My mistress’s demeanour was not a guilty one and, indeed, she fully expected to convince Belisarius that he was once more mistaken. But though Belisarius, in spite of his glowing rage, still loved her exceedingly, he could not return to his simple faith in her as readily as he had once done at Syracuse. He pressed her: ‘Do you mean to tell me, wife, that your son Photius would swear by the Holy Ghost unless he was certain, beyond all argument, that he was speaking the truth?’
She replied scornfully: ‘Do you think that everyone takes an oath as seriously as yourself — especially one to so obscure a concept as the Holy Ghost? Did not our master Justinian once swear this oath to Vitalian on the Bread and Wine, and then break it cheerfully for urgent reasons of state, on the sophistical ground that Vitalian was a heretic? Why, the day before I left Constantinople I myself swore by the Holy Ghost, for what might also be called urgent reasons of state – and I cannot regard myself as a particularly dishonest woman.’
Then she told him the whole story of the plot against Cappadocian John. When Belisarius heard that she, his trusted wife Antonina, had solemnly pledged his honour for the sake of a freakish plot of revenge, he felt dizzy and was obliged to sit down on a stool. When his head cleared he asked her: ‘Tell me, Antonina, have I served my Emperor so frivolously that anyone can be made to believe me capable of playing the traitor? What amorous or magical arts did you use with Cappadocian John to persuade him of this impossible thing? What rights over me do you think that you hold, that you dare to bandy my name among scoundrels? And what did you think to gain by this wickedness? Was it perhaps the Empress’s protection for an incestuous union with our godson?’
Instead of defending herself, she attacked him in what she knew to be his most sensitive feelings: his religion and his manhood. ‘It seems that all but myself are to benefit by your famous Christian forbearance. But who could say whether it was piety or cowardice that has resigned you to Justinian’s contemptuous treatment of you! He has whipped you and kicked you like a dog, and like a dog you come crawling and fawning to his feet. In crediting you even in jest with a desire to regain your lost self-respect by rebellion I did you an honour that you did not deserve.’
Belisarius could stand no more. He called Trajan from the anteroom. ‘Convey the Lady Antonina to her quarters and post a guard at the door. She is to remain under close arrest until further notice.’
Trajan was dumbfounded.
My mistress felt that here indeed was a Belisarius that she had never encountered before. She was frightened at the sudden chasm that gaped between them and at the dreadful things that she had said to him. But she was also indignant that her liberty to behave how she pleased had been challenged, and this affected her far more strongly than his doubts of her chastity. She followed Trajan with a set face.
I shared in her confinement. For a long time all that she would say to me was the often-repeated: ‘When the Empress releases me it will be a bad day for my Lord Belisarius.’
I contrived to get word to the Empress of what had happened. Within a month, namely at the end of September, Belisarius was ordered to set my mistress Antonina free and return to Constantinople immediately. Our confinement had not been over-tedious, and my mistress had not been subjected to any indignities, Belisarius not being of a revengeful nature.
Photius had meanwhile gone to Ephesus to seize Theodosius and bring him back to Daras for punishment, though Belisarius had given him no such commission, and was indeed unaware of his intentions. Photius managed, by tricking the Bishop of Ephesus into believing that he was Theodora’s agent, to remove Theodosius from the church of St John the Evangelist; he had fled here for sanctuary. Photius carried him away to the mountain resort in Cilicia where the sick men of the Household Regiment had been sent to recuperate; and there confined him in a hut, as if on Belisarius’s own orders. He had already robbed Theodosius of a large sack of gold which he had brought with him to the church of St John. It was money that my mistress Antonina had asked him to bank at Ephesus – she made a practice of depositing money in different Asiatic cities, as a security against evil times.
When we arrived at Constantinople, Belisarius boldly came before the Empress and asked her for justice against my mistress Antonina, telling her all that had passed. But the Empress raged against him like a tigress and ordered him to be immediately reconciled with his wife.
He replied: ‘So long as my godson Theodosius is alive no reconciliation is possible; for the Lady Antonina is bewitched by him, and has behaved towards me in a criminal manner.’
Theodora tried to break down his assurance: ‘And I suppose that you have never once been unfaithful to Antonina in all your life.’
‘She would not accuse me of that, surely?’
Theodora was a just woman in her way, and took no direct action against Belisarius. But she could not refrain from injuring him through his intimate friends, charging them with real but forgotten offences that had been noted in the books for an emergency of this sort. Some were banished, others imprisoned. For Photius, worse was in store. Theodora sent after him to Cilicia and had him arrested for fraud, perjury, and theft; and, though of Consular rank, he was stripped and lashed and tortured before her until he confessed that he had lied to Belisarius, and until he revealed where Theodosius was being detained.
As for Photius’s associate, the Senator: Theodora deprived him of all his property and had him immured in a dark underground stable, where a curiously loathsome treatment was meted out to him. He was tied to a manger with a short halter, his hands shackled behind him. There the poor wretch stood like an ass, unable to move or lie down, but ate and slept and fulfilled all the other needs of nature on his feet. This extreme torture was not only on my mistress Antonina’s account: Theodora had a long-standing grudge against the man, who had once insulted her in our club-house days and called her a two-legged ass. He went mad after a few months of stable-life and began braying aloud; she then released him, but he died almost at once. Photius was confined in a corner of the same stable, though spared the manger and halter. I may as well tell the rest of his story here. Twice, with secret aid from Justinian, who had always found him a useful agent, Photius managed to escape from his prison and reach a city sanctuary: each time Theodora violated the sanctuary and returned him to his stable. On the third occasion he got clear away to Jerusalem, where he took monastic vows and remained safe from further vengeance.
Theodosius was brought back from Cilicia by Theodora’s agents about the end of November. Theodora did not immediately report his arrival to my mistress, but told her gaily at the conclusion of the next audience: ‘My dearest Lady Antonina, a most remarkable pearl has just come into my hands, and I should like your opinion of it. Will you come with me and judge of it?’
In the room to which Theodora led her, Theodosius was discovered, looking none the worse for his adventures and playing on a couch with one of the Palace cats. My poor mistress was speechless. She had refused to believe that he was safe in Cilicia, as Photius had said. Theodora left them alone together, after promising that in compensation for his sufferings and the calumnies sworn against him, Theodosius would be advanced to general’s rank, and inviting him to live in her wing of the Palace, for safety’s sake.
Thus this evil year came to an end, Belisarius and my mistress continuing estranged.
Early in the spring of the following year, the year of our Lord 542, King Khosrou once more crossed our frontier; this time with the largest army that he had yet brought together, little short of 200,000 men. His forces included several divisions of the White Huns whom Justinian had unsuccessfully tried to bribe to war against him. Hearing of the success of the Syrian raid of the previous year, they volunteered to join Khosrou, in hopes of spoil. Khosrou again took the southern route along the right bank of the Euphrates. But, aware that he had already sucked Syria almost dry of its silver and gold, he decided to waste no time here, but to march forward into Palestine. Now that Antioch had been destroyed,
Jerusalem was easily the richest city of the East. The Holy Places there glittered with treasure, and the pilgrim trade had enriched the inhabitants, both Jews and Christians, to a fabulous degree.
After Belisarius’s recall the command in the East had been entrusted to Boutzes. But Boutzes shut himself up in the fortress of Hierapolis with his small army, and was afraid even to send out scouts for news of Khosrou’s progress. He wrote to Justinian asking for at least 50,000 reinforcements, though well aware that to raise such an army Justinian must denude the home provinces of their entire garrisons – a large expedition had recently been sent to Italy, consisting of all available reserves of regular troops.
Justinian called Belisarius to him and said: ‘Most loyal and excellent general, we forgive you all the evil you have done us in the past and remember only your services. Take what men you have with you and go immediately to Syria to protect our holy city of Jerusalem from this heathen King, who, we are informed by our General Boutzes, has boasted that it will be his before the Easter festival. If you do this we will love you for ever more.’
Belisarius was too respectful a subject to argue with his Emperor that he had never done him any evil; and swallowed the reproach. It was his view that so long as a man acted uprightly and according to his own conscience such insults could not harm him. There is a Christian saying, that to forgive your enemy and to return good for evil is like heaping coals of fire upon his head. Justinian’s hair was constantly being singed by the warmth of Belisarius’s unexampled services. A paradox: if from some small touch of rebelliousness, some pettiness of injured pride, some slight defeat, Belisarius had ranged himself with Justinian’s other generals and become a candidate for forgiveness, all would have been well. But nothing is so galling to a man of Justinian’s character as to be dependent for his fame and the secure tenure of his throne on a man not only immeasurably more kingly than himself in every respect, but one who never seemed to make a mistake. Time after time, Belisarius accomplished the seemingly impossible, and Justinian felt more and more humiliated to stand so heavily in his debt. I shall have more to write upon this head before I have done.
Belisarius set out for Hierapolis with twenty men, using relays of post-horses and travelling eighty miles a day. He ordered the remainder of the Household Regiment to follow as soon as possible, and during his passage through Cilicia collected his now recovered sick from Daras, 1,500 in number. A messenger, instructed to ride ahead and take the fastest horse from each post-house, arrived at Hierapolis three days before him and announced his approach. As Belisarius was crossing the Cilician border into Syria this messenger met him with a letter from Boutzes urging him to take refuge in Hierapolis and assist in its defence. ‘For it is essential that you should seek safety and not expose yourself to capture by the Persians, who would regard this as a greater victory than the capture of a whole province.’
Belisarius returned a characteristic reply: ‘Are you unaware that King Khosrou is threatening the capture of Jerusalem? Be sure, I never fight a battle if I can possibly avoid doing so; but to seek safety in Hierapolis while the Persians were marching on Jerusalem, through territory almost destitute of troops, I would consider the act of a traitor. Come to me at Carchemish with all your men. It is better to face King Khosrou in the open. Five hundred men will suffice for the defence of Hierapolis.’
Belisarius encamped at Carchemish. He had already been informed by smoke-signal from down the river that King Khosrou’s army included several divisions of infantry. He argued from this that Khosrou did not intend this time to raid across the desert to Chalcis, but to follow up the river until he reached Zeugma, with its hospitable and unfortressed road to Antioch. But before coming to Zeugma Khosrou would have to pass by Hierapolis and Carchemish (Carchemish is one day’s march down the river from Zeugma, but Hierapolis three days’ march, a little to the westward). He would be surprised to find an army opposing him at Carchemish, an open town, instead of being locked up safely in Hierapolis. To Carchemish presently came the remaining 5,000 men of the Household Regiment, and Boutzes from Hierapolis with 5,000, and 2,000 more from Carrhae and Zeugma. This made 13,000 men in all.
King Khosrou, travelling slowly with his 200,000, had now reached Barbalissus, where the Euphrates makes its right-angled turn. He did not know what was best for him to do. He had expected that the mere threat of his approach would clear the way for him, but his scouts reported a large Roman army at Carchemish, commanded by Belisarius. He could not now raid into Palestine with his cavalry alone, because that would mean leaving his infantry behind: unsupported by cavalry and unprotected by walls, it would be an easy prey to the enemy. He could proceed up the river and fight with this army at Carchemish; but, in order to do so, would it not be wise first to capture Hierapolis, which threatened his flank? And when had Belisarius ever lost a battle fought on the defensive? If he only knew what forces Belisarius commanded he could decide whether or not to risk a battle. He therefore sent an ambassador to Belisarius, ostensibly to discuss peace terms, but actually to look about him and report on the condition of the Imperial Army.
Belisarius, being warned that the Ambassador was on his way, guessed his intentions. He went out a few miles beyond Carchemish with the Household Regiment and encamped on a hill; and there made careful preparations for the Ambassador’s reception. By his orders, none of the men wore mail-shirts or helmets or carried shields; each was armed with some slight weapon only – a bow, an axe, or a lance, according to his race — and clothed in clean white-linen tunic and trousers.
As the Ambassador, a Mage, came riding that afternoon along the river-road, a hare darted by, pursued by a number of dark men with hooked noses, mounted on racing horses; and as the hare doubled the leader killed it with a javelin cast. They paid no attention to the Ambassador until he greeted them, in Persian. They answered in Camp Latin, which the Mage understood; and he learned that they were Moors — not Assyrians as he had supposed — from beyond the Pillars of Hercules.
‘How do you happen to be here so far away from your homes?’ asked the surprised Ambassador.
‘Oh,’ they replied, ‘Belisarius forced our kings to submit to him, and we gladly enlisted in his service, because he is the greatest general that the world has ever known and has made us rich and famous. But who are you?’
‘I am the Ambassador of the Great King of Persia.’
‘Oh, yes,’ they replied politely. ‘The same whose armies our Lord Belisarius defeated at Daras and at Sisauranum. Do you perhaps wish to see our master? He is most hospitable. Let us escort you to his tent.’
They led the way forward, and presently they passed two parties of horsemen on a level plain tilting together with blunt lances. The men of one party had fair hair and ruddy faces; those of the other, for the most part, auburn hair and delicate skins; both were large, strong men on large, strong horses. The Ambassador asked: ‘What men are those?’
‘Oh, those are Ostrogoths and Vandals. The Vandals come from the coast of North Africa about Carthage, which my Lord Belisarius won back for the Empire; but the Goths from Italy, another of his conquests. Would you care to observe these men closely? They are new-comers to your part of the world.’
The Moors whistled on their fingers, and a mixed party of Goths and Vandals rode up.
The Ambassador spoke to them. ‘So you are captives, eh, forced to serve the Emperor of the Romans?’
A Goth replied: ‘We serve no man unwillingly. It is our pleasure to serve the Lord Belisarius because he is making us perfect in the arts of war. When we return to our own lands we shall be men of credit.’
Next, a troop of slant-eyed, short-legged Huns dashed past the Ambassador with a wild shout; he learned that they were Herulians from beyond the Black Sea. They also spoke in reverent praise of Belisarius. All around him in the plain the Mage could see groups of the Household Regiment at their field-sports — tilting, shooting at a mark, spearing tent-pegs, wrestling from horseback, driving a leather ball about
with crooked sticks.
Then suddenly the trumpet blew the Alert. In a moment all games ceased; every troop formed up speedily under its pennant and trotted to join its own squadron. At another trumpet call, with promptness and precision, the squadrons formed up in two long double lines, making an avenue of welcome. The Ambassador passed through, feeling rather uncomfortable, I imagine. There were 6,000 of them, and never was a finer choice of men ever brought together. They appeared far less interested in him than he in them, and eager to return to their sports. At the top of the hill was pitched Belisarius’s tent of plain canvas. Belisarius sat before it on a tree-stump, without even his general’s cloak, wearing white linen like his men, and looking as if he had never a care in the world. After exchanging salutations with the Ambassador he ordered the trumpeter to blow the Dismiss. The 6,000 men returned with a cheer to the plain.
The Ambassador asked: ‘Are you indeed Belisarius? I expected to find a man in gilded armour, with servitors in crimson-silk uniform ranged about him.’
Belisarius replied: ‘Had your royal Master warned us of your approach, we should have received you with greater formality, not in this undress. However, we are soldiers, not courtiers, and wear no scarlet or gold.’
The Ambassador delivered his message. He said that the Great King was at hand, his armies being like locusts in numbers, and wished to discuss peace terms.
Belisarius laughed softly. ‘I have fought in many lands and observed many strange customs, but never before have I met a case like this — a king who is at pains to bring 200,000 soldiers with him in order to discuss peace terms. Tell your royal Master that our country, though hospitable, cannot act as host for so lavish a retinue as this. When he has dismissed them I shall be prepared to discuss peace terms in an amicable fashion. I will grant him an armistice of five days in which to send them back home across the Euphrates. I thank your Excellency for visiting us.’