A few hundred yards away, his mood alternating between rage and sorrow, Theoderic wandered the pathways of his orchard, trying to come to terms with the information that Paulus, silentiarius turned informer, had brought to him concerning Timothy. In his mind he had rehearsed, with joyful anticipation, the scene when he and Timothy (freed from house arrest following a little test of loyalty — which surely would prove no more than a formality) would at last be reconciled. Instead, there had come the revelation that his once loyal friend and mentor had turned against him. Wounded to the heart, his mind clouded by fits of fury followed by depression, the old king had blindly paced the palace corridors and grounds — none daring to intervene — finally coming to himself as the shapes of his beloved fruit trees emerged slowly in the first pale rays of dawn. Timothy’s rejection meant that he was now alone, Theoderic told himself, the storm of his emotions resolving itself into an overwhelming sadness.
No, wait; there was still Boethius, his loyal Roman servant and adviser. The description could also apply to Symmachus and Cassiodorus as well, but Boethius was more than that. He was a true friend, whose unfailing sympathy and understanding had helped the king before in many a pass. Now, in this time of trouble and distress, he would surely prove a strong staff on which to lean. Comforted, his steps now steady and assured, Theoderic began to make his way back towards the palace.
* Now the Via Roma. The ‘court church’ is S. Apollinare Nuovo.
* Crown agent (see Notes).
† Pavia.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Cyprian’s charge is false, but, if Albinus did it, both I and the entire Senate have done it acting together
From Rufius Petronius Nicomachus Cethegus to Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius, Magister Officiorum, greetings.
Dear friend and fellow Anular, I write to warn you of a very real and pressing danger facing many in the Senate, and especially yourself.
Theoderic has long nurtured suspicions that correspondence between senators in Italy and the court in Constantinople has been of a treasonable nature. Alas, he now has proof. You may remember that at our last meeting I mentioned a leading senator, one Albinus. It has come to my attention (I have ‘ears’ in the corridors of power here) that a letter of his to Justin has been intercepted by Cyprian, the Referendarius, or head of security. The contents could scarcely be more damning: it openly invites the emperor (he infers Justinian, of course, as opposed to Justin) to free Italy from the Ostrogothic yoke! Now, had the letter been written by some naive aristocratic youth indulging in a spot of wishful thinking, Cyprian might conceivably have let it pass. However, Albinus being a pillar of the Senate and from the great family of the Decii, the matter could not be overlooked.
If Cyprian could be portrayed as acting out of malice, it might help Albinus’ case; but I fear it would be unproductive to pursue that line. Cyprian, unfortunately, is one of that dreadful tribe of ‘honest plodders’ — not overendowed with brains but thorough, and conscientious to a fault. Two years ago he was sent on a mission to Constantinople; it would be surprising if, while there, he failed to overhear some of the talk swirling about concerning change of regime in Italy. If he goes ahead and gives evidence — which he is virtually bound to do — it will be in a full session of the Consistory which you, Anicius, as Master of Offices will be required to attend. In that event, little short of a miracle can save Albinus.
I come now to a second matter, which concerns yourself. Bad news, I’m afraid. Another letter has been intercepted, this time one of yours, also addressed to Justin. In it you say you hope for ‘libertas Romana’ — which is code, of course, for Byzantine intervention in Italy. Dear boy, your indiscretion passes belief; I need hardly point out that you now stand in the very greatest danger, should Cyprian disclose the letter’s contents. There is, however, one glimmer of hope. Thanks to my network of inquisitores, I have managed to, let us say, ‘liberate’ the original epistle. (So you owe me one, my friend.) Cyprian’s team will undoubtedly attempt to reproduce a copy from memory, but comparison of hands will enable you to claim it to be a forgery. That may be enough to put you in the clear. Let’s hope so; our old enemies in the Senate — Faustus niger and the rest of the anti-Laurentius brigade — will be salivating at the chance to pull you down. Your friend and colleague Symmachus, our new Caput Senatus (old Festus at last having gone to claim his Heavenly reward), will naturally speak up for you, and his views do carry weight.
As soon as you have read this letter, burn it. Now is a time for keeping heads down and saving skins. So, please, no outbreaks of Roman nobilitas or soul-baring, weaknesses to which I feel you may be prone. Meanwhile, as it says in the Bible, ‘be strong and of a good courage’. Vale.
Written at the Villa Jovis, Caelian District, Roma, pridie Kalendas Octobris, in the Year of the Consuls Justinus Augustus and Opilio.*
Shaken, barely able to absorb Cathegus’ chilling revelations, Boethius set about reducing the letter to ashes.
*
In the great reception hall of Theoderic’s palace in Verona, the consistorium awaited the arrival of the king. This court, which dealt with important matters affecting Romans as opposed to Goths, was made up of Comites Primi Ordinis, Counts of the First Order, mostly Romans, none of rank below Spectabilis. Chief among them, by virtue of his being the Magister Officiorum, was Boethius. Facing each other in front of the court stood the tall, commanding figure of Albinus, his senatorial toga lending him an air of dignity, and his accuser, Cyprian, a bluff-looking individual with a weatherbeaten face.
Looking angry and upset, leaning on a stick, Theoderic shuffled in and seated himself on a throne-like chair to one side of the chamber. At a signal from the king, an official invited Cyprian to declare the charge.
‘Your Majesty, honourable members of this court,’ declared the Referendarius, his voice still showing a trace of the clipped vowels of the Aventine slums where he had been raised, ‘the charge is treason, as this letter will make clear.’ He handed a small scroll of vellum to a steward and instructed him to show it to Albinus. ‘You do not deny that this is yours, Senator?’ Cyprian enquired politely.
Albinus glanced briefly at the document and shrugged. ‘Certainly I wrote that,’ he affirmed carelessly, as though the letter were of little consequence.
‘With Your Majesty’s permission,’ continued Cyprian, ‘I shall read the relevant section to the court. Then you may all judge its import for yourselves. In the following passage, Albinus is directly addressing the emperor.
‘“. . most honoured Augustus, all Italy cries out for your assistance. Only let the sun of your presence shine upon this benighted land, and her present afflictions would dissolve and vanish like mist at break of day.”’ He looked round at the rapt faces of the Spectabiles. ‘If that ain’t-is not treason, gentlemen, I don’t know what is.’
Theoderic leant forward, a hectic spot burning in each cheek. ‘Albinus,’ he said in a low, hoarse voice, ‘have you anything to say?’
Drawing himself up to his full impressive height, Albinus bowed to the king. ‘Your Majesty, members of this court,’ he began in an urbane and reasonable tone, ‘take any sample of the contents of the diplomatic bag of correspondence destined for Constantinople. I guarantee it would contain many phrases of polished flattery such as diplomacy requires, which — taken out of context — could be made to appear just as “treasonable” as the excerpt you have just had read to you. I was merely suggesting to the emperor that a state visit would prove of inestimable benefit in smoothing away the unfortunate misunderstandings that have recently arisen between Ravenna and Byzantium. If that is treason, I am happy to plead guilty to the charge.’