Triumph

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It was not a single vessel that set sail for the east but a substantial flotilla, carrying Flavius, Antonina and also the general’s comitatus, his personal fighting retinue who went wherever he was active, their care delegated to Solomon. To ease his mind and temper, his wife had been accommodated with her retinue of servants on a vessel of her own, while Theodosius and his coffers had been allotted a separate galley to keep them apart.

Cabasilis he kept close partly to probe for any hint that his recall had to do with the offer of Goth kingship, not that he had any fear of the consequences, his conscience being clear. Yet he had enemies in Constantinople, rivals for military position, like Narses. Then there were the relatives and associates of the executed Constantinus. Such voices would seek to dismiss any claims to probity.

On balance he had to accept the reasons given for his recall were true. With Justinian preoccupied with what was happening in Italy, Khusrow would be well aware that the troops and commanders needed to stop his depredations simply did not exist in Asia Minor. He had cut through great swathes of territory, almost unopposed, to invest several cities, this at a time when envoys from Constantinople were present and negotiating with him.

It was also obvious that Khusrow was fired by a high level of greed rather than a desire to take and hold ground. Cities invested had been obliged to buy their way out of being sacked with a levy of several hundreds of pounds of gold. Those places that refused and Khusrow did assault provided him with hordes of slaves he was eager to ransom. Not that Khusrow was satisfied; a demand had been sent to Justinian seeking more gold as a bribe not to repeat his success.

There did not seem, either, to be any intelligence of what he planned to do next year, a question to which Flavius would have loved an answer. Cabasilis had neither information nor an opinion, which left Flavius, for the first time in many years, with nothing to plan for; he was in the dark and would remain so until he heard from Justinian.

It was a strange feeling to be unoccupied; there were no commands to issue, nothing to reconnoitre, no despatches to be sent to inferiors. He was thus reduced to the level of a sightseer, walking the deck and observing the shore from which fleets rarely parted the sight of even in summer. At this time of year, with the possibility of equinoxal tempests, the sailing master kept a sharp eye on the clouds and the sea state, ever ready to run for one of the many sheltering bays that dotted the coastline of Greece.

Introspection had previously been held at bay by the daily requirement for activity. Now, on a slow and broken voyage, Flavius had the freedom to assess his actions and if he had previously thought about the battles fought prior to this watery interlude, and his competence as a commander, he had never done so with so much absorption.

The balance was in his favour, of course; he was leaving behind a well-beaten enemy but that did not stop critical analysis of the mistakes he knew he had made. In this Procopius came constantly to mind, he being ever ready to find excuses for any setback suffered by his master, always able to find a scapegoat on which to pin the blame.

The loss outside the walls of Rome Flavius saw as his worst defeat and the excuse Procopius conjured up then would not hold in a mind bent on honest and critical examination. He had not been driven to it by more ambitious minds bent on glory or a quick result: even if he had been persuaded and allowed his own judgement to be compromised, even if blame could be attached to the broken infantry and their incompetent commanders, there was no question as to ultimate responsibility.

Added to that was the thought as to how it might have ended in disaster, with his forces locked out of the city by the refusal of the Romans to open the gates. In talking with Witigis, whom he had treated with honour, Flavius had found out why, when they had the Byzantine forces at their complete mercy, the Goths had not attacked.

‘The crowds of men on the walls, thousands of them.’

‘And?’ Flavius had enquired, confused.

‘We feared a trap and with good cause, given the number of times you sprang one on us.’

‘But those lining the walls were not fighters.’

‘They looked as if they might be to me and those who I looked to for counsel. We concluded that once engaged we would be so locked into battle as to prevent any safe withdrawal, and once those men emerged we could be overwhelmed.’

‘I am told I am lucky,’ Flavius sighed. ‘Perhaps, after what you have told me, Witigis, there is truth in that.’

‘It gives me no joy to say to you, Flavius Belisarius, that it takes more than luck to win on the field of battle.’

‘You were a worthy opponent,’ was the reply, a fitting one and true, given to a man with whom he had become less of an enemy.

‘Not worthy enough.’

At night, as the galley ploughed through the Mediterranean swell, the wind whistling in the rigging and, when that fell away, the row master’s mallet beating out a slow tattoo, Flavius was too often subject to the recurring nightmare that had plagued him since the day his family had perished, their deaths played out in an ever-shifting vision of blood, pleading and his own uselessness.

Added to that there was the parlous state of his marriage. He was torn between believing Antonina to be innocent of infidelity and the wild imagining of her in that very act, neither of which gave him any indication of what to do about it. In other dreams they lived in harmonious bliss, but they always morphed into scenes of murderous rage in which she lay hacked to pieces while the cohorts of Satan tore at his flesh in retribution.

If dawn was welcome, after weeks of travel, so was the sight of the spires of Constantinople, never before a vista to provide much pleasure. The main fleet was ordered to proceed to Galatea while the command galley altered course and headed for the private imperial dock.

On his return from the Vandal war the imperial couple had been on the quayside to greet their victorious commander; nothing of that sort was to be afforded to Flavius now, even if he had with him a valuable treasure, one admittedly not of the size he had brought from North Africa, the fruits of two centuries of theft from the old Roman provinces of Gaul and Hispania. The Goths had plundered but none had done so as successfully as the Vandals, whose mere name had become a byword for pointless destruction.

He had transferred Antonina to his vessel in expectation and both had dressed as if to be received by Justinian and Theodora. Long before the galley tied up it was clear from the absence of activity on the quayside that there was no such greeting awaiting them. Instead there was a second messenger of no higher calibre than Cabasilis with instructions that Flavius was to proceed immediately to Justinian’s audience chamber, while his wife was requested to attend on the Empress in her apartments.

Never one for display and neither willing to respond to a clear insult, Flavius felt keenly the need to send to his emperor a message that he, if only on behalf of the men he had led to victory as well as the offer he had refused, was entitled to more. Sending Antonina ahead, then arranging for the Goth treasure to be taken to the imperial treasury, he changed into a simple set of clothing, one more suited to a general on campaign than the courtier Justinian would expect.

Walking the seemingly endless corridors of the palace he was reminded of the sheer number of functionaries necessary to run such a dispersed patrimony. That took no account of the thousands of servants and the guards of the Regiment of the Excubitors, placed at intervals to protect against any possibility of an attempt on the lives of their rulers. Having served in that unit as a young officer, Flavius could not avoid sly inspections to ensure they had maintained the standards he thought necessary to the imperial bodyguard

As usual there were the high officials making their way from one set of chambers to another, attended by fawning inferiors, their arms full of scrolls. Such men, catching sight of him, were quick to arrange their features in a form of greeting but there was no friendliness in the looks Flavius received; this was not a building in which to indulge in such luxuries.

On entering the audience chamber he was further discomfited by the fact that the place was full of those men gathered to advise the Emperor, which sent to him the message that he was to be treated as just one of their number and not, as he had become accustomed to in previous meetings, as a privileged companion allowed private audience.

The crowd parted to allow him to approach the dais on which sat a gorgeously dressed Justinian, a sceptre in his hand and a crown of laurels on his head. In doing so he passed a clutch of officials, such as John the Cappadocian and Narses, who did not favour him with even a hint of welcome. Indeed the eunuch’s failed attempt to hide a glare was almost amusing and would have been fully so if it had not indicated to Flavius that his standing in the imperial firmament must be, regardless of his successes, somewhat open to question. The likes of Narses and John reflected the imperial mood; they never challenged it!

‘You seem a touch tardy in attendance, General Belisarius. Is it that your head has been turned by events?’

Not Flavius, nor magister. It was the lack of those words of respect as much as the tone that killed the half smile, as having bowed low, he raised himself to look steadily into the eyes of the man he had so faithfully served, the thought in his head inadvertent but impossible to ignore that perhaps Procopius had been right.

‘Your Excellency would not have wished me to leave the treasure I brought from Italy unattended to so I could answer your summons.’

The Emperor looked him up and down, taking in the plain smock and unadorned belt, as well as the metal-studded sandals that had made such an echoing noise on the marble flooring. ‘And you are required to dress like some common soldier in order to oversee such a task?’

‘I dress like a soldier, which is what I am and I aspire to be nothing else.’

Which was as good a way as any of telling his emperor that he was not like the other men in the chamber; who amongst them would have turned down what he had? Looking at Justinian, Flavius was struck by the changes in a man he had not seen for over five years. The reddish hair was still as untidy as uncontrollable locks could be, but it was tinged with grey. The face, never handsome, had deep lines that had not before been present and bags under eyes that at least had the same look Flavius knew so well, ones in which there was always the impression of something hidden.

The head canted to one side, again a well-known habit, as Justinian replied, looking his general up and down as he did so. ‘You speak freely and without apology for keeping us waiting, not just from the point of landing but in the time it has taken you to obey my order to depart from Italy.’

‘Speaking freely has always been a privilege I was granted in times past.’

Narses spoke then, having come close to the throne to witness the first exchange, this as Justinian looked peaked at being so challenged. ‘It would do you well to show greater respect now, Belisarius.’

‘Just as it would behove you, Eunuch, to recall that you and I are equals and that affords you no right to make any comment on how I behave or to address me in a disrespectful manner.’

There was a sound behind Flavius then, of a sort of shuffling; in so calling Narses a eunuch he had returned the insult in full measure. The sound had to be ignored, he needed to hold the imperial eye. Justinian lifted his head to cast a look around the assembly before coming back to gaze at Flavius, who did not blink at such an examination.

Many years before, at a time when the man before him had been no more than an aide and relative to his uncle, and on many occasions since, he had sworn to be honest in their dealings, never to flatter where truth was required and never to praise actions that were questionable. They had known each other for a quarter of a century now and it was no time for that to change.

He would serve Justinian, yes, but he would never grovel to him, as would so many of the courtiers present. The other thing such creatures might do was conspire against him for their own ends, some even to the point of potential usurpation. Given he would never stoop to such behaviour, Flavius expected to be treated differently, even if what he had turned down in Ravenna was obviously no mystery.

In the silence that followed, as the pair locked eyes, Flavius was seeking the reason for such a cold greeting. Certainly Narses, on his return, would have done all in his power to diminish him, almost certainly playing down the fighting ability of the Goths, which would simultaneously dent the reputation of the man who had been beating them for years.

Flavius suspected powerful satraps such as John the Cappadocian would be extremely jealous of his success and thus also be a man to traduce him, odd since their opinions on certain matters coincided. Not all: John had been employed by Justinian on his ascension to bring more order to both the law courts and the collection of taxes. That he lined his own pockets in the process was tolerated by the Emperor on the grounds of his own increased revenues: besides, to find another who would not be equally corrupted by the opportunities this presented was close to impossible.

His other task, and here Flavius was a full supporter, was to help break the power of the patricians by bringing into the imperial bureaucracy men from more humble backgrounds yet with the talent to carry out the functions of government. If this earned him the hatred of the old ruling class it also allowed the Cappadocian to build a body of support committed to him personally. Never a shrinking violet, the man had now become intolerably self-regarding.

Flavius had to accept that his reception could be cold for another reason: habit. Occupying the imperial throne left any emperor at the mercy of advice ever leavened with flattery as to his own innate wisdom. Having occupied the position for over a dozen years now Justinian would have become accustomed to such sycophancy. Perhaps he had lost sight of what had been his abiding opinion of such courtiers, a not very elevated one prior to taking the diadem.

The men who surrounded the Emperor were politicians, still too many of them patricians, greedy for advancement in both sinecures for themselves and income and employment for their relatives. They counselled a person who enjoyed untrammelled power against any individual and as a defence against arbitrary judgement they formed self-protective cliques to temper that power.

Justinian stood abruptly. ‘Come with me.’

There being no doubt as to whom he was addressing, Flavius could again hear a sound, this time made up of sighs and grunts. Narses got a black look before he obeyed, following Justinian out of the audience chamber and tailing him to his private apartments where, once past the guards, his servants, no doubt well able to read the imperial mood, quickly left them alone.

‘You seem not to fear angering me.’

‘I admit to my guilt.’

‘And if I said I am tempted to send you to the dungeons so that you may see the folly of that?’

A swift and shallow bow of the head was appropriate; Justinian was just capricious enough to follow up on such a suggestion. ‘You have that right, Excellency, though I cannot think it would raise respect for you anywhere should you exercise it.’

‘That sounds very much like a threat.’

‘It was not intended as one.’

‘I sense an overmighty subject, one who thinks himself my equal.’

‘Since I cannot be both I will settle to be a subject.’

If it was unstated both knew what they were talking about: Ravenna.

‘Can you not see how you have diminished me by the way you have just behaved?’

‘I see that I have treated you as I have always done, honouring your office while remembering how you always welcomed that I told you the truth.’

‘Are you so sure I welcomed it?’

‘I am very sure that you should, as did your uncle.’

‘Do not quote him to me.’

‘I do so only to remind you that you once reposed the same faith in me that he did.’

‘While you have no notion of how many voices I hear that tell me such trust is misplaced.’

‘Which you have good grounds to ignore since I am standing before you.’

‘I am assailed by strident declarations that your actions in Italy, not least in the way you have lined your purse and dragged out the campaign, need serious enquiry.’

‘Narses will be behind that.’

‘He is not alone. Do not forget that Constantinus had a powerful family and you had him executed like a common thief.’

‘The memory of that affords me no pleasure but I had to act with equity for the sake of the army.’

‘I am pressed from other places, Flavius.’

The given name at last, and that had the one so blessed wondering if part of what Justinian was up to was an act. Surely he did not believe that his most faithful and successful general would divert money to his personal coffers or extend a campaign unnecessarily to add lustre to his name, those being the twin and all too common allegations made against the effective by the envious?

Exposed to a drip feed of accusation, had the Emperor reacted in public merely to display a level of displeasure that would satisfy the many Belisarius enemies, which would include not just the likes of Narses but any one of his counsellors troubled or made to feel insecure by his success?

How many had been jockeying for the command that Flavius had come to take on even if, as magister militum per Orientem it was his by right. Field generalship brought rewards of its own, but to the avaricious it also presented great opportunities for personal enrichment. If Narses and the Constantinus family had sent hares running against him, there were many who would be willing to join in the chase if only to advance their own prospects.

The spectre of Theodora could also lie at the back of this but that was, as a defence, unmentionable. Flavius might be truthful with Justinian but he knew what areas not to stray into, matters too sensitive to be alluded to and she was the primary one. If he could not comprehend the bond that united them, Flavius knew it to be so unbreakable that not even the most intimate companion could refer to its negative aspects.

‘If I am to be examined I can hardly proceed to the duty for which I have been recalled.’

Justinian had never been good at disguising a sly thought: the head canted and there was no eye contact so that Flavius, who possibly knew him too well, was given the impression of a sudden idea entering the imperial mind and what followed did not do anything to dent that impression.

‘The eastern border is paramount. I am prepared to pay Khusrow for peace, but only to a certain level, and I am also willing to protect you, Flavius, from the accusations made against you.’

This was a point at which other generals, eager for glory, might have suggested it would be better to crush Khusrow than bribe him. It being a subject often discussed between them, as it had been when Justinian’s uncle wore the purple, it was not one Flavius would advance, for it had long been held by wiser heads that to subdue and occupy the whole of Persia was a recipe for ultimate disaster.

If the Roman Empire struggled to hold onto what it already had, and could contemplate expansion back into once held provinces where the population could be counted on to provide some sort of welcome, territorial conquests in the east were too big a mouthful to chew on. Quite apart from the sheer amount of land needed to be conquered then controlled, success would bring the empire up against the formidable forces that troubled the eastern Sassanid frontier and in many senses stopped its kings from too many adventures beyond the Euphrates.

The sly thought? Justinian would not set in train an enquiry into any behaviour in Italy, but he would not kill off the notion entirely. Why give up a point of pressure that could be applied without being mentioned? If Flavius failed against Khusrow, such an accusation could be allowed to resurface in order that the Emperor could defend his own standing.

‘The sooner I am gone the better,’ Flavius said.

That got eager nodded agreement, but Justinian did not pick upon the deeper meaning in what seemed like eagerness to get back to a theatre of war. More pressing to Flavius was to get away from what he saw as a sink of iniquity and one in which being present was much more threatening than any of the many battlefields on which he had risked his life.

Soon the pair were bowed over maps, examining the various possibilities that Khusrow might engage in. The eastern border was a twisting line of over five hundred leagues, peopled by fickle tribes that were well used to taking advantage if Rome seemed to be winning over Persia and vice versa. He had several routes in which he could launch an invasion and all had to be guarded against. If Flavius was to have the top command he was in need of competent subordinates.

There were imperial troops on the frontier but not enough; allies would be needed and part of the task of the magister per Orientem was to first engage them and then properly employ their levies. Justinian too had a responsibility, and that was to provide prompt and regular pay for those in his service, not always forthcoming at the times in which it should and that, gently alluded to, pointed up one of the limits of imperial power.

The Emperor could propose but it was up to the bureaucracy to dispose and gold meant to pay soldiers had a way of being delayed in its true purpose so that such men, by lending it out at interest, could enrich themselves with no thought to the ultimate consequence of their peculation.

‘Do not fail, Flavius,’ Justinian said in conclusion, the grave look on his face somewhat manufactured. ‘There are too many here in the palace who would take pleasure from such an outcome.’

‘I will do what is required of me, Excellency.’

The tone of that, Flavius deliberately employed; it was not rousing words of assurance, it was a warning that his emperor also must do as was required. If there were pinches in the distribution of supplies, he must either root them out or find a way to bypass them.