Jack Ludlow: Triumph

‘Are you going to make things difficult?’

‘I am obliged to ask what things.’

‘Do you know how few people are ever allowed to sit in my presence, Flavius?’

‘And I am supposed to grovel for being allowed to occasionally do so?’

Flavius knew he was pushing and perhaps too hard. As Justinian slowly shook his head, as if he was being faced by something preposterous, Flavius could not help but examine the motives for his own contrariness, almost as if he wished to cause discord between them. If this was his aim, he failed, given Justinian smiled, his head canting in that familiar way as he did so.

‘It is refreshing, if exasperating, Flavius that you do not change.’

‘For which I have always hoped, too often in vain, that you would respect me.’

‘Does it not show respect that I want you by my side?’

Flavius was about to ask for what, but that would have bordered on the foolish. He had reasoned over the weeks of travel that with Theodora gone Justinian might lack a trustworthy companion, for whatever had been her fantasies and intrigues she had been his faithful helpmeet and there was a need for a replacement. Justinian had more or less stated by what he had just said that was what he desired.

Was the prospect one to savour for a man who had never been at home in the imperial palace? Flavius thought not but he also knew that if commanded to fulfil such a role he had no choice but to obey.

‘Would it displease you if I said I am a soldier and I would be happier employed as such?’

The reply was coldly pragmatic. ‘What I need takes precedence over any desires you may have.’

‘You know I am no good at,’ Flavius waved, unable to think of the right words, ‘what goes on within these walls.’

‘Never fear, Flavius. I have rediscovered since my sad loss that I still am.’

What transpired felt at first like some kind of limbo. He was accommodated in the imperial palace, given a set of apartments close to those of Justinian, and it was made plain to all who counselled him that Flavius Belisarius was amongst their number and important, a fact driven home by the number of private conversations he had with the Emperor as well as the fact that he and Antonina would accompany Justinian twice daily to pray at the Church of the Holy Apostles where Theodora was buried.

From his wife, now happily back in the palace too, he heard of the death of the Empress, caused by a mammary malignancy, which she had kept hidden for some time until it could no longer be kept from view. Justinian had been distraught at the loss and that was emphasised by the way, when he spoke alone with Flavius and a difficulty was aired, he was often to say what his late wife would have done.

She had been heavily involved in religious arguments and it was in an act of faithfulness – apparently he had sworn at her deathbed – that Justinian put much effort into seeking an accommodation between the Monophysites of Asia Minor and Eygpt and the European proponents of Chalcedon. It was not a circumstance to make Flavius happy: he was used in this as an honest broker between what he knew to be a pair of irreconcilable positions.

‘They will never agree, Autokrator .’

The use of that Greek term of address, employed by everyone else close to the Emperor now, had been a small concession of Flavius and the first time he had employed it Justinian had given him an odd look, until he got the underlying meaning that his comes had finally accepted his role as a courtier.

Naturally his elevation to such a position caused resentment among men who saw him as a rival and as Flavius set his mind to understanding how the structures of power operated in the empire his appreciation of the burden Justinian carried grew. It had never been a mystery to him that the polity was too large for one man to govern, yet the complexity, once he began to get a grip on it, staggered him.

His first lesson was in rank. It was easy to assume that certain titles meant a man was more powerful than those of lesser station, yet that was untrue. In a system that had been based on clientism since the days of the Republic, it soon became apparent that a title meant little; it was to whom you were attached, either a superior or a whole host of inferiors, that granted power and there was one very obvious fact: Flavius Belisarius was sadly lacking in such support.

Many sought to ensnare him and that was tempting, more to Antonina than to her husband, and she would comment frequently upon the opportunities. It was, of course for her a subject to which she was committed and he was not: money. Corruption was rife but it seemed to trouble his emperor little.

‘It does not concern you that men line their own purses at great cost to the empire?’

Justinian sighed, as if the subject was one of which he was weary. ‘The better ones fetch in more than they steal and in my place you soon learn that many attempts have been made to find another system of governance and most have proved disastrous.’

‘The Cappadocian, how much did he steal?’

To Flavius this was a cause close to his heart; his armies had suffered particularly from the depredation of that man.

‘He did what all office holders do, but look at the courts and the manner in which they were reformed. How many of our judiciary are no longer patricians looking after the interest of their class?’

‘I seem to recall John replaced them in venality. He was adept at selling verdicts.’

‘Less adept at seeking power.’

Say nothing Flavius; he had learnt quickly that any criticism of Theodora was most unwelcome and to mention her entrapment of John would never serve. The hardest occasion to remain silent was when Justinian thanked him for his gift of part of his fortune. Theodora had told her husband Flavius had insisted upon it, when he had never even been consulted. He could have asked for it back, but why would he when he was now in receipt of so much imperial bounty?

Slowly but surely lines were being drawn within the bureaucracy between those who resented Flavius and wanted to actively work to diminish him and the others who sought to recruit him into backing whatever cause they were presently pursuing. Narses soon showed he was an enemy, while the likes of John the Cappadocian, partly restored, made moves to appear an ally.

A quickly rising Ancinius Probus Vicinus was solidly placed in the lower ranks of officials, he having attached himself to a powerful patrician clan who had once supported his father and uncle. Both were seen as victims of Belisarian malice, his hatred fuelling their attitude. He discussed the matter with Justinian, given the Emperor knew as much about the case of Senuthius Vicinus as did he.

He had also come closer to understanding the bond that had existed between the imperial couple. There had been a sexual element, of course, though he never even hinted at wishing to have that defined. Being an emperor was a position of utter loneliness if you had no one at all to confide in. If it had within it elements of genuine affection, the pair had a bond that rested on mutual survival. Justinian was as aware as his wife of what would happen to her if he lost his throne or expired. He therefore knew without equivocation that she would always act on his behalf.

His own marriage had settled into what seemed a convenience; Antonina enjoyed what she saw as the glory reflected on her by her husband’s position. Naturally, given her vanity and inability to see the wood for the trees, she assumed to herself inappropriate airs and graces and was quick to complain to Flavius if she felt slighted. For the sake of peace he assured her the supposed miscreant would hear of it; they never did, for he was as opposed to wasting his breath as he had been to wasting his soldiers’ lives.