A Triple-headed Serpent: A Story of Theodora, Empress of Byzantium

by Marié Heese

  What an orgy of sweeping, swabbing, scrubbing, scraping and painting went on! Huge wooden stands for spectators had to be erected, towering arches built to be decked with flowers, several Roman miles of bunting hung, wreaths the size of carriage wheels plaited and nailed up, acres of flags draped, everything washed that could be washed, everything polished that could be polished, and vats of roses torn up to bestrew the streets with petals to be crushed under marching boots.

  Out came silks, satins and brocades, scarves and sashes, feathers and fringes, buttons and bows; parasols flowered in the stands, jewels winked, gold glittered; all along the route balconies were crowded; eyes were fastened to the road along which the magnificent procession would parade.

  Not being Master of the Soldiers, John could not command the army to take part in his procession, but several of the great landowners – indebted to him, rumour had it, by substantial tax rebates – sent squadrons of their private armies, each in a different brightly coloured livery, to march six abreast, helmets shining in the brilliant sun. Braying trumpets and thundering drums heralded the arrival of the Cappadocian himself in an ornate litter, gilded and glittering, borne by a dozen matched Nubian slaves whose bare black torsos shone with sweat. The Cappadocian sat on a heap of scarlet cushions, fat and formidable as a pharaoh, accompanied on either side by a bevy of beautiful girls naked beneath completely transparent wisps of robing with peacock feathers in their hair. John bowed from side to side to acknowledge the ecstatic cheers from bystanders that increased in volume as he generously scattered largesse.

  On the balconies decent women gasped and aristocrats pretended indifference. By the roadside porters stopped, transfixed, housewives stood amazed and slaves gaped.

  The feast was splendiferous, with cauldrons of soup, mounds of bread, vast platters of meat, pyramids of fish and a plethora of pies. “The shellfish of the Black Sea have grown wings,” reported the gossips, “to escape the plunderers sent by John to fetch supplies for his feast.” There were barrels of beer. There were fountains of wine. There were singers, musicians, acrobats, clowns, jugglers, magicians and dancing girls. Ah, what singing, dancing, gambolling, drinking, laughing, fighting and carousing went on until the dawn turned the city rosy! Just before sunrise Cappadocian John vomited violently over the outraged patricians who had deigned to grace the main table, and was finally carried out on a stretcher, completely insensible, to be taken home and decanted into his bed.

  Theodora watched it all, and held her tongue. Biding her time. The wretched fellow was still extremely useful to the Emperor.

  “Our treasury is much expanded, due to John’s financial acumen and stringent measures,” said Justinian. “I know you dislike the man, but he is most useful to us. I believe we can now afford to dispatch further support for the war in Italy.”

  “Procopius has emphasised the need for more men,” said Theodora. “So has Antonina, in her letters to me. Where will you find extra divisions?”

  “We can recall about five thousand Roman troops from Illyria, and we could fund an additional two thousand Herul auxiliaries, but who best to command them?”

  “Send Narses,” said Theodora, as she had once before. “He succeeded in Alexandria. You know you can depend on him.”

  Justinian looked thoughtful. “True. He was effective. And he’s the one person I would trust to provide dependable reports on whether Belisarius has ambitions to dethrone me.”

  “Antonina says not, but then she would, wouldn’t she? Narses will be a good judge of the situation.”

  “Indeed. Narses shall go to Italy.”

  Narses the eunuch: his journal, AD 538 & 539

  A man among men

  18 June, AD 538

  I am amazed and delighted by the confidence the Emperor has placed in me. Here I am, Commander in Chief of a sizeable expeditionary force to join Belisarius in Italy. Who would ever have thought it possible? Of course I did prove a capable general when he sent me to Alexandria to install Theodosius as Patriarch. He knows, too, that I have organisational abilities that are of equal worth in a military or civil environment. Yet I am not naïve; I understand clearly that the fact of my being a eunuch and therefore barred from ever being a contender for the throne of Byzantium weighs heavily in my favour. Also Justinian is fully aware of my devotion to the Empress. So they fear nothing from me.

  Belisarius, on the other hand, always looms large in Justinian’s imagination as a threat. I have never myself thought that he desires the throne, but power is a most seductive siren, and who knows when he might not succumb? He is admired, indeed revered, throughout the kingdom and beyond; he has his comitatus, several thousand veterans, who would follow him to Hades; he is extremely rich, being gorged with plunder from his many victories; he has the handsome looks and naturally poised bearing of royalty. In fact, he has earned the nickname of the “White Prince”. Why not then take a step higher, and become Emperor? It is conceivable. One must always be vigilant.

  Since it is summer, we have had nothing but good weather, and a following wind has sped the large fleet on its way. We are spread out across a deep cerulean expanse of sea, dotted with white crests, across which the ships seem almost to leap like playful dolphins. I have under my command around seven thousand soldiers of various nationalities. We should be enough to bring about a decisive victory in Italy. I hope to make landfall within a few days. We shall disembark in the harbour of Ancona, in Picenum.

  23 June, AD 538

  We have landed in Italy. Naturally, a Council of War had to be held at once, and Belisarius came to meet me at Firmum, each of us accompanied by several subordinate officers. He brought his secretary Procopius, a sycophantic fellow I have never liked. Much to my surprise, the lady Antonina was also present. It appears that she is actually allowed an active role in the conduct of the war. Now, I have great respect for our Empress, who has an excellent grasp of politics, but she does not present herself at such meetings, leave alone ride around on a horse. The rest of the officers appear to be accustomed to this.

  Be that as it may, I was able to hear at first hand what the situation is, and truly it is extraordinary. Belisarius, he told me, left Rome as soon as the siege was lifted, and occupied Picenum. (One can clearly see the lingering effects of the deprivation they suffered; he and his officers and his wife are extremely thin, and she eats fast and as hungrily as a starving wolf.) Belisarius then ordered Bloody John to withdraw from Ariminum. John refused, and Witigis exploited the resulting tension by moving on the town and laying siege to it in April. At the beginning of June, Belisarius marched from Rome to the east coast, and again sent messengers to recall John. Again John refused, and at the present time he is still there, by now heavily outnumbered by the enemy.

  “John has received an offer of marriage from Matasuintha,” Belisarius told me. “It would ally him with the royal house of the old Goth king, Theodoric. She’s his granddaughter.”

  “But she is the wife of Witigis,” I said.

  “He forced her,” interpolated Antonina. “Apparently she is bent on revenge. Can’t blame her. If John kills Witigis, she says, she will marry him instead. Also she will betray Ravenna and burn its grain stores.”

  And that might be a couple with a desire to usurp the throne of Byzantium, I thought but did not say. “Is this likely to happen?”

  “It’s fine talk,” said Belisarius, “but she is still with Witigis in his camp, and John and all his men are trapped in Ariminum, surrounded by an angry Gothic horde who desire nothing more than a chance to make good their failure to take Rome.”

  “Bloody John’s actions have been contrary to explicit orders,” said a younger officer. “We should leave him to be fodder for the Goths.”

  “It does seem,” I said, “that Bloody John has been insubordinate. Yet his present predicament is doubtless a sore punishment. My fear is that if the Goths, currently disheartened, were to succeed in taking Ariminum with John and his whole army, their spirits might revive, and
if that happens it might turn the whole course of the war in their favour.”

  Every person present, even Antonina, was silenced by this.

  “If we march to Ariminum now, we may be attacked from the rear by the Goths still in possession of Auximum,” said Belisarius. “There was a good reason why John should not have left them intact and gone storming past.”

  “We can leave a thousand men to guard us from rear attack,” I said.

  “Even with the reinforcements, we’ll be heavily outnumbered,” said Belisarius. “If we decide to go to John’s relief, our best plan would be to deceive the Goths as to the size of our forces.”

  I said: “Then, I propose we divide our forces into three. One force to go by sea under Ildiger, one along the Via Flaminia, and a flying column through the mountains by way of Urvisalia. We’ll descend on the Goths from three directions simultaneously. It will appear that we have far more men than we do.”

  “Very well, then,” said Belisarius, “let us try the three-pronged attack. And when we get within sight of the Goths, every man in the camp must keep a small fire going all night. That will make our numbers seem greater.”

  All the officers present agreed on this. The decision was made, and thereafter our combined forces moved rapidly. Belisarius and I led the flying column and we made good time; Antonina rides like a man and she did not hold us back. But in the event the sea-borne force arrived first, and when we reached Ariminum, Ildiger’s soldiers had already routed the Goths.

  John and his garrison were exhausted and gaunt with hunger. So too were the citizens. The sea-borne force had brought provisions, and everyone fell upon the food ravenously. There was no sign of Matasuintha, who had no doubt been carried away by her husband when he fled.

  “Well,” said Belisarius, staring angrily at the munching John, “you owe a debt of gratitude to Ildiger.”

  “I believe,” said John, through a mouthful of bread, “that the debt is actually owed to the General Narses, who rode to our rescue.”

  Well, it was gratifying to hear, but it did not endear me to Antonina, who glared at John furiously, nor to Belisarius. I fear we may yet lock horns. The war still has a course to run.

  20 August, AD 538

  Belisarius has spent the past months in the southern parts of Italy, clearing out remaining pockets of Goth resistance to Imperial authority. I have kept my men around Ariminum. Sooner or later we must take on Witigis himself, who is still ensconced in Ravenna.

  Alas, as I anticipated, we have become bogged down in disagreements about the best way forward. No one can deny that Belisarius is a great general, who has achieved extraordinary victories. However, he is not without faults. He is endlessly resourceful and inventive and often triumphs due to the element of surprise, but to my mind he is also inclined to be haphazard. A supreme tactician, he is lacking in strategy. He also has extraordinary luck. Fortune smiles on him so often that I think he takes risks banking on that. He improvises. I, on the other hand, do nothing without proper planning, including alternatives should my first plan fail.

  Belisarius has called for a military council. Important decisions must be made.

  10 September, AD 538

  The council met at Firmum, in a tent after dark. A couple of lamps created a pool of light that shifted as the wind pushed against the sides of the tent. The faces of the division commanders were solemn. I was thankful that General Belisarius had left his wife behind; she handles many administrative matters on his behalf and her orders are followed in his absence; all very well, but I do not believe she belongs in Councils of War.

  Belisarius put his plans forward first. He had spread a map out on the table. “In my view the first priority is Milan.” He tapped it with a finger. He has elegant hands, for a soldier. “Their garrison consists of no more than around three hundred soldiers. They may be overwhelmed, for Witigis has bribed many Franks and Burgundians to go and swell the numbers of the besiegers. We must send a substantial force to relieve them.”

  “But it lies far to the north,” I pointed out. Indeed, it sits almost under the Alps, in a corner of the vast plain of the Po, an area dominated by Goths. “Witigis and his hordes will likely either block our way or fall upon our rear when we have passed.”

  “Milan,” said Belisarius, “is of enormous strategic and emotional value to the Goths. Besides, the people are suffering. It must be relieved.”

  “War is like a giant chessboard,” I said. “First and foremost, it is a battle for supremacy between two kings. Ultimately, one of them must triumph. There is little point in conducting limited skirmishes in some corner of the board if sight is lost of the crucial aim.”

  “And Witigis at Ravenna has not yet been conquered,” said Bloody John, his face still bony from lack of food during the siege of Ariminum. He is perfectly aware that without my intervention Belisarius way well have left him and his garrison there to rot, and so is inclined to take my side in any dissension between Belisarius and myself. “I can’t see how we would avoid being attacked by Witigis en route.”

  “We can avoid them,” insisted Belisarius. “We can march –”

  “I can’t agree,” I said. “Let you and Ildiger go north. I’ll take my forces to Ravenna and engage Witigis. That will keep them pinned, so that you may safely pass.”

  “Such a division of our forces would weaken us both,” objected Belisarius. “For once we could muster a substantial army. We should march together.”

  “I refuse.” I was adamant. “The plan is ill-conceived.”

  Belisarius drew himself up at this, causing his tall shadow on the tent wall to grow even taller. “I am Commander in Chief of the entire army. My orders must be obeyed.”

  “My understanding is different,” I said. “The Emperor gave me authority –”

  Belisarius placed a document bearing the Imperial seal over the map on the table between us. “I wrote to Justinian,” he told me, “to clarify this matter. Read his response.”

  I leaned forward, and read aloud: “We have not sent our steward Narses to Italy in order to command the army; for we wish Belisarius alone to command the whole army in whatever manner seems to him to be best, and it is the duty of all of you to follow him in the interest of our state.”

  “It is your duty to follow me,” said Belisarius, folding his arms across his broad chest. “It is the Emperor’s wish.”

  “As long as you act in the interest of the state,” I objected, pointing at the concluding phrase in the letter. “What you are proposing is in my opinion not in the interest of the state.”

  “I have devoted my entire life to the interest of the state,” said Belisarius, giving heavy emphasis to every word, amid exclamations from the gathering.

  I held his glare. “Nonetheless, I judge your present plans to be contrary to the interest of the state in this situation.”

  On the chessboard of the war, we had reached a stalemate. There was a long silence.

  At length Belisarius said: “Well, we have different ideas. Perhaps we should compromise. Let us lay siege to Urbinum. That would be a move in the direction of both Ravenna and Milan. Then when summer comes, we can review our battle plans.”

  December, AD 538

  So we marched to Urbinum and laid siege to it for several months, with separate camps for the men under the command of Belisarius and myself. Winter was coming on, and it was tough to sit out the increasingly cold and rainy weeks with little prospect of success, since Urbinum had abundant provisions and plenty of water and its garrison was prepared to resist for as long as need be.

  It is a war of sieges rather than battles, and very trying to those not of a phlegmatic temperament. I decided to send Bloody John, who is not a patient man, with his forces to achieve control of the Aemilian province, which he successfully did. At length I concluded that Urbinum on its high hill was impregnable, and withdrew with my divisions to Ariminum, where we could live more comfortably. Belisarius stayed stubbornly put, with no reasonable h
ope of ever taking Urbinum that I could see.

  Lo and behold, the single spring of water that supplies Urbinum with water suddenly dried up. Deprived of water, what could the Goths do but capitulate? I would not have been human if I had been less than deeply chagrined. Belisarius has a charmed life. He is a favourite of Fortune. There is no other explanation for what he manages to do.

  January, AD 539

  More desperate pleas have come from the Byzantine garrison in Milan. Belisarius has dispatched several divisions to go to their relief.

  February, AD 539

  The division commanders sent by Belisarius are encamped, it transpires, on the southern bank of the Po, which they must cross to reach Milan. It is a mighty river, in full flood at this time of year, with no bridge anywhere near. They have made no effort to reach the other side, having let Belisarius know that their forces are hopelessly inadequate to take on the huge Barbarian host encamped around Milan.

  Belisarius ordered Bloody John, who was in Aemilia, to march to their aid with reinforcements and to procure ships for crossing the Po. John replied, by slow messenger, that he only takes orders from me. I sent the order, but I am still not convinced that it is the correct move. It is enormously frustrating to try to wage war together with a general who focuses only on one battle and disregards the balance of the conflict overall.

  25 March, AD 539

  Alas, alas, a great calamity! The starving garrison of Milan, weary of waiting for supportive action, has surrendered the city to the Barbarians. The Byzantine soldiers are being held in captivity, but the Goths have massacred the civilian population. We have heard, to our horror, that out of a total population of around half a million souls, some three hundred thousand males of all ages have been put to the sword, while thousands of women have been given over as slaves to the conquerors. They chopped the Praetorian Prefect, appointed by Constantinople, into small pieces and fed him to the dogs. A frightful, gruesome massacre!