APPENDIX IV
PROCOPIUS — FIFTH COLUMNIST?
Although Libertas (see Chapter 14 et seq.) is fictional, it is tempting to speculate that a secret resistance movement on similar lines could have existed, and that Procopius might somehow have been involved. Certainly, the time could not have been more ripe. At the time of Nika and its immediate aftermath, Justinian (as hopefully the text makes clear) was extremely unpopular with all classes of society — especially among those of senatorial rank, who alone could provide the leadership, wealth, and organizing know-how necessary to promote change. Men like my character Anicius Julianus, who was suggested by a real person — Anicia Juliana, daughter of the West Roman emperor Olybrius, a member of the immensely rich and powerful Anician family, part of the West Roman diaspora settled in Constantinople, and whose son was one of the senators exiled after the revolt. None of the grievances which had provoked the Nika Riots had been resolved, nor was there any sign that solutions would be forthcoming. In the past, discontent with the rule of tyrants and incompetents had led to the toppling (often by a combination of senior army officers and senators) of emperors such as Nero, Commodus, and Valentinian III.
Incidentally, the Roman Senate (and that includes its East Roman incarnation) has often been portrayed as a toothless tiger, whose only function was to rubber-stamp the diktats of an autocratic emperor. Such a picture is deceptive. For it is a fact of history that rulers who continued to flout the mores of S.P.Q.R. were invariably removed from office — ‘with extreme prejudice’, to use a deliciously bizarre euphemism once favoured by the American Secret Service. Even in the dying days of the Western Empire, the Senate still had enough clout to have the emperor Avitus ‘disposed of’ for adopting too accommodating a stance towards the barbarians. Though the power of the Senate as an institution was severely weakened by Justinian, the class from which its ranks were drawn continued to be an influential sector of society, one which any emperor would be foolish to ignore or alienate.
Allowing, for the sake of argument, that an organization on the lines of Libertas could have existed (and, all things considered, it would perhaps be surprising if some form of underground resistance against Justinian had not arisen after Nika), then Procopius would have fitted perfectly into such a scenario — as spy, double agent, or fifth columnist. Cast in that sort of role, he becomes an absolute gift to the writer of historical fiction. We know that he detested and despised Justinian. (‘Without any hesitation he shattered the laws when money was in sight’, is one of the milder aspersions against the emperor in Secret History.) Given the opportunity to do him harm, it is hard to believe that he would have refrained from doing so. And an organization such as Libertas would have provided just such an opportunity, with Procopius (as part of Belisarius’ staff* in the African and Italian campaigns, and later as Prefect of Constantinople) ideally placed to cause maximum disruption. How else to account for the following?
i) Who started the drip-drip of malicious rumours about Belisarius, causing Justinian to harbour suspicions about his general regarding his conduct during the Vandal campaign,** and later, leading to his recall from Italy?
ii) Who almost persuaded the Huns to switch sides to the Vandals in Africa?
iii) Who supplied Totila with secret information enabling him to generate a resurgence of Gothic power in Italy?
iv) Who fomented mutiny in Africa, following its reconquest?
v) Who spread false rumours that Justinian was dead, which led to a constitutional crisis?
vi) Who was behind the hatching of a plot to assassinate Justinian?
None of the above directly points the finger at Procopius. Taken collectively however, they could be significant. On every occasion connected with these queries, Procopius — in an inversion of T.S. Eliot’s famous line about McAvity — was there. Which, if nothing else, does perhaps serve to ‘put him in the frame’.
* Procopius had little respect for Belisarius (as evidenced in Secret History, where he refers to the general’s ‘contemptible conduct’) so presumably wouldn’t have scrupled to betray him.
** ‘. . private despatches maliciously affirmed that the conqueror of Africa. . conspired to seat himself on the throne of the Vandals. . Justinian listened with too patient an ear; and his silence was the result of jealousy rather than of confidence.’ (Gibbon.)
NOTES
Prologue
Ammianus Marcellinus
This Roman officer-turned-historian paints a marvellously colourful and detailed picture of the late Roman world in the second half of the fourth century, covering — besides a wealth of fascinating domestic issues such as witchcraft trials and snobbery among the nouveaux riches in Rome — campaigns in Germany, Gaul, Britain and Persia. He ends on a sombre note — the destruction of a huge Roman army by the Goths, at Adrianople in AD 378. Though he could not foresee it, this disaster would precipitate a chain of events that would culminate in the fall of the Western Empire a century later.
this year of the consul Paulus
Normally, two consuls — one from Constantinople, the other from Rome — were chosen each year, the year being named for them. This practice continued even after the fall of the West, Western consuls being nominated by the first two German kings of Italy — Odovacar, then Theoderic — in their capacity as vicegerents of the Eastern emperor, who held the power to ratify or ignore their choice. A less common way of dating events was from the Founding of the City (of Rome, in 753 BC) — Ab Urbe Condita, or A.U.C. Dating from the birth of Christ was only introduced in 527, at the instigation of one Dionysius Exiguus, but was not generally adopted before the age of Charlemagne and King Alfred. Dating for the interim period between the lapsing of consular dates (the office was abolished in 539) and the adoption of the Christian Era c. AD 800, was from the supposed Creation (according to one Julius Africanus) on 1 September, 5,508 years, three months, and twenty-five days before the birth of Christ. (See Gibbon’s note at the end of Chapter 40 of his Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.)
elephants and cataphracts
Alexander encountered (Indian) elephants in his Persian and Indian campaigns, and elephants (African ones) were famously used by Hannibal against the Romans. For a limited period after the end of the Punic wars, elephants were even employed by late Hellenistic armies, before falling out of fashion. Persia, as Ammianus Marcellinus eloquently testifies, was still using war-elephants in the later fourth century, but seems to have abandoned them by the seventh, as they are nowhere mentioned during the East Roman emperor Heraclius’ war against Persia in AD 622.
Cataphracts, or cataphractarii — heavily armoured cavalry — appear to have been a Persian invention, but were extensively copied by the late Romans. Strictly, the term ‘cataphract’ should apply only when the rider, not his horse, was armoured; clibanarius — literally (and appropriately!) ‘oven man’ — is the correct term when both were armoured. ‘Cataphract’ however, was freely used to describe both types. Cataphracts, despite a superficial resemblance in appearance, were not the ancestors of the European mediaeval knight, although often referred to as such. Knighthood was a strictly feudal development, in which military service was an obligation incurred by a grant of land from a feudal superior.
Scipio’s tactics against Hannibal