Justinian (19 page)

‘Indeed I have. The time is perfect for a coup. Justinian is hated. And he's weak; all units of the army are absent from the capital, bar a few thousand German mercenaries and the Palace Guard. We can discount the last-mentioned – toy soldiers of dubious loyalty, who'll come over to us if they see we're winning. As will most senators and courtiers within the Palace, fellow aristocrats all. There are excellent candidates to replace Justinian: the three nephews of Anastasius, all here in Constantinople – true Romans like ourselves, and of our class. Hypatius is probably the best choice – popular, and a successful general. We must, however, discount him, also his brother Pompeius, both presently immured within the Palace, where they'll obviously remain until the streets are safe. Which leaves the third nephew – Probus.'

‘And is Probus aware of his imminent promotion to the purple?' asked a senator drily.

‘Not yet; nor must he become so.' Julianus looked intently round his audience, to emphasize the point. ‘Probus is a cautious man, who wouldn't voluntarily seize the throne. He must be elevated to it by a fait accompli. Tomorrow, in the Hippodrome, if we proclaim him emperor and the plebs support us – which they will – he'd hardly then be in a position to refuse.'

‘And would you be willing to take on the role of Nymphidius?'
*
Methodius enquired of Julianus.

‘Provided a majority of you being in favour of my plan agree that I should do so, replied the Anician, with a modest inclination of the head.

‘Then I nominate Julianus as our spokesman,' declared Methodius. ‘If any disagree, then let him raise his hand.'

No hand was lifted.

*
Conquer.

*
Organiser of the races.

*
The praetorian prefect who proclaimed Nero deposed, in favour of Galba.

Hypatius and Pompeius paid the penalty and lost the empire before they could
obtain it

Marcellinus Comes,
Chronicle
, 534

On Wednesday, the fourteenth day of January, the sun rose on a city shrouded in palls of smoke from smouldering ruins. Soon afterwards, word went out from the Palace that the races would begin again, in the presence of the emperor. Apprehensive but hopeful, his resolution stiffened by his wife's advice, Justinian, holding a copy of the Gospels and accompanied by his
Mandator
and the city prefect, ascended the spiral staircase to the
kathisma
. At once, he sensed an atmosphere of almost palpable hostility emanating from the vast and silent crowd. He sent word to the editor to cancel the races; clearly, the people were in no mood to be fobbed off by such diversion.

‘I suspect they may ask for your dismissal,' he murmured to Eudaemon. ‘If so, I'll have to play along. Don't worry, though; it will only be a temporary suspension. As soon as things blow over, I'll have you reinstated.'

The
Demarchs
approached the royal box. They repeated their request of the previous day, that the two
damnati
in St Lawrence's Church be pardoned, then went on, ‘In addition, Serenity, we demand that you dismiss three ministers: first, Tribonian, who sells justice to the highest bidder like a huckster at a market stall; second, Eudaemon, whose answer to the people's legitimate complaints is blows; and last but by no means least, John the Cappadocian – guilty of gratuitous brutality against many Roman citizens, and whose rapacity and cost-cutting have ruined thousands of good men throughout your Empire.'

A roar of approval erupted from the crowd.

Justinian rose to his feet. Holding aloft the Gospels in his left hand, he placed his right upon the Holy Writ and nodded to the
Mandator
. ‘Tell them I assent,' he said.

‘Our most wise and merciful Augustus,' announced the
Mandator
in stentorian tones, ‘hears your petition and agrees to its terms: the two criminals presently in the Church of St Lawrence to be granted full pardons,
and the Quaestor of the Sacred Palace,
*
together with the prefect of the city and the praetorian prefect, to be instantly dismissed.'

The muted sigh – like the sound of distant breakers rushing on a beach – that arose from the crowd suggested to Justinian that the crisis might have passed. His acquiescence would surely guarantee, as on many previous occasions with former emperors, that the people would be appeased and things return to normal. So it was with shock that he heard a voice declaim, ‘You lie, you swine!' Addressing the crowd from the foremost tier, the speaker went on, ‘Don't let yourselves be taken in; his promises are worthless, made only under duress, from weakness. He'll break every one of them as soon as you go home.'

Instantly, the mood of the crowd seemed to change – from sullen acceptance to angry suspicion. Yesterday's orgy of destruction had by no means assuaged their bitter sense of injustice at their treatment by the agents of the government. The speaker's words reminded them that they had tasted power and were due revenge. A thunderous growl of agreement with his statement swept around the vast assembly.

‘Let us choose a new emperor,' went on the speaker – a tall commanding figure, whom Justinian recognized as Anicius Julianus, a leading senator and member of the Roman diaspora from the barbarian-occupied West, ‘one who will reign with equity and justice. Justinian has shown he is not worthy to rule the Romans. Let us replace him with one who is – a nephew of the noble Anastasius, and one in whom integrity and strength is wedded to ability. People of New Rome, I give you – Probus Augustus!'

A stunned silence filled the Hippodrome. Then, isolated at first, but swiftly growing to a mighty, swelling chorus, came the shouted response: ‘Probus Augustus! Probus Augustus! Probus Augustus!'

His initial disbelief swiftly turning to panic, Justinian allowed himself to be hastily escorted back to the Palace. There, in his private study or
tablinum
, he summoned a council of war. Present, besides himself, were: Marcellus, captain of the Palace Guard, and two of his most trusted generals who, along with their contingents of German mercenaries happened to be in the capital – young Belisarius and Mundus, a doughty veteran of many tough campaigns. To these three, Justinian, close to tears, gabbled an account of the scene in the Hippodrome in which he had just been involved. ‘Gentlemen – I confess I'm at a loss as to what should now be done,' he concluded, in tones of desperation. ‘I would greatly value your advice.'

First to speak was Belisarius. ‘Serenity – it seems to me that while we face an admittedly daunting challenge, it's by no means an insurmountable one. Out there we have a rabble, unorganized and as yet leaderless. If myself and Mundus here, with our Germans plus the Palace Guard, were to take them on immediately, I'd be surprised if we weren't able to disperse them.'

‘But your Germans number less than two thousand, while the Guards are a mere half of that!' exclaimed the emperor in dismay. ‘Against odds of at least a hundred to one, how can you hope to prevail?'

‘Serenity – mere numbers count for little against trained soldiers, provided they are disciplined and committed,' replied the youthful general. Tall and handsome, with an air of insouciant confidence, he seemed every inch the dashing cavalry commander (though in this instance in charge of infantry). His infectious optimism made Justinian begin to feel more sanguine. ‘Very well, if you really think you can succeed,' the emperor pronounced. ‘Then you have my blessing – and my heartfelt gratitude.'

‘Oh, we'll succeed all right, Serenity,' put in Mundus,
*
his flat Mongol features breaking into a grin. ‘Our Germans are just spoiling for a fight.'

‘But my Palace Guards are not,' declared Marcellus smoothly. ‘Their duty is to protect your person, Serenity – not wage war against their fellow Romans. While they are willing to prevent insurgents from entering the Palace, or threatening yourself, Serenity, they cannot be expected to go on the offensive against unarmed citizens.'

‘We're better off without you, anyway,' sneered Mundus. ‘You'd only get in the way.'

‘Yes – we wouldn't want you getting those fancy uniforms dirty,' said Belisarius gravely, shaking his head in mock concern. He turned to Justinian. ‘Well, Serenity, with your permission we'll be on our way.'

Shouting Probus' name, the crowds streamed from the Hippodrome and made their way to the senator's house. But that particular bird, having got wind of their intentions, and well aware of the fate awaiting failed usurpers, had already flown. Finding his house empty, barred, and shuttered, the disappointed populace burned it down, then headed for the Palace in a mood of fury and frustration. Intercepted in the Augusteum by Belisarius and Mundus, the mob received a bloody mauling from the German mercenaries. Disconcerted, their
ardour suddenly cooling, the people were about to break and scatter, when the situation was unexpectedly reversed.

In a commendable attempt to save lives, a group of clergy, carrying religious symbols, tried to separate the combatants. In the ensuing scuffle, some of the clerics were hurt, and their holy relics, which of course meant nothing to the Arian Germans, got trampled underfoot. Infuriated by such sacrilege, the people recovered their spirit and fought back with redoubled fury, to be joined by sympathetic onlookers, hitherto too frightened to become involved. Fighting stubbornly, the crowds retreated in good order into the twisting streets and alleys of Regions IV and V. With the mood of outrage spreading like wildfire, they were now joined by whole households, the womenfolk hurling roof tiles, buckets full of boiling water, and anything that came to hand, onto the heads of the hated Germans. In the labyrinth of narrow lanes, the mercenaries lost the tactical advantage they had held in the great open space of the Augusteum; the initiative now lay entirely with the urban population. Recognizing the hopelessness of the situation, Belisarius and Mundus called off their men and returned to the Palace.

Meanwhile the people, their mood now both triumphant and vindictive, rampaged through the city, burning down the Churches of the Holy Peace, St Theodore Sphoriacus, and St Aquilina, the Hospitals of Eubulus and Sampson, the Baths of Alexander, and any buildings that could be identified as connected with the government.

‘Let's face it, gentlemen – we gambled, and we lost,' said Julianus to the same audience he had addressed the night before, assembled once again in the house of Methodius. ‘My advice to you now is that you quietly disappear, pro tempore at least, to country houses if you have them, or to the homes of distant relatives. Thanks to my little speech in the Hippodrome this morning, I am now of course a marked man. Any of you known to have conversed with me these last few days, could well be tainted with –'

‘Guilt by association?' broke in a worried-looking councillor.

‘I fear so.' Julianus raised his hands in a gesture of helpless apology. ‘The Roman Empire may today have more civilized values than in Sulla's time; but is compulsory enrolment in a monastery so vastly preferable to being required to slit one's veins?
*
I wonder.'

‘But surely we don't need to throw in the towel yet,' objected a senator. ‘The plebs control the city. The attempt by Belisarius and Mundus to suppress the revolt has failed, and they've been forced to retreat to the Palace.'

‘Which remains invulnerable as long as they're inside it with their troops,' countered Julianus. ‘So where does that leave us? – stalemate, gentlemen. But that won't last. With Probus gone, and his brothers in the Palace, the people no longer have a focus for revolt. Soon they'll tire of protest and abandon taking to the streets. All Justinian has to do is wait. As for myself, I shall leave you now, my friends, to pack for my return to Italy. It has been an honour and a privilege to –'

He was interrupted by the door bursting open to admit a breathless young man – an ‘ear' of Julianus, planted in the Palace.

‘Procopius – what brings you here?' the Anician enquired.

‘Great news, gentlemen,' gasped the newcomer. ‘Fearing treachery on the part of the courtiers and senators within the Palace, Justinian has just this minute forced them all to leave, Hypatius included. We have our new Augustus, after all!'

‘Pull yourself together and stop behaving like a headless chicken!' his wife, Maria, shouted at Hypatius, who was pacing the atrium of his villa in the capital, in an agony of indecision. ‘We should follow the example of your brother Probus, and leave
now
– while there's still time.'

‘But if they find the house untenanted, my dear, they'll burn it down – as they did my brother's. My bronzes, my Rhodian marbles,' the old general wailed, ‘my silver crater,
*
gifted me by Anastasius . . . I can't bear to think of losing them.'

‘Better that than losing your life,' his spouse retorted. She held her hand up, her expression suddenly alert. ‘Hear that? I think they're on their way.'

A distant hubbub, faint at first but swiftly growing louder, came to the couple's ears. Almost before Hypatius could collect his scattered wits, the building was surrounded by exultant crowds shouting, ‘Hypatius Augustus! Hypatius Augustus!'

‘You've left it too late,' declared Maria bitterly. ‘As usual. It's been the story of our lives. When Anastasius died, if you'd marched at once from Antioch instead of dithering, you could be emperor today.'

‘Just tell them I'm not here; perhaps they'll go away.'

‘Ostrich! You know they won't. For the time being you must pretend to go along with them. Then, at the very earliest opportunity, disengage yourself and make contact with Justinian; he'll understand. After all, he is your friend.' Her manner softening, Maria kissed him gently on the cheek. ‘Go now, my love,' she whispered. ‘And may God be with you.'