A Triple-headed Serpent: A Story of Theodora, Empress of Byzantium Read online

  “Good evening,” she said, her voice clearly audible.

  The deep rumble of the Cappadocian’s voice responded.

  “Please,” she said, “take a seat.”

  The two settled down on the bench in front of the hedge where we hid, our hands on our swords. His bodyguards stood around, looking relaxed. They had no fear of a woman, and this one had after all invited their master to come. Probably they were wondering whether a good dinner was going to be on offer. One went down on his haunches to look at the fish in the pool.

  “You will understand, John, why my husband is disaffected,” said Antonina. “He has won magnificent victories in Africa and Italy, he has extended the boundaries of the Empire, he has brought two Barbarian kings to Byzantium in chains, and yet he is treated with coldness and suspicion.”

  “Gross ingratitude,” growled John. “Matched by gross ineptitude, on the part of Justinian. He’s completely mismanaged the war in Italy. He desires great victories, but he begrudges the means.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” said Antonina. “Now, you do know the proposed terms of agreement between your good self and my husband?”

  “A dyarchy. I will reign in the New Rome, Belisarius in the Old; our joint efforts to be brought to bear on the Persians and any Barbarians or other enemies who threaten us on any front.”

  Marcellus glared angrily at this and was about to draw his sword and rush out of hiding, but I caught his arm and motioned him to wait. We needed more. Peering through the hedge into the wavering circle of light around the marble bench, I could see John’s belligerent attitude, even while seated. His hamlike hands were spread on his thick thighs and he was leaning forward.

  “What did you have in mind as far as the … ah … current incumbents of the throne are concerned?” asked Antonina.

  “Justinian will have to be assassinated, of course. I’ll see to that, Belisarius might not have the balls. Then we must take over all the offices. Fortunately I have, like Belisarius, my own comitatus numbering several thousand, answering to no one else but me.”

  “I know,” said Antonina.

  “As for Theodora,” went on John, “she can be shut up in her own Metanoia convent among other former prostitutes and repent her own sins. I’d like her to witness the events … and to see how an empire should be governed.”

  At this, I let out a bellow, drew my sword and led the excubitors in a storming attack around the hedge. Antonina fled into the villa. John, on his feet in an instant, laid about him with his sword, fighting viciously. His bodyguards and the excubitors were at each other’s throats. His man who had admired the fish went to join them, stabbed in the back, his blood darkening the water. Cut and jab and swipe and slash went the flashing blades, grunts and shouts and the clump of boots on paving filled our ears for several wild moments, and then suddenly they had fled, John thundering ahead, the one corpse left behind and Marcellus on his knees nursing a stab wound to the thigh. Several excubitors tore after the fleeing men.

  “Oh, damn and blast!” I said. “He got away! But we heard what we needed to. Here, you fellows, help your commander, he’s bleeding badly.”

  I ordered him taken to hospital and went to report to my lady. “It worked,” I told her, “very well. He incriminated himself completely,” and I repeated his exact words. “But he got away from us, we failed to arrest him.”

  “Marcellus? Is he badly hurt? Will he be able to give confirmation?”

  “It’s just a flesh wound,” I said. “And yes, he heard it all.”

  “But then, we’ve done it! This must mean the end of John!”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I was devastated by our failure to take the fellow prisoner.

  “He can’t possibly wriggle out of this, surely!”

  “He could go straight to Justinian, and claim to have been leading Antonina on. He could turn the whole thing around, and tell the Emperor that he did it to get Belisarius to betray his treacherous aims.”

  “But … you heard him plan assassination! Marcellus heard him too, and the …”

  “He could say he was lying, he just wanted Antonina to come out with a plan to unseat Justinian. Which she did. And everybody heard that.” This was a critical weakness in our plan which now seemed obvious. I castigated myself for not having perceived it earlier. I had failed the Empress, not only physically but in rigour of thought.

  “Oh, dear God, Narses, what have we done? Who will Justinian believe?”

  “Pray to the Holy Virgin that he believes you and me, rather than Cappadocian John.”

  Chapter 12: Intrigues and stratagems

  Narses immediately reported what had happened at Rufininae to Justinian. “Despotes, there can be no doubt now, none at all, that the man is a traitor and a danger to the throne. He has doomed himself by his own words.”

  “But you didn’t succeed in arresting him. Where is he, do you know?”

  “He is cowering behind the altar in the Church of Eirene.”

  The Cappadocian, foolishly, had not done what Narses had thought he might. In a state of absolute panic, seeing who had overheard him and realising how deeply he had mired himself, he fled into the Church of Eirene, rebuilt since the riots, and claimed sanctuary.

  Justinian grunted. “A pity. A pity. A man of considerable ability, of great value to the state.”

  “A traitor,” repeated Narses. “He was ready and willing to assassinate you, Despotes.”

  “So you tell me.” The Emperor sighed. “Well. He must of course be stripped of his powers as Praetorian Prefect of the East. And likewise of his property.”

  “And imprisoned, Despotes?”

  “No. He has, after all, done great services to us. Exile, I think, would be appropriate. Yes. Send him a good distance away from us. Send him to … Cyzicus. There he shall be ordained a deacon, since an ordained man can never become Emperor, according to our constitutional law.”

  “Ah. That should put paid to his overweening ambitions once and for all. ”

  “May he serve his God better than he has served his Emperor,” said Justinian.

  “I’ll set everything in train, Despotes,” said Narses. He told Theodora: “The Cappadocian is to be ordained, in exile.”

  “Excellent move. Then he can never hope to be Emperor.”

  “No. Since neither a eunuch nor a man of God can foster that ambition,” said Narses.

  Cappadocian John departed from Constantinople in disgrace.

  Theodora decided that Antonina merited a reward. She laid careful plans, enlisting the help of Narses.

  “Antonina,” she said, “you’re invited to a farewell dinner party at Comito’s villa, before you really do set sail for Persia. Not a formal banquet – just, you know, a small group: you, me, Comito, Chrysomallo and Indaro, and a handful of officers from the garrison protecting our walls. And I’ve a surprise for you, to thank you for your role in getting rid of Cappadocian John.”

  “Not necessary,” said Antonina. “Truly, I need no reward. It was my pleasure. He deserved to be cut down.”

  “I think you’ll like this surprise,” said Theodora. “Don’t refuse it until you’ve seen it.”

  Antonina arrived in Comito’s triclinium, to find the other guests already reclining around the table. There were to be ten in all, five men to partner the five women. Four officers had already taken their places. Slaves moved around with bowls of scented water and towels. Gleaming lamps cast pools of light on the damask cloth; the green, purple and gold colours of the floral arrangements, embroidered runners, dishes, salvers and cutlery announced that the hostess was a person of consequence, possessing wealth and status close to royalty.

  “She’s chosen the men for their looks,” Antonina muttered to Theodora. “One hopes they’ll have some conversation other than tales of heroic conquests against overwhelming odds.”

  “We’re to have some music, at least,” Theodora said. “You see the curtains behind the velae. Now, when she opens them for
the first time, you’ll see your surprise.”

  “I can’t imagine what …”

  Comito clapped her hands. “Ladies and gentlemen, before the gustatio is served, a musical introduction to our feast. I ask you to welcome our first musician, who has come a long way to grace the festivities.”

  The curtains were whisked apart by invisible hands. A young man sat on a low bench holding a cithara on his knee. Light from a candelabrum on a table beside him haloed his bright hair. He struck a dramatic chord on the strings as Antonina let out a muffled shriek.

  “Theodosius!”

  Theodora smiled at her. “Surprised?” she whispered.

  Antonina closed her eyes, then opened them again and stared, wide-eyed, as if to make quite sure that she did see what she thought she saw.

  Theodosius announced: “Ladies and gentlemen, I’ll sing a song of my own composition, loosely based on one of the Idylls of Theocritus.”

  Applause. Liquid chords.

  He sang the first verse of his song clearly and simply, to the accompaniment of the cithara. The melody had a joyous lilt, yet with a plaintive, yearning undertone.

  Thou’rt come, dear heart, at last thou’rt come to me

  And oh! I’m glad, glad at the sight of thee.

  I’ve waited for thy footstep night and day –

  Just one such lonely night turns lovers grey.

  He paused. “My godmother knows this song. We have often sung it together, seated at a campfire while on campaign. I ask her to join me, if she pleases?”

  Antonina got up and stepped forward. He put out a hand and drew her to sit next to him on the bench. She took her place without looking at him, but she leaned toward him, so that their arms rested against each other, shoulder to elbow. He played some chords, and then they sang in duet, her deep, husky contralto in harmonious balance with his pure tenor.

  Just as a weary wayfarer seeks shade,

  Runs from the sun into the restful glade –

  So do I turn from all and run to thee!

  Oh, equal loves inspire thee and me!

  Now the song grew in volume:

  Thou’rt come, dear heart, at last thou’rt come to me

  And oh! I’m glad, glad at the sight of thee.

  He slowed the tempo slightly, striking fuller chords:

  As does the nightingale sing all day long

  So do we sing and we become the song.

  More slowly yet, with a change in the harmony so that his voice achieved a high, clear note:

  So do we sing and we become the song.

  For several counts the small audience sat in silence. Antonina reached across and took the left hand of Theodosius in both of hers. Still she did not look at him, but she held on so tightly that the knuckles on her hands showed bony white. Then everyone clapped and called out in praise. Theodosius acknowledged the applause with a bowed head.

  He and Antonina spent the evening in low-voiced conversation, isolated from the rest of the company by their intent regard for each other. He smiled often, and nodded, and they seemed to agree on a number of topics.

  Antonina has eaten nothing, thought Theodora. But now that she’s finally looking at him, she’s consuming him with her eyes. I hope Photius does not come to hear of this. Just as well that he’s sailed with Belisarius.

  Despite the fact that John had been deported, retribution did not appear to have been complete.

  “The Cappadocian somehow seems to have retained a substantial fortune,” reported Narses. “He is living a life of opulent luxury in Cyzicus. He was supposed to have become a monk, who lives according to the Rule of Basil, but my spies report that he flatly refused to be ordained.”

  “No wonder,” said Theodora. “Aside from his political ambitions, he could never maintain the Rule.”

  “Stringent prescriptions, one understands.”

  “Submission and humility, poverty, chastity,” said Theodora, “I remember from Alexandria. Little Sister Margaret who was so kind to me owned nothing but a rosary. The monastery housed, clothed and fed her. She didn’t even own the gardening tools she worked with.”

  “Very clearly, John is not submissive, nor humble, nor poor,” said Narses.

  “Nor, I would wager, chaste.”

  “No. I should think not. He holds bacchanalias at his luxurious villa, which the previous owner had built with materials hacked out of the ruins of the Emperor Hadrian’s temple.”

  “Typical,” said Theodora. “Superb marble. Justinian had some of those materials shipped here for rebuilding the Hagia Sophia.”

  “Well, Despoina, rest assured we’re having him watched. Sooner or later we’ll find another stick to beat him with. He’ll probably supply it himself.”

  The Cappadocian having been taken care of, Antonina and Theodosius departed for Persia, where they were to join Belisarius on the front. But soon Theodora was shocked to receive a desperate letter from Antonina.

  My dearest Theodora – Salutations to the Empress!

  I hope & pray that this missive may reach you. I have entrusted it to my faithful eunuch Eugenius, who brings me food. He will try to have it included with the next package of dispatches from the Persian front. My dear friend, I am in dire straits. Belisarius has imprisoned me. Photius has finally succeeded in poisoning my husband’s mind against me, and against my other son. During the sea voyage to Persia, Photius so worked on my husband that he convinced him of my infidelity with Theodosius. Belisarius believes him, for is he not my own son? And therefore highly unlikely to have invented the tale that I have been flaunting my adultery all over Constantinople? & besides, he swore by the Holy Ghost! Than which there is no greater oath!

  Eugenius brought a warning of the fury of Belisarius to Theodosius & me directly after we had landed in Daras. So Theodosius fled at once to Ephesus, while I had to face a wrathful & deeply injured husband. Belisarius would not allow me to say one word in my own defence. He would not listen. He still loves me, Theodora. Even believing what he does about my faithlessness, he still loves me. But he can’t bear to look at me. So I must be confined. Oh, God, it makes me weep to think of the damage my eldest son has wrought!

  Clearly Photius is by now as hell-bent on getting rid of my alleged lover as he could be to get rid of a blood brother. Of course, you understand that part of his vicious jealousy is due to his greed, & his desire to be the only heir of our riches, so I have always feared that a brother would be an even greater threat to him than an adopted godson. But an alleged lover is more than he can stomach, so there is no point in keeping this secret any longer. I must tell my husband the truth. Having said nothing about it all this time, it has become very difficult to come out with it now, but I am sure that Belisarius would understand – if I could only get an opportunity to explain to him.

  Meanwhile, Photius interrogated Eugenius to find out where Theodosius has gone. My poor eunuch is now missing two fingernails as well as some other physical attributes. Photius has departed to Ephesus, & if he succeeds in laying hold of Theodosius I don’t know what the result will be, except that it will be terrible.

  Theodora, please, please try to help me in this matter. I depend utterly on your support, for I have nowhere else to turn.

  Yours in distress & sorrow

  Antonina

  A second, even more desperate letter followed soon.

  My dearest Theodora – Salutations to the Empress!

  Alas & alack! Photius has succeeded in kidnapping my poor Theodosius from the Church of Saint John! In contradiction to both the law of God & the law of the country, my poor boy was taken forcibly from sanctuary. So we have been informed by the bishop there, whom Photius convinced that he was harbouring a dangerous fugitive & one, moreover, who was wanted by the Emperor himself! I have no doubt the prelate was in fear of his own life. Photius convinced the craven man of God to give up Theodosius into his care – care is not the word I would have used – & he took Theodosius away under close guard. The bishop is anxious t
o excuse his own part in this & well he might tremble, for he acted reprehensibly.

  Photius has hidden Theodosius away somewhere, if indeed he has not killed him. Yet I still hope that he may live, because even Photius must realise that killing him would be outright murder, not an act of war, & he would suffer capital punishment.

  Well, that is what I tell myself, but in my heart I fear that all is already lost. I have put on mourning. Let me assume the worst. Then if, somehow, it has not happened, I can be surprised by joy.

  Theodora, if you love me, help me! Help me now!

  Yours in despair

  Antonina

  Theodora now informed Justinian of the facts about her friend, telling him everything. She had been bound by her oath to keep the secret, but in such circumstances continuing silence would not serve the demands of friendship. She explained the ill will of Photius, and described his sacrilegious actions in dragging the young man out of sanctuary.

  “Antonina has been of enormous service to us, in helping to maintain our imperial authority,” Theodora reminded Justinian. “In the matter of the Cappadocian, she was invaluable. She has every right to claim our aid.”

  “I’ll send a letter to Belisarius,” said Justinian, shaken by these revelations. “This must stop. It’s hampering the war effort, because the Commander in Chief is distracted. My military advisers have been telling me that Belisarius should have pressed onwards decisively after the battle of Sisauranum, but he held back, he seemed to be waiting for something. For sure, it was this matter that was troubling him.”