by Jack Ludlow
The defence was collapsed in an orderly manner, the lines shortened until Flavius, having got away the content of his waggons as well as the majority of his men, stood among the very last of his infantry. Azarethes rode forward in the gathering gloom, to raise his sword and kiss it in a form of salute. Flavius and Peter were the last to board a boat, to be carried downstream on the current of river full of spring meltwater.
If they had succeeded in extracting the infantry it had not been everyone; the field they left was dotted with many dead members of the Roman forces.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The capital city to which Flavius Belisarius returned as a partially successful general was one in turmoil and the target of the unrest was the Emperor Justinian, the cause being his well-intentioned efforts to effect some very important changes to a system that had become ossified. The law codes were stuffed full of statutes that no longer had any relevance while the treasury was not as full as it should be, meaning that to pursue his aims and prosecute a war in the east Justinian needed to get in all the taxes owed from a population well versed in avoidance, none more so than the richest patricians and merchants.
The problem the new Emperor had was not in the policies but in the people he chose to implement them. The recodification of the laws was handed to a senator called Tribunianus, famed for his knowledge of jurisprudence. Initially his reforms were greeted with approval, but slowly it began to be obvious that as the man in charge of judicial judgement too many of the cases were being decided in favour of his friends. Even less palatable was the suspicion that bribes were involved, for Tribunianus seemed to be a very much richer fellow halfway through the recodification than he had been at the outset.
Such matters tended to concern the upper reaches of Roman society but to that class the real trouble lay in taxation. The task of ensuring collection was allotted to John the Cappadocian and in that breast the population found a degree of venality that, as it went on, became increasingly intolerable: too much of what he soaked from their income was going into his coffers and not the treasury. John inflamed feelings even more by flaunting his increasing wealth in a way that was both crass and dangerous.
John had also been ordered by Justinian to cut the number in what was an exceedingly bloated bureaucracy, which meant separating men, mostly nobles, from their means of earning a living, as well as removing from them their status as imperial placemen. Given many had bribed their way to their occupation, this struck at the very heart of the class of people the empire relied on for support.
Disenfranchised men tend to foregather and these nobles were no exception; what held back the growing tide of anger was that they did not actually all combine into one group. Some gravitated towards the Blue faction, much favoured by the imperial couple, in the hope of reinstatement by ingratiation. Others joined the Greens, the party of the merchants and seen as the opposition to imperial fiscal overreach. The fact that they went their separate ways tended to hide just how serious was the discontent, given they had a habit of directing their resentments at each other.
If Flavius had heard rumours of it – no one could avoid the criticisms of John the Cappadocian for they were so loud they even reached the provinces he ran – he had no idea of the depth of feeling into which he rode into Constantinople. Unlike previous visits he came to the city at the head of the bucellarii, their armour and accoutrements shiny, they following behind their general and his personal guard unit.
The victory at Dara gave the Belisarius name lustre; the defeat at Callinicum was hailed as a miracle, given the losses were so few and he could be hailed as the man who had saved the day. His campaigns could be seen as a success; the Sassanids had made no more incursions since that last battle, it being conveniently put to one side that, his treasury now better supplied, Justinian had concluded a treaty and reinstated the payment of gold to Kavadh.
So he and his six-hundred-strong force entered the city to the cheers of the populace, or at least those not too occupied to notice. When they reached the plaza before the imperial palace Justinian was there to greet him, a signal honour. If it was noticed that Theodora was absent no one had the ill grace to make mention of it.
‘The conquering hero is home.’ Tempted to reply, one success, two failures did not a conquering hero make, Flavius merely smiled. ‘You have bloodied the nose of Kavadh.’
The answer was too soft for anyone nearby to hear. ‘While you have lined his purse, Highness.’
There was a moment then when Flavius thought he had gone too far. It was no secret between himself and Justinian that he disapproved of bribing the Sassanids to remain supine, indeed the Emperor had railed against it as an imperial nephew. But the look those words engendered, a flash of irritation, told Flavius that if he was still held in regard, the man was now well and truly at home in his imperial state and it was not for the likes of him to question policy. It was as brief as a small cloud obscuring the sun, for Justinian then smiled.
‘Few would dare challenge me so directly.’
‘You know I cannot be otherwise.’
‘Just as you should know how much I miss dispute.’ The voice rose from what it had been in that exchange to its normal level as Justinian added, with a scowl at the members of his counsel come to join him in the welcome, ‘Everyone agrees with me now, at least to my face. Behind my back they conspire to hide from me the truth of their peculations.’
‘Your lady wife is well, Highness?’
That change of subject did not go down well either: Flavius had no desire to become even tangentially involved in court politics. Or was it the way he referred to Theodora, not giving her proper title?
‘My imperial consort is in very good health.’
‘It pleases me to hear it.’
‘Come, let us retire to a place where we can converse more freely, without so many ears seeking words that might be used to divide us.’
‘My men?’
Justinian looked past him to the bucellarii lined up on parade; the point was obvious, some gesture should be made, like a close inspection, but Justinian was not to be drawn. He merely waved a dismissive hand.
‘Will be looked after by the Excubitors, I’m sure. But they will, of course, be required to depart the city and move to the Galatea barracks.’
‘My comitatus?’
‘May stay within the confines of the city.’
Linking his arm, Justinian led Flavius past the guards at the palace entrance and into the cool interior, talking away like an old acquaintance, ignoring the deep bows that attended his passing as well as those of a more lowly station who knelt as if in an act of worship. His topic was the burdens of state, which were of course something he would love to put aside, a proposition that his companion took for what it was, window dressing. Justinian loved his role and only the Grim Reaper would separate him from the exercise of power.
‘The real problem is that whatever the court officials do that is taken badly, I get the blame.’
Flavius was tempted to reply ‘poor you’, instead he pointed out the obvious. ‘You do have the power to remove those who thwart your will.’
‘Flavius, they are not the problem, it is those carrying out my express wishes that do that. John the Cappadocian removes a whole raft of people drawing stipends for doing nothing, but when they combine it is me they curse.’
‘I have heard he is doing well.’
If Flavius was seeking to say he was corrupt it was not very well hidden, not that he intended it to be, but the reply from the Emperor answered several questions.
‘Theodora has great faith in him.’
‘Ah.’
‘I can afford to buy off Kavadh only because John has seen to my coffers. If he looks to his own needs in the process then he is no different to anyone else I would employ in that task. The notion that any of my officials refuse to take bribes is one only the likes of you could hold.’
‘Since you do not compliment me often, Highness, I will accept that
one with gratitude.’
Justinian grinned like a naughty child, before a quick glance at the now closed door of the private chambers. ‘We are alone, Flavius, you may call me by my name.’
That had the recipient look at the same door and pulling a face, the inference being plain: in this place they were never alone. Justinian began referring to the unrest, of which Flavius had received an inkling prior to his entry into Constantinople, the imperial view that it was not as bad as was being reported by the urban prefect.
‘There are always grumbles in the city and that crescendos if you deprive lazy bureaucrats of their places. Besides, what one of my predecessors did not have the odd upheaval to contend with?’
‘So it can be contained?’
‘The city regiments are available to put a cap on any trouble.’
The entrance of Theodora stopped the conversation. A quick look established that she seemed more comfortable in her imperial status – there was an aura about her now as there was in her husband – but whereas Justinian had let that soften, there was no reduction in her manner for the sake of old acquaintance. She produced a smile, there was a greeting, but neither could be said to convey any warmth. Flavius then found himself on the receiving end of a series of rapid-fire questions that bordered on an interrogation, she demanding an explanation for the defeat at Callinicum, brushing aside the proposition that Flavius had said all that had to be imparted in his despatch.
‘They are never enough,’ she insisted as her husband nodded. ‘The written word cannot fully describe what …’ There was a pause then, before she added, ‘The truth.’
‘The truth is I failed, Highness.’
That being brushed aside, Flavius looked to Justinian to keep his wife in check, only to be reminded that it was not something he either wished to do or perhaps was capable of, which left his favourite general exposed to an uncomfortable period of explanation, one in which he refused to allot the blame for the defeat to any other cause than his own incompetence.
‘Such nobility,’ was the parting shot as Theodora reminded Justinian, just before she left the chamber, that there were other matters requiring his attention, things more important.
‘We shall talk again,’ the Emperor imparted quietly, adding the kind of smile that conveys a lack of liberty to do as you wish. ‘And do not mind Theodora, she fears only for my well-being and that of the empire.’
‘The good Lord help you if you do not do as you are told.’
That being said to an empty room had no consequences and he left the palace to lead his men to Galatea and see them safe to their barracks under the command of Solomon.
Over the next week, Flavius, who had returned to the city, sensed the growing unrest for, divested of his military garb, he was at liberty to walk the streets and overhear what was being said, to sense the febrile nature of the feelings of both factions, the Blues and the Greens. It was a mystery to him how rival chariot racing teams could morph over time into what they were now: political forces and sworn enemies.
From time to time he came across Procopius – their coincidental meeting seemed frequent – who had the same understanding of what was happening as he: Justinian was stoking passions as he sought to introduce edicts curbing the disturbances: limiting numbers permitted to gather outside the Hippodrome, higher fines for misbehaviour and a curb on too overt a display of allegiance. Such efforts to calm things turned out to have the absolute opposite effect and matters came to a head in the one place where the two polities gathered to vocally cheer on their charioteers.
The Hippodrome was packed, the early January weather was clement and the races were in progress when the trouble started. As reported it was small to begin with but it spread like a bushfire until the whole stadium seemed involved and the groups looked close to killing each other. The urban prefect, Eudaimon, asked and was given permission to enter the Hippodrome and not only quell the disorder but to arrest the leaders of both, people well known to the authorities. Seven men in all were taken up and a special court was set up which condemned all of them to death.
Such a show of force did not calm things, quite the reverse. Locked up in the urban prefect’s gaol until the following day, their plight drew a crowd to protest at their impending fate, which continued into the morning as they were taken to the newly constructed scaffold to be hanged. The point at which the ropes began to choke then set off great lamentations, yet still the parties remained separate, one side cheering the drop of an enemy while keening and praying at the fate of one of their own.
Satisfied that the deed had been completed, Eudaimon led his men away, which allowed the mob to cut down the victims, whereupon they found two were still alive. Monks from the monastery of St Lawrence took both survivors to their cloisters which, being sanctified ground, they hoped would keep them safe. Eudaimon, unwilling to make a forced entry, posted guards outside to deny the whole monastery food until the monks surrendered the two miscreants.
This situation continued for months with no sign of the monks complying with the Prefect’s demands, this while the atmosphere within the city walls went from bad to worse: the two surviving leaders, it transpired, consisted of one from each side, a Blue and a Green, and both having similar grievances they decided to combine.
Flavius, observing the mayhem that followed, took cognisance of one glaring fact: the regiments stationed permanently in the city were as factional as the general population. This was a factor which had kept them useful since they would only ever be employed against one or the other and only when called to contain a situation out of control.
Now that the Blues and Greens were acting in concert, what then? The answer came on the next occasion Justinian and Theodora entered the imperial box, to hear the entire assembled crowd in the Hippodrome, a stadium which held thirty thousand spectators, chanting in unison and their anger was aimed at him. The cry on which they combined was ‘Nika’, the Greek word for ‘Victory’, and it was plain the person they saw as the enemy needing to be defeated was Justinian.
Sat close to him Flavius watched as he tried to maintain an expression of unconcern – Theodora looked thunderous. If that worked at a distance it was certainly possible to observe the tenseness of his jaw and the odd furrowing of the brow in close proximity. Seeking to make a joke he made much play of laughing, which inflamed the crowd even more.
These protests should have ceased once the races began and the crowd became distracted; they did not, if anything they increased with shouting spectators flowing onto the competition area to get closer to the imperial podium. With the chariots unable to run the races were abandoned and the crowd, flushed with what they saw as success, poured out into the streets and headed for the palace of the urban prefect, killing the guards and, once they had freed the prisoners there, setting fire to the building.
They then rampaged through the city, setting alight to two churches, including St Sophia. Next the Senate House went up in flames as well as the Baths of Zeuxippus and Alexander, all very close to the imperial palace. Nightfall brought some relief as weariness took over but the following morning the Hippodrome was once more packed with a fractious, screaming mob, audible to the gathered and frightened council.
The demands of the rioters’ leaders were discussed. Flavius was present in his capacity as magister but did not seek to participate, merely to observe. The mob insisted on the removal of John the Cappadocian, of Tribunianus and Eudaimon, all of which, to the dismay of Flavius, his councillors advised Justinian to consent. The temptation to step forward and damn this as unwise was strong; no good would come of seeking to placate a mob, it had to be resisted, but he saw the feeling was so strong in favour he knew he would not change minds.
There was, however, one action he could initiate himself and he left for a brief moment and collared his old comrade from the Excubitors, Domnus Articus. ‘I need you to send a message to Solomon to bring the bucellarii within the walls. Justinian needs protection. Send word to my comitatus
as well.’
‘The city regiments?’
‘Have not moved and nor will they, in my opinion, which is a blessing, for with the Greens and Blues united they would be more of a danger than an aid.’
‘The Excubitors will do their duty.’
‘I don’t doubt it, Domnus, but you might be too few.’
The proof that concessions only feed a mob was proved when Justinian returned to the imperial box to address them, offering to grant an amnesty to those who had misdeeds to their name, including their still condemned leaders. Having seen their previous demands met the crowd yelled him down and vocally called for a new emperor, naming Probus the nephew of Anastasius as their candidate, which rendered the presence of the incumbent superfluous.
Justinian re-entered the palace, his first demand being that both Probus and his cousin Hypatius leave the city. Never a man noted for his bravery and well aware of how fickle a crowd could be – mobs who create emperors can just as easily destroy them soon after – Probus immediately did as he was ordered, which resulted in the burning of his house.
But the rioters found a less than swift Hypatius trying to flee and took him as a virtual prisoner, escorting him to the Hippodrome where in the absence of a crown they declared him emperor by placing a gold necklet on his head, the news of this quickly conveyed to the imperial council chamber, causing Justinian to lose his nerve.
The mob were against him and it transpired that, despite the claims of Domnus Articus, the Excubitors had decided their best course in this crisis was inaction – to neither aid nor hinder the man they were tasked to protect, which implied that powerful forces, senators and perhaps some of those dismissed officials, were conspiring with the rioters.