A Triple-headed Serpent. Marié Heese
understand that our needs are vast, on the one hand for reconstruction, on the other for our military aims.”
Theodora stopped coughing. “Yes, my love, I do understand that.”
“You do?”
“Of course.”
“You don’t oppose this?”
“You must do whatever you think best,” said Theodora. “For the Empire.”
“Ah,” said Justinian. He settled back happily in his chair. “Exactly. You see, my dearest, my grand military plan will require considerable financing. My first aim is to take back Africa from the Vandal king.”
Oh, clever Narses, she thought in deep relief.
“Gelimer?” she said. “I’ve heard he’s a wily fighter.”
“Yes, he and his two brothers are formidable in the field. I’m planning to send Belisarius and Pharas to Africa, probably by June. We’ve successfully mopped up the aftermath of the riots, and I believe that they have the capability to take Carthage.”
“And if they should succeed, what next?”
“Then we must turn our attention to the Goths. I am resolved to reclaim Sicily and Italy.”
“Are they not our subjects?” asked Theodora. “I understood their king reigns as our viceroy, and they are under our suzerainty.”
“Nominally,” said Justinian. “Their king is our viceroy only as far as the Romans living there are concerned. He is king of his own people. Of course, they have had no king since Eutharic died in, when was it … oh, 523. Left an infant son. His mother has been regent for more than a decade. Amalasuintha.”
“I have heard the name.”
“Highly intelligent woman. Extremely well educated. Beautiful, too, or so I’m informed.”
“Indeed,” said Theodora. She sliced a section of apple in half. “Better that the Goths should be properly subjugated.”
“My view exactly,” said Justinian. “But first things first: we must prepare to retake Carthage. Cappadocian John has fattened our coffers, so that we are able to rebuild and at the same time provision an expeditionary force to attack the Vandals in Africa.”
“Then Belisarius should be able to depart soon.”
Antonina arrived from Bithynia to take leave of the Empress. She was determined to sail with Belisarius, as she had done before; she would accompany him throughout the coming campaign. It had a noble aim: the first step in the quest for a new Roman Empire, one that would expand and reabsorb its former territories, dominate its enemies and bring its former citizens back into the fold.
“You look blooming,” said Theodora. “Motherhood becomes you. How can you possibly bring yourself to leave little Joannina with your aunt?”
Antonina sighed. “It’s hard,” she said. “Very hard. But I’ve had a year and a half with her. Breastfed her for nine months. It’s best to wean them before they have too many teeth.”
“Has it been that long? I can’t believe it!”
“She was born in the middle of the riots, remember. Yet she is a quiet, happy child.”
“Red hair like yours? Or does she favour Belisarius?”
“Blonde like him,” said Antonina.
“I could never have left her.”
“But she can’t come with me on campaign, it’s far too dangerous for a small baby girl. And I’ll be with Theodosius again.”
“Belisarius still has no notion that he’s more than a godchild to you?”
“No, and thank heavens, neither has Photius. I can’t ever let him find out. He’d do something terrible.”
“Strange that you could have given birth to two such utterly different sons.”
“To utterly different fathers. One born of rape, the other of love. Not strange at all. Tell me, have you given up all hope of having a son yourself, now that Juliana has given you a grandson?”
“Of course, I still have hopes. I’m still young enough. A direct descendant would be so much better than the child of a son of a nephew of old Odd-eyes.”
“Now that you put it like that, your grandson’s claim to the throne does seem a bit distant.”
“But it doesn’t seem as if it will ever happen. And Justinian has been so angry with me about Areobindus, he hardly even spoke to me for weeks, but he’s getting over it.”
“Where did that rumour come from? No truth in it, is there?”
“Of course not! Absolutely none! I suspect Cappadocian John,” said Theodora. “Bloody man! Patrician! Can you believe it?”
“Incongruous,” said Antonina, “in the extreme.”
“And the worst of it is, I’ve had to keep quiet about his promotion and his increasing power, because I had to placate Justinian.”
“I agree, the fellow’s gross and disgusting, but he does bring in the lucre, doesn’t he?’
“Vast amounts,” said Theodora gloomily. “Fills the coffers. And we do need it. I’ll never be able to get rid of him.”
“Certainly this military expedition must be costing the crown a mint,” said Antonina. “Oh, God, Theodora, this is a colossal gamble, you do realise that?”
“Lots of nay-sayers,” said Theodora, “predicting an inglorious defeat, if not complete annihilation. Including the Cappadocian, who would love to see both Belisarius and Justinian put to shame.”
“But your husband refuses to be deterred, and mine will sally forth in a spirit of high adventure.” A shared awareness of the perilously thin line separating glory from disaster bound the two women in a moment of silence.
“The Patriarch will lead the entire country in prayers for your success,” said Theodora. “And I will spend time on my knees before the Holy Mother pleading that she may keep her hand over your head.”
“The prayers of many thousands of wives and mothers will be ascending to her ears,” said Antonina. “May they be heard.”
Chapter 4: What do you know of Amalasuintha?
When the fleet set sail for Africa, incense from swung censers rose with prayers and wheeling seagulls on currents of bright air above the myriad masts bobbing like a forest of stripped trunks on undulating land. They were sent forth with chants and blessings, votive candles and thrown flowers. But the first reports to reach Constantinople were not good.
My dearest Theodora, wrote Antonina, Salutations to the Empress!
I regret to inform you that this campaign has begun disastrously. Before we even made landfall in Africa, we had lost five hundred men, all within a few days of each other. They suffered agonising stomach cramps and nausea, their bowels ran and they threw up until they had no bodily fluids left, and then they died. The army physicians were powerless. It was food poisoning, they said, but they were mystified as to the cause. Then they discovered that an enormous quantity of ship’s biscuit had gone mouldy; Belisarius ordered what remained to be destroyed, and the deaths came to an end.
Fortunately, when this happened we were rounding the southern coast of Greece, so Belisarius could order a general disembarkation at Methoni, a town on the south-western promontory. I say fortunately because we were then able to requisition fresh rations, on the authority of the Imperial Warrant.
Belisarius was distraught. A general in the army knows, of course, that lives will be lost. But not like this, not by the perfidy of one of their own countrymen. Theodora, you should know that Cappadocian John was the quartermaster-general