‘God has not abandoned you, my dear,’ Theodora said firmly, taking Justinian’s hands in hers. ‘Merely tested you, as He tested Job, or His own Son when Satan tempted Him upon the mountain. Tomorrow, you must face the people; listen to what they have to say. It would appear they may have suffered grave injustices — carried out in your name by unworthy ministers. Promise to put things right, and all may yet be well.’
Comforted, ‘the Sleepless One’ retired to bed, to snatch an hour or two of rest against the challenge of the coming day.
That same night, in another part of Region I, in the house of Methodius the Caput Senatus, there took place a meeting of senators, councillors, and great landowners. A distinguished-looking aristocrat was addressing the assembly. ‘Gentlemen — the Greens and Blues have served us well by stirring up the plebs against Justinian’s regime,’ declared the speaker, one Gaius Anicius Julianus, a senator who, from the moment of its convening, had stamped his personality on the gathering. (Julianus was a member of the great West Roman family, the Anicii, and a refugee from an Italy under Ostrogothic rule.) ‘But what they have created is only a riot, which, by its nature, will soon burn itself out. Before that happens, we must build upon the popular discontent to bring about — ’
‘A revolution?’ interrupted old Methodius. He sounded horrified. ‘That’s not the way we do things in the East, Anicius.’
‘Usurpation by ambitious generals — that was long the curse of the Western Empire,’ conceded Julianus. ‘The resulting instability undoubtedly weakened the state, helping to pave the way for the barbarian invasions. But sometimes, for the general good, it becomes necessary to remove a bad emperor. Think of Nero, Caligula, or Commodus.’
‘But those were monstrous tyrants,’ objected a councillor. ‘Justinian hardly fits that mould.’
‘Agreed. But what perhaps is worse — the man’s obsessive. Preoccupied with grandiose building schemes, and plans to re-conquer the West. Which all costs money — vast amounts of it. But as long as he gets it, he seems oblivious to how it’s obtained, and all the misery that’s causing.’
‘You have a plan?’ This from Maxentius, a landed magnate who had suffered at the hands of John of Cappadocia’s compulsores.
‘Indeed I have. The time is perfect for a coup. Justinian is hated. And he’s weak; all units of the army are absent from the capital, bar a few thousand German mercenaries and the Palace Guard. We can discount the last-mentioned — toy soldiers of dubious loyalty, who’ll come over to us if they see we’re winning. As will most senators and courtiers within the Palace, fellow aristocrats all. There are excellent candidates to replace Justinian: the three nephews of Anastasius, all here in Constantinople — true Romans like ourselves, and of our class. Hypatius is probably the best choice — popular, and a successful general. We must, however, discount him, also his brother Pompeius, both presently immured within the Palace, where they’ll obviously remain until the streets are safe. Which leaves the third nephew — Probus.’
‘And is Probus aware of his imminent promotion to the purple?’ asked a senator drily.
‘Not yet; nor must he become so.’ Julianus looked intently round his audience, to emphasize the point. ‘Probus is a cautious man, who wouldn’t voluntarily seize the throne. He must be elevated to it by a fait accompli. Tomorrow, in the Hippodrome, if we proclaim him emperor and the plebs support us — which they will — he’d hardly then be in a position to refuse.’
‘And would you be willing to take on the role of Nymphidius?’* Methodius enquired of Julianus.
‘Provided a majority of you being in favour of my plan agree that I should do so, replied the Anician, with a modest inclination of the head.
‘Then I nominate Julianus as our spokesman,’ declared Methodius. ‘If any disagree, then let him raise his hand.’
No hand was lifted.
* Conquer.
* Organiser of the races.
* The praetorian prefect who proclaimed Nero deposed, in favour of Galba.
TWELVE
Hypatius and Pompeius paid the penalty and lost the empire before they could
obtain it
On Wednesday, the fourteenth day of January, the sun rose on a city shrouded in palls of smoke from smouldering ruins. Soon afterwards, word went out from the Palace that the races would begin again, in the presence of the emperor. Apprehensive but hopeful, his resolution stiffened by his wife’s advice, Justinian, holding a copy of the Gospels and accompanied by his Mandator and the city prefect, ascended the spiral staircase to the kathisma. At once, he sensed an atmosphere of almost palpable hostility emanating from the vast and silent crowd. He sent word to the editor to cancel the races; clearly, the people were in no mood to be fobbed off by such diversion.
‘I suspect they may ask for your dismissal,’ he murmured to Eudaemon. ‘If so, I’ll have to play along. Don’t worry, though; it will only be a temporary suspension. As soon as things blow over, I’ll have you reinstated.’
The Demarchs approached the royal box. They repeated their request of the previous day, that the two damnati in St Lawrence’s Church be pardoned, then went on, ‘In addition, Serenity, we demand that you dismiss three ministers: first, Tribonian, who sells justice to the highest bidder like a huckster at a market stall; second, Eudaemon, whose answer to the people’s legitimate complaints is blows; and last but by no means least, John the Cappadocian — guilty of gratuitous brutality against many Roman citizens, and whose rapacity and cost-cutting have ruined thousands of good men throughout your Empire.’
A roar of approval erupted from the crowd.
Justinian rose to his feet. Holding aloft the Gospels in his left hand, he placed his right upon the Holy Writ and nodded to the Mandator. ‘Tell them I assent,’ he said.
‘Our most wise and merciful Augustus,’ announced the Mandator in stentorian tones, ‘hears your petition and agrees to its terms: the two criminals presently in the Church of St Lawrence to be granted full pardons, and the Quaestor of the Sacred Palace,* together with the prefect of the city and the praetorian prefect, to be instantly dismissed.’
The muted sigh — like the sound of distant breakers rushing on a beach — that arose from the crowd suggested to Justinian that the crisis might have passed. His acquiescence would surely guarantee, as on many previous occasions with former emperors, that the people would be appeased and things return to normal. So it was with shock that he heard a voice declaim, ‘You lie, you swine!’ Addressing the crowd from the foremost tier, the speaker went on, ‘Don’t let yourselves be taken in; his promises are worthless, made only under duress, from weakness. He’ll break every one of them as soon as you go home.’
Instantly, the mood of the crowd seemed to change — from sullen acceptance to angry suspicion. Yesterday’s orgy of destruction had by no means assuaged their bitter sense of injustice at their treatment by the agents of the government. The speaker’s words reminded them that they had tasted power and were due revenge. A thunderous growl of agreement with his statement swept around the vast assembly.
‘Let us choose a new emperor,’ went on the speaker — a tall commanding figure, whom Justinian recognized as Anicius Julianus, a leading senator and member of the Roman diaspora from the barbarian-occupied West, ‘one who will reign with equity and justice. Justinian has shown he is not worthy to rule the Romans. Let us replace him with one who is — a nephew of the noble Anastasius, and one in whom integrity and strength is wedded to ability. People of New Rome, I give you — Probus Augustus!’