Justinian (44 page)

In telling the story I have, wherever possible (and allowing for a modicum of artistic licence), stuck to the known facts, only giving rein to my imagination where lacunae in the records permitted me to do so. For example, we don't know if Justinian was personally involved in the Dhu-Nuwas campaign, but – as (theoretical) commander of the eastern army – he was certainly in a position to be so. Again, my making Procopius an agent provocateur dedicated to destabilizing Belisarius, although fictitious, is entirely consistent with his views about the general, plus his location alongside Belisarius in various places during the campaigns in Africa and Italy, as well as in Constantinople when he was prefect of that city.

Historians have tended, perhaps too uncritically, to accept Procopius' assertion that Justin and his nephew Justinian were of Thracian stock. I would suggest that this needs some re-examination.

Gibbon points out that Justinian's original name, and that of his father –
Uprauda
(Upright) and
Ystock
(Stock) respectively – were Gothic; evidence, surely, that their owners were also Gothic. Settler-groups of Goths (a Germanic tribe), known as ‘Moeso-Goths', had been established in the northern parts of the Eastern Empire long before the great Gothic migration across the Danube in 376. (It was for his countrymen living in the East Roman province of Moesia Secunda that Ulfila translated the Bible into Gothic c. 350–60.) Justinian's and his father's home village, Tauresium, could well have been such a community (especially considering the pair's likely Gothic origins), a Gothic enclave within the Latin-speaking province of Dardania. As Justinian's uncle, Justin, hailed from Bederiana (the district in which Tauresium was located) and very possibly from Tauresium itself, he too could well have been of Gothic, rather than Thracian, stock. Also, I strongly suspect that Justin was not his original name. (‘Justinus' is an eminently appropriate appellation for a Roman emperor; but for a peasant?
*
It's as though Thomas Hardy had named his yeoman character, Gabriel Oak, ‘Marmaduke' Oak!) Hence my borrowed, and Gothic, name for him – ‘Roderic'. I suggest that Justin, and later his nephew Justinian, would have first arrived in Constantinople speaking, in addition to their mother-tongue of Gothic, basic Latin, but no Greek.

I have suggested that Justinian had slave progenitors. In his
Anekdota
, Procopius affirms that Justinian was descended from slaves and barbarians; but the
Secret History
is such a biased source, and one so motivated by malice, that its findings have to be regarded with the greatest suspicion. However, in
Chambers' Encyclopaedia
of 1888–1892, the article ‘Justinian'
contains a statement that the future emperor was ‘of obscure parentage, and indeed slave-born', citing,
inter alios
, the scholars Isambert and G. Body. On the strength of this, I felt justified in making slave parentage a feature of the story. The article also mentions that Justinian's ‘original name was Uprauda', confirming Gibbon's observation.

If (as on the evidence seems likely) Justin's sister Bigleniza was married to a Goth living in a Gothic community, it is not unreasonable to suppose that she too was of Gothic origin – an inheritance that would be shared by her brother. (Admittedly, ‘Bigleniza' is not a particularly Gothic-sounding name, which is why I have hinted in the story that she may have had some Thracian blood.) In the end, perhaps, any attempt to define Justin as either a Goth or a Thracian runs into the sand. As Robert Browning says in
Justinian and Theodora
(in the context of Belisarius' birth c. 505), ‘Romanized Thracians were much mingled with Gothic stock by this time' – which allows me, I think, to present Justin in the story as of Gothic rather than Thracian origin.

*
The names of his companions on that youthful journey to Constantinople were Zimarch and Dityvist.

The Nika Riots of 532: was there ever, in the whole of history, a more exciting and momentous set-piece? Had the revolt succeeded in toppling Justinian (as it very nearly did), subsequent history might have been very different; at the very least, Istanbul today would be without Hagia Sophia, one of the world's sublimest buildings, and Justinian's reform of Roman Law (the basis of the legal systems of many nations at the present day) would never have been finalized, and may well have been passed over and forgotten.

For dramatic reasons, I have gone in for some fairly radical telescoping and condensing regarding some of the incidents connected with the riots. This was to preserve, as far as possible, a sense of the urgency and tempo of the actual events, without, I hope, sacrificing essential historical truth. These changes will become apparent to any reader who cares to compare the relevant pages in the text with the timetable shown below.

While there is broad agreement as to the chronology of events relating to the riots among most authorities, some sources show minor variations between themselves. The following scenario is probably pretty accurate.

Saturday, 3 January to Tuesday, 6 January

Street disturbances (in which some people are killed) resulting from unpopular government policies, broken up by city prefect's police. Arrests made; some of those detained charged with murder.

Thursday, 8 January

Trials of accused; seven condemned to death.

Sunday, 11 January

Two of those condemned survive bungled execution – a Green and a Blue, given sanctuary in Church of St Lawrence. Prefect posts armed guard around church to prevent rescue.

Monday, 12 January

Tension mounts in the capital; stalemate regarding the two in St Lawrence.

Tuesday, 13 January – the Ides

Hippodrome opens for races. Greens and Blues join forces to demand release of St Lawrence pair, but Justinian refuses to reply; spectators become frustrated and defiant, eventually leaving Hippodrome with shouts of ‘Nika!' to surround Praetorium. Failing to force the Perfect to listen to their complaints, they break into the building, release prisoners, killing police who try to stop them, then set Praetorium ablaze. Mob then burns Chalke, Hagia Sophia, and other prominent buildings.

Wednesday, 14 January

Races resume in the Hippodrome. Despite Justinian agreeing to the people's demands for the dismissal of unpopular ministers, the mob becomes more militant. Egged on by members of the upper class (senators et al. who want regime change) it goes to the house of Mundus (one of the three nephews of the emperor Anastasius, and thus a possible candidate for the throne) to try to make him emperor. Finding him absent, they burn down his house in frustration, then threaten the Palace, but the building is protected by German mercenaries under generals Belisarius and Mundus. (The loyalty of the Roman Palace Guard is, at best, uncertain.)

Thursday, 15 January

Belisarius and Mundus sally forth from the Palace to try to suppress the revolt, but can make no headway when the fighting moves to the narrow streets. They withdraw their Germans to the Palace. Stalemate ensues.

Friday and Saturday, 16 and 17 January

Mob goes on rampage, burning down many public buildings. Fearing treachery, Justinian expels from the Palace almost all the courtiers and senators – including Pompeius and Hypatius, the two other nephews of Anastasius! (This, as soon becomes clear, is a bad mistake.)

Sunday, 18 January

Justinian again appears before the people in the Hippodrome. Despite offering a general amnesty and more concessions, he is shouted down by a hostile crowd. As Justinian retreats to the Palace, the mob learns of the expulsion of Pompeius and Hypatius and forces the latter to be crowned as emperor. Reluctant at first, Hypatius accepts the role once he realizes that the mob has senatorial support. In the Palace, Justinian and a small band of faithful followers, convinced that all is lost, prepare to flee. But, perhaps rallied by a stirring exhortation from Theodora (see Appendix III), they change their minds and decide to fight back. After an attempt to ‘spring' Hypatius from the royal box in the Hippodrome is thwarted by the Palace
Guard, Belisarius and Mundus manage to lead their German troops undetected to the Hippodrome, where they launch a surprise attack on the crowd. The ensuing bloodbath and arrest of Hypatius break the spirit of the rebels.

Monday, 19 January

To prevent further rival bids for the purple, Hypatius and Pompeius are executed. This marks the end of the insurrection.

To suggest that Theodora's famous speech ending with the words, ‘the purple is a glorious winding sheet', is actually a piece of propaganda fabricated by Procopius, might cause many to react with scepticism, disbelief, disappointment, or even outrage. However, in the interests of objectivity, a writer of historical fiction (with some allowance for artistic licence) has, I think, an obligation to stick broadly to historical truth – even when this risks upsetting cherished beliefs by airing controversial facts or theories. (No doubt many were upset when it emerged that the saintly Thomas Jefferson had sired a child by one of his female slaves.)

In
The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Justinian
, Leslie Brubaker makes a case for Procopius penning Theodora's speech as a ‘rhetorical set-piece', rather than as factual reportage – an accepted literary device on the part of ancient authors. (Witness the famous speech that Tacitus puts into the mouth of the Caledonian leader, Galgacus – ‘They create a desert and call it Peace'.) According to Brubaker, the crisis for Justinian resulting from Hypatius' apparently successful coup was so bad that in order to invest it with maximum dramatic effect, Procopius reverses the natural order, ‘with men quaking like women and a woman speaking like a man'. In this, Procopius was expressing a typically ‘Roman' attitude (some would say prejudice) regarding gender roles: women were supposed to be gentle, modest, submissive and dedicated to home and family; men were expected to be courageous, strong, just and wise.

To those who like their historical heroes and heroines consistently heroic, I would emphasize that the above is just a theory, developed only very recently. That Theodora herself made the speech has in the past been regarded as ‘kosher' by almost all historians. To those who prefer their history ‘warts and all', Brubaker's argument is reinforced by reference to convincing theories, based on solid research, presented by Elizabeth Fisher and Averil Cameron in the late twentieth century.

The question remains: if not Theodora, then who
did
galvanize the demoralized little band loyal to Justinian into mounting the operation that ended the Nika revolt?

Although
Libertas
(see Chapter 14
et seq
.) is fictional, it is tempting to speculate that a secret resistance movement on similar lines could have existed, and that Procopius might somehow have been involved. Certainly, the time could not have been more ripe. At the time of Nika and its immediate aftermath, Justinian (as hopefully the text makes clear) was extremely unpopular with all classes of society – especially among those of senatorial rank, who alone could provide the leadership, wealth, and organizing know-how necessary to promote change. Men like my character Anicius Julianus, who was suggested by a real person – Anicia Juliana, daughter of the West Roman emperor Olybrius, a member of the immensely rich and powerful Anician family, part of the West Roman diaspora settled in Constantinople, and whose son was one of the senators exiled after the revolt. None of the grievances which had provoked the Nika Riots had been resolved, nor was there any sign that solutions would be forthcoming. In the past, discontent with the rule of tyrants and incompetents had led to the toppling (often by a combination of senior army officers and senators) of emperors such as Nero, Commodus, and Valentinian III.

Incidentally, the Roman Senate (and that includes its East Roman incarnation) has often been portrayed as a toothless tiger, whose only function was to rubber-stamp the diktats of an autocratic emperor. Such a picture is deceptive. For it is a fact of history that rulers who continued to flout the mores of S.P.Q.R. were invariably removed from office – ‘with extreme prejudice', to use a deliciously bizarre euphemism once favoured by the American Secret Service. Even in the dying days of the Western Empire, the Senate still had enough clout to have the emperor Avitus ‘disposed of' for adopting too accommodating a stance towards the barbarians. Though the power of the Senate as an institution was severely weakened by Justinian, the class from which its ranks were drawn continued to be an influential sector of society, one which any emperor would be foolish to ignore or alienate.

Allowing, for the sake of argument, that an organization on the lines
of
Libertas
could have existed (and, all things considered, it would perhaps be surprising if some form of underground resistance against Justinian had
not
arisen after
Nika
), then Procopius would have fitted perfectly into such a scenario – as spy, double agent, or fifth columnist. Cast in that sort of role, he becomes an absolute gift to the writer of historical fiction. We know that he detested and despised Justinian. (‘Without any hesitation he shattered the laws when money was in sight', is one of the milder aspersions against the emperor in
Secret History
.) Given the opportunity to do him harm, it is hard to believe that he would have refrained from doing so. And an organization such as
Libertas
would have provided just such an opportunity, with Procopius (as part of Belisarius' staff
*
in the African and Italian campaigns, and later as Prefect of Constantinople) ideally placed to cause maximum disruption. How else to account for the following?