Honour (11 page)

‘And you think, Flavius, this will win us our battles.’

‘I would be happy, Highness, to start by not losing one. The only reason we did not do so recently is that the Sassanid general did not press to do so. Had he attacked the second day I suspect we would have been obliged to flee for the safety of Dara.’

‘What you suggest sounds to be heavy on cost. Three hundred men, twice as many mounts, and special equipment and I think I can assume that is just the beginning—’

‘Whatever it costs must be less than the talents we send as subventions to Kavadh.’

‘How long will you require?’

‘Perhaps a year of training. As to proof, that is in the hands of others. Only an enemy can validate what I believe.’

‘Many will see it as no more than a chance to enrich yourself.’

The response was too sharp to be addressed to an emperor, regardless of how high the speaker was held in esteem. ‘I hope that you are not amongst them!’

‘We are alone, Flavius, which is just as well, is it not?’

‘Forgive me, Highness, if I speak too boldly. It is not an accusation I can lightly accept for it besmirches not only my name but that of my family.’

The mention of that seemed to mollify Justin. At least it produced a wilful smile. ‘Did your father ever tell you of how we came to Constantinople?’

Decimus had, many times, but his son felt it politic to imply he had not and because he did so Justin began reminiscing; how they had fled a serious barbarian invasion of Illyricum, four stalwarts who thought
they had the world at their feet, entering a city where the streets were paved with gold and one in which such paragons must both conquer and find wealth.

‘Not even lead did we find, Flavius. We encountered indifference and near starvation, for the people of Constantinople are not kind to strangers. Joining the army was a way to survive and, if I am now the only one left alive, it served us well.’

‘I found the same indifference myself when I came here.’

Justin stopped and looked back towards the Great Palace, at the cream stones of the outer walls and at the eastern end the earthquake-damaged dome of the church of St Sophia.

‘And who would have thought it would end like this? My wife and I say prayers every night for those we have loved and lost, but I tell you that your father holds a special place in mine. We were as close once as brothers.’

Seeing the eyes of the young man before him begin to well up, Justin added, to mitigate his obvious anguish, ‘Gather your men and horses, Flavius, and let us see if we can forge the weapon you describe.’

It took more than a year; there seemed not one member of the military or imperial bureaucracy inclined to aid him, quite the reverse. They set out to obstruct him by diverting the funds he needed or holding up his new equipment in the imperial arms factories, standing proof that most men of high rank were more concerned with their place and their own purse than with the needs of the empire.

Only when Justin interceded did matters improve, but the travails of one young man did not figure large in the cares of the state and when he appealed to Petrus he found him to be indifferent to the task upon which he was engaged and overdistracted by his private affairs.
Still enamoured of Theodora, Petrus had removed her from her less than salubrious circumstances as an entertainer and more besides.

She and some of her companions were now accommodated in a wing of the palace well away from the imperial apartments and the Empress Euphemia, a lady now in poor health but still strong in her piety and never one to be inclined to welcome the less than chaste daughter of a circus acrobat into her presence.

Not that Flavius saw much of either; all of his time was now spent on the task at hand. The horses had been gathered and broken in, as had the men he needed, of a size and muscular ability to command exceptionally strong and often stubborn mounts. The armour and weapons were coming, if slowly, while ideas that had seemed sound at first needed to be modified, not least the bow used by his shock cavalry, the Hunnish model being refined to be more balanced in its construction.

Even with everything in place the training had to be instituted in the open fields outside Galatea, put to the test and refined to the point where every man in charge of a
decharchia
could both command his own men and act in concert with every other group, to either combine or act independently as circumstances demanded in response to a set of horn-blown commands. Time spent on the other side of the Bosphorus was rare.

The news of the demise of Euphemia, of a wasting fever, brought him hurrying back to Constantinople for the ceremonies of burial and attendance at the Masses said for her soul. It was a testament to her innate goodness and the many works of charity she had performed since becoming empress that he found not just a household in mourning but a whole city. He brought his new cavalry with him, to join in the parade that followed the catafalque to her place
of interment, a spacious sarcophagus commissioned by Justin, his beautifully caparisoned men a wonder to the assembled crowds, who might have cheered on a less solemn occasion.

Naturally, Euphemia’s nephew was well to the fore amongst her mourners, just behind his parents and his uncle; more surprising to Flavius was the fact that he was accompanied by Theodora who, if she was overawed by the company in which she now found herself, managed to hide it well. He was sure he could see in her eye that she felt she was where she belonged.

I
f Theodora had been a presence in the palace she had, up until now, been a discreet one. But from the day that the senate met in all its panoply – most guessed what was coming – she moved into the light. As soon as the necessary document was signed, Petrus, now to be known as Justinian in honour of his uncle, had married her, which meant on the day she observed to the anointing of her husband as co-Emperor and acknowledged Imperial Heir, Theodora was the sole occupant of the office of Empress.

The ceremony, albeit glittering, was relatively brief and entirely lacking in objections – that came as no surprise: it had been ever thus since the time of Augustus. The Senate never argued with the
Imperator
: they had only one recourse to action that would bring about change and that was bloody elimination of a man who always had soldiers to do his bidding.

There had to be speeches, first from Justinian promising to act for the good of all, to praise and reward virtue while bearing down on evildoing and deception. That he was not believed made no difference to the men who followed, to praise the sagacity of Justin in ensuring
a peaceful handover of power while welcoming the elevation of his nephew as not just the continuation of a golden age but an opportunity to enhance and extend that rare occurrence.

Watching Petrus/Justinian was an entertaining game with which to stave off boredom as Flavius, heading the imperial guard detail, sought to discern behind that new imperial mask what the man was really thinking. If there was expression, it was so well hidden that a moving eyelash acted as evidence of feeling, even when men who saw themselves as rivals spouted paeans of praise that in their hypocrisy were grotesque.

The three nephews of Anastasius, who had some claim to the throne that Justin had occupied, were just as loud in their praises, with Hypatius speaking first, followed by his two cousins, Probus and Pompeius, who sought to outdo him and each other in grovelling. If anything indicated that all power in the empire issued from one source it was this fawning display; this trio, indeed everyone in the chamber, wanted positions from which they could enrich themselves and that could only come from imperial favour.

Vitalian excelled even them when it came to flattery, which led Flavius, once a soldier in his rebel army, to wonder how such a previously plain-spoken fellow could become so corrupted by merely spending a few years at court. He was, of course, motivated by the same concern, both for himself and his family; his two older sons now enjoyed the rank of
dux
in the two Phoenician provinces and had become prosperous because of it, while the youngest had been inducted into the
Scholae Palatinae
.

Halfway through the ceremony it was plain Justin’s mind had clouded; once more he had the air of someone at a complete loss to know where he was or what was happening and that lasted through
many a sycophantic peroration, with Flavius now wondering why his nephew did not curtail the speeches until the truth dawned on him. This public demonstration of Justin’s affliction suited the new joint ruler very well; let those who occupied the great offices of state see where they must come if they required permission to initiate anything or even act on present procedures.

Only when Justin came back to lucidity did Petrus/Justinian whisper to him and the import was plain, since his uncle called forward Theodora so she could occupy the throne formerly used by Euphemia, which was a perfect way of announcing that one particular Law of Constantine was repealed, the one debarring marriages between patrician and those from a lower class. His voice seemed to gather some of its old strength as he put that into words.

‘For too long men of talent have been unable to create a life howsoever they wish, for too long able people of the wrong class, apart from eunuchs, have been blocked from advancement. From this day on my nephew and I will wish to see ancient rank play no part in the selection of the officials of empire, military or civilian. Opportunity will thus be open to all.’

Given the nature of his audience, the fact that such an announcement sent up a hum of protest was hardly surprising; high-born men accustomed to competing with each other for lucrative offices were being told that from henceforth they would have to also contend with those outside a class that had husbanded its rights for a millennium.

‘In discussion with my heir,’ Justin continued, ‘I have agreed that no precipitous changes will be made to the imperial bureaucracy. But we will, from this day on and in consultation, be seeking to find ways of introducing new blood.’

Justinian had a triumphant expression on his face now and it was not a benign one. He sat forward on his throne, reaching out at the same time to take Theodora’s hand, his thoughts so obvious they might as well have been spoken. It addressed his feelings about these men gathered: you have tried to run rings round my uncle – do not be so foolish as to attempt the same trick on me!

Justin stood, his nephew and his wife doing likewise, which obliged the whole assembly to bow, probably just as well given the looks of hate being directed at a person they saw as no more than a low-born whore. Time spent like that allowed them to compose their features before they once more raised their heads, to gaze upon the imperial trio with looks of fabricated respect. As they departed, Flavius and his Excubitor bodyguard fell in behind them, to escort the party back to the now expanded imperial suite.

‘So now, how do I address you?’ Flavius asked, once his men had been deployed and he was alone with the new imperial couple.

The response came with a sly smile. ‘Does Highness stick in your craw, Flavius?’

‘I admit it will be hard, but I managed with your uncle, so I daresay I can abide the usage with you.’

‘Just as long as you do not use his given name of Petrus!’

Flavius turned to face Theodora, to come under the gaze of a pair of near black eyes which were well short of affection, a reflection of the tone she had just employed.

‘A right, I am sure, Lady, you will reserve to yourself?’

‘What I choose to reserve to myself is no concern of yours, Flavius Belisarius.’

‘My dear,’ her husband interjected, ‘he is my friend. I was merely jesting, he may address me as he wishes.’

The response was cold. ‘You are a ruler now and an emperor can have no friends.’

‘I fear you are in for a lonely existence,’ Flavius responded, favouring Petrus with a sympathetic smile.

‘I will take care that is not so, thus it does not fall to you to concern yourself.’

The dilated nostrils sent a physical message to add to the biting verbal one, a trait that took her nose and sharpened it in a remarkable and very obvious way. Flavius did not know, but his gut feeling was acute: Theodora, striking to look at and seemingly full of purpose, even after what had just taken place, felt vulnerable and that might extend to a deep-seated fear.

That the upper classes would hate her elevation, she must know; even many an ordinary citizen would shake their heads at such a woman occupying a position that could be, as it had in the past, one of great power and influence. Had not the late Emperor Anastasius got the diadem through the bedchamber? To reach such a pinnacle, as she had, brought with it risks and it did not take too vivid an imagination to see that should she fall, her end would not be a pleasant one.

Were such concerns justified? If she did not command her husband it was plain that he rarely did anything without consulting her. He was still as besotted as he had been when Flavius first sat with them in company, the time at which he had sensed her resentment of him; Theodora wanted to be the sole fount of advice and comfort, the one person the newly coined Justinian would turn to and she resented not only that Flavius was able to bypass this, but also, it seemed, that he did so in such an easy-going manner. Sensing the need to broker a peace, Justinian spoke up.

‘I will not object, Flavius, if you call me Justinian in private, since I
have never been truly enamoured of the name Petrus. But I would ask that you acknowledge my dignity in a public space.’

‘You’re too soft, husband.’

‘No, Theodora, I owe Flavius much and so do you.’

That open repudiation, sternly delivered, was not well received: those nostrils dilated even further but the sight of that was brief; Theodora abruptly spun round and left the chamber, leaving Flavius to wonder what price her husband would pay for such a public rebuke.

‘I fear your good lady does not care for me.’

‘She will come round in time, Flavius. She has been betrayed too many times in her life, lied to and even abandoned, to repose much trust in anyone.’

‘I can assume she trusts you?’

‘Let’s hope so, for if not I am in for an imperial nightmare.’

‘Then I request that you send me on some service so that I do not have to share it.’

‘Flavius, it is my intention to lead you. My uncle has granted me permission to attempt to remind the Sassanids that they have a power with whom they must contend. No more sitting and letting them do as they please and just soak up our subventions to their coffers.’

Full of enthusiasm, Justinian began to outline the plans, which involved a two-pronged assault, one in the north under his personal command, another further south in Mesopotamia to attack towards Nisibis under the command of one Libelarius. Flavius, examining the proposal, did not do so with as much confidence as that of the man outlining it, not least because of the utterly unproven military ability of Justinian. But the other factor which worried him was the excessive level of ambition.

Given such thoughts, there would have been a time, and a recent
one, when Flavius might have responded with a jokily delivered ‘God help us’. Now that seemed inappropriate; if Theodora was wrong in saying an emperor could have no friends, such companions were required to show care in bringing them to their senses.

Justinian led the forces that invaded Persian Armenia but it was not from the front; he took up residence in the city of Theodosiopolis in the Roman province of Armenia Inferior and acted as commander from there. These ancient lands, the cockpit of so much Persian, Greek and Roman conflict over the centuries, had been acrimoniously split between the two empires and that meant raid and counter raid, the odd siege of a border fortress. But there had been no major incursions by either side for years and that was a situation Justinian was keen to exploit, given there should be little organised opposition.

Flavius Belisarius was given the leadership of the cavalry under the command of one Sittas, thirty years his senior, invading a region lacking a force with which to contest. He was part of an army of several thousand local levies that barely qualified as proper infantry,
milities
happy to partake in the destruction of any of their neighbour’s goods which could not be carried away. This did not include the various municipal treasuries taken from unfortified towns or objects of gold and silver and the coin-filled chests of the wealthier inhabitants. These, along with huge herds of horses and cattle, were brought back into Roman territory, while the crops that could not be eaten or brought out were burnt.

A cock-a-hoop Justinian, having seen the profits of what he saw as his masterful strategy, determined on another major raid, which was to be launched with high hopes and many a flowery prayer for an assured victory, this despite attempts by Flavius to suggest to him that
such an incursion might run into trouble if it was pushed forward too aggressively.

He was right: this time they did not get far from the border marker posts of Armenia Inferior; the Persians were alert and awaiting them in superior numbers, which obliged Sittas to order an immediate withdrawal, though his reaction proved to be too slow. The Persians, as ever strong in their mounted arm and with a host of horse archers, moved too fast.

The Romans were forced into a post-noon battle in which their enemy chose the ground, open and waterless, with no protection on either flank, where the Sassanids could deploy two weapons which the Romans had ever struggled to contend with. First the horse archers wrought havoc, and by breaking up the various untrained
milities
units they destroyed any hope of holding the field. Then the Sassanids sent forward a body of their cataphract cavalry, lance-bearing armoured horsemen on equally protected substantial mounts, small in number on this occasion, but extremely effective.

Flavius was denied the chance to send forward his cavalry, who had taken the name of
bucellarii
from the hard biscuit that made up the base of their rations, in reality to test them in battle, which might not reverse matters but would buy time. Sittas feared to lose the one arm that might save him and nor did he seek to hold until nightfall, when it would become possible to slip away, albeit in broken groups.

He ordered an immediate retreat, one in which his already distressed units fell into chaos to become no more than a terrified rabble. Only the mounted force under Flavius, with Sittas in their midst, was able to ride clear. They returned to Theodosiopolis to find Justinian no longer present and if, at first thought it was to avoid blame for the defeat, that proved wrong.

The message of recall had come from the capital: Justin was dying and the designated successor had to be in Constantinople to claim his inheritance. Flavius was ordered to follow at once, it being obvious his friend would want close to him all those who would protect his person. Leaving the
bucellarii
to follow as fast as they could, he used many changes of mounts to ensure he arrived in time to pay his dying mentor his due respect.

In that he failed; Justin had passed away in a fog of debilitation, babbling of a life very far removed from that to which he had risen. The old man had harked back over sixty years to a rustic youth spent trying adult patience, scrapping for the means to eat at constant risk of a barbarian incursion, the very event that had driven him from his home and hearth in the company of his friends, one of them Flavius’s father.