by Jack Ludlow
There was a fast galley waiting in the private palace harbour and the notion was to get to the imperial armies in Thrace and seek their aid. If Flavius had mixed opinions of Theodora, they were tempered now as she stepped forward to address not only her husband but those gathered to counsel him, in a voice as strong as it was passionate.
‘Run? To where? Wherever we go will we not face the same? We will be found and if not killed be dragged back to be torn limb from limb by that mob in the Hippodrome. Those who have worn the crown rarely survive its loss and I have no wish to see the day when I am not saluted as Empress. If we are to perish, Husband, let it be standing and facing those who would harm us, not skulking off like thieves in the night. Remember the old saying. Royalty is a fitting burial shroud.’
‘Your men are in the Excubitor barracks, Flavius Belisarius,’ whispered Domnus Articus, who had sidled into the antechamber as Theodora was declaiming to pass this on. ‘Also, Mundus has fetched his Heruls, three hundred in number. I am with you too.’
The aid of such a fine warrior, a Gepid nobleman and magister militum per Illyricum, was very heartening yet it would be foolish to think the odds to be substantially altered.
‘We may all die, Domnus.’
‘A soldier’s fate.’
The arrival of Narses, the elderly eunuch who had at one time been Flavius’s commander, threw another voice into the discussion and had some positive information to impart. He had gone into the Hippodrome carrying a bag of Justinian’s gold with which to bribe the Blues, also reminding them that both Justinian and Theodora were supporters and that Hypatius was an enthusiast of the opposition.
He could now definitely report that the mob were not as united as they had once been. Many of the Blues were aware that things had gone too far and they certainly did not want Hypatius as emperor. He had distributed the gold as gifts to those more inclined to waver, with promises of more from Justinian. They were now slipping in groups out of the Hippodrome to go to their homes.
‘So most of those remaining will be Greens,’ he concluded, ‘and also those who relish in making trouble, whatever the grounds.’
The sound of studded boots on marble floors had Flavius pulling out his sword. Normally forbidden in the presence of the Emperor it had seemed to him sensible to be armed. He relaxed as Solomon and Mundus appeared, fully armed. Justinian was looking at Flavius with something approaching fear, his eyes darting between the face and the weapon. Was he about to be betrayed by one of the few people in whom he reposed trust?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Observing that look of fear offended Flavius and some of that feeling was in the nature of his less than respectful explanation, the fact that neither the city regiments nor the Excubitors could be relied upon and that this being so he had thought it wise to bring the men he had led in battle into the city to join his personal guard.
‘On your own word, without seeking permission.’
‘Sometimes it is necessary to act without that.’ Justinian looked at Mundus, far from reassured. ‘Mundus has brought his men as well, because he is loyal, as I am, to your person, though I think you must thank Solomon for his presence.’
Theodora spoke up, the voice unfriendly. ‘And what, having done that, do you recommend, Flavius Belisarius? You have yet to offer any advice and I have never before known you shy of telling us what is right and what is wrong.’ Her black eyes narrowed and the tone changed to one of sly innuendo. ‘Perhaps you have your own reasons to have the bucellarii to hand at such a time.’
Tantamount to an accusation of perfidy Flavius responded with scant respect for her rank. ‘He is not only my friend, Lady, he is the Emperor to whom I have sworn allegiance.’
Eudaimon asked for and was granted permission to speak: removed to satisfy the mob he had not yet been replaced as urban prefect. ‘We must take control of the city.’
It was Flavius who replied, earning a black look from Theodora. ‘We do not have the means. The city regiments may well oppose us, but if we can capture Hypatius that could remove the focus of the revolt.’
‘We must consider whether that will that not make matters worse?’
Justinian got a look from his wife then that made him blench, though her words, carefully calculated not to diminish him, belied the feeling behind them. ‘How much worse can it get? I have already said I will not run away, so if I am to die, let it be here and let it be soon.’
Justinian had a look on his face that seemed to imply he wished the decision be made by anyone but himself, so Flavius, for the lack of anyone else proposing any action, took up the baton.
‘Mundus, you take the outer gates in case they try to smuggle Hypatius out. I will try to get into the Hippodrome and find him.’
‘He will not come willingly if you do.’
‘If I find him he will come. I think him no more willing than Probus to be in the situation he now finds himself.’
‘And if he refuses?’
‘Then his reign will be brief. Solomon, place our men to cover the inner gates.’
Narses was quick to object. ‘There will still be Blues there who wish to leave. They must be allowed to do so.’
Flavius had no time for such considerations. He raced along the corridor that led to the imperial box, which as usual had Excubitor guards at the gate. His demand that they stand aside was refused and so the door to the imperial box remained locked. Frustrated but determined Flavius gathered up his comitatus and headed for another and lesser known way in. This took them through the still-smoking ruins of the Baths of Zeuxippus to a point just beyond one of the entrances, to a postern gate and a small staircase that led to a service door which opened on to the imperial box.
There he was faced by another set of armed men and they were vocal in their loyalty to Hypatius. The option to attack them was there but in such a confined space it was full of risk. If the crowd got wind of their presence and exited through the nearby gangway, he and his men could be trapped in the passageway, a too confined space in which to fight. Yet the presence of those guards told him Hypatius was where he expected him to be, on the podium where he had very likely been crowned.
‘Find Solomon. Tell him to bring the bucellarii to this gate.’
That took time but Flavius had no intention of going into the stadium with only a hundred men at his back. Once Solomon and his six hundred bucellarii had arrived he had only one order to give.
‘Weapons out,’ he commanded, ‘we will have to fight our way through the crowd to get Hypatius.’
‘And if they oppose us?’ asked Solomon.
‘Then they pay whatever price is demanded.’
The noise within the stadium was so loud that, even with studded boots striking the stone staircase, no one heard Flavius and his men until they were almost upon them. One or two turned from their cheering to see the proximity of these men in armour, weapons drawn, and they panicked, seeking safety by pushing forward and that impacted on those on the terraces before them, causing the whole crowd to surge.
Even with that there was no space to give quarter; once in amongst these rioters Flavius and the bucellarii would be massively outnumbered and that was seen by those who were the first to face them. Their screams of fear drowned out the cheers of others and soon the ripple of dread filled the stadium as Mundus, on the other side of the Hippodrome, entering by what was to become known as the Gate of Death, sent his German mercenaries into action.
Unbeknown to Flavius, Narses had gathered up enough armed men to seal the gates to the stadium, including the one he had just employed, trapping inside the entire audience who had been so recently cheering the crowning of their new emperor. Once the killing started it became impossible to stop for those seeking to flee were trapped. The men Flavius led were fresh from bloody battle in the east, and hardened by what they had done they were not about to extend mercy.
Mundus and his huge and bloodthirsty Germans, armed with long swords and axes, were soon in the element they
so loved, slashing left, right and centre at whatever stood in their way and nothing was going to stop them once their bloodlust was kindled.
Even if Flavius, having captured Hypatius as well as his brother Pompeius, had wanted to call a halt he would have been shouting at deaf ears. All he could do was lead his two captives out of the Hippodrome, through the now open door to the private corridor, through which were now pouring Excubitors to join in the slaughter, they having seen which way matters were going.
There was not enough sand on the racing track to soak up so much blood and given there were no open exits – the men Narses had put on the gates killed those who tried – the slaughter went on for hours until the stone tiers of seating were littered with dead bodies and slippery with gore, men mostly, but also some women and the occasional child.
When the citizens of Constantinople were dragooned into clearing the stadium, the body count was established as the capacity of the Hippodrome: thirty thousand were dead. Also, executed on the orders of Justinian, were the two nephews of Anastasius taken by Flavius, even though they had been given no choice but to go along with what the mob demanded. Several senators and former officials were likewise executed even if nothing could be proved against them; suspicion was enough.
A pall now hung over the city and it was not only made up of smoke. For a long time emperors had been obliged to placate the mob in the Hippodrome, often called to plead with them to be allowed to continue their rule. The charioteer factions had become too powerful, sure even as they competed with each other that they had a divine right to approve or disapprove the actions of the wearer of the purple. That was now gone, though there was no certainty it would not resurface.
That so many had died was a cause for repentance, but underneath the display of that lay the knowledge that the present incumbent had achieved a level of personal and unbridled power that had not existed since the days of the early Caesars. If he had not done the deed or even set it in motion, Justinian garnered as much credit for the actions of others as he had previously attracted blame.
He would never be loved – he was not gifted that way, regardless – but he was feared, which suited him. Theodora was held in even more dread, for it was soon common knowledge – she made sure the tale was disseminated – of how she had refused to flee and how she had sworn to revenge herself on the population of the city.
To those who supported the imperial couple she was seen as the real person who saved the empire as well as a co-ruler and she delighted in the caution with which even the most patrician senator now treated her. There was no more condescension directed at her lowly birth, while she made no attempt to hide her contempt for their pretensions.
One person not exposed to any of her malevolence was Flavius Belisarius; it seemed as if her attitude to him had swung round and he was now cosseted by her, invited into her circle of friends, many women and men who formed a sort of court separate to that of her husband. A loose lot, they reminded Flavius of the company he had enjoyed with Petrus in those dockside taverns-cum-brothels for, involved as he was with court matters, it was good to relax among people who seemed not to care one whit for the progress of the empire.
Even dining with Theodora and Justinian together was rarely overly formal and it was on such occasions that he really began to understand the nature of their political relationship, which really came down to a sort of joint rule in which Theodora was free to say as much as she wished about the future actions needing to be taken, advice Justinian either took or ignored.
Her abiding cause was that people from the lower classes should be advanced in official circles for the very good reason that they were less greedy than the senators who thought they owned these highly rewarded sinecures by right.
‘Only until they learn how to steal, Flavius, and then they will be as greedy as their predecessors.’
The woman who whispered this to him –Theodora was off on her hobby horse and did not notice – was Antonina, one of the Empress’s oldest friends and not for the first time sat next to him. Flavius had first met her years before at a gathering in the Sabbatius villa, taken over by Justinian not long after his accession as a place where he could escape the dull protocol of palace life, his father having been given the province of Illyricum to run, a sop to the sister of Justin who hankered to rule the part of the world from which she had sprung.
Being away in the east Flavius had been afforded only that one occasion in such company but it was enough to demonstrate to him the protocols: imperial grandeur was set to one side, everyone being encouraged to act as if the rank of the host did not exist, impossible to ignore of course, but it was a situation in which there could be a pretence that the life lived before Justinian’s elevation could be recalled and that nowhere applied more than in sexual licence.
Neither Justinian nor Theodora saw much virtue in fidelity; both had come to the present estate through a world of much moral laxity and had acquired habits and desires difficult to put aside. By the time Flavius returned from Dara the villa had been abandoned and such gatherings had moved to the palace, the original venue being unsafe for a highly unpopular emperor. Indeed the whole arrangement had been in abeyance due to the troubles Justinian was labouring under.
Now that the Nika riots, as they had come to be called, had killed off the bacillus of impeding revolt both Theodora and Justinian felt safe to revive these events at which the pious and God-fearing face the imperial couple presented to the world was cast aside in the confines of the imperial palace. It was ever in the nature of rulers to expect virtue from their subjects while paying no attention to such constraints themselves.
Emperors lived in an enclosed world and much effort was extended to ensure that what went on inside was not common knowledge without. There was a strata of courtiers who were aware, how could there not be, and there were servants. The former were as debauched as their rulers and thought of their purse if they were not. The latter were chosen for their discretion and there was always the threat of strangulation if it was suspected they were telling tales to the outside world.
Added to that, much was done to present a devout aspect. Justinian had recently set in train the rebuilding of the Church of St Sophia, to a design that would make it the greatest basilica in the world, rivalling and outdoing anything in Rome. Everyone looking at the plans was staggered by the dimensions: a good way to get on the right side of Justinian was to mention this building and praise him as the genius behind it. The architects did the work, the Emperor took the plaudits.
One of the things Flavius liked about his present dining companion was her amusing indiscretion. Though careful to whom she spoke she was wonderfully scabrous about the band of hangers-on that made up the immediate social circle of the imperial couple and not afraid either to describe herself as the greediest of them. In short, she made him laugh.
‘Why do I always seem to be seated next to you? This is the fourth time.’
Antonina raised a pair of already arched eyebrows. ‘Do you object?’
‘No, I am just curious. I observe that others move from neighbour to neighbour, we do not.’
‘The consequence being that it is to my bed that you retire. But if you would prefer another …?’
Flavius felt himself blush; Antonina was older than him and was much worldlier in so many ways – she had been married before and was now a widow with a young son – while she had shown in the bedchamber a wonderful ability to invoke in him a deep pleasure he had never before achieved. He had often been tempted to ask where she had learnt her dexterity but he feared the answer might distress him. Theodora had not been beyond multiple bed partners prior to marrying Justinian – he had been a party to it – and Antonina may well have behaved in the same manner.
He did not want that to be the case, not out of piousness but out of regard, in short he liked her. In any event, to take a moral position with a woman you had bedded more than once was the height of hypocrisy. Given she was a widow that was likely
to be the source of her experience but there was another possibility: she came from a background not dissimilar to Theodora.
Antonina was the daughter of a successful charioteer, a member of the Blues whose luck had run out in the Hippodrome when a removed wheel, taken off by a competitor, saw him chucked from his chariot and thrown under the wheels of those following behind. Such men might make great fortunes but they came from lowly backgrounds, not the higher reaches of society, and so did she.
To even consider such things made Flavius feel like a scrub; who was he to judge anyone by their background? That was one area in which he fully supported Theodora. Let a man, or a woman for that matter, rise to the level their abilities would take them. No one had the right to prominence by mere birth.
‘Do you like me, Flavius?’
Caught in a welter of thoughts the reply was hurried. ‘Of course.’
A hand caressed his cheek. ‘I believe you, for you are not one to lie. In fact, I think you incapable of being deceitful.’
‘No man is that.’
‘Look down the table and what do you see?’
‘People taking their food and enjoying themselves. Servants pouring wine – and Justinian pondering, of course.’
‘Is he enjoying himself? He looks worried.’
‘Do not be fooled if you see a pensive expression, Justinian loves being emperor.’
‘I should not like it, would you?’
‘Not a question that requires an answer, since the opportunity would never arise.’
If it was implied that imperial protocol was set aside on these occasions it was never entirely true; when Justinian stood everyone followed suit, for to sit in the presence of a standing emperor was never to be allowed to anyone other than the seriously lame.
As a group they retired to another well-furnished chamber, with any number of couches on which the guests could disport themselves. There was wine and sweetmeats but no servants, for the double doors were shut behind them to ensure complete privacy. Theodora liked to play robust games, which over time became more and more risqué, often competitions which saw items of clothing being paid as forfeits.
