Usually historians portray the Huns as the intruders who pushed aside other groups, including Goths, out of their own territories with the inevitable knock-on effects, eventually threatening the security of the empire. But there is another way of looking at the role of the Goths and Huns to the east of the empire. The expansion of the Goths from their settlements in northern Poland was probably due to a population explosion that resulted from more intensive and productive farming. The rising tide of Goths moved, as we have seen, into the area between the Don and the Danube. This was the region where they were to feel the brunt of invading Huns.
But it was not the Huns who were strangers in this land but the Goths. Long before the Goths lived in this region it was traditionally under the dominion of nomads from the steppe, people who had far more in common culturally with the Huns than with the Goths. Such nomads continued to control the region long after the Goths had left as well. In other words, the northern Goths who were farming people by inclination had, through population growth, expanded into an area traditionally run by nomads whose lifestyle and culture were very different. When the nomadic Huns from the steppe pushed the Goths out again they were simply reasserting the ancient grazing rights of the nomadic peoples. It was the Goths and not the Huns who were the odd ones out in the bigger sweep of history.
When the emperor decided to let the Goths into the empire, a chain of events was set in motion which was nothing less than a horror story for the Romans. The Goths, after the initial relief of being let in, soon became disgruntled at the treatment they were receiving from the Roman officials in the region. The emperor Valens had promised them free supplies but local corruption meant that the Goths were being charged for them. The Goths were becoming a problem and were shunted from place to place. Two groups under the leadership of chiefs named Fritigern and Alavivus were moved south to the city of Marcianople (which, as mentioned above, had been sacked by their forefathers).
While a banquet between the local Roman military high command and the Gothic chiefs was taking place, hungry Goths decided to take things into their own hands and tried to break into the city to seize supplies of food. Lupicinus, the Roman general in charge, reacted quickly. Ordering his guests' bodyguards to be killed, he planned to hold the chiefs hostage. Somehow Fritigern escaped and when Lupicinus and his army came out in pursuit they were chased back into the city by the Gothic forces now under the command of their escaped chieftain. Such confrontations continued over the next two years and a major battle was inevitable. The Romans had to try to solve the problem of the Goths once and for all.
The emperor led an army of 40,000 men against a Gothic confederacy of Greuthungi and Tervingi forces in a battle that took place just north of the city of Hadrianople (modern Edirne in European Turkey) on 9 August 378. The barbarian forces were formidable. The Goths defeated and killed the emperor Valens, ruler of the eastern part of the Roman empire, along with two-thirds of his army. The account of Themistius, a philosopher and leading senator in Constantinople, records the devastation: writing in horror, he describes how 'our armies… vanished like shadows'. It was in the aftermath of this crushing and unexpected defeat of the Roman forces that the two new groups of Goths – Visigoths and Ostrogoths – gradually emerged. Roman interests recovered as they had done so often before, but the Goths had proved themselves a serious force to be reckoned with.
Under the leadership of Alaric (said to be in the bloodline of the royal Balthi clan mentioned by Jordanes), the Visigoths became a political reality. They were the most powerful group in the Balkans, and the Romans were ready to do business with them. The Visigoths could use the rivalry between the western and eastern empire to their own advantage but not owning any territory that they could call their own made them reliant on one or the other for ensuring they had sufficient supplies of food. The early fifth century was a frustrating time for the Visigoths. Alaric, despite his threats and raids on the interests of both parts of the empire, failed to secure a promising future for his people.
He had an 'agreement' with the Romans, which obliged the Senate to pay him 4,000 pounds' weight of gold. When the Senate changed its mind and refused to pay, Alaric decided to exact his revenge by sacking Rome in 410. Rather than being an expression of his power, this was more a consequence of his impotence. He could not get at the western emperor who had moved his court from Milan to the almost impregnable city of Ravenna. Nor could he put into action his plan to take the Visigoths to the richer lands of Roman North Africa. After the sacking of Rome he led his people south, again trying to forge a new Gothic kingdom. The sudden death of Alaric meant the end of the dream of reaching Africa. He was succeeded by his wife's brother Athaulf, who was clearly more pragmatic. He immediately decided to give up Alaric's ineffectual strategies. He gave up not just on Africa but realised that there was no place for the Visigoths in Italy either. In 412 he led them away over the Alps.
We shall meet the Visigoths again, on the battlefield where they faced the Huns in Gaul, but their subsequent history and their final settlement in Spain takes us away from the main arena in which the other branch of this great barbarian people, the Ostrogoths, made much more of a success in their quest for power in Italy. The Amal dynasty (the second of the two Gothic royal lines mentioned by Jordanes) produced a king who, with the possible exception of Attila the Hun, was to be the most significant of barbarian leaders: Theoderic the Great.
Chapter Five
SHADOW EMPEROR
The poor Roman imitates the Goth, the well-to-do Goth the Roman.
Aphorism of Theoderic, king of the Ostrogoths
Theoderic was born in Pannonia in 454. He was the son of Thiudimer Amalo, king of the Ostrogoths (the eastern branch of the Goths, the western branch being the Visigoths), who reigned alongside his brothers Vidimer and Valamer. Theoderic's childhood was abruptly interrupted when he was given as a hostage to the eastern emperor at the age of eight, as a living guarantor that his father's and uncles' treaty with the emperor would be adhered to. Bizarre as this may seem today, such were the practices of ancient diplomacy and negotiation. The Romans hoped that by taking royal hostages in this way, they would turn the offspring of barbarian kings into lovers of the Roman way of life. Thus the young Theoderic spent the next decade at the Byzantine court. In his case at least the Roman scheming would backfire.
Until comparatively recently, many historians have simply repeated the ancient and partisan accounts that have portrayed Theoderic as illiterate. Yet the fact that he spent ten formative years in the court makes this impossible to take seriously. It can now be dismissed simply as propaganda. He spent the greater part of his formative years in the epicentre of the empire and must have received a first-class education. Furthermore, there are sources that tell us that his daughter was a very cultured individual versed in Latin and Greek who wanted to give her own son the benefits that came from such learning. Theoderic is said to have been a retiring and clumsy youth who nevertheless had a deep interest in a large number of fields including art, philosophy, politics and military matters. How much of what he was later to achieve was planned in silence during these years we can only guess at.
When Thiudimer requested the return of his son, he must have wondered how the boy had turned out, a Gothic prince who had lived in the sheltered and learned world of Byzantine splendour. Perhaps he wondered if he had become effete and unfit for the world that awaited him outside. The emperor had no objections to releasing his teenage 'guest', believing him too ineffectual and timid to pose any problems. Neither his father nor his imperial captor was prepared for the boundless vigour and vision the young Theoderic unleashed on his release. Immediately on returning to the Ostrogoths and without waiting for his father to return from his campaign against the Suevi people, he launched a successful assault on the city of Singidunum (modern-day Belgrade). Not only did he conquer it – he also refused to hand it over to the emperor, thereby flouting the agreements that, until that time, had existed between the O
strogoths and the Byzantine court.
His father died two years later in 474 and Theoderic was crowned king of the Ostrogoths. His reputation and power grew during the 480s when he twice saved the emperor Zeno from attempts to overthrow the throne. By way of reward, Theoderic was first given territories and then (whether with the consent of Zeno or without it) took over the rule of Italy on the understanding that he would remove the barbarian leader Odovacar, who had taken it for his own. Odovacar's ethnic origin is uncertain, but his force was drawn from many barbarian peoples. In the back of his mind Zeno may have been hoping that both barbarian leaders would destroy each other, but he had agreed to hand over the reins of power in Italy to Theoderic (even though it was Odovacar and not he that held them).
Theoderic willingly accepted the challenge and in 487 began preparations for the huge undertaking, a long march, which would involve the entire nation of Ostrogoths (some 300,000 souls – men, women and children, young and old) travelling through 2,000 kilometres of hostile foreign lands only to meet their archenemy Odovacar at the other end. With the harvest reaped and loaded on to carts, the mighty wagon train swung into movement in the autumn of 488. The beginning of winter found them in the land of another Germanic tribe, the Gepids, who were less than pleased to see them. Despite meeting fierce resistance, the Gothic forces triumphed and lived off the land of their defeated 'hosts' while waiting for the coming of spring. Having now persuaded some of the Gepids to join him, Theoderic led his people, like a barbarian Moses, over the Alps towards the promised land of Italy that lay beyond.
Odovacar was both forewarned and forearmed. After much strategic manoeuvring, the battle finally began near Verona on 30 September 489. The bloody conflict looked set to result in a victory for Odovacar, until Theoderic roused his commanders in the midst of the battlefield and inspired them to turn the tide to their favour. They inflicted great losses on the enemy and Odovacar was lucky to escape with his life. Theoderic's army was itself too weakened to pursue the foe and this allowed Odovacar to live to fight another day. Both leaders sought to forge alliances before their next conflict.
Odovacar moved his base of operations to the city of Ravenna, the capital of the western empire. It was to remain the capital for 350 years. It was eventually abandoned and sank into a long period of decline lasting until the twentieth century when the draining of the swamps that surrounded it revitalised the ancient city once more.
Between the Adriatic sea and great stretches of marshland Odovacar thought he would be beyond the reach of his arch enemy. But Theoderic had not come this far just to give in, and began what was to be a protracted siege of the city. After nearly a year and a half, both sides were suffering. Inside the city they were nearing starvation, while many of the besiegers had contracted malaria as a result of spending too long in the unhealthy mosquito-ridden marshes. Finally, after another six months, Odovacar capitulated and surrendered the city.
On 5 March 493 the victorious Theoderic entered Ravenna peacefully. No instant retribution was made. The army of Odovacar was not even disarmed. The citizens of the city soon warmed to their new ruler. Less than a fortnight into the new regime, Theoderic invited Odovacar to a small banquet where he stabbed him to death. Even this does not seem to have lessened him in the eyes of the people of Ravenna, who accepted his version of events – that Odovacar had been planning to overthrow his conqueror. Theoderic disposed of the entire family of Odovacar along with some generals who were his co-conspirators, and the security of his regime was firmly established.
Theoderic set to work immediately on a series of social and economic reforms. As his Italian biographers Stefania Salti and Renata Venturini put it, he 'never had complete faith in the "Italic race" which he considered to be naturally predisposed to corruption'. He wanted the Italic people to rebuild their economy under the military protection of the Ostrogoths. He envisaged a society which allowed both peoples to live side by side, respecting each other's cultures. It was not just cultural differences that made them distinct; they also belonged to different branches of Christianity: Catholicism and Arianism.
For a while things went well for the new regime. The economy picked up and the two cultures seemed to be able to work together. Things turned sour when, in 523, a law passed by the eastern emperor Justin made it impossible for Jews and heretics to take up public office. This edict was specifically designed to exclude Arians from positions of power. Until the eastern empire instigated this persecution of the Arian community, Theoderic had succeeded in creating a peaceful and harmonious co-existence of Arians and Catholics. Perhaps as an outsider and a barbarian himself, he understood the need to respect different faiths and ethnic groups for the sake of all involved. After the Arians were persecuted, Theoderic reacted in kind by a royal decree ordering that all Catholic churches be handed over to the Arians.
The Barbarian Mosaics of Ravenna
The conflict between Theoderic and his Arian Ostrogoths on the one hand and the eastern empire and the Catholics on the other is embodied in the exquisite mosaics of an ancient church in Ravenna. The mosaic art has, for hundreds of years, been presented as a lowly and minor one. It has even been called 'the archaeologist's loose woman'. This disparaging view of the mosaicist's art obscures its genuine value. Yet its value is not just artistic: it also reveals to us a hidden chapter in the story of Roman and Gothic relations. The mosaics of this church, Sant' Apollinare Nuovo, have to be seen in person to be believed.
I arrived in Italy by plane from Frankfurt. The contrast of climates was all the more striking because of the speed with which a plane transports a person from one to the other. The sudden transition from the dark, windy and rain-soaked banks of the Rhine to the glorious sunshine of Bologna airport revealed another reason for the northern barbarian incursions into the Roman heartland – the weather. This is still what attracts hordes of German, British and Scandinavian holidaymakers to the beaches of southern Spain, France and Italy.
Who can doubt that some of the sombre and dark elements of the northern soul are the direct result of climate? My spirit was certainly lifted as I strolled for the first time around the streets of Ravenna. Replete with wonderful ancient buildings, as most Italian cities are, Ravenna has a particular connection with the aesthetic traditions of the barbarian king. The church of Sant' Apollinare Nuovo is unique in that it has magnificent mosaic decorations that date from two different periods, the early sixth century, the time of Theoderic, and the second half of the century when Ravenna was ruled by his Catholic successors. The Arian mosaics include a series of scenes depicting the life of Jesus. Although such scenes are standard in the Christian iconography of all periods, these particular examples show the tell-tale signs of the distinctly different Arian view.
There is no scene of nativity or baptism – clearly avoided by the mosaic makers who did not want to portray anything that might suggest the divinity of Jesus, which, as Arians, they did not accept. Although the Arians have gone down in history (a history almost exclusively penned by their enemies) as obscure and misguided heretics, the visitor to the church today cannot fail to admire the religious dedication embodied in the staggering work of this reviled sect. As my guide Manuela Farneti so elegantly put it, Theoderic's contemporaries must have felt they were entering paradise when they stepped into the church, which would have been lit by the flames of hundreds of candles and torches reflecting the light from the golden surfaces of the complex mosaics.
The memory of Theoderic was odious to those who came after him on two counts. Firstly, he was a foreign usurper and secondly, and more importantly from the point of view of the Church, he was the follower of what had by now become firmly a heretical sect – Arianism. Throughout history, new regimes have sought to rewrite history in their own image and this happened in a very literal way with the renovation works that took place in Sant' Apollinare Nuovo.
The mosaic panels of the royal palace that were commissioned by Theoderic are high above the floor immediately t
o the right as one enters the church. In an act of vandalism worthy of its namesakes, the cronies of the eastern emperor removed the images of Theoderic and members of his court and clergy that had once stood between the columns, replacing them with the curtains that can be seen today. Oddly, their hands can still be seen on the columns themselves. Why the revisionists left these disembodied hands is something of a mystery, but it has been surmised that they were left as a reminder to the faithful that the heretics had been conquered and destroyed. It was an act of censorship all too familiar from modern times – an ancient counterpart to the airbrushing of photos in Stalinist Russia.
There are other examples of the reworking of the original mosaics that have only come to light in our own era. To the right of the door is a mosaic portrait which had always been thought to represent the emperor Justinian, but restorers working in the 1950s discovered that the binder used behind the face and some other parts of this image was of a different composition to that used elsewhere in the mosaic. It is now thought that the mosaic was originally an Arian work and actually showed not Justinian but Theoderic.
The face, which survives from the original making of the mosaic, bears an uncanny resemblance to a medallion of Theoderic issued in the year 500 to commemorate the success of his reign. He never dared to have himself portrayed as an emperor, so a brooch and a purple robe, the imperial insignia that adorn the image that is visible today (and which are backed by a different binder), were additions of the Byzantine era. By this act Justinian sought to usurp the vision of Theoderic, to whom the real glory for the creation of this glittering work of light really belongs.
The mosaics of the two periods also show marked differences in their style of execution. Theoderic was deeply enamoured with Roman art and culture and yet succeeded in making something much more than a pale and lifeless imitation. He reworked these Roman influences in a fashion far removed from anything normally associated with barbarians. His highly skilled artisans represented the prophets in three-dimensional form. The artists made full use of the potential of their medium by using different stones and colours to evoke the three-dimensionality by the play of light on the mosaics.
Barbarians- Secrets of the Dark Ages Page 6
