Theoderic circulated among his guests, chatting easily in excellent if rather rusty Latin, and even being given the chance to air his Greek when introduced to two scholar-aristocrats, young Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius (son of the recently deceased Marius Manlius Boethius, City Prefect and Praetorian Prefect), and Quintus Aurelius Memmius Symmachus, a senator from Rome’s most distinguished family. With these two the king felt an immediate rapport, also a rekindling of interest in intellectual pursuits which, of necessity, had been forced into abeyance since his youth in Constantinople. He decided there and then to invite them to join his inner circle of councillors and advisers. He felt instinctively that these were soul mates who would be of use not only in helping him to frame his policies, but also in realizing his dream of being accepted as a Roman — perhaps even (Tell it not in Gath) in taking the ultimate step of becoming Roman emperor. Then he remembered: seven years ago, Symmachus and the father of Boethius had been among those voting for Odovacar. Well, at least that spoke of courage and loyalty, qualities especially admired by his own people, and rarely enough found among today’s Romans. He would not hold the past against them. Excited and happy, Theoderic continued to mingle. After the long years of struggle and hardship, his ambitions seemed at last to be moving smoothly towards fulfilment.
The climax of the evening arrived: the presentation to his guests of medallions to celebrate his tricennalia, the thirty years that had elapsed since his capture of Singidunum from Babai, king of the Sarmatians. The beautiful discs, each a triple solidus in weight, showed on the obverse a frontal picture of Theoderic with long hair and moustache, clad in imperial robes, right hand half raised, the left holding a globe surmounted by a figure of Victory. On this side, the legend round the edge read: ‘REX THEODERICUS PIUS PRINC I S’.* The wording had been chosen with the utmost care, so as not to offend his Roman subjects. Theoderic was ‘Rex’ only to the Goths, the title still anathema to Romans a thousand years after they had rid themselves of their own kings. ‘Princeps’, the title chosen by Augustus in preference to ‘Imperator’, implied (by a polite fiction designed by Rome’s first emperor to soothe republican sensitivities) first among equals, rather than absolute ruler.
The distribution of the medallions proceeded amid exclamations of surprise and pleasure from the recipients. However, with some senators — those most bitterly opposed to Symmachus over the issue concerning Church lands — this was a mere facade behind which, taking care not to be overheard, they expressed their true feelings among themselves, in whispers: ‘Barbarian locks and moustache, yet he has the effrontery to have himself represented wearing an emperor’s robe.’ ‘Pius Princeps indeed — who does he think he is, another Hadrian perhaps?’ ‘If he thinks a pretty bauble’s going to shut us up, he can think again.’
Then one of them floated an idea: ‘Why don’t we take the opportunity to put him straight about the Church lands? He’s in a good mood — we may never get a better chance than now. Probinus, you’re the best one to put our case; would you approach him on our behalf?’
Emboldened by collective resentment, the others, after minimal discussion, agreed to the suggestion, Probinus volunteering to be spokesman.
‘Majesty, a moment of your time, if it pleases you to spare it.’
Theoderic turned, to find a tall, distinguished-looking senator smiling at him.
‘Speak.’
‘It’s this business of Church lands, Your Majesty. Perhaps you may not be fully aware of all aspects of the matter. If I may be permitted to elucidate?’ Taking Theoderic’s silence for assent, the other pressed on. ‘When our ancestors made these grants, in many cases before the invasions of a century ago, it was not intended that they should belong to the Church in perpetuity. They were merely temporary loans to enable the Church to raise money by short-term leases or the sale of produce. Unfortunately, many of the documents which would prove this have been, ah. . “lost”, as Pope Symmachus maintains. Others, we think, have been deliberately falsified. If Your Majesty would care to review the facts behind the case, you would be assured of our most heartfelt gratitude.’
‘And who are “we”?’ Theoderic enquired, his tone deceptively mild.
‘Almost all the senators of Rome, Your Majesty. Hardly one of us but has lost lands to the barbarians — to the extent that many of us are struggling to survive.’ Probinus’ heart sank, as he suddenly realized his gaffe in using that charged word ‘barbarians’.
Theoderic regarded him with rising anger and contempt. Smooth-tongued hypocrite. He knew the type: self-serving aristocrats, like the fathers of his school fellows in Constantinople, whose chief concern was to preserve their privileges, men who would close ranks the moment the interests of their class were threatened. Red rage exploded in his brain.
‘You disgust me!’ roared Theoderic. ‘My edict stands. Get out of my sight!’
‘As Your Majesty commands.’ Probinus bowed coolly and backed away, the great hall suddenly falling silent.
Shaking with fury and humiliation, Theoderic knew that the reception was ruined past repair. He signalled the Master of Ceremonies to make the appropriate announcement.
‘Well, at least we know now where we stand,’ sighed Probinus as his group made its way towards the Forum. ‘For all that he speaks Latin and doesn’t scratch his arse, the fellow’s an out-and-out barbarian.’
‘And an Arian to boot,’ fluted old Festus. ‘Anthemius would never have behaved like that.’ He was referring to the last emperor of any substance whom most of them could still remember.
‘Nor would Odovacar,’ declared Faustus albus, one of the strongest pro-Laurentians, despite his kinsman Faustus niger being Symmachus’ patron. ‘He’d just have laughed in your face, and told you to go to hell. So what do we do now? Ideas, anyone?’
‘We bide our time,’ pronounced Probinus. ‘With Pope Symmachus able to whistle up the plebs against us, and Constantinople playing hard to get, we’ve no choice. For the moment, we keep our heads down and bend with the wind. Our time will come.’
As come it surely would. For these were patient, cunning men, who knew, above all, about survival. Their families, many of which went back to the Republic, had seen imperial dynasties come and go, Rome itself rise and fall, yet were themselves still here. One barbarian ruler more or less was hardly going to make a dent in their long-term fortunes.
* Built in the late third century against incursions of the Alamanni, they stand, for the most part, impressively intact today.
† No relation to the senator of the same name.
* A term defying exact translation. High-minded self-control linked to a sense of justice and respect for law perhaps comes close. The quality was displayed par excellence by the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius; witness his noble Meditations.
* Sic (see Notes).
* See Appendix II: The Laurentian Schism.
† The charge was correct (see Notes).
* Expanded, this becomes: Rex Theodericus pius princeps invictus semper — King Theoderic Dutiful Leader Ever Unconquered.
TWENTY-FOUR
In celebration of his ‘tricennalia’ he [Theoderic]. . exhibited games in the Circus for the Romans