A Triple-headed Serpent. Marié Heese
welcome at the palace. Justinian, having seen something of the stupendous treasure Belisarius had brought, placed an arm around his shoulder and declared: “You are our faithful benefactor! We are greatly pleased!”
Theodora took her friend off to a corner where they could sit comfortably. “You must tell me all about it,” she said. “Was it a long march to Carthage? How do you travel?”
“On horseback. It was a long, frightfully hot and exhausting ride. I’ve often been grateful that my father was a charioteer and later a stable-hand. And Belisarius just won’t accept any privileges of rank. He does exactly what he expects his men to do.”
“So you do, too. No regrets?”
“None. It’s an extraordinary experience, to see him lead his men. He maintains very strict discipline,” said Antonina. “Hanged two drunken Huns on the hill above Abydos for murdering one of their comrades. He wouldn’t let his men rape and plunder on his march across country from the coast. So the locals were supportive, and anyhow the towns were without fortifications.”
“What was it like, entering Carthage?” Compared to Antonina’s adventures, Theodora had begun to feel that her own life lacked spice and colour. “Was there no resistance at all?”
“No, none. The gates were wide open. It was a beautiful sight … it’s a lovely city, you know.”
“So I’m told.”
“Dusk was coming on, and the people had lit lamps in all their houses. The city glowed. All along the streets, they were cheering us on and throwing flowers.”
“And … what did you do then?”
“We went straight to the palace. And the battle had been won so quickly that we were in time to eat the meal that had been prepared for Gelimer.” Antonina laughed her husky, lilting laugh. “It was most amusing, to see all his domestics trotting around eager to serve us, bowing and scraping.”
“It sounds exciting,” said Theodora, somewhat wistfully.
So delighted was Justinian with the success of the North African campaign that he decided to reward Belisarius with a formal triumph. “It will be fitting,” he declared to Theodora. “These have been great and noteworthy victories.”
“I don’t think anyone has been awarded a triumph since Titus and Trajan,” said Narses. “It will be a spectacle such as the people of this city have never seen.”
Theodora, who was always aware of the power of grand spectacles, thought that it would be a potent demonstration of the Emperor’s might and glory. She invited Antonina to join the royal party in the Kathisma. The triumphal procession did not include wives, unless they were prisoners, in which case they would walk behind the victorious chariots in chains. The participants would line up at the house of Belisarius, which was close to the Golden Gate in the Walls of Theodosius. They would wind their way through the city, along the Mesê, and finally enter the Hippodrome to salute the Emperor.
They would pass through the great squares: the Square of Arcadius, the Ox Market, the Square of Theodosius and the Square of Constantine, where the city militia were drawn up on parade and would then fall in. This last stopping point was particularly apt, thought Theodora, since it was the public space where, during the riots, the usurper Hypatius had been crowned with a borrowed chain as diadem. It had suffered arson and the violent destruction of buildings and statues. Now restored, it would be ceremoniously included in a communal act of obeisance to the true emperor.
It was a day of beneficent sunshine, a day of flowers and flags and jubilant festivity. Justinian and Theodora were resplendent in their purple robes, sparkling diadems and scarlet boots. Juliana and Zeno were there, but the small Anastasius had been left with his nurse. Theodora had wanted her grandson to be present, but his mother thought he would get tired and restless. Juliana in her cream silk tunic, her black curls bound in pearls, looked properly regal, thought Theodora. Sadly, not even the richest patrician robes could make her son-in-law resemble anything other than a caparisoned horse.
From her seat in the Kathisma, Theodora could see the gate through which the parade would enter. The ranks of spectators were predominantly blue on the one side and green on the other, but this would not be a day for chariot races, nor for competition. It was a celebration in which everyone could join and rejoice together. Green and blue flags fluttered in the light breeze.
“Who rides with Belisarius in his carriage?” Theodora asked. “His other generals?”
“Belisarius will not ride,” said Narses. “He told me he would walk, side by side with Gelimer. And he will not be preceded by trumpeters, as the ancient custom was. The procession will be led by priests and bishops.”
Theodora thought, crossly, that Belisarius would always find some way to be different and therefore memorable.
“He is a remarkably humble man,” said Antonina, “for one so exceptionally able.”
A wave of cheering could now be heard swelling in the distance.
“Ah! Here they come,” said Zeno, leaning forward expectantly.
Through the gates walked a group of priests led by the Patriarch of Constantinople; they were a mass of bright colours in their vestments, swinging censers and chanting a solemn Te Deum. The spectators settled down respectfully, but then the victorious general came into sight, walking shoulder to shoulder with the vanquished Vandal king. The huge circus erupted as the crowd roared their approval.
“Good heavens,” said Narses, “Gelimer is not only unchained, he’s wearing the purple!”
Indeed, he was wearing a robe of richly purple brocade. Belisarius looked splendid in his uniform, with a laurel wreath on his yellow hair.
Theodora went cold with foreboding. What was this? Could Belisarius and Gelimer be staging some kind of rebellion? Had they made a devilish deal? She glanced at Justinian, who watched the parade silently and intently, his expression hard to read.
Narses had unobtrusively drawn his sword.
Chapter 5: A better empress
Gelimer and Belisarius continued their measured march toward the Kathisma, accompanied by wave after wave of delirious applause.
“Gracious, he is goodlooking,” said Juliana, clearly not referring to the stocky, swarthy Vandal, whose legs were somewhat bowed. His purple looked to have been lent him, temporarily, by a better figure of a man.
Behind the two leaders rode cuirassiers, marines and mercenaries on horseback, each division preceded by a tall standard with its glittering golden eagle. They rode at a slow pace to keep their places with those who walked. These included members of the Senate in their striped togas and the urban militia in spotless white. All the elements of society were present, thought Theodora in growing dread. The army, the Senate, the people, the priests, even the Patriarch. Perhaps she and Justinian were facing a carefully staged coup.
Now more prisoners entered the stadium, although they hardly appeared particularly abject; they were walking tall.
“He’s brought only the tallest and the best-looking,” said Antonina. “Very handsome they are, too. And there are the other members of Gelimer’s family.”
But not in chains, noted Theodora. Nobody was in chains.
Round the circus the procession made its stately way. Now some heavily laden mule-drawn wagons rumbled into sight. They bore extraordinary treasures. Piles of armour, gold-inlaid. Gold-handled swords, scimitars and daggers. Cups and vases and dishes and spoons and bowls and salt-cellars glittering in the sun. A huge branched candelabrum with tongs and snuff-dishes. A gold seat flanked by winged cherubim. Golden statues with jewelled eyes. The sun struck sparkles on the multiple bright surfaces, brighter than the bronze heads of the snakes atop the serpentine column on the central spina around which the procession had to go.
Next followed an entire gold carriage, drawn by four high-stepping chestnuts; even their coats had