That, however, was something that was set to change. For that very evening, news arrived that would put in jeopardy the whole expedition.
* 521.
** The Red Sea.
* In the next century, Gondar would replace Axum as the country’s capital. Ethiopia had been Christian since the 320s — nearly three centuries before St Augustine’s mission to England!
* Famous both for bluntness and efficiency, within ten years John the Cappadocian would rise from humble clerk to praetorian prefect — in effect Justinian’s chief minister. (See Notes.)
** The Yemen.
* China.
* It was occupied at the time by Hypatius, nephew of Anastasius.
* Part of a Roman officer’s military outfit, pteruges were leather strips protecting the thighs and upper arms. They are clearly depicted in statues and carvings of Roman emperors from Augustus to Justinian.
EIGHT
He [Justin] purported that the Ethiopians by purchasing [Chinese] silk
from India and selling it among the Romans, might themselves gain. .
while causing the Romans no longer [to] be compelled to pay over their
money to their [Persian] enemy
On the night of his arrival in Gondar, the Negus — Ella Atsbeha — gave orders for a great feast to be prepared to welcome his Roman allies. Justinian and Valerian, together with a dozen of their senior officers (tribuni and their seconds-in-command, vicarii) were ushered into a great hall, part of the governor’s palace, down the centre of which was a long, low table, flanked by cushioned stools. When all the guests were seated (Romans paired with Aethiopian commanders clad in their toga-like shambas), the Negus rose and raised a goblet of tej — fermented honey and barley — and (via an interpreter, one of which stood behind each pair of guests) proposed a toast, ‘to Rome and Aethiopia — brothers-in-arms in Christ’. When all had resumed their seats after downing the sweet, fiery liquor, appetisers were served: curries from India, and delicious savoury balls (powdered locusts bound with fat, Valerian discovered after making enquiry), washed down with more tej.
An atmosphere of noisy cordiality soon prevailed, Valerian discovering that his hosts were surprisingly well-informed as to world affairs: relations between Rome and Persia; the German kingdoms which had taken over the lands of the old West Roman Empire; the religious divide between the Chalcedonians and the Monophysites; trade with China and the Indies. Then, to the accompaniment of agonized bellowing from outside, the speciality of the meal arrived: platefuls of raw red beef. His gorge rising, Valerian gazed in horror at the bleeding chunk of flesh before him, realizing that it had just been cut from a living animal! ‘Brundo — it’s delicious,’ the Aethiopian to Valerian’s right informed him. ‘A special treat, in honour of our Roman guests.’ With a forced smile, Valerian hacked off a sliver of the steaming meat and began manfully to chew it. Noticing that, in the next but one place, Justinian, white-faced and immobile, was staring at his plate, Valerian hissed, ‘For God’s sake try to eat it — some, at least. Otherwise, you’ll give offence.’
Justinian turned an anguished face to his friend. ‘I can’t, Valerian,’ he whispered. ‘It’s just not possible; I’ll be sick.’
Banishing the atmosphere of friendly jollity, a stony silence was spreading down the table as Justinian’s reluctance began to be observed. Cursing the other’s fastidium, Valerian tried to make excuses on his friend’s behalf, uttering some impromptu nonsense about uncooked meat being against Justinian’s strict religious observance. A small roast guinea-fowl was exchanged for the offending plate of brundo, and the feast continued — but in an ambience of cool and stiff politeness.
Then all tension was overshadowed by an event of greater consequence. A travel-stained messenger suddenly burst into the chamber and, hurrying over to the Negus, whispered in his ear. The young king rose, his expression grave. ‘Roman friends, fellow Aethiopians — the news is bad. One of Dhu-Nuwas’ generals has crossed the straits and, backed by our traditional enemies the Galla, has seized our great fortress of Magdala. Our route to the coast is therefore blocked.’
Whether resulting from his shortcoming at the feast, or apprehension regarding the news concerning Magdala, Justinian’s facade was beginning to crack, Valerian opined. Before Gondar, his friend’s mood had been positive and optimistic (sometimes verging on the manic). After leaving the city, he became silent and withdrawn, his contact with the troops now limited to necessary orders relayed through subordinates. It was as though he had awakened from a dream into a reality both alien and frightening. More and more the burden of everyday supervision of the Roman column fell on Valerian’s shoulders, to the latter’s disquiet and increasing irritation.
Swelling by the day as more and more warriors streamed in from outlying settlements, the united force pushed on to Lake Tana — a beautiful sheet of shimmering blue pocked by surfacing hippopotami, and fringed by stands of noble trees and flower-studded meadows filled with grazing herds of antelope and buffalo. Here, the expedition turned east, following the river Abai* past a stupendous arc of falls called Tisisat, to its junction with the river Bechelo. Following the latter, the force wound upwards through high wooded hills to a bare plateau broken by cliffs and ravines, the Bechelo here running through a rocky gorge. In this stony wilderness, the only sign of life consisted of large, aggressive monkeys with dog-like snouts,* which chattered angrily at the human intruders, their ‘sentries’ flashing up top lips to reveal rows of vicious fangs. Storm clouds now rolled up from the south, and the expedition found itself pushing on through squalls of hail and icy rain. Then, as suddenly as they had darkened, the skies cleared, revealing to the cold and sodden troops an arresting prospect: rising steeply from the tableland ahead, a series of dramatic, flat-topped heights, and beyond them in the distance a monstrous, towering cylinder of naked rock, crowned by the ramparts of a mighty fortress.
‘Magdala,’ declared the Negus to Valerian. The pair, who had ridden out ahead of the army, had formed a close bond in the course of the march. Intelligent and well-informed, Ella Atsbeha, in addition to his native Amharic, spoke several languages: Gez, the ancient aboriginal tongue with links to Arabic, now virtually a literary language used mainly by the clergy; Arabic itself; even a little Greek. Daily conversation with Valerian had improved his fluency in the last-named, to the extent that he could now dispense with an interpreter.
‘Impossible!’ breathed Justinian, riding up to join the pair. ‘That place has to be impregnable. Only a lengthy siege could hope to bring about its capture.’