The Purple Shroud: A Novel of Empress Theodora (27 page)

Justinian returned to his office where a river of papers awaited him, spilling from his desk to the floor – letters from religious all over Rome, messages from rival wings of Goth aristocracy, too much Empire to care for.

If Timothy’s death was not an omen, it certainly heralded worse; before Easter the Patriarch of Constantinople also died. Theodora’s favoured priest Anthimus prepared to take his place and she arranged for him to meet with Severus.

‘How was your meeting?’ she asked Severus.

The old man shrugged and answered quietly in Syriac.

‘I’m sorry teacher, I don’t understand,’ said Theodora.

He raised his eyebrows and smiled, speaking now in heavily accented Greek, showing his stained teeth. ‘You’ve done well to find a moderate Patriarch, he and I can speak together, that’s good. But there are hardliners on both his side and mine: we cannot force them to join hands.’

‘Your followers would do anything you told them.’

Severus spoke again in Syriac, and this time Theodora understood his answer. ‘Compromise, Empress, is for politics, not faith.’

When Anthimus was appointed Patriarch, Theodora sent messages to Macedonia to look into the attitude of Pope Agapetus, asking if there was a chance that he too might welcome a more moderate approach to bring both sides together. Macedonia’s reply from Rome was disappointing, and certain:

Macedonia was right, when Agapetus arrived in the City, he not only refused to meet Anthimus, but deposed him as Patriarch of Constantinople and installed his own candidate as Patriarch instead.

Narses caught up with Theodora as she headed back to her rooms having just received, with Justinian, a lengthy lecture from Agapetus.

‘The Italian Pope isn’t as generous as we might have hoped.’

Theodora didn’t mention she’d had prior warning about Agapetus. Narses might know that Macedonia was working for her in Rome, but she wasn’t going to tell him if he didn’t.

‘Horrid little man. Kissing the August and promising he’d give him all Italy if only we’d stop the young general, but barely acknowledging my presence at all.’

She sped on through corridors, fury powering her walk, servants and slaves ducking and bobbing as she swept past. Narses had to stride to keep up with her.

‘Pope Agapetus is interested in maintaining power, Mistress.’

‘We’re all interested in that.’

‘Of course, but there are less blatant ways than haranguing the Emperor on the best direction for the Church.’

Theodora’s speed slowed a little. Narses leaned in closer.

‘Go on,’ she said.

‘For a start, I suggest you get Severus back to Egypt, and soon. He’s old and becoming more frail, the journey here can’t have been easy …’

‘Nor his grief over Timothy.’

‘No. Another good reason for him to go back, his people will need him.’

‘Even if I want him close to me?’

Narses smiled lightly. ‘I’ve explained before …’

‘It’s not about what I want, yes, I know. And?’

‘And it might be wise to move Anthimus from the City too.’

Theodora stopped. ‘You want me to remove all my own priests, just because that arrogant Italian is here?’

‘That arrogant Italian is the Pope, Augusta.’

‘I’d rather we removed him.’

They had stopped by a doorway opening on to one of the smaller courtyards; a single fountain threw a soft spray against green and gold tiles.

Narses looked away from Theodora, speaking quietly: ‘As I said, Mistress, it would be best for your own priests to be away and, if I may say, for you to be as respectful of Agapetus as your rank – and his – demands. Show him all the courtesy you possibly can.’

‘Eunuch, I’ve known you to be tough on protocol, but not usually when dealing with such pompous fools.’

Narses smiled, and bowed. ‘Protocol is simply about what looks best, don’t you agree? What looks best, both in actuality and in recollection, especially when circumstances change and we think back to how people have, or have not, behaved.’

Theodora had Armeneus book Severus on a ship leaving for Alexandria in the morning, and sent Anthimus into hiding on her estate at Hieron in Bithynia. Her small palace there had recently been extended by Anthemius according to her own design, and if the architect wondered about the number of hidden rooms and secret courtyards she’d asked him to incorporate in the new wing, he was too busy working on Hagia
Sophia to complain; nor did he object when, having shown her around the renovations, she demanded he burn the only plans to the building.

A week after Severus set sail for Egypt, the Italian Pope was found dead in his Palace bedroom. He had prayed as usual before sleep, having lectured the August couple, again as usual, before prayer, and had, apparently, gone to bed pleased with his work. He did not wake. His death was viewed by the anti-Chalcedonians as divine retribution, and Theodora noted that Narses, though far more pragmatic in his own faith, had no quarrel with the suggestion of divine intervention.

The night of the Pope’s death Theodora found a small posy of herb flowers left in her private room, tied with raw silk thread. She opened her mouth to call Armeneus, to ask who had been in her rooms – had Peter Barsymes visited? – and then thought better of it. She did, however, send a private message to Macedonia saying negotiation was no longer necessary. This time there was no soul-searching prayer to her emerald Virgin before she went to sleep.

The unexpected death of the Pope brought another flurry of messengers, talks and debates, halted for a day so that Theodora and Justinian could attend the consecration of the Church of Sts Sergius and Bacchus. The August couple were led into the little church by a long religious procession, statues held high above priests’ heads, incense and chanting carrying their prayers up to the dome and beyond. The consecration took a full half-day, then the priests and dignitaries, the people and their rulers, trooped back into the Palace where a feast was laid out for them. Narses and Peter Barsymes were assigned to ensure that priests from either side did not start quarrelling, while Justinian and Theodora made the rounds, offering introductions where dialogue might be possible, and useful
diversions where it was not. Barsymes made no mention of any flower-gathering, or visits to the Empress’s rooms in the previous days, but before he left he knelt before Theodora and she saw, quite clearly, that the silk he wore at his throat was the same thread that had tied the posy. He nodded, she nodded back: neither needed to say more.

It was long into the evening before Theodora finally had a chance to speak to the architect alone, to praise his work on the church, and when she did it was obvious something had changed. His hands were scrubbed clean, and he was also far better dressed than when he had been coming regularly to her rooms to talk, to dream his designs, or reach across a desk simply to touch her hand.

‘The church is a great success, Anthemius.’

‘Mistress.’

He bowed, kissed her foot, and took the hand she offered him. As he raised her hand to kiss her fingertips as usual, she saw Mariam watching them from across the room, and Theodora knew immediately why his hands were clean.

She drew him closer. ‘Your little church is a glorious model for Hagia Sophia. The poems praising St Sergius are a very good touch.’

‘They praise the August and yourself as well.’

‘Yes, but Sergius is loved by our troops just arrived in Italy with Belisarius. The army will be happy.’

‘It’s always wise to please the men who carry weapons.’

‘Indeed.’

‘You saw the carvings of your own and the Emperor’s initials linked?’

‘I did,’ she answered, looking across to Mariam again, noting that she turned away even more hurriedly this time. ‘And your initials, Anthemius – are they to be linked too?’

She looked at his sunburnt face, his fine arms, those too-clean hands, his open mouth. Unsure how to answer, she felt her smile twist just a little. She knew Narses was watching, which meant Justinian, somewhere behind her, was surely paying attention. Mariam certainly was.

Theodora leaned in so that Anthemius had to stoop to hear her and she whispered, ‘It’s a perfect rehearsal for the greater building. So wise to go from one to another, perfecting your skills as you go. But architect, I am not a try-out for Mariam …’ Anthemius tried to interrupt and she pulled him closer, digging her nails into his hand. Smiling even more softly, she continued, ‘She’s young, and good, and too much that is vile has already happened to her. I can look after myself, as can you, we know that. But I won’t let you hurt her. You must not have her simply as an alternative to me, a way to get close to me.’

‘I’m not …’ Anthemius managed to speak. ‘Mistress, I love her.’

Theodora’s gut turned, his words were a slap she hid with a broad smile. ‘And you cleaned your hands for her, that’s a good sign.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I have no claims on you, Anthemius. I’m a married woman, married Empress.’

‘Yes.’

‘Go to her, and be kind.’

He hurried across the room to Mariam, and Theodora was hurt and showing no hurt at all when she turned brightly to her husband and Narses a few moments later saying, ‘Good, a marriage – that’ll be some distraction from these interminable quarrelling priests.’

Justinian kissed his wife’s hand where Anthemius had not, and soon after he went back with Narses to his office, to their
military plans and the plotting of popes and priests. Theodora held her court alone.

The next weeks, while taken up with the constant debate between the faithful, and with both spies and soldiers reporting that the Italian campaign was about to begin, were also full of preparations for Mariam’s marriage to Anthemius.

Thanks to the patronage of the Augusta herself, the blessing took place in Anthemius’ new church. Mariam, old for marriage at twenty-one, was treated as any new wife would wish, and as few girls who had been forced into child prostitution actually were, law change or no. They knelt before the priest, the first blessing held within the octagonal of the lovely new pillars, watched by Isodore the mathematician who had calculated the impossible reality of the dome above them. They were married in the presence of the Emperor and the Empress, and the eunuchs Narses and Armeneus, the only men Mariam had felt safe with until Anthemius, and she was granted the status of a virgin bride – because the Augusta said so.

Afterwards Theodora gifted the happy couple their own rooms in a Palace building distant from her own, closer to the Chalke and the rapidly growing new Hagia Sophia. Easier for Anthemius, but a long walk for Mariam back to Theodora’s rooms for her work with her mistress and the children. And still not quite far enough away for the moments when Theodora bit her palm to stop herself imagining her lover with the girl, came close to drawing blood to stop the jealousy, knowing it would hurt her far more to hate Mariam.

P
alace life was busier still as the year progressed. So far from the battle lines, Justinian and Narses were, nevertheless, up at all hours, awaiting the latest reports, the fastest messengers. In Illyricum, Mundus’ soldiers began the invasion of Dalmatia, while Belisarius’ troops sailed into Sicily, re-taking the island without a battle. Before there was time to celebrate, news came that Roman troops were mutinying in Carthage, the heat and Berber attacks too much for men still waiting for the wages they’d been promised long ago.

In her regular letter to Theodora, Antonina wrote:

Theodora shared an edited version with Narses.

*

Just before the end of the year, word came that Barsymes’ monks had been found, tortured and killed, their bodies dumped close to the border, a fine skein of silk tied around each man’s stretched and broken neck. Barsymes organised another team, this time sending trade spies alongside the monks, hoping that a second expedition would achieve what the first could not. His work then took him to Ravenna for trade and a little light spying on Narses’ behalf – this time with Theodora’s full knowledge and using Macedonia’s contacts to ease his negotiations with those who had taken over on Amalasuntha’s death. In Constantinople, Justinian underlined his intentions for the Empire by declaring Greek the language of state – the Goths might speak Latin in the West, but the Emperor and his troops were forging the new Rome from the East. Belisarius sent word he was about to cross into mainland Italy and then the messenger came with the welcome news that he had taken Naples. Soon after, Goth soldiers turned against their own king, blaming him for the fall of the southern city. Theodahad was killed and the general Witigis proclaimed Goth king. In the north, Mundus was killed in battle and Antonina wrote that Belisarius had lost himself for a night in wine and tears for his old friend. War had truly begun.

The day after they received the news of Belisarius’ success, Justinian sent notice for Theodora to dress in her finest ceremonial gowns. There was no explanation.

She dressed in the heavy robes, the embroidered slippers, waiting while Mariam helped her with the Imperial chlamys and the jewelled headdress, feeling anything but calm. Clearly her husband was about to make an announcement, and Theodora, who had once been a scared little girl begging alms from the crowd in the Hippodrome, believed he loved her enough not to ask her to dress up simply to get rid of her. But
she had heard stories of women shamed in public, had seen it happen, knew that however strong a couple they were, he was still Emperor, and there were plenty who would welcome a divorce now. If Justinian were to marry one of the many useful Goth women, then marriage bonds might stop the western war, save the wages of all those troops.