Triumph (26 page)

A few, including their leader, managed to get off the walls by rope; most were obliged to jump with the obvious consequence that those not killed in the attempt suffered such damage to their bones that they fell as easy prey to the enemies. With a failed attack the Byzantines moved on Ticinum unaware that Totila had decided to give them battle and was also moving on the river.

In sole command he proved to be a better opponent than the divided foes he faced. As Flavius had always insisted, division in the counsels of command could not but be observed by the men they led. That meant a lack of faith in proper leadership, which made the mood of the army fragile. This was proved by what followed.

By the simple ploy of fixing the Byzantine front and giving battle, then bringing up a force unknown in number that he had sent across the river previously to attack their rear, Totila induced the kind of panic inclined to affect any badly led force. Almost without having
to fight, he watched as the Byzantines disintegrated and fled the field.

That had ended the year’s campaign but when fighting was renewed in the spring Totila held the initiative and he was rampaging at will through the peninsula. In order to bring some cohesion to the Byzantine forces Justinian despatched a general with the rank of
praetorian prefect
, which gave him full authority to act in the Emperor’s name. But despite having men at his disposal the
prefect
was both timid in his actions and quite unable to command those he had been sent to lead.

Totila had bypassed Rome and captured city after city to the south, few of which had walls to resist him, and given those that did contained enemies that would not move from their protection, he was able to range all over Apulia and Calabria, depriving Justinian of the revenues of those provinces needed to sustain a badly paid army. The result was a raft of defections.

The prize for Totila was Naples, well garrisoned and with a strong fleet on the way from Rome to reinforce that. It was to no avail; Totila knew they were coming and intercepted them with a fleet of his own, inflicting a stunning defeat and capturing their commander, who was obliged, when paraded before the walls of the city, to tell the citizens of Naples it could not look forward to relief, and after a truce of three months the city surrendered.

‘Flavius, how good it is to see you.’

These words from Antonina, who had appeared in a ghost-like fashion from behind one of the great columns of St Sophia, who had found her husband in prayer. He was, as usual, asking that those for whom he cared, alive or dead, had the Lord’s blessing, a point he made to his wife when she was informed of his entreaties.

‘Am I included in such supplications?’

This was asked with that air of faux innocence that Antonina had ever been able to contrive and the look on her face was one that held no hint of guilt for what had happened, either in his trial or since.

‘Would you consider you deserve to be?’ he replied, getting up from his knees.

‘I would hope that you think of me kindly. I am after all your wedded wife.’

‘And an example to all in the depth of your attachment.’

Intended to dent her carapace it failed utterly, as does water off the back of a duck, which reminded Flavius that he was, in many ways, no match for her, the fact of that reinforced by what came next.

‘I was much distressed by what happened to you.’

‘And so quick to show sympathy. I am touched.’

‘In fact,’ she continued as if he had not spoken, ‘I was saying to the Empress that I reckoned your punishment to be too harsh.’

‘I am sure she was moved by your opinion.’

‘Theodora takes heed of what I say. I have told her you would readily seek her forgiveness.’

Her sudden appearance was suspicious in itself, after many months in which she had been distant. But Flavius had now become so inured to monarchical manoeuvring that he felt he could discern the undercurrent of what was happening.

‘She has nothing to forgive me for.’

The response came with something close to a sneer. ‘It is a poor sinner who prays yet cannot see his faults.’

‘Why are you here, Antonina?’

‘In church? What an odd question.’

That failed to satisfy; he knew from long past that while she paid lip service to religion and could be called upon for a bit of chest beating if there was an audience to impress, her faith did not run
deep. She was wedded to earthbound power not the celestial.

‘I have thought about you a great deal since …’ That got a pulled and anxious expression; she did not want to refer to his downfall too openly. ‘Your difficulty. I have racked my mind to find ways to help you.’

‘Don’t tell me. You have pleaded with Theodora to meet with me.’

The eyes shot wide. ‘How did you know?’

‘I decided, since I had nothing else to occupy me, to study how to be a courtier in this sin pit of a palace, a place in which you seem so much at home.’

That finally got through her defences. ‘You have no idea of the effort I have put in to intercede on your behalf.’

‘No, I have not,’ was the mordant reply.

‘And after much begging I have got Theodora to agree to meet with you.’

‘How kind.’

‘Indeed, if you were to accompany me now, she is alone in her apartments and I know, if I ask, she will receive you into her presence.’

He wanted to refuse, to tell his wife and through her Theodora, to go to perdition, but against that was his present state of limbo, which was driving Flavius mad. Also, he had to believe that this was in truth a summons and that meant there had to be a reason behind it. Was his pariah status about to be withdrawn?

‘I can hardly wait,’ he said, indicating that she should lead the way.

That did not encompass a far journey; St Sophia was attached to the imperial palace by a private passageway and soon Flavius found himself in the presence of Theodora, alone as had been promised.

‘Highness,’ he said with a bow.

‘Do I observe humility, Flavius?’

‘Who could not be humble in the presence of such prominence and piety?’

The look that got, for she could see the barb, was one that indicated he could still irritate her and easily, which pleased him. More important was the fact of her muted reaction; there was promise here and if he had prayed for the souls of others in church, he now uttered a silent one for himself.

W
hat was Theodora really saying when she claimed that the pleading of Antonina had led to a softening of the imperial position? That due to such intercession and her own application to Justinian, who, rumour had it was now recovered, had it in mind to end his present isolation and reinstate him in imperial favour. If anything underlined the falsity of that senatorial judgement it was this: the notion that on a whim any verdict arrived at could be overturned, though that hardly came as a surprise since the charges, wholly specious, had been inspired from the same source.

There was one obvious undercurrent: any relaxation would only be considered and maintained if he showed a true appreciation of the manifest attributes of his wife. Tempted to list them as disloyalty, deceit and infidelity, added to a conceit that allowed for no self-appraisal, Flavius held his tongue and if part of him knew that to be craven he sensed he was close to a prize worth his silence.

‘In order that you know I bear you no ill will, and in appreciation of my good friend your wife, I have agreed that your daughter Ioannina should be betrothed to a member of the imperial family.’

That caused Flavius to look at Antonina; Theodora was talking of a girl he had barely seen since birth, both through being away at war
and his marital estrangement. It made him feel ashamed that he had no real knowledge of her and given his wife looked so pleased by the pronouncement all he could do was offer a feeble thanks.

‘My husband has demanded to see you.’

‘I am, as always, his to entirely command.’

Despite the sincerity with which that was imparted, Theodora could not help but look at him with suspicion to see if he was once more mocking her.

‘I would point out to you, Flavius, that whatever privileges you allotted to yourself previously when addressing the Emperor no longer hold. He will talk, you will listen and if you speak, confine yourself to the mere answering of his enquiries.’

‘And when am I to attend upon him?’

‘You may wait outside his private chamber and you will be summoned.’

It pleased Flavius that Justinian did not intend to haul him before an open meeting of his counsel in the audience chamber. This would, he was sure, have led to a humiliating listing of his supposed crimes, just so the Emperor could then appear wise, benign and merciful. Much of such gatherings were constrained by ritual and theatricality as the Emperor sought to demonstrate his sagacity, this while being fawned on by people who privately, if the rumours were true, thought him of little worth.

Attendance had been blessedly rare, Flavius being too often on campaign to be included in meetings in which too little was ever resolved and time was wasted by the courtiers in making statements, either self-aggrandising or in defamation of their rivals. The only joy was when two men in conflict for some well remunerated service were simultaneously present; neither could be open in either ambition or condemnation and for an uninvolved observer their
manoeuvrings and sophistries had some value as entertainment.

The anteroom, apart from the two Excubitors guarding the inner chambers, was empty. It was also lacking in anywhere to sit, which obliged Flavius to pace back and forth, the only interruption being when the door was opened to allow one of Justinian’s more intimate advisors to depart. Finally the
magister officiorum
exited, to favour Flavius with a surprised look. Moments after his departure a servant emerged to beckon him in, staying without himself.

The interior was lit by dozens of candles and if the room had windows they were so heavily draped as to be of no account. Was the form of light to flatter a man who wished to disguise the ravages of both his recent disease and increasing age? The way Justinian was pacing back and forth, very few steps back and forth at a hurried pace, took Flavius back to a time when both were young; even then he had been a restless soul who gave the impression of a mind in permanent turmoil.

‘You may sit,’ was the rasping introduction, ‘though God knows I should have you branded with red-hot irons.’

‘Would that be to satisfy your conscience or to trouble mine?’

That stopped the pacing and got the still standing Flavius a glare, made more hostile due to the light and the shadows it cast. Outside Flavius had been afforded time to think and he had concluded that to grovel to Justinian would be useless. Was it possible, given the information he had been fed by his wife, that the Emperor believed a man who named him a friend had set out to usurp him?

There was no point in seeking to guess at such a problem; he needed to convince Justinian that such accusations were false and the one thing that might bend his mind to even a hint of truth was for someone who had always challenged him to miss an opportunity
of doing so now. Whatever else he must face, Justinian had to be presented with the Flavius Belisarius he knew.

‘You deny your transgressions?’

‘I deny wishing for your passing. Had God seen fit to reject my prayers for your recovery I would have acted as I always have.’

‘Don’t tell me, Flavius,’ came the mocking response. ‘For the good of the empire.’

‘A duty which falls daily to both of us.’

‘I see your tongue has not been stilled by your recent travails.’

‘I have learnt to be more skilful with certain people but I cannot change the way I address you. If I am required to do that I would rather you dismiss me from your presence and allow me to return to being ignored.’

‘For the love of God, Flavius, sit down!’

‘Why am I here?’

‘You are here because I want you here.’

‘Want or need? Did you really believe I would betray you?’

‘Why not?’ came the weary response. ‘Everyone else seems bent on doing so. Not a week goes by when I do not hear of some attempt to topple me.’

Conspiracies all brought to you by your wife, Flavius thought; it was not a politic thought to express. There was also something in the way Justinian had responded that indicated that he knew the notion of his rebelling had to be nonsense; the man who had turned down the crown of the Goths? He had been ill, probably near death’s door, which had left Theodora in total control. Would Justinian have believed a word of the accusations if he had been hale?

When Flavius finally sat down, Justinian came close enough to allow the features to be studied and the ravages of what he had gone through were there to see: hollow cheeks, eyes that were embedded
in deep sockets, and given he was wearing a silken cowl, it had to be assumed he had suffered the kind of severe hair loss Flavius had witnessed in his surviving soldiers. That explained the candlelight in the middle of the day.

‘Admit you needed to be reminded of your place?’ All that got was a nod; there would never be a verbal admission of guilt but it seemed enough to satisfy Justinian who laid a hand on his shoulder and pronounced. ‘Your sequestration is over, Flavius. I require you to go to Italy.’

‘If you intend to reinstate me, let me go back to Dara and with everything I enjoyed in terms of rank.’

‘Italy is where you are needed and as to reinstatement, well …’ The pause was followed by a sigh. ‘Martinus has only recently been named as
magister militum per Orientem
. Can you not see it impossible to strip him of that or to recall him when he is properly carrying out his duties and is fully engaged in manoeuvring against Khusrow?’

‘You have the power to do as you wish.’

That changed the imperial tone markedly. ‘It seems I do not have the power to command you!’

There was no choice but to succumb and what followed was a description of how dire matters were in the Italian Peninsula where the various Byzantine generals seemed content to remain in whatever towns and cities they held, making no effort to combine against Totila. Flavius was to be restored to a senior military command and had the promise that his wealth, now in the possession of Theodora, would be returned, a promise only kept in part, since she subsequently gave part of it to Justinian and he saw no reason to decline such a gift.

Equally disquieting was the insistence by Theodora that Antonina once more accompany him, no doubt to fulfil the same purpose she had previously performed: namely to keep the Empress fully informed
of her husband’s actions and statements, which, in the case of the latter, with Flavius now being very guarded, she would probably have to invent.

What he could not have was his previous title or his old
comitatus
, now in the service of other commanders, men who had paid large sums for their service. When he asked for soldiers, especially
bucellarii
, that too was hardly forthcoming in any great number. Unknown to Flavius as he set out from Constantinople, along the Via Egnatia, at the head of no more than a thousand men, was that he was heading for years of frustration, mainly due to the lack of effective fighting men, but also because he had, in Totila, an opponent who had learnt from him.

The Goth King had adopted the Belisarian policy with the natives; even in Naples, which by the laws of war he had the right to sack, Totila had avoided punishing them for holding out against him. He did the very opposite to a population near to starvation, bringing in food with which to feed them and even controlling the distribution to avoid the kind of sudden overeating which could kill. He had shown clemency to the Byzantine garrison by allowing them to march out with their equipment for Rome, and given many were now locally recruited this spread the word to the Italians of a wise and temperate ruler.

By the time Flavius reached Salona on the coast of Illyria, recruitment by bounty in that province had quadrupled his forces but that counted for little in a situation in which matters had deteriorated. If he was to be successful, it rested on the men he had been appointed to command and they, even those who had served with him previously, were no longer the homogeneous body he required.

Declining to cross the Adriatic by sea he decided to take the land route to Ravenna but before he moved pressure on several
Italian garrisons obliged him to send supplies to avoid unnecessary surrenders. That did not stop the rot; certain places were not only opening their gates, they were going over to an enemy who seemed to gain in strength as Flavius struggled.

On reaching Ravenna he found it hard to persuade the non-Totila Goths to take service under his banner, and even worse the Byzantine soldiers stationed there also declined, a blow that no amount of reassurance from his
domesticus
could soften.

‘You are still held in high regard.’

‘Am I, Solomon?’

‘The men here who once served under you remember your care for their welfare and they are more than willing to attest to it for those who did not, Goths included.’

‘Yet not a single man saw fit to attach themselves to my standard,’ Flavius muttered.

‘It is their present leaders they do not trust. They are certain that at some time in the future you will be recalled and they will once more fall under the command of generals who do not act as you do. These are men whom they have also refused to serve. It is not you alone.’

‘Then,’ Flavius sighed, ‘we must show to them that there is gain in fighting with me.’

That was an aim easier enunciated than achieved and really it was as much an answer to inactivity as any desire to impress. All that could be despatched were small parties of troops, never more than a thousand at a time, to seek to apply pressure on Totila that would have him move to counter it, thus relieving stress on strongholds like Rome.

Even if he was not personally present, some of the magic which had attached to his name seemed still to prevail. Vitalius, the
magister
who had aided him in raising troops in Illyricum, was sent with
those levies into the province of Amelia to tie down the garrison in Bononia, which allowed him to exert control over the surrounding, supremely fertile area. This forced Totila to send a superior force to dislodge them.

Appraised of the Goth approach, Vitalius set up a series of ambushes that nullified their numbers, which led to repeated encounters in which the Goths were decimated, till over time their strength was utterly diminished. Just at the moment of ultimate success, the levies from Illyricum decided to go home, being in receipt of news that the Huns were ravaging their homelands. Vitalius had no choice but to withdraw in haste.

The next move saw a thousand men sent out under the command of Thurimuth, the leader of Flavius’s bodyguards. They were despatched to the hilltop town of Auximus, under siege by Totila and held by Flavius’s old comrade Magnus. Having succeeded in getting into the town it was decided to mount a series of sorties to assess the full strength of the enemy. Enjoying mixed success, such raids did establish that even reinforced Magnus had insufficient numbers to break the siege.

Those same reinforcements imposed a strain on the supplies needed to hold out and avoid surrender due to starvation, so it was decided they would be of more use outside the walls. Unware that some spy had told the Goths of the plan, they left by night and ran straight into an ambush in which they lost a full tenth of their effectives as well as all their supplies, the survivors forced to flee for Arminium.

Flavius, meanwhile, had been restoring two fortresses long ago destroyed by Witigis, rebuilding the walls and installing new and stout gates. This again was a ploy Totila could not ignore and he set out to reverse the move by an all-out assault, only to be repulsed and obliged to pull back. If that was a positive there was another side to
the coin: Flavius had used up all his men and was now in a position to do no more.

His only act was to send to Rome and order Bessas, in command there, to remain entirely on the defensive and to avoid entanglements outside the walls, but it was plain to the simplest eye that he was stymied. Totila held the initiative and until Flavius was reinforced that would remain the case.

John Vitalianus was still in Italy. He might be prone to insubordination but he had strong connections at court, especially with Narses, so he was despatched back to Constantinople to beg for men and weapons. That took time and in the interim, despite the fact that it was right on the cusp of winter, the pendulum swum decisively against Byzantium.