As if all this trouble were not sufficient, Anastasius became involved in a war with Kobad, King of the Persians, who utterly destroyed one of our armies and ravaged Roman Mesopotamia in a dreadful manner. Anastasius was forced to buy peace at the price of 800,000 gold pieces, and at a time when gold was scarcer than it ever had been, owing to the exhaustion of the principal European and Asiatic mines. In the year that Belisarius went to school at Adrianople, the Bulgarian Huns were ravaging Eastern Thrace again, and actually pasturing their horses in the kitchen-gardens and parks of suburban Constantinople. Anastasius set to work and built a great defensive wall at thirty-two miles’ distance from the City, straight across the isthmus. This has been a comfort to us ever since, though it has been allowed to fall into disrepair and is not difficult to turn at either end.
As for the religious disputes: Anastasius, though inclined to the theory of the single nature, had, as I have explained, found it politic to nominate a Pope who favoured a compromise between this and the Orthodox, or double-nature, view. The Blues were Orthodox for political reasons; the Greens were either for compromise with Monophysitism or for plain Monophysitism. One day such rioting broke out in the Hippodrome over these religious differences that the old Emperor had to stand as a suppliant by the race-post (as Theodora and her family had done some nine years previously), and offer to resign his throne. The Blues pelted him with stones, but the Greens stood by him, since to them, as the stronger faction, he had allotted the best seats in the Hippodrome. In gratitude, he gave the Monophysite cause every possible support. But not long afterwards the Blues massacred a party of arrogant Monophysite monks; and because Anastasius did not venture to avenge their deaths, the power of the Blues became dominant in the City and Senate. But Vitalian, a Green of patrician rank, raised an army of 40,000 Thracian Monophysites and led them against the Blues, laying siege to the City. In fear of his life Anastasius then announced that he would assemble a General Church Council to resolve the whole religious difficulty; at which Vitalian disbanded his army before any fighting had taken place. But Anastasius did not keep his promise.
Such matters concern my story more closely than appears at first sight, because this queer fellow Justinian played a leading part in the negotiations between the Emperor, the Blues, and Vitalian on behalf of the Greens. Justinian represented the Blue faction, and assured Vitalian that matters could be arranged honourably to the satisfaction of both Colours and both Dogmas and of the Emperor himself. He even took the Eucharist at Vitalian’s side as an additional proof of the Blue faction’s good intentions towards him, and swore an oath of brotherhood on the Bread and Wine. Justinian was offered patrician rank for his services, but did not wish to accept this honour until he had first married our Theodora, with whom he was still infatuated. His aunt, Justin’s wife, however, a virtuous old country woman who could talk no Greek, or very little, opposed the marriage – horrified that her nephew should consort with a woman who had once been a prostitute. Justinian was thus in a predicament: once he had accepted patrician rank he could not marry Theodora, and yet to refuse the honour would seem disloyal; and he was afraid of his aunt. He consulted with Theodora, who smiled and said: ‘Accept the rank, for I cannot stand in the way of your advancement.’ Theodora also went to the aunt, to tell her the same thing: which so pleased the old dame that she withdrew her opposition to Justinian’s friendship with Theodora, if only she would leave her quarters at the club-house – as a decently repentant Mary Magdalene should already have done. So Theodora left us for a fine mansion, well-staffed and furnished, that Justinian gave her, and drove about in a carriage drawn by a pair of white mules. Justinian himself used a chariot with silver wheels and frame, and a team of four black horses harnessed abreast.
It was not long after this time that Belisarius came to Constantinople to study at the cadet-school, but my mistress Antonina saw nothing of him. She and the other ladies had given up the club-house, which had proved very profitable. Chrysomallo had married a rich wine-merchant, and Indaro had gone to live with Theodora, as her companion. My mistress thought that she might as well marry too. She found a solid, middle-aged Syrian merchant whom she could rely upon to treat her indulgently, not to live too long, and to leave her comfortably off when he died. She met him by accident: he was on a business visit to Constantinople and had taken a furnished house near the docks, of the sort that the owner lets, wife and all complete, while he lives uproariously by himself at a wine-shop. In this case the rented wife had died suddenly and the merchant was left without either a bedfellow or a house-keeper. My mistress consented to manage for him temporarily; and pleased him so well that they were legally married within a few days. He is not of great importance to this story, because (to be frank) he was not even the father of the two children of my mistress who survived – her son Photius and her daughter Martha – and of only one of the two who died. But he did just what was expected of him in life and death, and it seems that my mistress satisfied him as the best of wives, since he described her so in his will.
Their home was at Antioch, where he was Treasurer of the Blues at the local Hippodrome, and president of the silk-merchants’ guild. He proved to be a much richer man than we had suspected. Peace to his memory. It was to please him that my mistress was baptized a Christian, along with three other women. That was a memorable ceremony in the hearty Syrian manner, with a young priest and a young deacon officiating. The women were immersed naked; but for decency’s sake no man beside the priests was permitted to be present. I was not excluded, being a eunuch. Well, the proceedings at that baptistry included many jokes, drinks, kisses, and a little Christian ceremony. All seven of us ended in the water.
In the second year of our life at Antioch, which is a city of which I was extremely fond (especially when one can escape the heat in summer, as we did, by retiring to a country estate in the Lebanon among flowers and cedars), we heard news of the death of the old Emperor Anastasius. Soon afterwards came the surprising report that his successor was not one of his three worthless nephews, Green factional rubbish: he was Justin, the veteran commander of the Imperial Guards. Justin had been given a great deal of money by Anastasius’s Court Chamberlain with which to bribe the Guards to support his own candidate for the throne. Justin gave the Guards this money honestly enough, but he tricked the Chamberlain: he himself put on the purple robes panelled with cloth of gold, and the purple stockings, and the scarlet jewelled slippers, and the white silk tunic, and the crimson scarf, and the pearl diadem with the four great pearls dangling behind. The Guards cheered him enthusiastically. Justin’s baptismal name had been Istok and he had no surname, but he had arranged to be adopted into the ancient and noble family of Anicians. His old wife, however, said that all this pomp was ridiculous for a woman like herself: she refused to wear her own Imperial finery, or to move into the Sacred Imperial suite, until Justin had given her a new name instead of her old one. So from Lupchin (which signifies ‘sweetheart’) she became Euphemia, and caused a great deal of merriment in the City by her country ways. It was a sight to watch her distributing Sunday alms to the poor in the Cathedral Church of St Sophia, with her elegant train of women and eunuchs behind her. Lupchin had an excellent sense of the purchasing power of money, but could not accustom herself to the notion that gold coins by the hundred thousand were now hers for the asking. So she would solemnly deal out single pieces of silver to the long line of approved beggars, and if one old woman perhaps, having received her coin, took her place again at the end of the line, Lupchin would not fail to recognize her and would box her ears soundly; as she still used to box Justinian’s ears if he spoke out of turn or otherwise displeased her.
Justin was Orthodox and inclined to the Blues. He found it necessary to rid himself of one or two dangerous Greens; among these was Vitalian. Justinian had Vitalian murdered at a banquet at which both he and his Imperial uncle were present. He justified his breach of the oath sworn on the Eucharist by some theological quibble to the effect
that an oath sworn to a heretic was not binding. Justinian proved invaluable as a minister to Justin, who could not read or write – having to sign all documents with the assistance of a golden stencil which forged the letters LEGI, meaning ‘I have read and approved’. Justin adopted him as his son, awarding him the dignity of the Consulship and appointing him Commander of the Armies in the East; but he was not a soldier, and preferred to remain at Constantinople with Theodora. The Greens took up arms to avenge Vitalian’s death, but Justinian was kept informed of their secrets by Cappadocian John and suppressed the rising ruthlessly; and you may be sure that Theodora encouraged him in this. Cappadocian John, though a Green, happened to be Orthodox in his views and made this an excuse for his treachery; for he saw which way the wind was now blowing Justinian rewarded him with large presents of money and an important position at Court. Theodora could afford to wait for her revenge on him.
Meanwhile the breach with the Pope had been healed, because Justin was more Orthodox than the Pope himself, as he used to boast rather childishly; and all Monophysite bishops and priests were removed from their appointments. A curious circumstance was that, although Theodora was so loyal a Blue, or rather so vengeful an enemy of the Greens, she was intellectually a Monophysite, just as Cappadocian John, though a Green, was intellectually Orthodox. She took the view, which seems a sensible one to me, that if anything so singular as a double nature had characterized the Son, someone at least of the Evangelists or Apostolic Fathers would have mentioned it, if not the Son Himself; but none had. Justinian’s counterview was that a double nature was common enough; though in ordinary men it was, more usually, part human and part demonic. (This was true enough of himself.) Theodora replied to this: ‘Demons are numerous, and as many as seven at a time can occupy a man’s body, I admit. But God is eternally One, by a theological axiom, and therefore if Jesus was indeed God He was One also.’
Belisarius – who was Orthodox, though not fanatically so – graduated from the cadet-school with honour and proved an excellent officer of the Guards. His uniform was now the green tunic faced with red, golden collar, red shield bordered with blue and starred in black. He did not mix in faction politics or spend his time in idleness, so Justin noted him as due for quick promotion and encouraged him to work out a new system of cavalry training with the men under his command. He elaborated the plan that he had clearly hinted at, during that banquet at Adrianople, for arming heavy cavalry with bow as well as lance and thus making them proficient both as skirmishers and shock troops. Justin was a seasoned soldier, and Belisarius’s views pleased him; he also admired the unanimity that he found between Belisarius and his brother-officers – Rufinus and Armenian John and Uliaris. When he became Emperor he permitted them to train a company of recruits in this new style and take them raiding across the Danube.
Belisarius, then, armed all his men with the lance, and a stiff bow that had a slow shooting-rate but could drive an arrow through any corselet. He also gave them each a small handy shield, strapped to the arm, which acted as a receptacle for half a dozen sharp darts. These darts were useful at close quarters. They were seized by the feathered end, held upright like a torch, and flung with a forward and downward motion; the heads were heavily weighted and the feathering kept them steady on the mark. As a final arm for use when even the lance failed they carried a heavy broadsword in a sheath on the left thigh. To control all these weapons, and the horse at the same time, needed many months of practice. A bow, for example, is a weapon that needs both hands; so Belisarius trained his men to manage their horses without the bridle, by pressure of the knee and heel. But he also introduced the novel device of steel stirrups, which were suspended by straps from the saddle as an aid in mounting and riding the very large horses that he favoured. Stirrups are now in general use throughout the army, though at first despised as womanish. Lastly, he supplied his men with wide, well-stuffed saddles, in front of which were strapped, when not in use, their woollen cloaks for cold or rainy weather. They wore sleeveless mailshirts of thigh length, and tall rawhide boots. When not in use, the bow was slung behind the back; the arrows were contained in a quiver next to the broadsword; the lance was carried in a leather bucket on the right side.
The recruit was trained to do everything methodically, so that each action became habitual: for example, the action of stringing the bow was undertaken first with the horse walking, then at a trot, then at a gallop. The right hand reaches behind for the bow, pulls it forward, rests the strung end on the right foot, and bends the bow by pressing it downwards. The left hand, which has meanwhile snatched an arrow from the quiver, unties the loop of the bowstring and slips it up over the catch; then down comes the left hand to the centre of the bow, transferring the arrow to the right hand – and in a moment the bow is in action. Belisarius learned this method from the Huns. From the Goths he learned the proper management of the lance and shield and taught his men to tilt against one another with light, untipped spears. The final exercise for the trained cuirassier was to gallop across a field from the end of which the Hanged Man approached. This was a stuffed figure suspended from a gallows on a low, wheeled trolley; the trolley came rolling forward down a gentle slope. The rider must string his bow as he rode, aim three arrows at the swaying figure, and then be ready to follow with the lance, or with darts. Rank, pay, and rations were awarded according to proficiency in these and other exercises. Belisarius required from his officers exceptional faculties: skilful use of country in manoeuvre, promptness and accuracy in reporting to headquarters, a quick appreciation of a tactical difficulty or advantage, but, above everything, the power to control their men both when in a body and when dispersed. This power comes more naturally to some men than to others; and none have it who failed to earn the respect of their men by bodily prowess. Therefore Belisarius insisted that every officer must be at least as proficient with bow, lance, darts, sword, and as good a horseman as the best men under his command.
Justin had asked Belisarius: ‘What sort of recruits do you want? Have you a preference for any particular class or tribe or race?’
Belisarius’s answer: ‘Give me men who can drink foul water and eat carrion. Let them be a mixed force of mountaineers, sailors, men from the wide plains. Give me no estate-levies, except with the privilege of choice, and no factionists, and no men who have served as soldiers in any other corps.’
Justin approved the answer. Disease carried off more men on some campaigns than wounds, and its victims were for the most part those who were unused to bad food and water. Mountaineers were in general bold, hardy, independent men with well-developed sight and hearing; they were invaluable as scouts and guides in broken country. Men from the wide plains understood the management of horses and the art of open warfare. Sailors were ingenious with their hands and knew how to make themselves at home in strange places and how to establish understanding with foreigners. Each of these classes of men could learn from one another; the more diverse the ingredients of the mixture, the better would be the discipline in any squadron, and the better the terms on which one squadron met with another. For close racial and religious ties uniting men under a single standard often make for mutiny, discontent, and quarrelling with other corps. To enlist in the army should be like becoming the citizen of an entirely new world, not like moving from the centre to the suburbs of one’s native town. These were Justin’s views as well as those of Belisarius. Belisarius had wanted no estate-levies – that is to say no serfs contributed by landowners to the army in lieu of a tax – because the landowners would in general send their weakest and most useless men; but he had added ‘except with the privilege of choice’, knowing that in these levies a man was sometimes included merely because he was too active and independent-minded to please his landowner – and, properly handled, might turn into a fine soldier. Finally, he had wanted no factionists, because they were a disturbing element wherever they went, and no men with previous military service in other corps, because these always considered that the
y knew better than the officers and sergeants of their present squadron or company, and taught the recruits traditional tricks for evading duty, and for stealing, and for bettering themselves at other people’s expense.
Justin allowed Belisarius his pick of the recruits who came forward that year from Thrace, Illyria, Asia Minor; he chose according to the specifications he had made.
With a well-trained squadron Belisarius raided across the Upper Danube in the summer of the year of our Lord 520. He engaged with the Gepids, a troublesome Germanic race that had been settled in this region for about a hundred years. The Gepids fought from horseback with long battle-axes and talked in loud voices and greased their yellow hair with rancid butter. They were organized, like most German tribes, into gaus, communities of 5,000 or more souls, each under a nobleman, and providing a thousand or so armed warriors for the national army. The gau thousands were subdivided into ‘hundreds’, troops of mounted freemen who had taken an oath of personal loyalty to a lesser nobleman and who were members of a single clan, or group of families among which there was a regular exchange of women in marriage.
Belisarius’s commission was to engage small forces of the Gepids, to take prisoners, to lose no men himself, to teach this nation a new respect for the Imperial name. All these tasks he accomplished. Even the noblest Gepids wore little armour, relying on leather jerkins and helmets and hide-covered wicker shields; and only their infantry, who were serfs or slaves, used the bow. Belisarius’s tactics were to draw the Gepid cavalry away from their infantry, and to keep them just within bowshot; not letting them come to closer quarters with their battleaxes and short javelins until they were demoralized by their losses; first dismounting as many of them as possible by the shooting of their horses. Then he would charge, yet would not press the pursuit, merely capturing the dismounted men and as many others as held their ground. In this summer’s campaign, of which I can give no geographical details, because there are no settled towns or other well-known features in that district to indicate its extent, he raided over a distance of 400 miles. The food his men carried with them was barley-meal and dried goat’s flesh, always a ration for ten days. He kept a supply-boat on the river, with stores of arrows and a repair-shop in it: this was his base. By the end of the campaigning season three of his men had been wounded, and one drowned in a marsh; but he had captured not less than forty Gepids, all of whom, rather than be sold as slaves for menial work, applied for permission to enlist under his personal command as cavalrymen. They were the first barbarian recruits to the Household Regiment of Belisarius, for so Justin gratefully renamed the force, allowing the men to swear personal allegiance to their commander.