As usual envoys were despatched to offer terms of surrender, these brusquely rejected, which provided enough of an excuse for Narses, urged on by his favoured inferior, to abandon the attempt and retire on Ariminum, this despite the fact that Flavius had begun the construction of the siege engines necessary to achieve a successful assault. Not given to begging Flavius did try, but to no avail.
‘And by halving our forces, Narses brings about that which drives him away.’
It was plain Martinus, acting as his senior subordinate, did not know what to say to comfort his general and ended up proposing the wrong alternative, which to him seemed the only one to make sense.
‘So we march on to Rome?’
Flavius, normally the calmest of men, positively snarled his response. ‘I will take Urbinus without any aid from Narses.’
It required all of his force of personality to drive on the various commanders in an enterprise in which they had little faith – Martinus was not alone in thinking half a host could not carry out such a task. The building of a tower and the construction of a ram required that Flavius harry men who had picked up on the dejection of their officers, a disposition that was doubly evident on the morning chosen for the primary assault.
To quell the pessimism it was necessary that their general very visibly lead from the front, a position of great danger as he was dressed in fine armour and was riding a white horse underneath his very recognisable personal standard. He knew if he fell then any forward movement would cease, not that there was a great deal to begin with, the approach being agonisingly slow given the rumbling tower setting the pace.
The gates opening before him came as jolt enough to stop him dead. A party of Goths emerged to throw aside their arms before approaching the now stationary Flavius Belisarius. Sat astride his fidgeting horse, Flavius had to grip hard with his knees to keep it steady as the embassy came within hailing distance. Their message was brief: Urbinus was his and it was a capitulation, there being no request for terms.
‘Pursue Narses, Martinus, and inform him that Urbinus is ours.’ The voice went from triumphant to bitter. ‘And when you do, ensure that John Vitalianus is with him.’
‘Do I say why it fell so easily?’
That was put to Flavius with a grin; Martinus thought he knew what the answer would be and he was not disappointed.
‘No details, just be brief and do not forget to gloat.’
Flavius was left, as Martinus departed, to reflect on the way God had favoured his purpose once more. Surely it was divine intervention that had dried up the wells on which Urbinus depended for water, for it had come about from no action of his, the result being that holding out against the siege became impossible.
‘They will find out in time, but let them wonder at their caution until they do.’
The response was initially encouraging but ultimately depressing; pricked into action Narses sent John Vitalianus off to take Caesena, the Goth stronghold that controlled the road to Milan. Hurriedly pressed it miscarried with heavy loss of life, though John, determined to match Belisarius with a success, bypassed his failure and drove the Goths out of Forocornelius, which left very exposed the capital of Ravenna.
The news reached Flavius just as he took a second enemy fortress on the Via Cassia to the north of Rome; that arc of Goth pressure that had so concerned him was now very close to being utterly broken. But it had happened at a time when to fully exploit it was impossible. With winter upon the land, cold weather, heavy rains in the lowlands and snow blocking the Apennine passes campaigning became impossible.
It was in these conditions that Photius returned from Constantinople. ‘It pains me to say this to you, Father, but my mother may have had more influence on the decision than any representations I made.’
‘Did Justinian indicate as much?’
Photius shook his head. ‘There was no doubt Theodora knew of the dispute with Narses, it was the talk of the court, and from all you have told me the Emperor would be unlikely to act without including his wife.’
Flavius was perplexed; Theodora did not trust him and as far as he knew she had a high degree of faith in Narses. He had sent Photius in the hope that he would get a private audience with Justinian and extract from him a favourable decision without involving her. This forced him to acknowledge he had been naive and not for the first time; Antonina was in constant correspondence with her imperial friend so the idea that his differences with Narses were unknown in Constantinople was risible.
He could not avoid searching for motives, given Photius was telling him that Theodora had a hand in the decision to recall Narses, which had him frowning as he racked his brain to try to untangle that which was and would always be concealed: the devious mind of the Empress.
‘Does something still trouble you, Father?’ asked Photius, reacting to the expression.
‘Many things trouble me, my son, but now that Narses has been recalled the major one of those is removed. And the double windfall is I get to keep the men he brought with him from Illyricum.’
It was later, in conversation with Procopius, that a possible solution was arrived at. If Theodora did not trust anyone, Flavius knew she was adept at picking out who to rely on in any given situation. Always alert to threats to her person she would have more than one to guard against and it was possible she needed Narses in close proximity to ward off the machinations of different powerful courtiers.
‘There again, Justinian may have just seen the sense of what I have been telling him for years. Two men cannot successfully command an army.’
Procopius was not prepared to believe that, his expression said so.
Two pieces of information came to depress Flavius prior to his departing Rome in the spring. One was the information that the slave girl who had told him of his wife’s adulterous behaviour had been murdered shortly after he left Sicily, this while Antonina and Theodosius were still there.
The second piece of information made him feel even worse. Pope Vigilius had not, as he had promised, put Silverius through an ordeal of examination by bishops. Instead he had shipped him to a waterless island and left him there to starve to death, the pity being that the perpetrator was not in Rome when this became known. Perhaps it was for the best Vigilius had decamped to Naples, because Flavius, in a combination of rage and misery, might have committed sacrilege by personally lopping off his head.
‘There is no point in asking him if he is responsible, Magister,’ Procopius counselled, when they discussed the possibility of arraigning him. ‘He will deny that he gave any orders to kill Silverius and blame his minions. Besides, do you think he would have dared to act without at least a nod from the Empress? To confront him with the crime is to confront her.’
‘The killing of that maid troubles me as much.’
‘And again you have had only denial.’
That had been a stormy occasion and one in which Antonina had reacted with fury at the accusation of being behind the death of her maid, described by his wife as a loose creature inclined to seek to satisfy her carnal needs in inappropriate places and with questionable company, that very likely being the cause of her death.
If Flavius did not believe it he had no way to refute accusations aimed at a woman he barely knew. Macedonia had been one of several maids who served his wife, and in any case, such attendants did not tend to last long before something they had done, probably an innocent act, saw them dismissed.
‘Even if you had proof, which you do not …’
The response to what was obvious and left unsaid by Procopius came with a sigh. ‘Theodora would rush to defend Antonina and I would not get justice.’