Jack Ludlow: Triumph

This was a charge often levelled at Flavius as well by the patricians among his officers, Constantinus included, though never publically. Thanks to Procopius and what he called his confidants it was no secret; there was little that happened or was said in the various villas occupied by his subordinates that the man in command did not know about.

The background of Theodora being even more dubious, it was the subject of endless salacious gossip and graffiti, which had the imperial palace as a hotbed of sexual infamy. This left the imperial couple more feared than loved, especially her because she was known to be capricious. In truth, Theodora was no innocent; she had been mistress to another man before she met and enthralled Justinian.

That coming together had taken place in one of the low taverns down by the capital’s docks where the future emperor felt so utterly at home, more so than he did in the homes of the wealthy. There, fathers were keen to present to him, as the nephew of a successful general close to the reigning emperor, their daughters, hypocrisy being no bar to patrician ambitions.

The Empress had been one of the exotic dancers who provided dissolute if enticing entertainment, and if some hinted that she had snared her spouse by sex or sorcery, then Flavius knew more than most what an enthusiastic article he had been, having himself visited these establishments in the company of his now emperor and been amused by his attraction to those of low birth and even lower morals.

Theodora had resented their close connection from the very first time Flavius had met her and that had only grown as she rose to her present eminence. It angered her that Justinian listened to Flavius, but even more the tone that the latter used to address a near divine ruler to whom he should have grovelled; how dare he suppose he had the right to tell his master what he saw as the truth!

The perception of Flavius Belisarius being seen as honest seemed to anger more than temper her animosity, a general who took care to see his soldiers properly fed and promptly paid, which was far from the norm. He had captured the fabulous and priceless treasure of the Vandals, accumulated over centuries of pillage across the whole of the old Western Roman Empire from the Rhine to the Pillars of Hercules in Hispania, yet he rewarded himself with no more than what was his rightful due.

If that was substantial and he was rich because of his military successes and the titles he held, such good fortune made him, to her twisted mind, more not less of a threat. If he succeeded in Italy what would Theodora think of him then? At least that took his mind off matters about which he could do nothing and brought it to those he could.

‘We need to find a way to diminish Witigis without waiting for him to mount another major attack on the walls.’

‘Does what I have composed for transmission to Constantinople meet with your approval?’

Flavius caught the slightly tetchy tone in his secretary’s voice, for he had been too busy mulling over extraneous matters to truly listen and the way it was phrased was of some importance. Every word would be examined for a hint of duplicity.

‘Would it trouble you to read it to me once more?’

The ‘No’, in addition to the sharp shake of the head gave a lie to the statement; his man was irritated, though there was nothing new in that. Flavius actually preferred Procopius to be as he was, somewhat of the opinion that his master required to be guided for his own good, not that he would ever tell him so. As he was honest with Justinian, Procopius was truthful with him.

At least with all the problems Flavius had his wife was not present; the pair loathed each other, with Antonina convinced that Procopius carried a secret passion for her husband, a notion he refused to believe. There had never been a single incidence since the day they had first encountered each other on the Persian frontier that the man had demonstrated any thoughts that were untoward. Having raised that, it was the next one that was troubling for he could not say the same for his own wife.

Flavius had to force himself to concentrate as Procopius reread the despatch he had composed, aware it was nothing but the bare truth. He needed either more soldiers or some action elsewhere to draw off Witigis, a breakout in Illyricum or a reversal of the truce the Goths had concluded with the Franks, the pity being that such possibilities could not be raised in writing: Theodora would leap on matters that she saw as being outside his responsibilities to tell her husband to beware.

‘I have advised you already to send your own embassy to Clovis,’ Procopius concluded. ‘You are in a position to offer him that which Justinian cannot.’

‘No, even what he holds, especially that which Witigis has surrendered to free up his soldiers. Justinian sees such territories as integral to the Roman Empire.’

‘Do you believe we can both beat the Goths and fight the Franks?’

‘No, but piecemeal, perhaps, and that applies to Hispania as much as Gaul. Anyway, it is of little moment what I believe, what counts is the dreams of our emperor, Procopius, and you know, for I have told you repeatedly, he has harboured those desires since he was a youth.’

‘I am aware of your long association.’

That got a wry smile, given the last word had been carefully chosen. Procopius would never allude, as he might, to friendship, given he thought such a connection to be impossible with any ruler and doubly so with the present incumbent. Yet Flavius and Justinian had known each other a very long time, since the day a young Belisarius had come to Constantinople as a near drifter seeking justice for his father and brothers.

If that had been achieved it was down to the man he now served. That redress for the murder of his family had involved a deep conspiracy and one in which he had been as ignorant as those against whom it was truly aimed. Such obfuscation counted for little set against the fact that it was an unqualified success, as the power of his family’s nemesis had been utterly destroyed.

Likewise the elevation of his uncle Justinus from Commander of the Imperial Guard to the purple as Justin the First; that would never have happened without the machinations of the nephew, and if it had been contrived by him for a selfish long-term aim it had been another undoubted achievement. Justinian could conspire like no one Flavius had ever met and sometimes, it had been reasoned, he was inclined to get so embroiled in his machinations he acted against his own best interest.

‘What a boon it would be,’ Procopius said, ‘if you could write to the Emperor a letter he would not show to his wife. Perhaps then …’

The wistful hope was left hanging. Justinian, either through fear or blind trust, Flavius was never sure which, shared everything with Theodora. Mind, she was such a termagant if thwarted he doubted her husband had much choice.

‘I need to walk the walls, Procopius. Come with me and send for Photius as well.’

They were on the parapet when Flavius posed his question: what are our major difficulties? It was the non-military Procopius who responded.

‘Enemy numbers.’

‘I said difficulties.’ Receiving no immediate reply from either of his companions Flavius added, ‘Enemy spirit. A warrior people that elects their king expects that he will be victorious.’

‘And if he fails,’ Photius interjected unnecessarily, to a sharp rejoinder from Procopius.

‘Then they depose him and elect another.’

‘Or kill him,’ replied the slightly abashed youngster.

‘Would it be impious to hope for such an outcome?’ Flavius responded. ‘It may be, but we can surely sow doubt in their ability to finally win and I cannot wait until Justinian gets that despatch and acts upon it.’