Theodoric (45 page)

Roman chariot-racing was big business, involving a vast network of organizations run by huge corporations with thousands of stockholders. It's ironic to think that the colossal enterprise survived (in attenuated form) the collapse of the Western Empire, only to fizzle out (in Rome, not Constantinople) under that empire's partial restitution by Justinian.

What happened to Romulus – nicknamed, with affectionate contempt, Romulus ‘Augustulus' – little emperor' – after he was compulsorily retired with a generous pension (an act which reflects most creditably on the ‘barbarian' Odovacar)? If a letter written to ‘Romulus' by Cassiodorus in the period 507–11 refers to the ex-emperor, that means he was still alive more than thirty years after his deposition. Other than this, we can only speculate as to how long he may have survived, which allows me to have him still living (imagined as a gentle recluse) in
Lucullus' villa near Naples in 519. The villa, constructed by a famous general of the late Republic, was a celebrated beauty spot. (Gibbon gives a good description of the place and its history).

‘After the example of the last emperors, Theoderic preferred the residence of Ravenna, where he cultivated an orchard with his own hands' (Gibbon).

Boethius became Master of Offices (comparable in some ways to our rôle of Prime Minister) in 523. In the interests of the story, I have put this date back a little without, I think, distorting the sequence of historical events.

Germans had never been acceptable as emperors. Though it was never put to the test, there are good reasons for supposing that overstepping such a ‘red line' could have had dire consequences. For example, in Constantinople in 400, as an indirect result of Alaric's Goths going on the rampage in the Balkans, anti-German violence flared up and several thousand Goths were massacred. And in Italy, following the execution of the Vandal general Stilicho in 408, suspicion of the Germans in the army had led the Roman element to launch a pogrom against the families of the German troops. Despite such precedents, did Theoderic attempt to cross that line?

The rioting of 519–20, which I have suggested could well have been a cover for anti-Arian (i.e. anti-Gothic) resentment, was not an immediate consequence of any measure enforcing religious toleration, which had long been in force. (‘They respected the armed heresy of the Goths; but their pious rage was safely pointed against the rich and defenceless Jews' – Gibbon.) So what could have sparked it off? Cassiodorus, according to Moorhead (in
Theoderic in Italy
) suggests that the disturbances were not specifically anti-Jewish but were rooted in some other cause. Is it too fanciful to suggest that the Terracina inscription proclaiming Theoderic emperor, which may well have been
contemporary with the riots, could have been that cause? The planned coronation in St Peter's is invention, but the fact that nearly three centuries later a German monarch (Charlemagne)
was
crowned there as (Holy) Roman Emperor, gives food for thought. Was the idea behind the coronation of 800 original, or was it perhaps inspired by a memory of Theoderic's unfulfilled dream?

This is confirmed by Anonymous Valesianus, who ascribes to Eutharic the punishments meted out to the Romans of Ravenna. To quote Wolfram (in
History of the Goths
), ‘Eutharic's popularity among the Romans must have declined quickly for during the unrest of 520 he advocated stern countermeasures'.

The wording and imagery of the Senigallia medallion, the Ravenna mosaic portrait head crowned with a diadem, the Terracina inscription: these are but the most telling manifestations of Theoderic's ambition to become a Roman emperor, occasions when, as Heather (in
The Goths
) says, ‘the mask slipped'.

Like the Visigoths (and indeed the Ostrogoths), the Jews were forced to become a wandering people, especially when (after several failed and bloody insurrections against Roman rule) they were finally expelled from Palestine by Hadrian, thereafter to encounter varying degrees of persecution in the countries where they tried to make a home – culminating in the Holocaust. ‘Nowhere is Theoderic seen more attractively than in his policy towards the Jews', says Moorhead. Compared to zealots like the emperor Theodosius I and his partner in bigotry Bishop Ambrose of Milan, who stamped out the slightest deviation from orthodox Catholicism with fanatical thoroughness, Theoderic comes over as a model of enlightened tolerance, rare for his time and indeed for any subsequent period. When Pope Hormisdas was all for putting pressure on Justin to whip the Monophysites of Egypt into line, Theoderic may well have played a part in ensuring that moderate policies prevailed,
which, by turning a blind eye to Egyptian ‘heresy', may have averted another Schism. The conclusion of his letter to the Jews of Genoa, giving them permission to rebuild their synagogue, says it all: ‘We cannot command adherence to a religion, since no one is forced to believe unwillingly'. What a tragedy that such a gifted, courageous and resilient race, who have produced, inter alios, David, Jesus, Paul of Tarsus, the historian Josephus, the philosopher Spinoza, Mendelssohn, Einstein and Menuhin, should have suffered ‘the slings and arrows of [such] outrageous fortune'. If only they could have taken a more accomodating stance towards the Romans, the present agony of Palestine might have been avoided.

This is mentioned by Anonymous Valesianus, also by various Byzantine authors who date it as occurring
c
. 520. (The association with the death of kings comes from the Roman author Suetonius, whom the Anonymous may have read.)

Whether Hilderic went quite as far as this is doubtful, but he certainly established a very cordial entente with Justinian, who avidly cultivated his friendship – to the extent that, according to Browning (in
Justinian and Theodora
), ‘For a time it looked as though Africa might be returned to Roman sovereignty without a blow being struck.' When Justinian eventually invaded, Hilderic was murdered by the Vandal nobles, on suspicion of being a fellow traveller.

Compared to his hasty construction in late 507 or early 508 of a fleet of light vessels to counter an Eastern naval expedition against Italy, Theoderic's building of an armada in the last years of his life (probably starting in 523) was a vast project involving the launching of a thousand mighty warships or
dromon
s. Whereas the first was a sensible and timely response to a very real and pressing emergency, the second seems to have been an inexplicable over-reaction to largely illusory threats: a perceived Rome–Constantinople senatorial conspiracy to overthrow him; and Hilderic's pro-Byzantine policy following his accession
in 523. (Theoderic's attitude towards Hilderic must have been coloured by the fact that the new Vandal king had thrown Thrasamund's widow, Amalafrida, Theoderic's sister, into prison, where she later died, and had her Ostrogothic bodyguard slaughtered.) To create such a massive armament in case ‘The Greek [i.e. the East Roman Empire] should . . . reproach or . . . the African [i.e. the Vandal king of Africa] insult', as Cassiodorus put it, seems a disproportionate response, suggesting a state of mind approaching paranoia. True, the invasion did eventually materialize, but it was hardly imminent in Theoderic's lifetime. In
Theoderic in Italy
, Moorhead suggests that ‘the building of the fleet may have been in response to the death, perhaps not of natural causes, of Amalafrida', which some scholars date as occurring in 523, others in 525 or 526. Such a response surely belongs more to some distant heroic age (shades of Helen of Troy – ‘the face that launched a thousand ships') than the cold realpolitik of late antiquity. If true, it suggests that Theoderic may have been suffering from some kind of mental breakdown.

No fear of that not happening! Massive, austere, uncompromising, the Mausoleum of Theoderic dominates the landscape and is impossible to ignore. The workmanship is superb, the limestone blocks of its construction fitting so exactly as to need no mortar. How the dome was transported across the Adriatic and manoeuvred into position remains a mystery. Even with today's sophisticated technology, the undertaking would present a daunting challenge. Regarding its design, varying theories abound. Some claim Gothic inspiration, others classical, while one scholar (Professor Sauro Gelichi, of the University of Venice) maintains that the dome was modelled on a yurt, the circular tent used by nomads: a fascinating theory of whose validity I remain to be convinced. Overall, opinions regarding design seem to settle for a classical late-Roman structure with a few Gothic touches, especially in the decoration of the outside walls of the upper storey. Within that storey lies Theoderic's sarcophagus of Egyptian porphyry – significantly, the material reserved for the use of emperors. Today, it lies empty, his body probably removed, at the time of Justinian's re-occupation, by zealous Nicene Catholics.

According to Winbolt (
Britain under the Romans
), native rulers – called
gwledig
– undertook the defence of Britain after the departure of the legions. In this context he mentions Ambrosius Aurelianus (actually of Roman rather than British origin), one Cunedda, who maintained a force of nine hundred horsemen on the Roman Wall, and Cunedda's descendants who ruled in Wales, such as Keredig and Meirion who gave their names to the areas they ruled (Ceredigion and Merioneth). Arthur is referred to as a semi-mythical ‘king' leading a British resistance movement against the Saxons.

Deiniol (later canonized) founded a college in Bangor in 525, and became the town's first bishop in 550.

Known today as the Lake District.

At the time of the Roman invasion of
AD
43, there were two separate Celtic peoples in Britain: the Picts living to the north of the Forth–Clyde valley, and the Welsh-speaking Britons who inhabited the rest of the island. After the departure of the legions
c
. 407, German tribes – Jutes, Angles and Saxons from coastal northern Germany and the Jutland peninsula (who had been raiding eastern Britain for more than a century) – began to arrive in ever greater numbers, to settle south of Hadrian's Wall. The invaders (Saxons in the south, Angles in the Midlands and the north) gradually pushed the Britons into the far west, mainly Wales and Cornwall, where they continued to live in freedom, speaking their own language. (Cornish died out about two hundred years ago, although efforts are being made to revive it; Welsh not only survived but is flourishing.)

Undoubtedly, the Romans were responsible for creating a feeling of unity among the Britons, who were a collection of disparate tribes at the time of the invasion. After the legions had left, this ‘Britishness' was almost certainly strengthened by resistance against a common
Anglo-Saxon enemy – to the extent that Ambrosius Aurelianus seems to have been a genuine national leader rather than a local warlord. That Cunedda could rule in Cumbria, and his descendants in Wales, reinforces the idea that the Britons saw themselves as a single people, the ‘Kymry', as does a tradition (which I've made use of in the story) that the Votadini moved south (perhaps to Wales, but we can't be sure) to assist their hard-pressed kinsmen in their struggle against the invader.

In legend, Arthur was mortally wounded at the Battle of Camlan (site unknown) and was then rowed to an island in a lake (Avalon?) by six black-clad queens. Slightly adapted, I've incorporated this account into the story.

The imposing remains of Hadrian's Wall, which crossed England from the Tyne to the Solway (a distance of seventy-three miles), are testimony to the power and organizing ability of Rome. That such a massive undertaking (not just a wall, but a complete frontier zone including huge fortresses, ‘milecastles' and turrets, and a complex infrastructure of roads, supply depots and a port) could happen in a remote and comparatively unimportant province, speaks volumes about the empire's vast resources and terrifying efficiency.

The term
Vallum Hadriani
, which is what the Romans called the Wall, is slightly misleading. Strictly, the ‘Vallum' was the broad ditch fronting the inside of the Wall and demarcating the military zone, not the actual barrier itself.

Despite Paul's fears, it didn't creep very far. Unlike Normanization in post-Hastings England, or Africanization in post-colonial Rhodesia, Germanization in Theoderic's Italy was very limited, being essentially confined to manning the army with Goths – hardly a radical step, as the Army of Italy in the last years of empire had been largely made up of federates. Otherwise, the phasing out of the Roman palace bodyguard, together with sundry palace officials and the
silentiarii
,
and replacing them with Goths, seems to have been the only other significant change. The administration continued to be run almost exclusively by Romans.