BELISARIUS RESIGNS
By
Paul Kastenellos
Author of
ANTONINA, A BYZANTINESLUT
COUNT NO MAN HAPPY, A BYZANTINE FANTASY
Available paper bound or as e-books. Excerpts at apuleiusbooks.com
Antonina was still aboard a Byzantine galley off Constantinople in the Sea of Marmara when an imperial cutter came alongside. A minor dignitary from the imperial port district of Boucoleon quickly boarded and ignoring her save for a graceful bow took the arm of the ship’s captain and led him out of ear range to what served as his cabin under the aft fighting platform.
“The empress has died.”
The captain was a brusque fellow, a friend of Antonina and her husband the general Belisarius. “Natural causes,” he asked?
“Yes, please God. for some months she has had a growth in her breast.”
“At least her death should not destabilize the empire then. Still it is regrettable. … Of course, death is always regrettable,” the captain caught himself in what might have been considered an unfeeling statement.
The official continued. “There will be no talk of a conspiracy and Justinian has had time to prepare for ruling without her at his side. I’m told that she gave him advice almost to the end.”
“Of course,” the captain replied. “But we need not be so secretive. My passenger was her serenity’s best friend, the lady Antonina.”
The two men walked to where Antonina stood, an inquiring look upon her face. “This man brings us sad news,” the captain said. “Our mistress Theodora is gone to Christ.” He crossed himself as he uttered the words and the others quickly did so too. “I will tell the crew. There must be no homecoming cerebrating though we’ve been at sea for weeks.” He turned from Antonina. “It might be best if the lady Antonina transferred to your cutter, We’ll follow after I have advised the crew and we’ve prepared our vessel for mourning. I’ll order the gold-work covered with tarps and the pennants removed before we dock.”
Antonia excused herself and walked to the captain’s cabin to change from her sea clothing to a dalmatic but realized that all her garments were too festive and it might be best to arrive at the palace in the simple tunic she’d worn these past weeks. One of the court ladies would locate something appropriate but simple before she would give her regrets to Justinian.
She dwelt for a moment on how little emotion she felt. She and Theodora had been the best of friends once, at least as good friend as their positions permitted. Theodora was the empress, nearly as powerful as her husband, and more vindictive, Antonia thought. Without Theodora Antonina was now merely a lady of the court. For thirty years they’d been friends. It was also thirty years since they’d been equals, brothel sluts in the slums of Constantinople. Street smarts and luck had favored them both, but Theodora more than Antonina. Theodora gave orders, sometimes good ones, but often selfish and cruel. Antonina followed them. In time both ladies had become hardened to the harm they did, excusing it as necessary for the welfare of the state. Both were married to saints, but also practical men who could take a life when necessary. Of course, her husband, Belisarius, took more lives in person, but Justinian was responsible for the greater loss of life. It was he who had ordered the retaking of the western empire from Vandal and Goth invaders while Belisarius had carried out the order. It was Justinian who had ordered the massacre of the rabble who had rebelled in 532 but Belisarius who had carried it out where they’d gathered in the city’s hippodrome. Yet Belisarius had also defeated a Persian advance into Roman territory. In Syria and Libya, and Italy he had spared the lives of enemy soldiers whenever possible. Justinian may also have cared about lives; it was hard for Antonina to imagine that Theodora, ever had.
Antonina said little during the hour that it took the cutter to reach harbor. She did ask the official whether Comito, the empress’ sister, and the widow of general Sittas, was in the city. An old friend of Antonina and Belisarius, Sittas had fallen in battle in Armenia twelve years before, leaving Comito with a young daughter to raise in the palace complex. Yes, Comito was in the capital as was her daughter Sophia who had married a nephew of the emperor while Antonina was in Italy. Comito was the elder sister of Theodora and herself a one time street slut. How could it have happened in this very Christian empire? Had it been the will of God – or the gods – that the three of them, born in poverty and raised to have no higher ambition than to seduce successful men, had managed to advance to the highest ranks of society. One had become empress while her sister and her best friend had married the greatest troop commanders of their time.
Antonina was impatient and when the little vessel reached a dock and the crew had shifted oars she almost jumped ashore. Almost but not quite; it would have been unladylike and she was in the capital now. Besides the weeks afloat had cost Antonina her land legs.
The lady was already missing Italy where she had been free to do what she wanted without much regard for such propriety. There she had stood a year-long siege eating rat soup with her husband. There she had raised and led a small army to help relieve the city. She had given orders like a man. Save for wearing a longer tunic than the men, together with loose Persian style leggings, she had acted the equal of any officer under her husband’s command.
Even now Antonina did not bother all that much with decorum. As soon as protocol permitted she dismissed the ladies who greeted her and walked alone to one of the palace bathhouses where she ordered one of the eunuchs to find her friend Comito and beg her for some appropriate clothing. Then she relaxed. It was her first real bath in weeks. True the ship had made many stops and she’d been able to relax at Methone and Abydos but there had also been nights spent in sleazy harbors where the captain had forbidden that she go ashore. Well. she thought, he was the captain and to be obeyed. How could I issue orders if I myself disobey. Besides, he had meant well.
When she was able to draw herself away from the luxury of a palace bath and let some eunuchs cloth her in an elegant but simple dalmatic, she walked toward the Imperial residence itself. The day was pleasant with just a few small clouds passing over the Sea of Marmara. She removed her sandals to feel the grass underfoot. No hard ship’s deck. No rocking. Nice. Her arrival had been announced. Guards came to attention as she approached but she dawdled just a bit to admire the flowers, a pleasure that only her age and status permitted. She had been gone for five years but aside from not recognizing the younger guards little had changed at the palace. Some workmen pretended to ignore her as they repointed bricks in a wall and a few boys who would have been infants when she last saw them actually did ignore her – their little minds were fixed upon a ball. Any with much older brothers would not have seen them in a few years either. Sons of the aristocracy, they’d be at war somewhere; officers of his majesty on the Persian frontier, or the Black sea, or with her husband in Italy.
When Antonina entered an anteroom adjacent to Justinian’s throne room proper the emperor rose from his comfortable chair. It was a munificent gesture by which he sought to recognize his visitor’s many services to his deceased wife and her husband’s service to himself and the empire that he ruled. It was a gesture he had never made before in the nearly three decades of his rule.
For the next half hour Antonina and the emperor chatted. Antonina spoke of Theodora as her old friend and Justinian allowed her to pass over his wife’s high status as an augusta and his co-ruler. In her turn Antonina passed over their early lives together. They had first met while still teens at some aristocrat’s party. It didn’t matter anyway. It was not until a few years later while partying around Egypt and the Holy land that they met again and formed a friendship based on mutual intelligence and ambition. Both had immediately recognized the other which in itself indicated a quick mind. But that was not all they had in common; Theodora had performed lewdly at private parties and in the porno theaters of Constantinople. Despite her best efforts Antonina’s talents could not match Theodora’s stage performance nor her unblushing behavior, but they had both been bedded many times, most likely by the same lordly men.
Of course Antonina made no mention of all this to Justinian. It had been thirty years before in another world, before the emperor had become emperor and was still a young man doing young man things. His uncle, the emperor Justin, had sent his appointed heir to tour the provinces and it was in Antioch that he’d met Theodora who had come there after of an imperial official dumped her like a bit of trash in Egypt. Justinian was instantly smitten. He would not hear even the broad reports of her past behavior much less inquire into details. Justinian’s chief adviser, the eunuch Narses, ingratiated himself with his master by suggested that she spend a year or so in some innocent occupation while he arranged a cover story which the clergy could choose not to investigate. No one need know anything more about the new caesar’s consort and those who did would surely be quiet.
As for Antonina? She had accompanied Theodora to Constantinople and there kept a quiet profile while her friend took up spinning at a nunnery and awaited the death of Justin’s disapproving wife. At last the old lady cooperated and Justin too dropped any objection that he might have had to Theodora. After all, he himself had been a simple shepherd before seizing the throne. Antonina remained a close friend with Theodora even after she and Justinian married. Then Justin conveniently died leaving his nephew to administer the empire.
None of that mattered now. What had mattered throughout Theodora’s life had been their friendship reinforced by mutual assistance. Justinian had Narses as his chief adviser and Theodora had Antonina. Nor was it as self serving as that might sound. Thirty years of shared responsibilities had drawn the two women ever closer just as the trials of ruling an empire had forged an unbreakable bond between Justinian and Narses. It was the kind of relationships in which neither threatened the other. Narses, the eunuch, could never take the throne himself and Theodora rewarded Antonina by marrying her to the rich and handsome young general Belisarius who had just defeated their old enemy, Persia. Antonina may not have been in love at first. She was clear eyed enough to know that her friend had betrothed her at least in part to keep an eye on signs of ambition in her husband. So Antonina had felt free to cheat on Belisarius almost from the day they had wed. Yet she had shared the hardship of his campaigns in Libya and Sicily and Italy and come to love him deeply as only the long married can understand. That too was long ago.
None of that mattered. What mattered was that Justinian had lost not just a canny adviser but a beloved wife of thirty years.
While the two were still chatting an aide announced the arrival of Narses to pay his regards to Antonina. When he was admitted Antonina was surprised to see how lively the old man still was for he walked with a young man’s stride despite being seventy years old. Talk of old times and humiliated enemies continued for a few minutes until Narses delicately suggested that the lady Antonina must have some important business with the emperor to leave her husband in the field and brave the seas to Constantinople. Now the conversation turned serious. Though they remained seated together Justinian was now clearly the emperor and no longer an old friend.
“Your Serenity,” Antonina rose to stand in his presence. “Belisarius cannot defeat the Goths with the few troops he has. He asks that you either send large reinforcements or allow him to resign his command.”
A bold statement but Antonina had never been very good with words; that was Narses’ forte. For a moment anger showed on the emperor’s face but it quickly passed and he resumed the mild tone he had taken throughout the meeting. No one, not even Narses, could always tell what lay behind the monarch’s ever calm exterior. One thing was certain: mill wheels were certainly turning, grinding her words and considering what hidden meaning they might have. Finally Justinian concluded that there was none. The lady had been entirely straightforward. Before he could answer her however, Narses had a suggestion. “I suggest that we do both, my lady. We have greater responsibilities for Belisarius. I recommend that his sovereignty send sufficient forces to finally end this affair with the Goths. It is certainly true that your husband had all but defeated them eight years ago. We should have let him finish the job then instead of replacing him. Unfortunately his replacements failed us miserably and in his absence the Goths rebuilt their army. We did not fully appreciate that five years ago when he was returned to the front without sufficient forces to defeat them. He has done an excellent job harassing them with what he has but it has not been enough to decisively defeat the enemy.”
Justinian looked at Narses quizzically and the aged imperial chamberlain continued. “I suggest that we send the troops as Belisarius requests but please allow this old man the honor of mopping up the enemy. You have far greater need of him here. It is no secret that Persia’s Chosroes intends mischief. Not one of our generals but Belisarius is dreaded by them. And they rightly fear him; only Belisarius has defeated their army. You should recall him, certainly not for failure, for he could not have done better than he has, but to confront our old foe in Asia.” Narses turned toward Antonina who’s face had begun to show anger. “Belisarius has restored Africa and Sicily to us. They are important. Italy is a romantic adventure, my lady Antonina, but Persia is a real threat. Chosroes might cut our trade with Asia or take holy Jerusalem. He might even take a Black Sea port and from there threaten this city by sea. We have pressing need of Belisarius to confront him.
“Majesty, Let me and your nephew Germanus take Belisarius’ place. Germanus has a formidable military reputation and you may wish to advance him so that in God’s time when you and I are no more he may be an apt candidate to rule. As for myself? I am a civilian it is true but with a lifetime of diplomacy behind me. With the aid of our Blessed Mother Mary I have been of some assistance at the palace. As your aide I have studied over many years with our best generals. With your blessing I would like to test what I have learned beside Germanus in the reality of the field while teaching him the arts of diplomacy.”
It was agreed, with feigned reluctance from Justinian of course, and many references to strategic necessities. There was more talk, more compliments. But when at last Antonina withdrew and walked into the sunlight all became clear to her. Her Belisarius who had fought two wars subduing the Gothic kingdom was now to return quietly and alone to the city. Gone were the days when Justinian had showered him with meaningful rewards. He had marched in a triumph through the city. Golden medallions had been struck honoring him as a new Africanus. In the great palace Justinian had placed her and her husband’s mosaic images beside those of himself and Theodora. Now Belisarius would have only high sounding but hollow titles. Now he would merely train an army for some possible fight with Chosroes. Meanwhile that bastard, Narses, with a far larger force than Belisarius has ever been given will get the credit for destroying Gothic power and regaining Rome. It was even worse than that, she thought: Belisarius had won victories up and down the peninsula. People would ignore that. History will just record that an aged eunuch civilian had accomplished what the greatest Roman general since Caesar hadn’t. The conniving Narses would be immortalized and Belisarius reduced to a footnote.
Antonina would pray for a Persian attack.
