There was one obvious undercurrent: any relaxation would only be considered and maintained if he showed a true appreciation of the manifest attributes of his wife. Tempted to list them as disloyalty, deceit and infidelity, added to a conceit that allowed for no self-appraisal, Flavius held his tongue and if part of him knew that to be craven he sensed he was close to a prize worth his silence.
‘In order that you know I bear you no ill will, and in appreciation of my good friend your wife, I have agreed that your daughter Ioannina should be betrothed to a member of the imperial family.’
That caused Flavius to look at Antonina; Theodora was talking of a girl he had barely seen since birth, both through being away at war and his marital estrangement. It made him feel ashamed that he had no real knowledge of her and given his wife looked so pleased by the pronouncement all he could do was offer a feeble thanks.
‘My husband has demanded to see you.’
‘I am, as always, his to entirely command.’
Despite the sincerity with which that was imparted, Theodora could not help but look at him with suspicion to see if he was once more mocking her.
‘I would point out to you, Flavius, that whatever privileges you allotted to yourself previously when addressing the Emperor no longer hold. He will talk, you will listen and if you speak, confine yourself to the mere answering of his enquiries.’
‘And when am I to attend upon him?’
‘You may wait outside his private chamber and you will be summoned.’
It pleased Flavius that Justinian did not intend to haul him before an open meeting of his counsel in the audience chamber. This would, he was sure, have led to a humiliating listing of his supposed crimes, just so the Emperor could then appear wise, benign and merciful. Much of such gatherings were constrained by ritual and theatricality as the Emperor sought to demonstrate his sagacity, this while being fawned on by people who privately, if the rumours were true, thought him of little worth.
Attendance had been blessedly rare, Flavius being too often on campaign to be included in meetings in which too little was ever resolved and time was wasted by the courtiers in making statements, either self-aggrandising or in defamation of their rivals. The only joy was when two men in conflict for some well remunerated service were simultaneously present; neither could be open in either ambition or condemnation and for an uninvolved observer their manoeuvrings and sophistries had some value as entertainment.
The anteroom, apart from the two Excubitors guarding the inner chambers, was empty. It was also lacking in anywhere to sit, which obliged Flavius to pace back and forth, the only interruption being when the door was opened to allow one of Justinian’s more intimate advisors to depart. Finally the magister officiorum exited, to favour Flavius with a surprised look. Moments after his departure a servant emerged to beckon him in, staying without himself.
The interior was lit by dozens of candles and if the room had windows they were so heavily draped as to be of no account. Was the form of light to flatter a man who wished to disguise the ravages of both his recent disease and increasing age? The way Justinian was pacing back and forth, very few steps back and forth at a hurried pace, took Flavius back to a time when both were young; even then he had been a restless soul who gave the impression of a mind in permanent turmoil.
‘You may sit,’ was the rasping introduction, ‘though God knows I should have you branded with red-hot irons.’
‘Would that be to satisfy your conscience or to trouble mine?’
That stopped the pacing and got the still standing Flavius a glare, made more hostile due to the light and the shadows it cast. Outside Flavius had been afforded time to think and he had concluded that to grovel to Justinian would be useless. Was it possible, given the information he had been fed by his wife, that the Emperor believed a man who named him a friend had set out to usurp him?
There was no point in seeking to guess at such a problem; he needed to convince Justinian that such accusations were false and the one thing that might bend his mind to even a hint of truth was for someone who had always challenged him to miss an opportunity of doing so now. Whatever else he must face, Justinian had to be presented with the Flavius Belisarius he knew.
‘You deny your transgressions?’
‘I deny wishing for your passing. Had God seen fit to reject my prayers for your recovery I would have acted as I always have.’
‘Don’t tell me, Flavius,’ came the mocking response. ‘For the good of the empire.’
‘A duty which falls daily to both of us.’
‘I see your tongue has not been stilled by your recent travails.’
‘I have learnt to be more skilful with certain people but I cannot change the way I address you. If I am required to do that I would rather you dismiss me from your presence and allow me to return to being ignored.’
‘For the love of God, Flavius, sit down!’
‘Why am I here?’
‘You are here because I want you here.’
‘Want or need? Did you really believe I would betray you?’
‘Why not?’ came the weary response. ‘Everyone else seems bent on doing so. Not a week goes by when I do not hear of some attempt to topple me.’
Conspiracies all brought to you by your wife, Flavius thought; it was not a politic thought to express. There was also something in the way Justinian had responded that indicated that he knew the notion of his rebelling had to be nonsense; the man who had turned down the crown of the Goths? He had been ill, probably near death’s door, which had left Theodora in total control. Would Justinian have believed a word of the accusations if he had been hale?
When Flavius finally sat down, Justinian came close enough to allow the features to be studied and the ravages of what he had gone through were there to see: hollow cheeks, eyes that were embedded in deep sockets, and given he was wearing a silken cowl, it had to be assumed he had suffered the kind of severe hair loss Flavius had witnessed in his surviving soldiers. That explained the candlelight in the middle of the day.
‘Admit you needed to be reminded of your place?’ All that got was a nod; there would never be a verbal admission of guilt but it seemed enough to satisfy Justinian who laid a hand on his shoulder and pronounced. ‘Your sequestration is over, Flavius. I require you to go to Italy.’
‘If you intend to reinstate me, let me go back to Dara and with everything I enjoyed in terms of rank.’
‘Italy is where you are needed and as to reinstatement, well …’ The pause was followed by a sigh. ‘Martinus has only recently been named as magister militum per Orientem. Can you not see it impossible to strip him of that or to recall him when he is properly carrying out his duties and is fully engaged in manoeuvring against Khusrow?’
‘You have the power to do as you wish.’
That changed the imperial tone markedly. ‘It seems I do not have the power to command you!’
There was no choice but to succumb and what followed was a description of how dire matters were in the Italian Peninsula where the various Byzantine generals seemed content to remain in whatever towns and cities they held, making no effort to combine against Totila. Flavius was to be restored to a senior military command and had the promise that his wealth, now in the possession of Theodora, would be returned, a promise only kept in part, since she subsequently gave part of it to Justinian and he saw no reason to decline such a gift.
Equally disquieting was the insistence by Theodora that Antonina once more accompany him, no doubt to fulfil the same purpose she had previously performed: namely to keep the Empress fully informed of her husband’s actions and statements, which, in the case of the latter, with Flavius now being very guarded, she would probably have to invent.
What he could not have was his previous title or his old comitatus, now in the service of other commanders, men who had paid large sums for their service. When he asked for soldiers, especially bucellarii, that too was hardly forthcoming in any great number. Unknown to Flavius as he set out from Constantinople, along the Via Egnatia, at the head of no more than a thousand men, was that he was heading for years of frustration, mainly due to the lack of effective fighting men, but also because he had, in Totila, an opponent who had learnt from him.