Bloody John did not deliver the letter to the Emperor, speaking to him of the matter in vague terms only. He was weary of the Italian war, and did not wish to be sent back at once from the comforts of Constantinople, where he was well received, to the discomforts and anxieties of campaigning. He devoted himself to the task of achieving a distinguished marriage, and presently became the husband of Germanus’s daughter, young Justin’s sister and grand-niece to the Emperor. (By so doing he made himself an enemy of the Empress Theodora, who regarded this as an act of great presumption, almost as a declaration that he was a candidate for the Throne at Justinian’s death.)
Receiving no reply, Belisarius wrote again, in exact repetition of his former letter, except that he gave news of Teudel’s latest successes. He now reported that Rome, which Bessas held with 3,000 men, was threatened with famine – Teudel’s fleet based on the Lipari Islands was intercepting the corn-ships from Sicily – and could not hold out many months longer. Piacenza, the last fortress in the North to remain loyal to the Romans, had already surrendered from famine. He added (prompted by my mistress) that, since His Gracious Majesty appeared to be not alarmed by the condition of affairs in Italy as reported to him in the letter entrusted to John, or at any rate unable to remedy them, he would consider himself at liberty to retire with his wife and bodyguard to Durazzo on the farther side of the Adriatic Sea. There the climate was less relaxing than that of Ravenna, and communication with Constantinople – should the Emperor deign to send him any further instructions – more convenient. The Emperor’s grandnephew Justin would remain in command at Ravenna.
The letter was perfectly respectful and proper in its form, but Justinian felt that it contained a concealed reproach; which decided him to do nothing about the matter, especially as Bloody John denied having been entrusted with any previous letter. However, my mistress had sent a letter to Theodora along with this second letter of Belisarius’s, in which she said that Justinian must make up his mind whether to retain possession of Italy by paying the armies there and by sending reinforcements, or whether he wished to resign his claim to it. Theodora at last prevailed on Justinian to withdraw some troops from the Persian frontier, where the danger of invasion seemed to have passed with the plague, and to send Narses to the Crimea to hire a strong force of Herulian Huns to accompany the expedition to Italy. But it was late autumn before these reinforcements, with Bloody John at their head, arrived at Durazzo; and meanwhile conditions at Rome were growing worse and worse. The most that Belisarius had been able to do was to send a thousand men, half of whom were members of the Household Regiment, across Italy to assist the weak garrison at the Port of Rome – the continued possession of which was essential if Rome was to be relieved by the Imperial Fleet. Valentine, who commanded these troops, had instructions to avoid any battle that might involve him in serious loss. He eluded the Goths and reached his destination in safety.
The Pope Vigilius, the same who had succeeded to the deposed Silverius, had lately been ordered to go from Rome to Sicily, there to await a summons to Constantinople. Justinian (who wished to be remembered as Great for his theological talents as well as for his other qualities and feats) was working on a treatise, for which he wanted the Pope Vigilius’s approval. A nice point had arisen in the doctrine of the relations between the First and Second Persons of the Trinity, and it seemed advisable to discuss it with the Pope before venturing farther. The object of the treatise was to suggest a compromise between those who believed in the Son’s single nature and those who believed that He had two natures. A great number of heretics might thus be restored to the Orthodox communion. I spare you the details of this argument. Pope Vigilius could not take a serious view of the Emperor’s theology, which was muddled and contradictory; yet neither could he afford to give offence. What concerned him far more nearly was an alarming report that reached him of the state of affairs at Rome: that a bushel of grain was selling for five gold pieces there, and an ox for fifty, while the poor were already eating nettles and grass, as during the previous siege. Being a man of generosity and, despite having bribed himself into office, an honest Christian, he remembered Jesus’s three times repeated injunction to the Apostle Peter, ‘Feed My Sheep’: he engaged at his own expense a small fleet of cornships to sail to the Port of Rome with provisions for the city population.
The Pope sent this fleet under the guidance of a bishop who, avoiding the Gothic blockading squadron at the Lipari Islands by a wide detour, brought the ships safely to port; and was relieved on his arrival to see the Imperial standard still flying from the tower and the garrison waving their cloaks wildly from the battlements. Unfortunately, he misread the signal, which was one not of encouragement but of warning. No sooner were his ships tied up securely to the quay, with the help of the dock-men, when there was a sudden barbaric yell, and two squadrons of Teudel’s Goths burst from their ambush behind a warehouse. They seized the ships and murdered every man on board, with the sole exception of the bishop, whom they carried away captive to Teudel. The fact was that Valentine, disobeying Belisarius’s instructions, had a day or two before led his thousand men in a sally against the Goths, but had been cut off: he was killed, with almost every man in his command. The besiegers had then sighted the bishop’s fleet from a hill, and what was left of the garrison was too weak to prevent them from laying this successful ambush in the harbour. The captured bishop (his name happened also to be Valentine) was closely questioned by King Teudel, who hoped to obtain valuable military information from him. But the bishop evaded Teudel’s questions, like a good Roman, even when threatened with torture. Teudel lost patience with him and ordered both his hands to be hacked off. We greatly pitied this good man.
In Rome there were many suicides from famine. The veteran Bessas, whom resentment against Justinian’s neglect of the Italian situation had soured, was concerned chiefly with enriching himself at the expense of the citizens. By his orders, no commoner was allowed to leave the city unless he paid 5,000 gold pieces for the privilege; a patrician was asked to pay 100,000. Most patricians considered the price exorbitant and preferred to stay, at whatever inconvenience to themselves. The only grain remaining was in the military granaries. Bessas sold a little of this at a time at increasingly high prices, more and more adulterated with bran – which was to rob his horses, too. When gold currency failed he accepted in payment ancient silver dishes and flagons, family heirlooms – but only for their weight in silver, not for their value as antique pieces. It was his intention, I believe, to capitulate before long, on condition that he and his soldiers – who had also grown rich by selling part of their rations – should be allowed to march out with the honours of war and keep their private fortunes.
One morning the city mob came howling to the gates of the Pincian Palace, Bessas’s headquarters. And a dreadful sight they must have presented, with their gaunt, discoloured faces and wind-swollen stomachs; for dogs, mules, asses, cats, rats, mice being all consumed, nothing but nettles now remained to eat that could be eaten – unless they secretly ate horse dung or the flesh of murdered children. The guards tried to drive these poor creatures away, but they fell when struck, and could not rise up again for weakness, lying wriggling like wasps or flies with singed wings. Their petition was: ‘For God’s sake do one of three things – either feed us, or let us quit the city without payment, or put us out of our misery by killing us.’ Bessas replied: ‘I cannot feed you, having no corn except just sufficient for my men; nor kill you, for that would be murder; nor let you quit the city, for fear that the Goths should take advantage of the opening of the gates to force their way inside. Courage! Belisarius will soon be here with enough food for everyone.’
Nevertheless, he gradually lowered the leaving-fee for all but the patricians – until it lay within reach of the most modest purses. Soon the city was almost empty. Most of the fugitives died by the way, from utter exhaustion; many were killed by the Goths, whose forces had now increased to some 60,000 men; a few escaped to
the South. But Rome still held out, as did also the garrison of the Port of Rome; and Belisarius was coming to their relief from Durazzo in Dalmatia, the reinforcements having just arrived.
Bloody John wished the whole army, which now numbered 20,000 men, to cross the narrow sea to Brindisi and march in a body across Italy to Rome. But Belisarius pointed out that, even if they met with no serious opposition, the march to Rome would occupy forty days, whereas to go by sea in the galleys would occupy only five days, if the winds were favourable. With famine threatening Rome, every day was precious. His new Household Troops were by no means uselesss soldiers; and he succeeded in buying armour and horses for one half of them at Durazzo. He embarked them in the swiftest of the galleys and ordered Bloody John to follow as soon as possible.
My mistress behaved with the greatest tenderness and consideration towards Belisarius throughout all this time, and their confidence in each other sustained them through many evil days; nor was there ever again the least word of scandal spoken against my mistress’s private life. To me they were most attentive and entrusted me with many important secrets.
Belisarius and my mistress, whom I accompanied, sailed in the flagship; we looked forward to this new campaign with some misgiving, but once embarked were eager to be in Italy again. A violent southeasterly wind forced us to run for safety to the harbour of Otranto. The Gothic soldiers who were still besieging this town, not realizing that our presence was accidental, retired in fear to Brindisi, two days’ journey to the northward. The wind changed on the next day and we sailed southward again and through the Straits of Messina; the Goths congratulated themselves that the danger was past.
We arrived six days later at the Port of Rome, which was still holding out; but nothing could be done until Bloody John arrived, our forces being so small. We waited for several days and, receiving no news, concluded that his fleet had been sunk or scattered by the storm that we had ourselves encountered. At last a dispatch came from John, by a trading-vessel, announcing that he was adhering to his original plan of marching across Italy. He had already met with some success: he had ferried his troops across to Otranto unperceived by the Goths and, first capturing a large herd of remounts, had surprised the enemy at Brindisi, overwhelmed their camp, and killed a great number of them. He was now advancing north-westward in the direction of Rome.
Belisarius cried: ‘Will no general of mine ever obey me? I fear that by the time this John arrives, Rome will have fallen.’ But he smuggled a message into the city to Bessas, begging him to hold out a little longer.
King Teudel did not underestimate Belisarius’s courage or resource. He knew that he would do his best to bring provisions up the Tiber in boats, and therefore decided to block the way against him. At a point where the river narrows, about three miles downstream from Rome, he built two strong wooden towers, one on either bank, connected them with a boom of heavy timbers, and manned them with the best men in his army. Wittich would never have had the wit to think of so ingenious a scheme as that.
Belisarius was not dismayed by Teudel’s boom and towers. He sent two of his most reliable guardsmen to the spot; they were to pretend to be deserters, and to measure the towers with their eye. These guardsmen parleyed with the sentries at the tower on the right bank; and, affecting to be dissatisfied with the Gothic offers, presently came away again. Now that Belisarius had the measure, he constructed a tower, twenty feet higher than Teudel’s, upon two cement-barges lashed together. At the top, from a pair of projecting davits, he slung a long-boat. He also had 200 galleys boarded in with fences six feet high and embrasures cut in the fences sufficient for archers to shoot through. These galleys he manned with his best troops, and loaded them with grain, sausages, dried meat, oil, cheese, figs, and other foods.
Another message came from Bloody John by a priest disguised as a peasant. John was at pains to say, first, that the native population had welcomed him with enthusiasm throughout his progress from Brindisi; but unfortunately Teudel had garrisoned Capua and so barred his road to Rome. Capua was impregnable, and one should never advance past a strongly held fortress – as Belisarius himself had often pointed out. He had therefore turned back, and was now hunting down the scattered Gothic war-bands in Lucania.
Belisarius learned from the priest that this Capua garrison consisted of a mere half-squadron of lancers. He realized that Bloody John, caring nothing for the fate of Rome – and perhaps wishing to be revenged on Bessas, who had shown no sympathy for him when he was besieged in Rimini some years before – preferred the easy task of plundering unoccupied country. If Rome was to be relieved this must be done by Belisarius’s own unaided resources, whatever the odds.
He gave the command of the Port of Rome to an Armenian named Isaac; my mistress would also be there to advise and assist. A half-squadron of cavalry was stationed on either side of the river, with supporting infantry, and ordered to hold out to the last man if the Port should be attacked. Belisarius took personal command of the fleet of boarded-in galleys. He sent a message to Bessas: ‘Expect my arrival by way of the river in the early afternoon of tomorrow. I have means to break the boom. I count upon you to make a sudden raid against the Gothic camp shortly after noon, as a diversion. I have plentiful provisions for you in my boats.’
The next day, the sixth of December, was the feast of Bishop Nicholas, the patron saint of children. St Nicholas was much cultivated by Justinian, who built a church in his honour at Constantinople. About him more absurd miracles are related, I verily believe, than about any other saint in the Calendar: no sooner was he born than he stood up and lisped thanks to Almighty God for the gift of existence, and as an infant he rigidly observed the canonical fasts of Wednesdays and Fridays, by abstaining on those days from sucking the breasts of his mother Joanna – to her great discomfort but greater wonder. For some unexplained reason, St Nicholas has become the heir of the Sea-God Poseidon, whose temples have nearly all been rededicated to him; as the heiress to the Goddess Venus is the Virgin Mary, and the heir to the Dog Cerberus is the Apostle Peter (Jesus Himself being heir to Orpheus, who tamed savage things with his charming melodies). Every saint acknowledged by the Church has his peculiar character and virtue, Nicholas has come to be an emblem of child-like simplicity. On this occasion the Thracian soldiers, being of the Orthodox faith, regarded the day as of particularly good omen, since it was recorded of Nicholas that at the famous Council of Nicaea he was carried away by his hot religious feelings and dealt his fellow-cleric Arius, the founder of the Arian heresy (which the Goths profess), a tremendous box on the ear.
Early in the morning of St Nicholas’s Day, then, Belisarius was ready to begin his voyage up the river with oars and sails. Two thousand of his Household Troops, those for whom he had no horses, kept pace on either side of the stream, and his remaining squadron of cavalry acted as a screen. My mistress embraced him and wished him godspeed and victory, and he departed. We who remained waited anxiously on the battlements.
About noon a mounted messenger came back with glorious news. Belisarius’s fleet had first encountered a chain net fixed across the river a little distance below the boom – the very same chain that he had himself used for protecting the water-mills during his defence of the city – but the infantry, with a volley of arrows and a charge, had scattered the guards posted at either end; they unhooked the obstruction and proceeded. The tall, floating tower, with the long-boat suspended from the top of it, had been pulled up the tow-path by a number of pack animals. Then, while the archers in the galleys and the infantry on the banks hotly engaged the Goths in the twin land-towers, this floating tower was warped up into position against the land-tower on the tow-path. Now Belisarius’s intentions were disclosed. The longboat was lowered from the davits with a rush: as it fell among the crowded Goths in the tower, a dozen flaming torches were thrown into it. The boat had been filled with pitch and oil and resin and other combustible materials, so that in less than a minute the whole Gothic tower was ablaze. A squadron of
Goths came charging down the towpath, but hesitated at the sight of the burning tower and at the sound of men screaming from the fiery mass. Our infantry drove them back in disorder. Belisarius began destroying the boom, and was ready to continue his advance as soon as Bessas should make his sortie. Two hundred Goths had been burned alive in the tower. The garrison of the other tower had fled.
When Isaac the Armenian heard this news he shouted for joy, as we all did at the Port. He decided to win his share of glory by an attack on a stockaded Gothic camp which lay at half a mile’s distance, guarding Ostia. Gathering a hundred horsemen together, he spurred out from the fortress into the delta of the river and cried to my mistress Antonina as he went: ‘The fortress is safe under your guardianship, gracious lady; soon I shall return with gifts.’
Isaac never returned. He carried the camp at his first charge, scattered the garrison, and mortally wounded their commander. But the Goths realized that this was not the vanguard of a large army, it was merely a madman with a hundred adventurers behind him. They came rushing back to find Isaac’s men busily engaged in plundering the huts. Isaac was struck down, and not ten of his hundred men won safely back to the fortifications. One man, finding his return barred, escaped by galloping away up to the head of the delta. He shouted across the stream to an outpost which Belisarius had left there: ‘O comrades, Isaac is killed, and I alone of his men am left; and I am wounded in the side. Fetch me across the river, I beg.’ With that he fainted.
While they ferried him and his horse across the river on a raft, one of them galloped up the tow-path to take the bad news to Belisarius at the boom. What he said was: ‘Alas, General, all is lost at the Port of Rome. Isaac and the entire garrison have been killed by the Goths – all but one man, your guardsman Sisifried, who has escaped and been fetched wounded across the river at the delta head.’