderic. ‘Your Majesty, members of this court, I rest my case.’

Theoderic cast a stricken gaze on Boethius. ‘Et tu, Anici,’ he whispered brokenly.

Maddened by grief and a feeling of betrayal, racked by bouts of a sickness soon to become terminal, the old king — all pretensions to dignitas and civilitas thrown to the winds — succumbed to a protracted fit of blind fury, striking out at all who might be considered enemies. Albinus was the first to die. Then the Caput Senatus, Symmachus — who dissolved a cowed and apprehensive Senate to prevent it from condemning in absentia his friend and son-in-law Boethius — was arrested and excuted. Pope John, Hormisdas’ frail and elderly successor, was thrown into gaol after a papal mission to Constantinople failed to persuade the emperor to relax his anti-Arian laws; still incarcerated, the pontiff died soon afterwards. In revenge for the Eastern legislation against Arians, Theoderic prepared a mandate for the enactment of laws prohibiting Catholic worship — practised by the vast majority of his subjects. And a special court — the judicium quinquevirale of five (carefully selected) peers of Boethius, presided over by Eusebius, the City Prefect of Rome — found Boethius guilty of treason while yet in custody. The verdict was facilitated by the testimony of several witnesses: Faustus niger and his coterie, also some of the provincial parvenus in government who felt their position threatened by Boethius and his aristocratic circle. (They even utilized his interest in philosophy to have sorcery included in the charge.) Conveyed in fetters to the grim fortress-city of Ticinum, he was imprisoned in its forbidding keep, where he finished writing his magnum opus, The Consolation of Philosophy.*

United in fear and hatred of Theoderic, and freed from any loyalty to him, the senators of Italy resumed their plotting with Justinian, their hopes reciprocated by the emperor-to-be.

* 30 September 524.

* See Notes.