Had he known what his stepson was up to, Flavius would have been even more concerned but that he did not find out until he was in the capital. Photius, who harboured no illusions about the behaviour of his mother or the transgressions of her paramour, had gone to Ephesus with a party of soldiers and abducted Theodosius before taking him to the winter quarters of the bucellarii where he was thrown into a prison cell.
His other act was to strip the miscreant of the monies he had so assiduously collected, a fortune distributed amongst the troops as a present not from him but from their general. That accomplished, he then followed his orders and travelled to Constantinople.
‘I am at a loss to know how you can treat your wife so, Flavius Belisarius. Your actions are those more suited to a barbarian than the Roman you soundly profess yourself to be.’
‘I would wish to hear from you what you think of her behaviour, Highness?’
Theodora bristled at his tone, but Flavius was determined that in matters matrimonial she had limited rights of interference. She had received him in a room normally the preserve of the most intimate discussions involving her husband and his closest advisors, exchanges of the kind that never went beyond these four walls.
Flavius had been here many times before but never alone with the Empress and he surmised that the location was part of the message she wished to send to him: that whatever she decided would be approved of by Justinian.
Despite several requests, his emperor had refused to receive him, startling behaviour given he was denying audience to his most senior military commander, which left Flavius to conclude that if Justinian was adept at embroiling himself in conspiracies he was equally adroit at staying out of those he considered too challenging, and the marital problems of his general would fall into that category.
‘As a woman I have perhaps a better understanding of Antonina than you.’
‘While I will openly admit to having very little understanding at all.’
Sensing her about to respond Flavius spoke quickly to cut her off; he had no desire to hear excuses from her lips, any more than he wanted to be once more exposed to the lies of his wife.
‘I also feel, Highness, that these are matters of which no other person need concern themselves.’
‘You deny me the right to support my friend?’
‘Support her by all means, but not to me.’
He had the sense that Theodora was slightly thrown by the vehemence of his contention. Just like her husband, she was so accustomed to deference that for anyone to take a high tone against her caused discomfort and it would be doubly the case with him, given he had ever been careful of her self-regard. Discomfited she might be but that did not last; with a flare of her nostrils and a loud explosion of air she soon reasserted herself.
‘Have a care how you talk to me, Magister! There are people in the dungeons below our feet who have cause to regret such an error.’
‘If you feel incarceration is what I deserve, then I invite you to call for your guards.’
Theodora was a quick thinker; she could not have ensnared Justinian without her sharp wits and certainly she would never have maintained her imperial estate without a keen nose for pitfalls. For the first time since her marriage Flavius was daring her to act in a way towards him that could only rebound badly, and the pause before her response was evidence that she got the point he was making.
Power she had, but so, because of his popularity amongst the citizenry and especially the soldiery, had he. Was he not famed for his loyalty and honesty? It was common knowledge now that he turned down a chance of independent power. If that provided only a measure of protection, in this case it was enough.
Imprison him on a whim and there would be grumbling in the streets, catcalls from the crowd in the Hippodrome, and for all both of them knew, much more. She had enough experience of the febrile politics of the metropolis not to set hares running without any idea where they would go.
‘I have too much regard for Antonina to send the man to whom she is wedded to prison.’
The Empress turned her back to him then, he surmised to avoid him seeing the fact that she thought the excuse as feeble as did he. Added to that, Theodora needed to compose herself and get back her regal posture, which required several deep breaths before she again faced him.
‘Do not assume I have no sympathy for the problem you face, Flavius.’
If the given name was meant to relax him it had the opposite effect, but it seemed politic to say nothing.
‘I have already alluded to my sex and that grants me insights denied even to the most astute of men. Antonina has reached an age in which the sentiments that have sustained her and made her the person she is are cast into doubt. If I was to say I have had cause to share the same, I would hope you would understand.’
‘I will readily admit to being mystified by the working of the female mind.’
That got a nod from Theodora, being for the first time a tactful response, followed by the kind of slight smile that to a man is part sympathy and part despair at what women see as blindness. Flavius recognised it because he had been exposed to it so many times. It was often employed by Antonina.
‘I think you would acknowledge that your wife was once very beautiful.’
‘As were you, Highness.’
That changed her expression once more to a frown; was it a compliment or a barb to a woman equally past her prime? But Theodora was intent on making a point and nothing Flavius said was going to deflect her.
‘We look in the polished silver and see the ravages of time, Flavius, and that induces a concern that never affects men. The vision of what we see, allied to the feelings that causes, makes us ask questions of ourselves. Are we still the object of admiration or do those who might have once flattered us look through to lay eyes on a younger, more comely countenance?’
‘I have never given Antonina cause to think that.’
‘There, you show your lack of understanding. It is not what you say or do that matters.’ She tapped her head very gently. ‘Everything to do with these concerns is in here, where you cannot see.’
‘God can see,’ Flavius snapped.
Her response was equally sharp. ‘Yes, he can, and do not doubt his forgiveness. We are all sinners, Flavius, you included, and it shows an arrogance I scarcely credited I could apply to you that you do not share such grace.’
‘I would consider it presumptuous to do so.’
‘Then perhaps allow yourself to be advised by one closer to the celestial than you.’
The temptation to say that Theodora was bordering on blasphemy was acute, but then Flavius had to remind himself that those who occupied the imperial throne might think of themselves as semi-divine. Certainly they were treated as such by their courtiers and servants, even sometimes by the mob that hailed them when they entered their box in the Hippodrome.
‘Yet there is another consideration,’ she added, adopting a look of deep concern. ‘The happiness of my good companion.’
There was no point in alluding to his happiness or misery, Theodora would care naught for that.
‘In addition, we cannot have the man tasked with defending our polity publically at odds with his wife. It is not only unseemly, it is dangerous to the throne.’
‘Are you suggesting I condone her behaviour to save the blushes of you and your husband?’
Taint by association was the point of that remark but it was an unsayable one to make too plain. No matter, she knew what he meant. Talk of imperial debauchery was the stuff of much gossip and that would only be fanned if the Belisarius marriage was added to the mix.
‘What you suppose to be her misdemeanours.’