by Jack Ludlow
He would take refuge in silence, though Flavius was not fool enough to think that would be easy. From this moment on, and for how long he did not know, his personal life would be an act and that was a skill at which he was not adept. He would have to learn to smile when he was unhappy, agree when he wanted to dispute, slither round subjects rather than deal with them and act as lustily as a husband should in the bedchamber.
Would Antonina perceive the change? He had to believe so. If she challenged him, that might mean his previous excuse of naïvety for her actions might be true, but if she accepted the way he had changed did that mean guilt? Sick of his endless and formless rambling peregrinations he left the bed, threw on a loose gown and went to his place of work, to find on his desk and at the top of the pile a series of letters.
The hand was that of Procopius, the words only too recognisably those of Antonina; gossipy, sentences badly formed in a way that his secretary must have winced at, misspellings abounding. Observing those was mere distraction and he had to concentrate on the contents which were damning. Flavius said this, my husband thinks that, none of it flattering to Justinian but even more critical of Theodora’s influence on imperial policy. Nowhere did it mention he thought her braver than her spouse!
Had Theodora passed these on to Justinian? Why ask for reports if they were not to be used to bolster her own position? Flavius doubted if the Emperor would be much thrown by the description of him as an untrustworthy schemer; if anything that would bring a smile to his lips. What about his sexual preferences, openly discussed with a woman who had, Flavius had always suspected, shared in some of them.
Bed-delivered sallies meant for laughter looked very different on the page. They were not jokes but words that diminished the person referred to. He and Antonina had related to each other anecdotes about Theodora as well. In these copies only his comments appeared, underscored as if to convey shock.
Flavius Belisarius pressed his fingers to the corners of his eyes. The despair he was assailed by seemed to match that he had experienced when he had seen his family mutilated and dead, their open eyes staring to an unresponsive heaven as if they had been asking how this fate could have been visited upon them by a deity they worshipped.
‘General.’
Looking up, Flavius saw Procopius standing in the doorway and he looked abashed, as if he was trying to share in his employer’s misery. The hand that waved across the now scattered letters said it all, there was no need to comment but Procopius did so anyway.
‘I regret that I did not bring this to your attention earlier, General.’
‘I don’t.’
‘I feared to hurt you.’
‘Hurt is not a word of enough force to describe it. What plagues me now is how I deal with it.’
‘I cannot stop you confronting your wife with what you have read, but I can say it means that I could no longer serve you.’
‘I have to admit that did not occur to me.’
‘Untenable, I think.’ That got a weary nod. ‘What do you wish me to do?’
The reply was some time in coming, but when it did it was firm. ‘Put these away somewhere safe. I may need them in the future, though it pains me to think like that.’
‘And me?’
‘I have forfeited any trust I have in my wife, Procopius. To lose you as well would not help me bear that cross.’
‘Then I have another painful duty to perform.’
‘Spare me, man,’ Flavius pleaded.
‘General, I dare not and please do not think I derive either pleasure or comfort for things that I am required to reveal that distress you. You are aware that the Lady Belisarius often entertains the officers of your comitatus?’
Sure he knew what was coming Flavius threw his face into his hands and groaned. ‘Who?’
‘Theodosius visits her when you are fully occupied. Only her maid knows of it.’
His own godson, the offspring of one of his bucellarii officers and a person he and Antonina had adopted, his frequent presence in their personal apartments was not something to remark upon; he was family.
‘And I do not, do I,’ Flavius moaned, ‘the fool that I am.’
It hurt to admit to himself that such a statement was not strictly true; if he had never seen evidence of adultery Flavius had often wondered if it might be happening. Had he not thought on Antonina’s past on more than one occasion, would he have seen the facts if he had looked closely enough?
As a man who felt that he had suffered many setbacks in his life – though he admitted to good fortune too – Flavius knew he could not give way to despair. If what he had been told was a weight on his mind it was one he would have to carry. Life might get very difficult from now on, but it would persist and all he could do was to silently pray to God to provide him with the strength to bear it and the Christian will to forgive.
‘I must go back and talk with my wife.’ Seeing alarm on the face of Procopius he took a bit of delight in delaying the need to allay his fears; why should he not suffer some discomfort too? ‘Do not worry, what you have told me remains a secret, though I will ensure that Theodosius is moved to where he can cause me no more grief.’
The question was not posed by Procopius; there might be others to take his place. ‘And I will need to be more attentive, will I not?’
‘I will happily aid you in that.’
Flavius produced a dry laugh. ‘You should get to know Justinian better, Procopius, you and he would be firm friends. And before you take that amiss I mean it as a compliment.’
The first thing Flavius did was to apologise to a freshly wakened Antonina for his behaviour the previous night, which got him licked lips and a wet smile.
‘The last part was wonderful, though I have never seen you so sullen over the meal and you have yet to tell me why.’
‘I had just come from questioning two tribunes who had been apprehended on their way to Constantinople to tell Justinian that I was about to rebel, claim the province as my own and crown myself king.’
‘Is that true?’
What a revealing response that was. Antonina did not decry it as nonsense, nor did she seem overly upset at the prospect that such a claim might have some validity. It took some effort to contain himself, to sit on the bed and stroke her hair.
‘Would you like it to be true?
She pondered for a bit, as if thinking through the pros and cons, perhaps imagining herself a queen, before concluding it was impossible to give an honest answer.
‘I doubt your good friend Theodora would approve of your hesitation.’
‘What makes you think her view counts?’
‘Nothing. And just so you can cease to wonder, I have no intention of betraying the faith Justinian placed in me.’
A most unladylike snort was the response to that. ‘It is to be hoped he would keep faith likewise with you, but I would not wish to wager my head on it.’
The guts were churning, the desire to yell at her near to overwhelming. How could she question Justinian after what she had done? The control he fought to impose on himself was necessary but it took several seconds to achieve.
‘As I said, two tribunes were stopped in the docks before they could sail, for which I have to thank Procopius.’ That name made her frown and aged her in an instant, the fact that he noticed being upsetting. ‘It was he who brought the conspiracy to light.’
‘He is snake enough for that.’ Seeing Flavius bridle she was quick to add, ‘Which is as well if it is in your service.’
‘There is, however, a difficulty.’ The place where her eyebrows existed during the day – they were well plucked – shot up. ‘These two were not the only ones. I suspect more have been despatched by whoever it is who wants to do me harm, to carry that same message to Constantinople.’
‘And if that is the case?’
She had controlled her voice when asking that, but not enough to fool a man who knew her so intimately. He had, of course, to let his observation pass.
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br /> ‘I should not be concerned, Antonina. After all, what possible grounds could Justinian have for believing it?’
His wife was not looking at him when she whispered, ‘None.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The best way for Flavius to ignore his problems was activity and that involved movement. He made a point of travelling the region, talking to the leading citizens of the towns and to any leaders of tribes that still held themselves aloof. That he did do in an elaborate almost regal caravan was so that Antonina could accompany him, and of course along came Procopius; watching them spar now caused less discomfort and more amusement, for it was to Flavius a game, one of the few things in which he could take pleasure.
Theodosius had been sent to the one-time Vandal fortress of Septem, right by the Pillars of Hercules, with instructions to keep an eye on the towering rock and the safe harbour it protected; if the Visigoths had any notion to take advantage of turmoil in North Africa while the Romans sought to pacify the province, that was where it would come from.
If Antonina was in any way affected by this posting it did not show; indeed she seemed to relish the travel even if it was the cause of some discomfort. Perhaps it was the treatment she received as the consort of the Roman-proconsul. Those who wished a good opinion from Flavius saw flattering her as a good avenue and Antonina lapped at it like a cat in a creamery.
The wait for word of a response from Constantinople was never mentioned between them; it was as if Antonina had forgotten. That was only ever referred to between Flavius and Procopius and the longer it was delayed the more troubling it seemed, yet the time taken to sail to there and back, notwithstanding the discussion and decisions such a message might entail, were subject to many variables.
There was the wind, which had Flavius making a rare joke that as much would be expended in talking about what to do as was needed to fill the sails of the ship carrying the imperial response. He could have no idea how that quip cheered his secretary, who saw it as a sign that the despair of what had been revealed, if not easing, was morphing into acceptance, albeit that must cause disquiet.
Thoughts on who had despatched the message did not mellow either, for Flavius knew he would have to be very much on his guard. Whoever was the traitor might move at any time and not wait to hear how their communication had been received, though Procopius thought that unlikely.
‘The way I see it, General, is this.’
You have become more confident of late, fellow, Flavius thought, but nothing on his face betrayed that, leading him to wonder if he had become more subtle in his dealings. Certainly he had been that with his wife, whom he now watched as a hawk observes its prey, seeking to read her mind even if he had concluded long ago that it was somewhat shallow.
‘The man who intends to rebel has a plan at the centre of which lies you.’ Procopius had his nose in the air now, and his eyes were following it upwards, as if he was cogitating the meaning of the universe. ‘He expects from Constantinople some kind of message either chastising you or ordering your recall. At that point he will move to kill you, then claim he has prevented your coup and he will pledge his loyalty to Justinian.’
‘A smokescreen?’
‘Precisely.’
Perfectly capable of working these things out for himself it pleased Flavius to indulge his secretary. The man had always been a touch self-satisfied; now he felt he had his employer’s absolute confidence that had swelled. Flavius was pleased to let it be; it would be Procopius who would see the dangers that threatened, perhaps before he did, no matter how guarded he had become.
It was hard to face his inferior generals and not speculate, but even travelling he was obliged to return to Carthage to call a conference and ensure his policies were being implemented. There were stirrings everywhere, how could there not be, yet nothing so serious as to trouble the public weal. Odd that the place where he should feel most secure was the one at which he felt most at risk. Did they notice the increase in his guard detail? Would they spot that only those bucellarii he had raised before the Battle of Dara, men who were loyal and part of his original recruitment to the corps, made up his escort?
It was unfortunate that real trouble began to brew just as the emissaries from Justinian arrived, two high-ranking bureaucrats tasked with the job of assessing the new province for taxation with his own emissary Solomon a welcome returnee. They would carry out a new census, make certain titles to land were valid – much had been appropriated from the Vandals including the royal estate – and set the rate at which North Africa would pay into the imperial treasury after funds were extracted for local expenses.
‘Justinian has sent a right pair of villains,’ Flavius remarked when he saw their names. ‘I know them to be adept at fleecing.’
‘I doubt it matters who he sent, General. There is too much temptation here even for an honest man.’
‘I hope my coffers only hold that which is my due.’
‘Which is my point,’ Procopius replied. ‘You are honest and those coffers are overflowing.’
‘With you being straightforward on my behalf, I know.’
That made Procopius preen and again that was let pass. The time had come to meet the representatives from Constantinople, for as well as their imperial edicts they carried those detailing how the province should be run and garrisoned, orders he would have to begin to implement. They also carried a sealed communication from the Emperor to him, which he opened in their presence, though much to their obvious frustration he did not divulge the contents.
‘You will wish to read it, Procopius?’ Flavius said, when they were alone.
‘If I am permitted.’
The held-out hand gave the lie to that faux reluctance and his secretary took and read the letter, skipping over the niceties of greeting and praise for the achievements of Flavius to the nub.
‘A trap?’
‘Partly,’ Flavius replied. ‘It all depends on what I choose to do.’
‘Am I allowed to suggest that the matter resting with you is a snare?’ Procopius studied the writing before reading it out. ‘After such an achievement, how can I not leave you to make up your own mind as to how to proceed? You are in Carthage, I am not. If you feel that you need to remain there to oversee those edicts I have promulgated then do so. If you think your work complete and it would be best to return, then your well-beloved friend is eager to welcome you home.’
‘If I choose to stay he will think I mean to rebel.’
‘And in order to guard against that his envoys will carry messages to more than yourself.’
‘I can see Theodora’s hand in this. Justinian knows me well enough to demand a straight answer.’
The doubt that such was true travelled across the face of Procopius. ‘You must go home.’
‘God above, do I not long to!’
‘This undermines those who wished to depose you, and anyway, I fear they have waited too long to act. They must see you are on your guard.’
‘Which means we may never know who are the miscreants, which I must say troubles me greatly. What will happen once I am gone?’
‘Put it behind you, for it will not serve to brood on it.’
Preparations were put in hand to travel. A ship had to be equipped with a comfortable place of confinement for Gelimer, another less altered to carry his leading adherents and the remainder of his family. The treasure of the Vandals would travel with Flavius and Antonina and it required a deep-hulled transport to carry it, so great was the weight. There was a small fleet of vessels to accommodate his comitatus for they were his personal troops and went with their general.
A final tour of his units had to be hurriedly arranged so he could say farewell to those who had aided him to conquer, so obviously the news of his impending departure spread through the whole of the North African littoral, and if it stirred some emotion in his pardoned Vandals it was the Moors who saw opportunity, Flavius being sure they were egged on by the Visigoths making mischief. They
might fear Hispania as a new objective of Roman reconquest.
It could not be classed as rebellion, the Moors were not under imperial tutelage, but it infuriated Flavius Belisarius for he could do nothing about their invasion of the western border. Stay and fight them and he could be seen as a traitor. He had to leave the need to chastise them in the hands of others and the one he trusted most, Solomon, was given the task and he was also given the bucellarii of Flavius’s personal troops in order to accomplish it, but it was only a loan. As soon as the Moors were subdued they were to be sent back to serve under him, for he had no illusion that he would not be occupied elsewhere and he wanted his best soldiers with him when that came about.
There were, of course, ceremonies; the handing over of command to Valerianus, the regretful farewell to Pharas, which was tearful for both. But the time came to board ship, unmoor and sail out of the harbour, with the man who had conquered thinking, as he looked back at the fortifications of Carthage, if he had that to his credit, there was just as much debit in his personal life.
The route taken home was nearly the same as coming, the first stop being Sicily where they heard of the death of the Goth heir Athalaric, no more than sixteen summers old, his demise reputedly brought on by a bloody flux after an epic drinking bout. That must impact on his mother and her tenuous grip on power but if Flavius was curious as to what such an event would entail, he had his course to resume, once more crossing the Adriatic and hugging the coast of Greece.
The sea did not suit Antonina, who seemed to suffer from sickness on a daily basis and her affliction became so regular that doctors were consulted, only to tell Flavius Belisarius that he was about to become a father; Antonina was pregnant and since she had a child from her previous marriage she must have known what the symptoms portended. Why had she not told him herself?
