Honour (18 page)

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.

In time, those couches would be used for various couplings and that was a situation Flavius Belisarius did not enjoy. Public copulation he found embarrassing and the same applied to the pleasure Justinian took in watching others perform. One of the other factors he liked about Antonina is that she had seen his discomfort and had taken care to rescue him, choosing a discreet moment when, unobserved, she could lead him from the chamber by a secret door to the suite of rooms Theodora had provided for her within the palace.

He woke the next morning feeling sated, and in the dawn light he sat up and took to examining the sleeping Antonina. Her greater years did not show; the skin of her face was still good, the flesh of her body firm and the cast of her mind seemed to him to be more youthful than mature. There is an innocence to a person asleep and even if they had
made robust love during the night Antonina looked very much that in her slumbers.

Looking closer Flavius saw the full lips twitch slightly as a dream registered on her features. Strong nose, tightly fleshed chin and a swanlike neck leading to a fine bosom. His hand reached out to caress her breast which made her stir slightly and murmur. Next he pressed soft lips to her nipple, then a gently flicking tongue, which made her writhe and brought forth a moan of pleasure.

Sliding down Flavius pressed close to her to be rewarded by a willing companion who turned her body towards him, eyes still closed, a hand reaching out to take one of his buttocks and pull him close. Their coupling was not furious, it was slow and languid as befitted the time of day and, if it was possible that it could be so, it was even more pleasurable.

Later, in a shared bath, the way they spoke to each other seemed to him to take on a different dimension, not a pair who had come together to provide mutual gratification but a sort of intimacy he had never before felt. Then there was her son Photius, an engaging boy of twelve who seemed to accept him as a proxy for his dead father, a man he had been too much an infant to know, though the lad was wary of his strict mother.

Flavius was the opposite, positively indulgent: playing games with the boy was a pleasure, seeking to hone his skill with sword and spear took Flavius back to his own childhood and his father Decimus doing the same with him at a time that preceded the stuff of his nightmares and seemed so blissfully innocent. There was no reserve, no seeking to avoid interrogation as Photius sought the answer to every question that entered his young mind, or feeling harassed by his attention.

As a trio they seemed like a unit and over the following weeks
that feeling deepened, so when Theodora hinted that Antonina might make for him a suitable wife it was not a suggestion he dismissed out of hand. In fact, the notion entered his thoughts often as he took a full part in Justinian’s plans for the future, which harked back to a conversation they had engaged in years before, nothing less than the reunification of the Eastern and Western Empires, and in order that he should be of aid Flavius set himself to study both the history of recent events as well as the present problems.

F
lavius was explaining to his paramour Justinian’s ambitions, emphasising it would not be a simple task. ‘With the east paid for and quiet he feels the time might be right.’

‘And it involves you?’

‘He wants me to command the armies. What military man, Antonina, would not want to undertake such a possible conquest?’

That she was interested at all surprised Flavius but also pleased him; he would have suggested it was hardly a subject to engage women if it had not been for Theodora, who seemed equally keen. They were sitting on a grassy bank overlooking the Propontis, their horses grazing at the pasture, reins trailing the ground. The sun was warm, the sea was blue and all seemed right with the world. It was good to get away from the palace and the constant need to be ready to jump to the needs of the imperial couple. It was just good to be alone in each other’s company.

‘So I plan how to fight and hopefully to win but that would, I am sure, bore you.’

‘No, Flavius, I wish to hear what you are doing.’

He touched the back of her hand. ‘I do too.’

She let out a peal of laughter. ‘You mean you do now know what you’re doing?’

‘I didn’t mean that, I meant you.’

‘I know, my dear, just teasing. Now, enlighten a person who is ignorant.’

‘The politics are the province of the Emperor and he is sure they are favourable.’

‘The military problems fall to me.’

When examined, certain matters appeared obvious. Italy was the bigger fish needing to be caught but there was a discontented and oppressed population in North Africa, which might prove an easier place to begin, not a statement allowed to pass without explanation.

‘In the past, the Vandal rulers made no attempt to make peace with those they had conquered. They forbade intermarriage and imposed their Arian religion on a population who looked to the Bishop of Rome for spiritual guidance. They were also inclined to kill people who sought no more than to worship in a different rite.’

‘So there’s many a martyr to avenge.’

‘Hilderic changed that policy and treated, I’m told, with Justinian for an alliance.’ Anticipating a question – her face told him – he answered before she could ask. ‘He was overthrown three years ago by his brother, Gelimer, who has seized the throne and is persecuting the Catholics and Trinitarians again.’

‘What names,’ Antonina opined, not with approval.

‘They sound as they are, barbarians. Justinian insists the time is propitious for an attempt at reconquest. This Gelimer faces not only a hostile population but those who revere the memory of his brother. Added to that, he has Moors to the west of his possessions who might
ally with us, and insurrections in Sardinia and Byzacium.’

That had to be explained; Antonina had never heard of that particular province; neither had Flavius until he had begun to study the problem but he kept that to himself, an air of knowledge suited him.

‘The difficulty would be to get an army transported to Africa that is large enough to retake the land and free the majority of the people.’

‘Is it worth it?’

‘They are our coreligionists, and besides, it’s an old and valuable province that once helped to feed Rome.’

‘You sound hesitant, Flavius?’

‘It’s Justinian. He thinks we should seek to take Italy and he’s a hard man to dissuade. Attack there and Gelimer will make an alliance with the Ostrogoths, because he knows if we succeed in Italy he will be next. We cannot fight them combined and it is going to be far from easy to fight them piecemeal.’

It was difficult sometimes to contain Justinian; his desires ran ahead of the ability to meet his expectations. The east was kept quiet with gold; the west was now less peaceable thanks to the death, after a very long reign, of Theodoric, the man who had ruled Italy for thirty-three trouble-free years. But with him gone, as far as Justinian was concerned, Italy was an equally possible target for reconquest.

But it could only be invaded by sea; to seek a land route could not be kept secret from the enemy and the room to manoeuvre in the land between the Alps and the Adriatic was constrained. Not that the gathering of forces for a seaborne attack would go unnoticed, but the landing place on an extended shore calculated at having over six hundred beaches made the point of invasion too hard to fix.

‘Having said that, Sicily would be a primary target. All history tells me it would be easier to invade the mainland from there.’

‘All history? Would it trouble you if I said I have no idea what you are talking about?’

‘No. Would it trouble you if I explained?’

Antonina rolled on to her side and looked directly at him. ‘I insist you do. Being in ignorance does not cheer me.’

‘Surely you must know something of this?’

‘Why would I?’

‘It’s a long story.’

A hand caressed his bearded jaw to tickle the hairs. ‘And we are in no rush.’

‘Theodora will wonder where you are.’

‘No, Flavius, she will know I am with you.’

He was about to mention her suggestion that they marry but he hesitated too long, so to cover a degree of confusion he began to talk of the events of the last fifty years and indeed beyond, all the way back to the division of the empire in the year 364, with an enthusiasm that had to be constantly checked against her reaction. He was only too aware that what was of interest to him was not always seen in the same light by others. What he saw in Antonina’s eyes was firm interest.

If Flavius had not been at the centre of things in Constantinople he had been raised by a parent who took a keen interest in both the history and present state of the Roman Empire. Decimus Belisarius had seen himself as the heir to a thousand years of glorious expansion, the successor to legions of fighting men who had spread civilisation around the Middle Sea, defeating everyone who stood against the civilising influence.

All this had been passed on to his sons; they were Romans and the history of the empire was there to be studied and learnt from, and not
for the first time Flavius was in conversation with a person who did not know the past of the polity in which they lived.

The empire had been split by Valentinian because it was too vast to administer; he gave half to his brother Valens and as long as they lived there was harmony. But, supposed to provide better security, it had not worked as it had been hoped, not least because of rivalries between those who succeeded them.

The Eastern Empire, with a huge land border, had struggled many times to repel serious barbarian invasions. They had as often inducted their enemies into the imperial fold as defeated them, for Constantinople had as its core great revenues with which to bribe the invading tribes to either depart or settle, hence the composition of the army.

‘The empire in the west has fared less well since the time of Julius Nepos.’

‘Him I have heard of, but only the name.’

‘He was raised to the purple by the Leo in 474 in place of a man the Emperor thought a usurper. Sadly, in less than two years Nepos was deposed by Orestes, his own
magister militum
.’

‘Now that is a nice name, Orestes.’

Flavius smiled indulgently and continued. ‘Nepos retired to Dalmatia, where he had previously acted as
dux
. Legally he still held the imperial title, but it was one only in name. Orestes was in all respects like the King of Italy. Then Orestes tried to raise his own son to the purple, treating after Leo’s death with the Emperor Zeno, but that failed. He in turn was killed by the leader of his
foederati
, a German mercenary called Odoacer and now he became the ruler of Italy.’

‘Not Nepos?’

‘He was murdered by the officers of his own
comitatus
.’

‘There are Greek plays that tell stories such as this.’

‘There’s been no Western Emperor since, but stability came with the rise of Theodoric.’

‘The famous Theodoric. I have heard they are calling him “the Great”.’

‘He may deserve it. He governed Italy with our consent and governed well.’

Theodoric had originally been a thorn in the flesh of Zeno – he had ravaged imperial territory and even threatened Constantinople before being diverted to Italy to fight Odoacer.

‘That war lasted three years, but finally he defeated Odoacer and captured Ravenna. Then Theodoric strangled him, killed him with his own hands at a banquet designed to cement a peace.’

That got Flavius a finger in the chest. ‘There are some people it is better not to dine with.’

‘Theodoric settled his followers in Italy, showing great care in the way he dealt with Zeno, then Anastasius and finally Justin. He never sought the title of emperor, content to be
magister militum
and to be raised to the rank of patrician.’

‘That makes him sound modest. I may not know as much as you do but Theodoric didn’t strike me as that.’

‘What’s in a title? He acted as he wished and we in the east valued harmony more than anything else. Theodoric gave us that and neither did he seek expansion. In all his dealing with Constantinople he was careful to always show respect. Better still, he made no attempt to convert the Italian citizenry to Arianism, allowing them to worship in their own faith. He’s been a bulwark against other threats, marrying three of his daughters, one to the King of Franks, another to the ruler of Burgundy and the third to a previous Vandal king of North Africa.’

‘No sons?’

‘No.’

‘And now he’s dead,’ Antonina whispered, with a yawn.

‘He is, and there was a great deal of conflict in Italy over his inheritance. Ripe, Justinian thinks, for us to intervene.’

She sat up and looked around; outside the gates of the city and well away from any dwelling they were not under any scrutiny. So when Antonina rolled towards him and began to kiss he could not find it within him to resist what followed. It was on the slow ride back to Constantinople that he asked her to marry him.

Theodora was delighted for a woman she saw as one of her closest friends; immediately on being told the news she announced that Justinian would give Antonina away and that she and he would be there to witness. The ceremony would be conducted by the Patriarch and the wedding feast would rival that of any Persian despot. Flavius was not consulted; he was too heavily involved in the expedition he had proposed and Justinian had agreed to.

Antonina was given a larger and grander set of apartments prior to the nuptials and it was to there the married couple would retire. The children of her previous marriage, Photius and Phoebe, acted as cup-bearers and the men who made up the imperial court, several hundred in number, as well as their wives, thought it politic to attend. Antonina insisted it was not out of regard for either her or her intended but a mark of their fear of Theodora.

All the pomp that the imperial establishment could muster was given to them gratis; a servant behind every chair, the best food the imperial kitchens could provide with wines from vineyards planted long before Constantine made this city his capital and it was a glittering occasion marred only by two things.

The clear doubt expressed by Flavius’s mother, fetched all the way from Illyricum, that this was a suitable match, and the behaviour of the mother of the bride, a raddled-looking woman who took to the contents of the imperial wine cellars with too much gusto and made an exhibition of herself by being both sick and unable to keep her feet, leading to her being carried from the feast.

It was at the conclusion that Justinian, having given his blessing to the newly-weds, announced that his trusted general Flavius Belisarius was about to be given sole command of an expedition to reconquer from the Vandals the provinces of Africa and the great city of Carthage. That raised a few eyebrows; Flavius had only recently been cleared from blame after an enquiry into his conduct as
magister per Orientem,
in which out of four battles he had lost three, though the lustre of Dara was undiminished.

And sole command was rare, but when Justinian had first proposed the task Flavius had insisted that he would not accept unless that condition was met. The army he led would be on its own once it landed, with nowhere to retreat to, barring its own ships. In such a situation there would be no time for conferences to decide what to do. Quick action would be required and that meant a single controlling hand.

Given that everyone had eaten and drunk well, the news – to many it was far from that – was greeted with loud cheers from the majority of guests, which allowed Justinian to bask in the glory of something he would only watch from a distance.

‘You can stay in Constantinople, Mother, we have room in these apartments for a dozen people.’

‘No, Flavius, the city does not suit me. I prefer the countryside
where I now live and besides, you are not going to be here, are you?’

‘It is to where I will return.’

His mother was looking old and frail now and he wanted to say to her that if she went back to Illyricum this might be the last time they would spend together. Yet that seemed too final. He would have been hurt to hear her real reasons; she did not like his new wife and if the doubts she had expressed had been carefully couched they were a great deal deeper and more profound than she had ever let be known to her son.

‘If God permits, you will find the time to come to me. Now let us pray together for the memory of your father and brothers as well your success in battle and your safe return.’

There had been a great deal of diplomatic activity while the expedition had been in the planning stage, an area where Justinian was in his element; playing one person off against another, holding all the cards while his correspondent could see only one, was meat and drink for he was still the master intriguer. This was an area in which Flavius did not interfere but he knew that nothing would have been attempted if his emperor was not sure that all possible trouble would fall upon Gelimer.

The Vandal usurper had sought an alliance with Constantinople, one he wished to use against his own rebels. Those same insurgents were treating with Justinian for support against Gelimer and the Emperor was promising much and delivering very little in return. Finally Gelimer, sensing he was being pulled as would be a puppet, broke off his correspondence; those rebelling against him did not and the time had come to proceed.