Theodora would do likewise but more tellingly, without Justinian to restrain her, she would be swift to kill off anyone she thought threatened her ability to continue to rule. If imperial authority ever seemed arbitrary there were checks on a monarch’s power making it dangerous to alienate too many potential adversaries.
Justinian had known that, which is why his reforms, though effective, had moved at the pace of a snail. His wife would not be so restrained and that had the potential to throw the whole polity into something akin to a civil war. Quite apart from the obvious bloodletting of internal dissension, Khusrow would be quick to take advantage and he might, in an interregnum, be granted the chance to conquer at will.
‘It was unanimous, Flavius. In the case of an imperial vacancy the Army of the East will support your candidacy.’
‘Officers of the Army of the East,’ Flavius responded, his caution plain.
‘We do not need to ask the soldiers. They will acclaim you as soon as they hear that Justinian is no more. And who do you think can stand in Constantinople against the only high-ranking person who can walk the street unescorted and be cheered by the populace for doing so?’
‘The devil is in your very words, Bouzes. If Justinian is no more?’
‘How many survive the plague?’
‘Some do and he will have the best attention a man can be granted. Perhaps he will even have divine aid.’
That got a jaundiced look from Bouzes; to him, Justinian was more likely to seek that from Satan than God. ‘I ask that you enter the tent now, Flavius, so that you can see the temper of those you lead.’
‘I am weary, Bouzes, and for reasons other than merely too much time spent on horseback.’
‘Your officers are waiting to acclaim you as their emperor.’
Bouzes was clearly frustrated but he was up against the immovable force of one who was not inclined to act when uncertain, either as a general or a man. ‘A night of sleep and contemplation will alter little.’
‘Can I say to them that the notion is not one you entirely reject?’
It was Ravenna all over again to Flavius and he knew Bouzes was right. On the assumption Justinian had died, Theodora would have to be thwarted and he was the man best placed to do it. Once more he had to find an answer that satisfied without making a commitment.
‘Should that come to pass which we fear, I will not shirk my duty, wherever that takes me. Tell our comrades that.’
Solomon had proceeded straight to Flavius’s own quarters and got ready a deep tub of hot water in which his master could bathe off the grime of his day’s travels, this after several cups of wine chilled by mountain ice. Sat in that, with more water being added at intervals, he had much to contemplate and it was doubly depressing that he lacked the company of Photius, with whom he could at least speculate out loud. Not that his stepson would urge caution; quite the reverse, he would be hot in favour even if it came to bloody usurpation.
Of course, if Justinian was dead and he was acclaimed as emperor – not an outcome he entirely thought of as welcome – then Photius could be brought back to Constantinople as a free man, his crimes forgiven. That led to thoughts of Antonina; how would she react to her husband being elevated and how would that test her loyalty to Theodora? Would their positions be reversed?
‘Magister!’
The gentle shake from Solomon brought him out of a deep slumber and a lubricious dream in which he had assumed the purple and surrounded himself with a whole tribe of comely young concubines eager to satisfy his every whim. The erection he had was not induced by fantasies of sexual gratification but by the need to relieve himself, so naked and hardly dried, he went on to the balcony to piss under a canopy of stars as well as a low moon.
Inevitably he looked to the heavens as if seeking guidance, and what hit home then was the weight of responsibility that might be placed on his shoulders. If Justinian had found it difficult to rule with ease, how much more so would he? That he had no desire for the office meant little, for if he shied away from his responsibilities to the empire that could bring on chaos as factions fought for power.
If his whole life had been dedicated to serving the empire and its ruler he would be a coward indeed if he shirked this most onerous of obligations. There in the inky sky, to his troubled mind, lay the soul of Decimus Belisarius looking down on his son and his dilemma, but of guidance there was none. Realising he had been stood for a long time after he had completed the reason for being out in the open, Flavius addressed a heartfelt plea to the place where he assumed the deity he worshipped resided.
‘‘Dear God, if you can find it in your compassion to save Justinian, I beg you do so.’
Such a plea did not obviate the need to face his officers once they assembled the next morning, and as he entered the audience chamber it seemed to him that they stiffened with a greater degree of respect than they had hitherto shown, as if they already thought they were looking at their sovereign. Even Justus, who as an imperial nephew might harbour resentments, was gazing on him with open respect, this as Bouzes stepped forward and, on receipt of a nod from Flavius, began to speak.
‘It is our belief, Magister, that a message be sent immediately to Constantinople and to the Empress Theodora to say that no candidate of hers will be acceptable to us. To also say that if she has already acted, whatever has been decided will be annulled.’
‘You do not fear that to be premature?’
‘How can it be?’ Bouzes barked. He had always been of a bellicose nature and had the physical attributes that went with it: stocky build, a square face of reddened skin and eyes that could actually flash with anger. ‘Can you not see that one of her first acts will be to kill you?’
‘You cannot know that.’
‘If she wishes to live herself, then she will feel she must.’
A murmur of agreement followed that statement, which had Flavius holding up his hand. ‘Let me speak, my friends, please?’
That was sophistry; they had assembled for the sole purpose of hearing him and Bouzes was not the only one seemingly frustrated at what was seen to be prevarication. They wanted Flavius to declare himself, not for his sake but for their own. Like all men, they craved certainty and added to that there would be no lack of ambition; an Emperor Flavius would elevate those he trusted.
‘We know that Justinian is afflicted just as I know, that like me, in your nightly prayers, you begged that he should recover.’
It was hard not to be amused at the differing reactions that engendered; there would be those present who had entered such pleas on the mere grounds of Christian convention, perhaps even one or two who wholeheartedly meant it. At the opposite end of the spectrum would be the men who saw the elevation of their general as a chance for personal advancement. A recovery of his full health by Justinian was not one to entice them to genuine prayer. What Flavius had to disguise was his own reaction to their confusion.
‘But know this. Should God not grant such a dispensation, I will not stand by to see the office of emperor filled by convenience.’
‘You will act?’ Bouzes demanded, on behalf of them all.
‘For the sake of the empire. Now, first we must send a carefully worded despatch back to the capital and the Empress, with a plea for the recovered health of her husband but also with the counsel that no precipitate act should be contemplated.’
‘Tell them you will put yourself forward, Magister,’ cried Justus loudly.
Was that too eager, an attempt to deflect any suspicion of personal ambition? Flavius thought not; the look that accompanied the words was too genuine.
‘There is no need to state the obvious, Justus. Theodora does not lack for brains. She will know that the consequences of seeking to retain power might end badly for her and will value her life above everything.’