Triumph

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

What was Theodora really saying when she claimed that the pleading of Antonina had led to a softening of the imperial position? That due to such intercession and her own application to Justinian, who, rumour had it was now recovered, had it in mind to end his present isolation and reinstate him in imperial favour. If anything underlined the falsity of that senatorial judgement it was this: the notion that on a whim any verdict arrived at could be overturned, though that hardly came as a surprise since the charges, wholly specious, had been inspired from the same source.

There was one obvious undercurrent: any relaxation would only be considered and maintained if he showed a true appreciation of the manifest attributes of his wife. Tempted to list them as disloyalty, deceit and infidelity, added to a conceit that allowed for no self-appraisal, Flavius held his tongue and if part of him knew that to be craven he sensed he was close to a prize worth his silence.

‘In order that you know I bear you no ill will, and in appreciation of my good friend your wife, I have agreed that your daughter Ioannina should be betrothed to a member of the imperial family.’

That caused Flavius to look at Antonina; Theodora was talking of a girl he had barely seen since birth, both through being away at war and his marital estrangement. It made him feel ashamed that he had no real knowledge of her and given his wife looked so pleased by the pronouncement all he could do was offer a feeble thanks.

‘My husband has demanded to see you.’

‘I am, as always, his to entirely command.’

Despite the sincerity with which that was imparted, Theodora could not help but look at him with suspicion to see if he was once more mocking her.

‘I would point out to you, Flavius, that whatever privileges you allotted to yourself previously when addressing the Emperor no longer hold. He will talk, you will listen and if you speak, confine yourself to the mere answering of his enquiries.’

‘And when am I to attend upon him?’

‘You may wait outside his private chamber and you will be summoned.’

It pleased Flavius that Justinian did not intend to haul him before an open meeting of his counsel in the audience chamber. This would, he was sure, have led to a humiliating listing of his supposed crimes, just so the Emperor could then appear wise, benign and merciful. Much of such gatherings were constrained by ritual and theatricality as the Emperor sought to demonstrate his sagacity, this while being fawned on by people who privately, if the rumours were true, thought him of little worth.

Attendance had been blessedly rare, Flavius being too often on campaign to be included in meetings in which too little was ever resolved and time was wasted by the courtiers in making statements, either self-aggrandising or in defamation of their rivals. The only joy was when two men in conflict for some well remunerated service were simultaneously present; neither could be open in either ambition or condemnation and for an uninvolved observer their manoeuvrings and sophistries had some value as entertainment.

The anteroom, apart from the two Excubitors guarding the inner chambers, was empty. It was also lacking in anywhere to sit, which obliged Flavius to pace back and forth, the only interruption being when the door was opened to allow one of Justinian’s more intimate advisors to depart. Finally the magister officiorum exited, to favour Flavius with a surprised look. Moments after his departure a servant emerged to beckon him in, staying without himself.

The interior was lit by dozens of candles and if the room had windows they were so heavily draped as to be of no account. Was the form of light to flatter a man who wished to disguise the ravages of both his recent disease and increasing age? The way Justinian was pacing back and forth, very few steps back and forth at a hurried pace, took Flavius back to a time when both were young; even then he had been a restless soul who gave the impression of a mind in permanent turmoil.

‘You may sit,’ was the rasping introduction, ‘though God knows I should have you branded with red-hot irons.’

‘Would that be to satisfy your conscience or to trouble mine?’

That stopped the pacing and got the still standing Flavius a glare, made more hostile due to the light and the shadows it cast. Outside Flavius had been afforded time to think and he had concluded that to grovel to Justinian would be useless. Was it possible, given the information he had been fed by his wife, that the Emperor believed a man who named him a friend had set out to usurp him?

There was no point in seeking to guess at such a problem; he needed to convince Justinian that such accusations were false and the one thing that might bend his mind to even a hint of truth was for someone who had always challenged him to miss an opportunity of doing so now. Whatever else he must face, Justinian had to be presented with the Flavius Belisarius he knew.

‘You deny your transgressions?’

‘I deny wishing for your passing. Had God seen fit to reject my prayers for your recovery I would have acted as I always have.’

‘Don’t tell me, Flavius,’ came the mocking response. ‘For the good of the empire.’

‘A duty which falls daily to both of us.’

‘I see your tongue has not been stilled by your recent travails.’

‘I have learnt to be more skilful with certain people but I cannot change the way I address you. If I am required to do that I would rather you dismiss me from your presence and allow me to return to being ignored.’

‘For the love of God, Flavius, sit down!’

‘Why am I here?’

‘You are here because I want you here.’

‘Want or need? Did you really believe I would betray you?’

‘Why not?’ came the weary response. ‘Everyone else seems bent on doing so. Not a week goes by when I do not hear of some attempt to topple me.’

Conspiracies all brought to you by your wife, Flavius thought; it was not a politic thought to express. There was also something in the way Justinian had responded that indicated that he knew the notion of his rebelling had to be nonsense; the man who had turned down the crown of the Goths? He had been ill, probably near death’s door, which had left Theodora in total control. Would Justinian have believed a word of the accusations if he had been hale?

When Flavius finally sat down, Justinian came close enough to allow the features to be studied and the ravages of what he had gone through were there to see: hollow cheeks, eyes that were embedded in deep sockets, and given he was wearing a silken cowl, it had to be assumed he had suffered the kind of severe hair loss Flavius had witnessed in his surviving soldiers. That explained the candlelight in the middle of the day.

‘Admit you needed to be reminded of your place?’ All that got was a nod; there would never be a verbal admission of guilt but it seemed enough to satisfy Justinian who laid a hand on his shoulder and pronounced. ‘Your sequestration is over, Flavius. I require you to go to Italy.’

‘If you intend to reinstate me, let me go back to Dara and with everything I enjoyed in terms of rank.’

‘Italy is where you are needed and as to reinstatement, well …’ The pause was followed by a sigh. ‘Martinus has only recently been named as magister militum per Orientem. Can you not see it impossible to strip him of that or to recall him when he is properly carrying out his duties and is fully engaged in manoeuvring against Khusrow?’

‘You have the power to do as you wish.’

That changed the imperial tone markedly. ‘It seems I do not have the power to command you!’

There was no choice but to succumb and what followed was a description of how dire matters were in the Italian Peninsula where the various Byzantine generals seemed content to remain in whatever towns and cities they held, making no effort to combine against Totila. Flavius was to be restored to a senior military command and had the promise that his wealth, now in the possession of Theodora, would be returned, a promise only kept in part, since she subsequently gave part of it to Justinian and he saw no reason to decline such a gift.

Equally disquieting was the insistence by Theodora that Antonina once more accompany him, no doubt to fulfil the same purpose she had previously performed: namely to keep the Empress fully informed of her husband’s actions and statements, which, in the case of the latter, with Flavius now being very guarded, she would probably have to invent.

What he could not have was his previous title or his old comitatus, now in the service of other commanders, men who had paid large sums for their service. When he asked for soldiers, especially bucellarii, that too was hardly forthcoming in any great number. Unknown to Flavius as he set out from Constantinople, along the Via Egnatia, at the head of no more than a thousand men, was that he was heading for years of frustration, mainly due to the lack of effective fighting men, but also because he had, in Totila, an opponent who had learnt from him.

The Goth King had adopted the Belisarian policy with the natives; even in Naples, which by the laws of war he had the right to sack, Totila had avoided punishing them for holding out against him. He did the very opposite to a population near to starvation, bringing in food with which to feed them and even controlling the distribution to avoid the kind of sudden overeating which could kill. He had shown clemency to the Byzantine garrison by allowing them to march out with their equipment for Rome, and given many were now locally recruited this spread the word to the Italians of a wise and temperate ruler.

By the time Flavius reached Salona on the coast of Illyria, recruitment by bounty in that province had quadrupled his forces but that counted for little in a situation in which matters had deteriorated. If he was to be successful, it rested on the men he had been appointed to command and they, even those who had served with him previously, were no longer the homogeneous body he required.

Declining to cross the Adriatic by sea he decided to take the land route to Ravenna but before he moved pressure on several Italian garrisons obliged him to send supplies to avoid unnecessary surrenders. That did not stop the rot; certain places were not only opening their gates, they were going over to an enemy who seemed to gain in strength as Flavius struggled.

On reaching Ravenna he found it hard to persuade the non-Totila Goths to take service under his banner, and even worse the Byzantine soldiers stationed there also declined, a blow that no amount of reassurance from his domesticus could soften.

‘You are still held in high regard.’

‘Am I, Solomon?’

‘The men here who once served under you remember your care for their welfare and they are more than willing to attest to it for those who did not, Goths included.’

‘Yet not a single man saw fit to attach themselves to my standard,’ Flavius muttered.

‘It is their present leaders they do not trust. They are certain that at some time in the future you will be recalled and they will once more fall under the command of generals who do not act as you do. These are men whom they have also refused to serve. It is not you alone.’

‘Then,’ Flavius sighed, ‘we must show to them that there is gain in fighting with me.’

That was an aim easier enunciated than achieved and really it was as much an answer to inactivity as any desire to impress. All that could be despatched were small parties of troops, never more than a thousand at a time, to seek to apply pressure on Totila that would have him move to counter it, thus relieving stress on strongholds like Rome.

Even if he was not personally present, some of the magic which had attached to his name seemed still to prevail. Vitalius, the magister who had aided him in raising troops in Illyricum, was sent with those levies into the province of Amelia to tie down the garrison in Bononia, which allowed him to exert control over the surrounding, supremely fertile area. This forced Totila to send a superior force to dislodge them.

Appraised of the Goth approach, Vitalius set up a series of ambushes that nullified their numbers, which led to repeated encounters in which the Goths were decimated, till over time their strength was utterly diminished. Just at the moment of ultimate success, the levies from Illyricum decided to go home, being in receipt of news that the Huns were ravaging their homelands. Vitalius had no choice but to withdraw in haste.

The next move saw a thousand men sent out under the command of Thurimuth, the leader of Flavius’s bodyguards. They were despatched to the hilltop town of Auximus, under siege by Totila and held by Flavius’s old comrade Magnus. Having succeeded in getting into the town it was decided to mount a series of sorties to assess the full strength of the enemy. Enjoying mixed success, such raids did establish that even reinforced Magnus had insufficient numbers to break the siege.

Those same reinforcements imposed a strain on the supplies needed to hold out and avoid surrender due to starvation, so it was decided they would be of more use outside the walls. Unware that some spy had told the Goths of the plan, they left by night and ran straight into an ambush in which they lost a full tenth of their effectives as well as all their supplies, the survivors forced to flee for Arminium.

Flavius, meanwhile, had been restoring two fortresses long ago destroyed by Witigis, rebuilding the walls and installing new and stout gates. This again was a ploy Totila could not ignore and he set out to reverse the move by an all-out assault, only to be repulsed and obliged to pull back. If that was a positive there was another side to the coin: Flavius had used up all his men and was now in a position to do no more.

His only act was to send to Rome and order Bessas, in command there, to remain entirely on the defensive and to avoid entanglements outside the walls, but it was plain to the simplest eye that he was stymied. Totila held the initiative and until Flavius was reinforced that would remain the case.

John Vitalianus was still in Italy. He might be prone to insubordination but he had strong connections at court, especially with Narses, so he was despatched back to Constantinople to beg for men and weapons. That took time and in the interim, despite the fact that it was right on the cusp of winter, the pendulum swum decisively against Byzantium.

The fortresses so carefully restored by Flavius could not be supplied and were, when besieged a second time, forced to surrender, Flavius lacking the manpower to intervene. These losses were closely followed by two more with only Perusia holding out and that despite the death of the man in command; yet there was even worse news to follow: Totila was marching on Rome.

Aware he did not have the means to counter this, Flavius recrossed the Adriatic in order to both recruit and seek his requested reinforcements from Constantinople. There he was informed that Vitalianus, too long about the task set for him, had taken time to marry the daughter of one of Justinian’s nephews, his anger only assuaged when it became plain that with trouble on every border the men just did not exist to aid his cause.

When the time came to return to Italy, with most of the campaigning season already gone, that had eased enough to bring him soldiers, if not enough. Flavius knew he must somehow succour Rome and keep it in imperial control, yet the same applied to Apulia and Calabria. Much as he did not want to split his limited forces he had no choice but to send a substantial body under John Vitalianus, who was at least an enterprising and active officer, to secure the southern provinces.

The tactics used by Witigis, Totila had replicated. Camps were built opposite the eastern gates of Rome, the Milvian Bridge was strongly held and once more there was a Goth presence on the Plains of Nero. Like his predecessor, but with more alacrity, he took control of the route to Portus, as well as taking other steps to cut Rome off from any chance of supply, which would eventually mean starvation for the densely populated city.

Before long, within the walls, the citizenry were pleading with Bessas to release the massive amount of food he had stockpiled for his troops. This he declined to do but he did nothing to stop his soldiers selling part of their rations at inflated prices to those in dire need, creating an atmosphere of distrust that could only have one outcome, a crisis made worse by the approach, once more, of winter.

Flavius had possession of Portus itself, but there was that bar across the route, known to be lightly held and needing to be broken. He despatched a body of men, five hundred in number, led by Phocas, another member of his bodyguard, to join troops already holding the town. Word was sent to Bessas of their intention to attack the Goth camp and when, with a request that he sally out to combine with them.

The assault was set in motion before any reply was forthcoming, Phocas and his men making deep inroads into the Goth position, but in time resistance hardened as it became plain they were not supported: Bessas had declined to move, even if the commotion caused by the fighting must have been audible in the city. This left no option but to withdraw.

Word was once more sent: a second attempt would be made and again Bessas was begged to provide the aid that would be needed. It never got going; Totila had been informed of the intention and ambushed the whole force, killing the leaders along with most of those they led.

The only other route by which food could be brought into the city was by rowing barges up the Tiber and here Totila had built two wooden forts at a point, not far from the walls and hard by the road to Portus, where the river narrowed, with a bridge of joined timbers stretched between them. The plan formulated by Flavius to counter this showed he had lost none of his flair for innovation.

Lashing a pair of barges together and planking their decks he had a wooden structure constructed that in height would overreach the Totila forts. On the very top of the flimsy-looking edifice he had placed a boat filled with pitch-treated timber and brimstone. This floating surprise was to be followed upriver by every barge and boat that could be mustered in a convoy containing enough food to keep Rome going for a year, each one given built-up sides with slits that could protect his archers while giving them the ability to discharge their weapons.

At the same time a commander called Isaac the Armenian was given care of Antonina and took charge in Portus but it was made plain he must remain static and on no account risk losing the quays; his task was diversion, this as an unequivocal command was sent to Bessas; he in turn must now sally forth and attack the Goths to keep them occupied.

Flavius took the lead barge with his bodyguards and set in motion the troops he had ordered to march up the inland riverbank. The discovery of a metal chain downriver of the Totila forts imposed a check, but not for long as the men guarding it fled and it was quickly dislodged. The guards who ran alerted those holding the forts and given there was little distance between them and the Goth encampment masking Portus, and a signalling system in place to warn of trouble, the soldiers there began to rush to aid in the defence.

Still too far off to intervene they could nevertheless see the wily ploy of their enemy. Forcing the vessel that held his flimsy structure against the bridge, Flavius had the boat atop it set alight and the whole tipped over to crash into the base of one of the Goth forts, the dry timber immediately catching fire. To the screams of those hundreds of men trapped inside, condemned to burn to death, his men attacked and overcame the second fort and could then begin the task of destroying the bridge.

If only Isaac the Armenian had obeyed his orders all would have been well. But he had seen many of the Goths departing to confront Flavius and the temptation of engaging with a weakened enemy proved too much. Essaying forth at the head of a mere hundred fighters he immediately launched his own attack, and by severely wounding the camp commander, which broke the morale of his followers, was able to drive the Goths right out of their camp.

Isaac was not of the stamp needed to take advantage of this minor success; his men lacked the discipline required and he the commanding presence to stop them resorting to the plunder of a camp full of the possessions of an army that had enjoyed several years of success, men unaware that what had driven the Goths back was a degree of panic. Those busy ransacking for spoils were in a serious minority and as soon as the Goths re-formed they took back their camp with ease and great slaughter, Isaac being taken prisoner, a fact relayed to Flavius without any detail as to how it had come about.

Fearful that Totila had taken Portus and fearing for the consequences for Rome and the whole campaign – there would be the need to pay ransom for Antonina too – Flavius immediately set out to confront them, hoping to come on them while they would be in a state of some disorder. This meant, partly also due to the fact that Bessas had not obeyed his orders, abandoning the attempt at resupply.

That it was a mistake only became apparent when he knew Portus was still in Byzantine hands, though that provided small compensation for what had been a highly unsuccessful manoeuvre on the Tiber. When he heard that Totila, in retribution for the death of the leader wounded in Isaac’s attack, had the Armenian beheaded, he could not summon up even a pinch of sympathy. He was even heard to say that if the Goth King wanted to remove the head of Bessas, then he would be happy to hand him over.

Rarely cast down for long by reverses, Flavius was now, and a health that had always been robust failed him too, rendering him unable to initiate further actions. All he knew was that if Rome had been at risk before, it was doubly so now.