‘I have good reason to believe that Witigis will stand down as their leader, or failing that be deposed by the same kind of vote that gave him the crown. The question we must settle is this: is such an outcome best for the empire? As you will know from my difference with Narses, my instructions from our emperor set that as a tie to any action I take.’
‘And the alternative?’ asked Martinus, exercising his right of seniority to enquire, even if the answer was obvious.
‘To take Ravenna by storm?’
‘In doing so we would lose many of our soldiers,’ Martinus replied, to a ripple of agreement. ‘They are as likely to drown in the marshes as fall to an arrow or sword.’
‘I agree it will not be easy.’
‘Given it would take time, we would have the problem of supply,’ added Ildiger.
‘All of this is true, but what I require from you is open support for my own inclinations, which is to accept the Goth offer.’
Flavius let that sink in; he was being open and if any had doubted why he had sent so many men and their commanders away they could be in no doubt now. It was also unnecessary to explain the politics of what he was seeking, nothing less than a full agreement to a course of action on which he had set his mind, as a means of protecting himself against future censure.
The history of the empire was replete with instances of men being successful in war being brought low at some later stage for real or perceived corruption on campaign and that was a many-headed beast that rarely had much to do with the theft of treasure. Victory always raised a man’s profile, which made him an automatic target for anyone either jealous or fearful that their present situation could be rendered insecure. Even if they could not bring him down they could dent his reputation.
He had made a foe of Narses, for one, and he was a man with too many connections to treat lightly. The old eunuch would not be alone in a city where Flavius knew he already had enemies, even if such people never revealed themselves. A smile and warm greeting in the corridors of the imperial palace was not to be taken at face value; it could just be the prelude to an accusation of malfeasance.
‘I see the Goths as humbled. To fight on and seek to destroy them is not in the best interests of both the empire and the Emperor. So I propose to accept the offer of surrender and enter Ravenna under truce, sparing the Goths any blood as I spare the men I lead. If any here think that unwise or contrary to my instructions say so now.’
There were any number of exchanged looks before the nodding began, that followed by vocal acceptance.
‘Good, I will ask my secretary to prepare a document to which we will all append our signatures and our seals. If that offends anyone’s sense of honour I ask your forgiveness, but hope that you will see the need.’
Once that was prepared and signed Flavius sent word to Witigis, still the Goth leader, saying that he would accept the surrender of the city and enter at the head of his army within two days. That completed, the barges full of grain seized by Vitalius, which had been held back by the low water in the river, would be allowed into the city to feed a near starving population, this ensuring that the Byzantines would be welcome by the populace if not the warriors.
Given time to prepare, the Byzantine army worked hard to shine in what all saw as a victory parade, one not dissimilar to that which might one day follow down the Triumphal Way in Constantinople. Every bit of finery owned by every soldier would be on display and that went too for their general, who wore his finest armour and rode his most handsome horse.
His place was ahead of the open-sided palanquin in which sat a superbly attired Antonina, insisting on her right to give precedence only to her husband and not his officers or men. It was a sorrow to Flavius if not to her that Photius was absent from this moment, galling that behind his wife rode Theodosius, who had put not one jot of effort into the campaign but seemingly spent his time both in North Africa and Italy fleecing the locals and filling his coffers, albeit in a quasi-legal fashion.
The Goth nobles had gathered before the Roman palace built by the Emperor Honorius to greet their conqueror and, for many included in the conspiracy, they hoped their future ruler. In the latter they were to be disappointed: following on from the formal handing over of the keys of the city, the first thing they were told was that his loyalty to his own ruler and the empire transcended anything else that could be gifted to him.
That declaration set up loud objections; had Flavius not promised their envoys of his intention to accede to their offer of the kingship? Equally of interest was the expression this engendered on the faces of his senior commanders, all finding out for the first time that such a proposal had even been advanced. The most telling was that of Procopius, who could not keep off his face a thunderous look, there to indicate his feeling of a personal betrayal.
There were Goths present prepared to react with violence and they had to be restrained by their more sober comrades. The men Flavius led had already set about disarming their foes and here, within the audience chamber of the old palace, the man who had repudiated what they thought had been a commitment was surrounded by his personal bodyguards in numbers that would do nothing other than produce a massacre.
‘There were fears that your assembled would be sent to Constantinople as captives. That, I assure you, will not happen.’
‘Are your assurances worth anything, Flavius Belisarius?’
‘Yes, Witigis, they are, but I require that those who have homes elsewhere disperse. If they do not, I must confine them as I am obliged to do to you.’
‘Is that what I am now?’ Witigis asked. ‘A prisoner?’
‘An honoured one who will be treated with respect.’
‘Our treasury, which you led us to believe would be safe?’
‘How many talents of gold do you think Justinian has expended in Italy? Is it not the misfortune of war that the loser must forfeit what they own to offset that? If I left it in your hands I would as well leave my head along with it. I would soon be accused of harbouring it for myself.’
Ennes stepped forward to take charge of Witigis, who was escorted to a set of the old imperial apartments. The guard commander already had his instructions to treat the Goth leader with respect and to ensure that whatever comfort could be provided for him be made available. Flavius, once his audience had dispersed, made his way to the part of the palace once occupied by Theodoric.
If he was not a Goth king he was yet the ruler of that leader’s old patrimony and one of his duties would be to visit the great mausoleum built to hold the great man’s remains, this being a personal inclination to honour Theodoric’s memory as well as a politic act to impress the inhabitants.
Behind the army came the instrument that would control the fate of the city: Procopius and his numerous clerks, along with priests who would rededicate churches that had been used in the Arian rite back to an observance of proper Roman Christianity, albeit instructions had been issued that they be tolerant of religious differences.
If Flavius had faced the Goths without any conscience, that did not extend to his secretary, who plainly felt betrayed though he held in his feelings until a whole raft of matters had been dealt with, orders issued to military commanders and various officials regarding the governance of the city. Knowing what was coming, once they were alone, Flavius got his reasoning in quickly.
‘I did not swear to accept.’
‘Then why give the impression that you had?’
‘You can ask that in the one-time residence of a Roman emperor? I have Ravenna without having to fight to gain it. My soldiers are, as we speak, taking control of the provinces to the north without spilling a single drop of blood. I have brought to an end nearly five years of conflict.’