"They still make human sacrifices..." ~ How Christian were the 6th century Franks, anyway?

Merovingian Frankish warriors looking especially fierce in this fanciful 19th century engraving.

The nation of the Franks are well known today as the progenitors of modern France, as well as the barbarian nation that most readily and ardently embraced Catholicism. As Saint Avitus of Vienne shows in his letter to King Clovis upon the latter’s baptism in AD 496, the subject Christian Romans placed great hopes in the conversion of the Frankish king and his court, and the event was an occasion of great joy. This was particularly true given Clovis’s previous history as a ruthless conqueror who defeated and dissolved the last remnant of Western Roman power in Gaul, the so-called Kingdom of Soissons under Syagrius a mere 10 years prior in AD 486.

But spiritual rebirth and cultural metamorphosis doesn’t happen overnight. And for the Franks, some old habits were hard to break.

In Belisarius, Book III, Rome the Eternal, there is a scene where a tremendous Frankish army under the Merovingian King Theudibert marches across a bridge at Ticinum (modern day Pavia) over the Po River into Italy, Brushing aside the demand of the Gothic commander that they treat before crossing, the Franks make it obvious from the start that they have not come to be allies of the Goths. The Gothic commander faced with this situation is Uraias, the nephew of Vittiges, the Gothic King. He rushes to the bridge and is horrified by what he witnesses there:

By the time Uraias arrived at Ticinum two hours later, about twenty thousand Franks had already crossed the ancient bridge over the Padus. “I ordered you to hold them on the other side!” shouted Uraias at the befuddled garrison commander of Ticinum.

“But...the Franks...they would not heed,” the man replied, spreading his hands helplessly.

“O Prince! Come see what these treacherous heathens are doing!” a soldier on the walls called down.

Bounding up to the top of the wall, Uraias’s face paled in horror at the sight before him. From the battlements, he had a clear view of the practically infinite mass of Frankish warriors trudging over the bridge. They were talking, laughing, singing—every one of them leering like raptors and grinning like wolves as they crossed the river.

“Over there, O Prince. Look!”

A contingent of Franks on the near side of the river had seized a dozen women and children of the Goths. An especially large and gaudily attired Frank seemed to be uttering a strange incantation in his guttural language over the screaming captives, held by their hair on the river bank. Upon reaching the end, he and his comrades plunged their swords into the innocents and dumped their bleeding bodies into the Padus.

“Stop, you fiends! What is this? Stop at once!” cried Uraias.

“Why don’t you come and stop us if you can, miserable Goth,” one of the Franks shouted as he marched in line across the bridge. “These sacrifices are needful if we are to have a successful campaign in Italy. The gods demand the blood of innocents, and what the gods want, they shall have.”

“Bloody-minded pagans!” Uraias screamed. Then, turning to his men, he ordered: “Quick! Block the bridge. Let no more cross!”

The soldiers on the wall looked back at him as if he were a madman. None moved. “It’s too late to stop them crossing,” one man stuttered, his voice cracking.

“Then close and bar the gates! We must not allow this murderous horde into the city! Do you hear me? If we fail, then we’re all dead men!”

“Aye! That we must do!” one of the officers responded, his torpor broken by the urgency of Uraias’s voice.

Down below, the Franks marched on, their tremendous host pushing forward like a boiling tidal wave, compelling all to flee before them. [Belisarius Book III: Rome the Eternal, Chapter XXXVII]

Lest the reader think that this passage was merely some lurid fever-dream sprung from the delusional mind of the novelist, here is the passage from Procopius which inspired it:

Thus the Franks crossed the Alps which separate the Gauls from the Italians, and entered Liguria.⁠ Now the Goths had previously been vexed at the thanklessness of the Franks, on the ground that, although they, the Goths, had often promised to give up to them a large territory and great sums of money in return for an alliance, these Franks had been unwilling to fulfil their own promise in any way; but when they heard that Theudibert was at hand with a great army, they were filled with rejoicing, lifted up, as they were, by the liveliest hopes and thinking that thereafter they would have the superiority over their enemy without a battle. As for the Germans [Franks],⁠ as long as they were in Liguria, they did no harm to he Goths, in order that these might make no attempt to stop them at the crossing of the Po.

Gold solidus of Theudibert I, King of the Franks in Austrasia, AD 534-548.

 Consequently, when they reached the city of Ticinum, where the Romans of old had constructed a bridge over this river, those who were on guard there gave them every assistance and allowed them to cross the Po unmolested. But, upon getting control of the bridge, the Franks began to sacrifice the women and children of the Goths whom they found at hand and to throw their bodies into the river as the first-fruits of the war. For these barbarians, though they have become Christians, preserve the greater part of their ancient religion; for they still make human sacrifices and other sacrifices of an unholy nature, and it is in connection with these that they make their prophecies. And the Goths, upon seeing what was being done, fell into a kind of irresistible fear, took to flight and got inside the fortifications. [Procopius, History of the Wars, Book VI, xxx, 6-11]

As far as I know, this is the only mention in ancient literature of the Franks engaging in outright human sacrifice as a religious practice. That said, it is very clear from the History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours in the 6th century that the pre-Christian Franks “have always been addicted to heathen worship, and they did not know God, but made themselves images of the woods and the waters, of birds and beasts and of the other elements as well. They were wont to worship these as God and to offer sacrifice to them.” [Gregory of Tours, History of the Franks, Book II, Chapter 10]

The Franks were also extraordinarily violent in the prosecution of war, and that this tendency was only mildly muted by the acceptance of Christianity. Indeed, their warlike ferocity was perhaps only restrained with regard to respecting the possessions of the Church, and the lives of Christian clerics. When describing the aftermath of King Clovis’s successful campaign to conquer the Kingdom of Soissons, Gregory relates: “At that time many churches were despoiled by Clovis' army, since he was as yet involved in heathen error.” [Gregory of Tours, History of the Franks, Book II, Chapter 27]

Based on the above, and evidence of other Germanic nations of antiquity practicing various forms of cultic human sacrifice, we can assume that Procopius’s account of the Franks sacrificing Gothic women and children at the outset of a war was based on actual events, and was not a fanciful interpolation by the historian.

"Bravery cannot be victorious unless it is arrayed along with justice." ~ Belisarius's speech at Abydos, AD 533

"Bravery cannot be victorious unless it is arrayed along with justice."
~Belisarius

This quote is taken from an exhortation by the Roman general Belisarius in AD 533 to his troops as they set out on the great campaign to wrest north Africa from the Vandals. The setting is the beach at Abydos, a city set on a promontory projecting into the Hellespont between the Aegean Sea and the Sea of Marmara. 

Having left Constantinople by ship shortly before, Belisarius and his army had landed at Abydos to collect an additional load of cavalry mounts. Before they could set sail again, however, the wind died and left the fleet becalmed. Several days of inactivity while they waited for a fresh breeze soon created disorder in the army, and two of the federated Hun soldiers, in a state of inebriation, murdered one of their comrades. 

Annoyed at the disorder, and seeking to set a strong example for the rest of the expedition, Belisarius had the offenders impaled on a hill outside the camp. Some of his troops were incensed by what they considered an overly harsh punishment. Particularly upset were the Hun federates who argued that the drunken state of the malefactors should have mitigated their punishments. 

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Belisarius disagreed.

Here is the speech he gave to his army to settle the issue. It was recorded by Procopius of Caesarea, Belisarius's secretary, who was an eye-witness.

This scene is portrayed in detail in my book, Belisarius: Glory of the Romans

"If my words were addressed to men now for the first time entering into war, it would require a long time for me to convince you by speech how great a help justice is for gaining the victory. For those who do not understand the fortunes of such struggles think that the outcome of war lies in strength of arm alone. But you, who have often conquered an enemy not inferior to you in strength of body and well endowed with valor, you who have often tried your strength against your opponents, you, I think, are not ignorant that, while it is men who always do the fighting in either army, it is God who judges the contest as seems best to Him and bestows the victory in battle. Now since this is so, it is fitting to consider good bodily condition and practice in arms and all the other provision for war of less account than justice and those things which pertain to God. For that which may possibly be of greatest advantage to men in need would naturally be honored by them above all other things. 

Now the first proof of justice would be the punishment of those who have committed unjust murder. For if it is incumbent upon us to sit in judgment upon the actions which from time to time are committed by men toward their neighbors, and to adjudge and to name the just and the unjust action, we should find that nothing is more precious to a man than his life. And if any barbarian who has slain his kinsman expects to find indulgence in his trial on the ground that he was drunk, in all fairness he makes the charge so much the worse by reason of the very circumstance by which, as he alleges, his guilt is removed. For it is not right for a man under any circumstances, and especially when serving in an army, to be so drunk as readily to kill his dearest friends; nay, the drunkenness itself, even if the murder is not added at all, is worthy of punishment; and when a kinsman is wronged, the crime would clearly be of greater moment as regards punishment than when committed against those who are not kinsmen, at least in the eyes of men of sense. Now the example is before you and you may see what sort of an outcome such actions have.

But as for you, it is your duty to avoid laying violent hands upon anyone without provocation, or carrying off the possessions of others; for I shall not overlook it, be assured, and I shall not consider anyone of you a fellow-soldier of mine, no matter how terrible he is reputed to be to the foe, who is not able to use clean hands against the enemy. For bravery cannot be victorious unless it be arrayed along with justice."

Source: Procopius, History of the Wars, Book III, Chapter 12. 

What if Belisarius had accepted the Gothic offer to become Western Roman Emperor in AD 540 ~ And why he didn't

A fanciful portrait of Belisarius as Augustus of the Western Roman Empire.

I left off the previous post considering what might have happened if Belisarius had accepted the imperial diadem of the Western Empire when it was offered to him at the end of the first war in Italy in AD 540. Could he have remained on the throne? How would Justinian have reacted? Did Belisarius have the diplomatic and administrative skills to manage the Western Empire? Would his men have remained loyal to him and willing to advance his military goals abroad?

In a best-case scenario that's perhaps not too far-fetched, the answer is yes, Belisarius could certainly have ruled successfully as Western Roman Emperor. The Goths were not only accepting of him, but positively enthusiastic for him to rule them. The core of the Roman army in Italy was made up of his household troops, some 7,000 strong. It's hard to imagine that these elite soldiers would not have remained loyal to the commander who had recruited and trained them. And Belisarius was known to be extraordinarily generous toward his men. Some of the imperial troops and their commanders—men like John the Nephew of Vitalian, Aratius and his brother Narses—would have been reluctant to go along. But future events would prove that these men were all flawed as commanders, unable to work in tandem and largely unloved by the men serving under them. Belisarius would have either received their pledges of loyalty, offered them a one-way ticket back to Constantinople, or quelled them and their forces if they attempted to resist.

For his part, Justinian would not have attacked Italy, certainly not immediately. As mentioned in the previous post, the emperor was at that time facing a very dire threat from Chosroes who had marched the Persian army into the Roman eastern provinces. In fact, by the time Belisarius arrived back in Constantinople, Chosroes had sacked Antioch, the fourth largest metropolis of the empire, leading away tens of thousands of captives which he would settle in a city he built for them called "Better-than-Antioch." Though Justinian would have been rightfully furious over the betrayal of Belisarius, he wouldn't have been able to do anything about it until Belisarius's position in Italy was solidified and made permanent. Most likely, Justinian would have instructed his diplomatic corps to make a virtue of necessity, and initiate friendly relations with the new Western Emperor to ensure there was peace on the western frontier while he dealt with the Persian menace.

Where Emperor Belisarius and Justinian would likely have come into conflict was over Africa. Once news reached Africa of Belisarius's accession to the Western Empire, it is not unlikely that the Africans would have declared for Belisarius. After all, Africa was traditionally a Latin-speaking province of the West. Its fertile crops had supplied Rome with wheat for centuries. Beyond that, it had been the brilliant deeds of Belisarius five years before that liberated Africa from the Vandals. More recently, he had again saved Africa from a dangerous mutiny of the garrison army that Justinian had left unpaid. The fact that Solomon, the governor of Africa in AD 540, was once a member of Belisarius's household tends to seal the deal. Once again, if Africa had switched its loyalty to Belisarius in AD 540, there's not much Justinian could have done to prevent it given his preoccupation with the Persians.

Considering his strategic genius, it's not impossible that Belisarius would have been able to extend Roman power into the former provinces, particularly those which retained significant Roman population centers. Given the disparate units that he managed to command successfully in his own household guard: Illyrian and Thracian Romans, Isaurians, Huns, Heruls, etc., he would have had little difficulty commanding the Gothic army. I suspect that the Goths would have been downright eager to learn and master the tactics of the man who had defeated them. With a reconstituted and re-tooled Gothic grand army built around a core of his magnificently trained household troops, Belisarius would have had a force powerful enough to face the Visigoths or Franks in the open field. He likely would have pressed Gothic claims in Septimania—a region of southern Gaul that the Ostrogoths had unwillingly ceded to the treacherous Frankish king, Theudibert, during the Italian war. However, given the prostration of Italy which was still recovering from famine, and the incipient waves of plague which had begun sweeping across the Mediterranean world beginning in AD 542, it's hard to imagine Roman arms making much more progress in the West. Perhaps he would have found some limited success in Spain as Justinian did later.

In Books II and III of my series of novels, I have Belisarius himself offer some counter arguments—conflicts that could have turned the speculative reign of Belisarius into a disaster. In both cases, it is Belisarius's ambitious wife, Antonina, who plays the role of devil's advocate. 

In Glory of the Romans, Antonina tempts Belisarius to view himself in the role of king after his defeat of the Vandals. Belisarius's reaction is forceful and immediate:

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     [Antonina] moved in close to her husband until she whispered in his ear. “Every day, you enter the Vandal palace and sit on the throne to administer Carthage. And every day, I see you and think to myself: what a magnificent king he would make.”
     His eyes wide with horror, Belisarius pulled away from Antonina with a jerk as if she had touched his face with a red-hot iron poker.
     “Antonina,” he finally gasped. “I will forget that such words ever escaped your lips.”
     Undaunted, she closed with him and put her mouth again close to his ear. “Why not? You are a hero in this place. You have a mighty army and a fleet. And Africa is rich! No one could touch us. We would be free!”
     “Free,” he stammered, holding her away from him. “Free you say? You would make me a king while I live, but upon my death, I shall be a slave chained in the lowest depths of hell. Is that the fate you wish for me?”
     Now it was Antonina’s turn to be surprised by Belisarius’s vehemence.
     “I took an oath, wife!” he growled, keeping his voice down lest anyone hear. “Without my oath, what good am I to anyone? An oath-breaker is the most despicable of all men. A betrayer I would be, no better than Judas. And worse, to break an oath made before God? It is unthinkable! May I be struck dead before I ever do such a thing!”
     Antonina stood back aghast. She had gravely miscalculated.
     “Justinian is my lord here on earth, Antonina. I will never betray him. Never! Even if he stripped me of all rank, title, and wealth. Even if he deprived me of my very life! He is the God-protected emperor. Any authority I have comes through him. Were I to defy my emperor, what right would I have to claim the loyalty of the men under me?”
     “Forgive me, husband,” Antonina muttered, ashamed.
     Belisarius continued as if he hadn’t heard her: “I would have no claim on their loyalty. They would defy me as I defied my lord. And they would be right to do so for I would have shown myself to be a contemptible scoundrel and worse—a liar, a betrayer, and a murderer of the truth.”

This scene is meant to portray Belisarius's steadfast loyalty to Justinian as well has his devotion to the truth as a Christian. It should be recalled that in Book I, Belisarius willingly took an oath over the Sacrament of the Altar to be loyal to Justinian unto death. That scene was meant to correspond with the statement from Procopius featured in the previous post to the effect that Belisarius "had been bound by the emperor previously with most solemn oaths."

In this next scene taken from Rome the Eternal, Antonina, attempts to persuade her husband to take the imperial power once he has the Goths on the point of capitulation. Belisarius presents her with his reasons why he will not do so. Considering the later criticisms of Belisarius for his uxoriousness, perhaps these reasons are persuasive, not necessarily because he bows to her will—he doesn't—but because he cares more about what might happen to her than to attaining power and glory:

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     “If you achieve this victory—and let us admit that the situation shows every indication of resolving in our favor—your name will be mentioned among the most brilliant generals in history,” Antonina quipped, as she quaffed her cup of honeyed wine. “Constantine. Pompey. Even Alexander. Have you considered that? Belisarius the Great. It rolls right off the tongue.”
     Belisarius snorted. Though he was reading over reports from his garrison commanders in southern Italy, he was attentive to every word his wife said.
     “What? Is not the conquest of two immensely powerful barbarian nations something worthy of mention in the annals of history? Procopius certainly thinks so.”
     “You know very well that I do not fight for fame or glory,” Belisarius replied, looking up from his reading.
     “Yes, yes. And not for power, wealth, or from an inordinate lust for battle,” Antonina groused impatiently. “I know all that. You fight for Justinian, because he commands you to. But just once, I wish you would fight for yourself. Or, God forbid, for me.”
     “We’ve had this conversation before,” said Belisarius, his face grave. “You already know my answer.”
     “I do. And the answer is ludicrous,” Antonina said, meeting his gaze. “I see how the Gothic ambassadors regard you, how they address you, how they respect you, admire you. These are men who value nothing more than strength, both of character and of the right arm. You have both in abundance. If you but said the word, the nobles of the Goths would cast that feeble dotard Vitiges off his throne and put you...that is, they would follow you. Then, with your biscuit-eaters and the swords of all the Goths behind you, no one in the world could command you.”
     “And as I said to you once before, no honorable man would follow a general who did what you propose,” Belisarius replied with mounting frustration. “What’s more, you do not know what you are asking.”
     “How so?” Antonina said. “I’m not an idiot, you know.”
     “I never suggested that you were, my love,” Belisarius softened. “But let us play out your ambitious scheme a bit. Let us assume that the Goths depose Vitiges and elevate me in his place. And I, shattering all bonds of loyalty, accept their acclamations. And ignoring this act of perfidy, my army supports the claim and allows me to sit in security upon a throne in Italy. Have you thought about what happens next?”
     Antonina smiled, her eyes glistening with avarice. “Yes. You rule brilliantly, and I rule beside you as your consort as Theodora does in Constantinople.”
     “No, my dearest,” Belisarius said, a little sadly. “Within a month, my subjects will notice that I have but one child—a girl-child who resides in the East within easy reach of the Emperor and Empress. You don’t expect that our Joannina will be allowed to leave and join her traitorous parents, do you?”
     “That is of no concern,” Antonina whispered urgently. “I have agents in Byzantium who could spirit her away before anyone in the palace knew.”
     “For their part, the Goths will not accept Photius,” Belisarius continued in the same tone.
     “Why not? He is your son...”
     “They will see him as your son, not mine,” Belisarius declared. “They will demand a natural son to be my heir. For them, blood is of paramount importance. Do you begin to understand? They will encourage, cajole, wheedle, and threaten me to put you away and marry another woman—a younger woman—who will bear me sons. Recall how they have treated Amalasuntha and her son? How they have treated Matasuntha, though she is the granddaughter of Theodoric? Most likely, they will declare Matasuntha’s marriage to Vitiges annulled, seeing how the vows were made under duress. They will urge me to set you aside and marry her. And considering I have already broken my sacred oath to Justinian, sundering my marriage vow would be a comparatively small thing.”
     Antonina smiled. “There is only one problem with your scenario,” she said seductively, moving her lips toward his ear. “Justinian doesn’t love you as I do.” With her perfectly manicured fingers, she caressed his beard. “You will never set me aside. I have no anxiety. What’s more, do not doubt my ability to handle threats to us. I shall work upon the Gothic nobles, playing one off against the other, arranging advantageous marriages for their sons. I have no fear of court intrigue, for if you make me a queen, I will hold to my diadem with a death-grip every bit as tight as that of my mentor, Theodora.”
     Belisarius sighed, not unkindly, and kissed her. Then, rising to his feet, he gave her hand a squeeze and smiled affectionately. “I have no doubt you were born to be a queen, my love.” Collecting his papers, he made his way toward the door. “But unfortunately, you have married a mere soldier.”

So in the end, it seems likely that Belisarius could have had a long and successful reign as Western Roman Emperor—and it's very likely that he knew that the political and military situation was favorable to him—but he refused the imperial diadem for three reasons:

1. Because he would not transgress the solemn oath he took to Justinian.
2. Because he would not transgress the solemn oath he took to his wife. 
3. Because he was a devout Christian and to him, the keeping of oaths was more important than glory in this world.

If the above reasons are correct, Belisarius becomes a rather rare bird in human history. And we can more easily understand why the Gothic nobles were so utterly flabbergasted when Belisarius ended up leaving Ravenna and rejecting the greatest office in human history: Emperor of the Romans.

"They reproached him as a breaker of promises, calling him a slave by his own choice." ~ Belisarius declines the throne of the Western Empire, AD 540

Belisarius hit the Goths with a major plot-twist in AD 540.

Everyone knows that the Western Roman Empire formally ended in AD 476 when Odoacer deposed the boy-emperor Romulus Augustulus. Or was it AD 480, when the exiled Western Emperor Julius Nepos was assassinated? Or was it in AD 486 when the Roman general Syagrius was defeated by Clovis, King of the Franks, and his outpost of Roman rule in northwestern Gaul was absorbed into the Frankish Kingdom? 

No matter which date is attached to it, the Western Empire had certainly assumed room temperature by AD 493, even if the Eastern Emperor in Constantinople kept up the fiction that the Ostrogoths under Theodoric the Great ruled Italy and Dalmatia as his viceroys. 

But something strange happened about fifty years later in AD 540. A serious effort was made to revive the Western Roman Empire, and if not for the loyalty and devotion of one man, it may have happened.

Regular readers of this blog have seen my frequent posts about war in Italy launched by Justinian beginning in AD 536 (see here, here, here, and here). This war of reconquest was a long, grinding affair which included long sieges of Neapolis (Naples), Rome, Ariminum (Rimini), and Ravenna. The Goths began the war with a significant advantage in both men and morale, only to be methodically worn down by Justinian's Master of Soldiers, Belisarius. By spring of AD 540, Belisarius and his reinforced Roman army had King Vittigis and the remnant of the Gothic forces trapped in Ravenna. 

Considering the scale of the reverses the Goths had suffered, they had no confidence left in their poorly-chosen king, and were ready to talk peace. For his part, Justinian was also ready to talk peace. The Persians under Chosroes I had crossed the frontier and had invaded Roman Mesopotamia, penetrating far into the Empire and threatening the cities of Syria. For Justinian, bringing the war in Italy to a rapid close was his top priority. He therefore sent ambassadors to Ravenna to negotiate an armistice which would leave the Goths in control of Italy north of the River Po, thereby forming a buffer state between Roman Italy to the south of the Po and the bellicose Franks.  

Feeling cheated of his hard-won victory in Italy, and perhaps not fully comprehending the disaster unfolding in the East, Belisarius greeted the peace overtures from Constantinople with dismay. In the words of Procopius who was an eye-witness to events in Italy:

Belisarius, upon hearing this, was moved with vexation, counting it a great calamity that anyone should prevent him from winning the decisive victory of the whole war, when it was possible to do so with no trouble, and leading Vittigis a captive to Byzantium. So when the envoys returned from Ravenna, he refused absolutely to ratify the agreement by his own signature. [Procopius, History of the Wars, Book VI, Chapter XXIX]

Belisarius's stubbornness perplexed both the Goths and the Roman ambassadors. Even his own officers were unanimous in their opinion that he should forgo the conquest of all of Italy and follow the Emperor's decision to split the country. For their part, the Goths feared a double-cross and would not accept any treaty unless it was ratified by Belisarius. 

It was at this moment that a most unexpected thing happened: someone in the Gothic court suggested that they not surrender to Justinian, but to Belisarius instead. At the same time, they would declare Belisarius Emperor and seat him upon the vacant throne of the Western Roman Empire. 

Who proposed this audacious plan? Procopius does not say. In Rome the Eternal, I put the idea into the mouth of Aurelius Cassiodorus, largely for dramatic reasons. However, it is possible if not likely that Cassiodorus played a role in this gambit. After all, he was an extremely able man with long experience navigating a dangerous course between the conservative Roman nobility and the sometimes volatile Gothic royal court. He had been Praetorian Prefect under Queen Amalasuntha, King Theodatus, and under Vittigis as well. After AD 538, he drops out of the historical record for about a decade—his official correspondence ceases during this time. His name is not found at all in the histories of Procopius. Given his political prominence, and his stature as an historian in his own right, having completed an extensive history of the Goths in the early 530s, it is certainly strange that Procopius doesn't mention him. Could there have been a bit of professional jealousy or political rivalry at work? After all, for a classicizing historian like Procopius, the greatest insult he could offer someone he disliked was to pretend he didn't exist. 

One gets a strong sense when reading Procopius's account of the Gothic offer of the Purple to Belisarius, that the historian is not telling the whole story—that he is purposely holding back some of the key details. This is likely because the topic itself was fraught with peril. If the taint of disloyalty to the emperor was attached to any individual in Procopius's retelling, it could have disastrous consequences for the person thus exposed. 

In the case of Belisarius, his legendary loyalty to the emperor and his subsequent behavior tended to immunize him from any charges of treachery. So Procopius has no difficulty describing the part in this affair played by his illustrious benefactor.

When the Goths presented their bold proposal to Belisarius, he pretended to accept. Procopius records Belisarius's true feelings as follows:

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Belisarius was quite unwilling to assume the ruling power against the will of the emperor; for he had an extraordinary loathing for the name of tyrant, and furthermore he had, in fact, been bound by the emperor previously with most solemn oaths never during his lifetime to organize a revolution; still, in order to turn the situation before him to the best advantage, he let it appear that he received the proposals of the barbarians gladly. [Procopius, History of the Wars, Book VI, Chapter XXIX]

What happened next? The Goths surrendered and Belisarius took all the necessary oaths, holding back only the oath to receive the imperial power which he said he would do when he was in Ravenna with his army. The Gothic envoys did not think this at all odd, as Procopius relates:

The envoys, thinking that he would never reject the kingship, but that he would strive for it above all other things, made not the least hesitation in urging him to come with them into Ravenna. [Procopius, History of the Wars, Book VI, Chapter XXIX]

Once inside Ravenna, Belisarius put King Vittigis under guard, disbanded the Gothic army, and proceeded to bring in provisions to feed the starving populace. He did not take any action, ceremonial or otherwise, to proclaim his reign. It wasn't long before the Gothic nobles realized that Belisarius had no intention of ruling as emperor or anything other than Justinian's Master of Soldiers. When Belisarius was summoned back to Constantinople and it became clear that he had every intention of following the emperor's command, the Goths were incensed. In a last ditch effort, they called on Belisarius to uphold his promises, as Procopius writes:

These envoys, upon coming before Belisarius, reminded him of the agreement made with them and reproached him as a breaker of promises, calling him a slave by his own choice, and chiding him because, they said, he did not blush at choosing servitude in place of the kingship. [Procopius, History of the Wars, Book VI, Chapter XXX]

Belisarius did not respond as they hoped:

He, contrary to their expectations, refused them outright saying that never, while the emperor Justinian lived, would Belisarius usurp the title of king. [Procopius, History of the Wars, Book VI, Chapter XXX]

Soon after this confrontation, Belisarius left Italy for Constantinople. Shortly thereafter, the Goths named a new king, Totila, who would be the scourge of Italy for the next decade plus.

19th century woodcut of Belisarius refusing the imperial diadem.

But questions remain. If Belisarius had accepted the diadem of the Western Roman Empire, what would have happened? Could he have remained on the throne? How would Justinian have reacted? Did Belisarius have the political and administrative acumen to rule successfully? Would he have had the military and diplomatic skill to extend Roman power beyond Italy?

Given how long this post has become, I will explore these questions in a separate post.

"Men Are by No Means Wont to Wage War According to the Judgment of their Enemies." ~ Belisarius rejects Gothic surrender terms, March AD 537

"Whoever of you has hopes of setting foot in Rome without a fight is mistaken in his judgment. For as long as Belisarius lives, it is impossible for him to relinquish this city."
~Belisarius to the Gothic envoys in AD 537.

The above quote is taken from The History of the Wars by the late-Roman historian, Procopius of Caesarea. To set the scene, envision the grand Gothic army of over 100,000 mail-clad warriors newly arrived at their camps about the walls of Rome. Within the walls, Belisarius and his paltry force of less than 6,000 men could barely defend a fraction of the total circumference of the immense circuit. The Gothic King, Vitiges, felt that victory was assured. But in order to increase the discomfiture of his opponent, the Goths sent an embassy into the city, hoping to gauge the morale of the Roman citizens, and perhaps turn some of the nobles against Belisarius. They also hold out terms for an armistice if Belisarius would only withdraw his hopelessly outnumbered army from the city.

Procopius writes:

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Vittigis, King of the Goths, hearing all this from the deserters and desiring to embroil [the Romans] with one another still more, and thinking that in this way the affairs of the Romans would be thrown into great confusion, sent to Belisarius some envoys, among whom was Albis. And when these men came before Belisarius, they spoke as follows in the presence of the Roman senators and all the commanders of the army:

"From of old, general, mankind has made true and proper distinctions in the names they give to things; and one of these distinctions is this—rashness is different from bravery. For rashness, when it takes possession of a man, brings him into danger with discredit, but bravery bestows upon him an adequate prize in reputation for valor. Now one of these two has brought you against us, but which it is you will straightway make clear. For if, on the one hand, you placed your confidence in bravery when you took the field against the Goths, there is ample opportunity, noble sir, for you to do the deeds of a brave man, since you have only to look down from your wall to see the army of the enemy. But if, on the other hand, it was because you were possessed by rashness that you came to attack us, certainly you now repent you of the reckless undertaking. For the opinions of those who have made a desperate venture are wont to undergo a change whenever they find themselves in serious straits. 

"Now, therefore, do not cause the sufferings of these Romans to be prolonged any further, men whom Theoderic fostered in a life not only of soft luxury but also of freedom, and cease your resistance to him who is the master both of the Goths and of the Italians. Is it not monstrous that you should sit in Rome hemmed in as you are and in abject terror of the enemy, while the king of this city passes his time in a fortified camp and inflicts the evils of war upon his own subjects? But we shall give both you and your followers an opportunity to take your departure forthwith in security, retaining all your possessions. For to trample upon those who have learned to take a new view of prudence we consider neither holy nor worthy of the ways of men. And, further, we should gladly ask these Romans what complaints they could have had against the Goths that they betrayed both us and themselves, seeing that up to this time they have enjoyed our kindness, and now are acquainted by experience with the assistance to be expected from you."

The response of Belisarius was, perhaps, not exactly what the Gothic envoys were expecting: 

Thus spoke the envoys. And Belisarius replied as follows: "It is not to rest with you to choose the moment for conference. For men are by no means wont to wage war according to the judgment of their enemies, but it is customary for each one to arrange his own affairs for himself, in whatever manner seems to him best. But I say to you that there will come a time when you will want to hide your heads under the thistles but will find no shelter anywhere. 

"As for Rome, moreover, which we have captured, in holding it we hold nothing which belongs to others, but it was you who trespassed upon this city in former times, though it did not belong to you at all, and now you have given it back, however unwillingly, to its ancient possessors. And whoever of you has hopes of setting foot in Rome without a fight is mistaken in his judgment. For as long as Belisarius lives, it is impossible for him to relinquish this city." 

Such were the words of Belisarius." 

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In Belisarius, Book III: Rome the Eternal, I opted to put this scene into the mouth of Albis, the Gothic envoy, as he described to his king the type of man who opposed them. He concludes his assessment of Belisarius, declaring: "In my opinion, O King, only iron and fire will serve to evict him from Rome." 

To which Vitiges replies: "Then iron and fire is what he will get."

At this early stage of the siege, Vitiges is still brimming with confidence, sure of his ultimate victory but hoping to convince Belisarius to capitulate with a modicum of effort and bloodshed. 

But within a year, the situation had completely turned around.

Though mentioned only once by Procopius, Albis plays a large role in Rome the Eternal as one of the primary strategists of Vitiges, occasionally butting heads but more frequently conspiring with Cassiodorus.

Belisarius and Procopius celebrate the defeat of the Goths at the Siege of Rome, March of AD 538 ~ An excerpt from Belisarius, Book III: Rome the Eternal

Belisarius and Procopius chat atop the Pincian Gate in Rome. 
Image created using hotpot.ai/art-generator

In March of the year AD 538, the late Roman general, Belisarius, pulled off one of the most incredible feats in military history: he successfully defended the massive city of Rome—with its 12 miles of circuit walls—with a scant 5,000 soldiers, against a vast army of Goths that outnumbered his own some 15 or 20 to 1. Indeed, by the time the Gothic King Vitiges broke up the siege after twelve frustrating months, it had become unclear which side was the besieged and which was the besieger. Unable to prevent the Romans from bringing in supplies or leaving the city in force, Vitiges found himself bogged down with a stubborn fortified city in front of him, and far flung enemy cavalry units ravaging his supply lines behind him, threatening to cut him off from his base in Ravenna.

What did Belisarius do once it became clear that the Goths were abandoning their camps and moving out? Did he allow the reduced but still tremendous force of Goths to go in peace, counting himself blessed and fortunate that the city had withstood the prolonged siege against such heavy odds? 

He did not. 

Instead, he rode out with every available man and attacked the Gothic rear-guard. 

I recorded Procopius's eye-witness account of the end of the siege in a previous post here.

Belisarius, Book III: Rome the Eternal, provides a dramatized description of this action with Belisarius's biscuit-eaters Longinus and Mundilas leading the charge. Mundilas is injured, while Longinus is killed despite amazing acts of valor. This much is recorded in Procopius's History of the Wars. I embellished the action in the novel.

Here is an excerpt from the novel, presenting a scene on the walls of Rome in the immediate aftermath of the Gothic withdrawal. In this scene, Belisarius has an opportunity to speak privately with his secretary, Procopius of Caesarea—the man who would go on to become the most important historian of the Justinianic period.

I had fun writing this scene. I hope you enjoy it!

 End of Chapter XXXI...

Belisarius secured the gatehouse at the Milvian Bridge that he had been forced to cede when the Gothic host first arrived the previous March. With that act, the great siege of Rome came to an end. Belisarius entered the city to cheering throngs, many of whom had ventured out of the gates to watch the battle from the protection of the tree line. The ecstasy of the Romans was tempered only by the arrival of a cart bearing Mundilas and Longinus—the first gravely injured, the second slain. Meeting the bereaved men of Longinus, Belisarius offered his sincere sympathy, weeping along with them without shame.

Later, Belisarius stood alone atop the Pincian Gate, for once gazing into the city, not outward toward the Gothic camps now in ashes. As the celebration continued unabated well into the night, Belisarius insisted that the gates be manned and the guards be sober, lest the Goths sneak into the city via stratagem while its inhabitants were lulled into a drunken slumber. To drive home the point, Belisarius himself kept vigil all night on the walls.

“Has the great wooden horse arrived yet, O Aeneas?” Procopius laughed. He made his way slowly and carefully up the stone steps, his tottering gait threatening to cast him fifty feet down.

“No sign of it,” Belisarius smiled, offering his secretary a strong hand up. “If you would warn me against it, though, be mindful of the fate of Laocöon. How are you at wrestling with snakes?”

“I would fare no better than the ill-fated Trojan priest, I suppose,” Procopius sighed. “I fear serpents above all things. Here, I have brought you a drink—wine mixed with honey, and a good vintage, too.”

“Though I am on duty, I accept. From any hand but yours I might demur, old friend,” Belisarius replied, recalling the recent attempt to drug the gate guards using spiked wine.

The two stood in silence as Belisarius sipped.

“Was it worth it?” Procopius intoned quietly, casting his bleary gaze over a large group of revelers carousing in the plaza below. “Was recovering this city worth the lives of Longinus and Principius and Tarmutus?”

“Don’t forget about Chorsamantis, Bochas and Cutilas,” Belisarius added. Poor Cutilas had lingered a month after suffering his gruesome head wound, only to perish of fever despite the best efforts of Theoctistus. “May Christ have mercy on their souls.” He made the sign of the cross on his forehead.

“Maxentius, Petronius and Valentine, too,” continued Procopius. “And so many other good men.”

“And Constantinus,” Belisarius added gloomily. “His unhealthy lust for plunder killed him as surely as any Gothic spear. But my answer is yes. This is the Eternal City of Rome, the birthplace of the Empire and the rampart of civilization. Had more good men been willing to give their lives to defend it in past ages, it would never have fallen under the sway of the barbarians to begin with.”

“But if too many good men die, who...who...but wicked men and weaklings will remain to defend Rome?” Procopius asked with a tipsy stammer.

“God will raise up others as He raised up this generation. That is why what you are doing is of such great import.”

“My letters to the praetorian prefect about the grain supply are pointless—irrelevant two weeks after they are written,” Procopius lamented.

“Not your letters, friend. Your history.”

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“That disorganized pile of waste paper?” Procopius replied, the wine loosening his tongue. “Alas, your words earlier today—was it really today? It feels like weeks ago—your words have put a worry into my heart. What will the ending be? Will our astounding run of blessed good fortune continue? Or will some great disaster turn the tale into an awful tragedy? Or worse, will a sequence of little disasters grind us down into abject failure. You know, when my mood turns this way, I have considered destroying all my notes and abandoning the work completely.”

“Am I truly speaking with the same man who said that he was writing a history to be read for a thousand years?” Belisarius replied in amazement. “Has our victory in the siege somehow drained your cask of optimism?”

“Even victories, it seems, come with a cost in noble lives lost that can never be replaced,” Procopius sighed. “Writing about the death of yet another hearty soul like Longinus makes me never want to write again.”

“That is not well at all,” Belisarius chided, turning deadly serious. “You must persevere and continue to write without flinching and without despair, no matter what outcome God has ordained for our campaign. For if those men died in this cause, their deaths will not be in vain if their names are recorded for posterity so that those who read in the far distant future, hundreds or thousands of years from now, may remember and admire their acts.”

“Of course, you are right,” Procopius grimaced, focusing his eyes on a bonfire burning outside the city. “The purpose of history is to give the future examples of valor to imitate and perfidy to despise. And certainly, the acts of Principius and Longinus did just that.”

“So then you will continue?” Belisarius asked, exhaling a vaporous cloud into the chilly night air.

“Yes, I will continue, Magister,” Procopius replied pensively. “Though I will pray hard that my history doesn’t devolve into a dreary chronicle of disasters and obituaries.”

“Indeed,” Belisarius nodded. “I will do my very best to make sure that you are well supplied with noble deeds and heroic victories to record.”

Procopius smiled a little sadly, but remained silent. Would that you had the power to ensure that, O Magister.

If you want to see how things turn out for Belisarius, check out Book III: Rome the Eternal which is available from Arx Publishing here, on Amazon.com here, on Amazon Kindle here, and other bookselling websites.

One should never forget about the Persians ~ The Eternal Peace between the Roman Empire and Persia is broken after 8 years

When Justinian secured the so-called "Eternal Peace" with the Persians in AD 532 after the Battle of Daras, it is likely that he realized that the peace on his eastern frontier would not actually be perpetual. But he probably thought it would last longer that seven or eight years. In any event, the emperor made the most the respite, gathering his substantial forces from the east which had previously been on station to face down the Persian menace, and readying them for a thrust to the West.

His first target was the Vandal Kingdom which had ruled Roman Africa for nearly 100 years. Squatting upon one of the richest provinces of the Empire, the Vandalic realm had been a thorn in the Romans' side. Their acts of piracy were legendary, extending even to the sack of the city of Rome itself in AD 455. The stars aligned for Justinian in AD 533. The Vandal throne was occupied by a usurper named Gelimer who was reputedly unfriendly to the Romans. Justinian furthered this instability by instigating rebellions throughout the Vandal realm, while at the same time, mustering an army under the command of his bold Master of Soldiers, Belisarius, to strike at the seat of the Vandal government in Carthage. Landing safely in Africa (a trick that previous Roman commanders had failed to accomplish) Belisarius was victorious at the Battles of Ad Decimum and Tricamarum and, having captured Gelimer, he returned to Constantinople in triumph.

Within a year of this signal victory, however, Justinian was already planning an even greater campaign. It so happened that the situation in Ostrogothic Italy was also unstable. King Athalaric, grandson of King Theodoric the Great, had perished before his time in AD 534. The rule over the Kingdom of the Goths and Italians had then passed to his mother, Queen Amalasuntha, but as the Gothic nobles could not endure a woman ruling over them, Amalasuntha accepted marriage to her cousin, a weasel of a man named Theodatus, who was then crowned king. Within several weeks of this arrangement being formalized, Amalasuntha was dead, strangled in her bath. With such a weak character on the Ostrogothic throne, Justinian decided to make his move. He assembled two more armies to menace the Goths. The first, under Mundus, was to invade Dalmatia and threaten Gothic Italy from the north. The second, under Belisarius, would land in Sicily and march up the Italian boot from the south. 

Though things did not go as smoothly as during the Africa campaign, Belisarius was able to resist the full power of the Goths at the great Siege of Rome and then chase their retreating host back to Ravenna. While Belisarius laboriously captured Gothic held fortified cities in central Italy, however, the new Gothic king, Vittiges, hit upon a strategy to relieve his beleaguered kingdom. He would send agents east to convince the Persians to end the Eternal Peace. 

For their part, the Persians had a young king who had taken the throne shortly after the Eternal Peace was originally promulgated. This man, King Chosroes I (or King Khosrow I), had now come of age, secured his kingdom, and was itching for a fight with the hated Romans. As Procopius relates, the Gothic ambassadors found willing ears for their suggestions at the Persian court:

When Chosroes heard [their arguments], it seemed to him that Vittigis advised well, and he was still more eager to break off the treaty. For, moved as he was by envy toward the Emperor Justinian, he neglected completely to consider that the words were spoken to him by men who were bitter enemies of Justinian. But because he wished the thing he willingly consented to be persuaded. [Procopius, History of the Wars, Book II, Chapter II]

Encouraged by the Gothic ambassadors, Chosroes unilaterally ended the Eternal Peace in AD 540 and invaded the Eastern provinces of the Roman Empire.

With the bulk of his forces fighting in Italy and putting down still simmering rebellions in Africa, Justinian was caught with his pants down. Chosroes and his armies burst through the frontier and began demanding ransom from the Roman cities of the east, sacking any that resisted. Meeting hardly any resistance, he besieged the city of Antioch—the fourth largest city of the Empire after Rome, Constantinople, and Alexandria—and successfully captured and looted it in June of AD 540, returning to Persia with a long train of Roman captives.

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So the moral of the story is, "Don't forget about the Persians." And perhaps it's not completely fair to accuse Justinian of forgetting about them. If one reads Procopius, it seems clear that as soon as Justinian and his court were made aware of the dangerous Gothic overture to the Persians, he attempted to bring the war in Italy to an immediate conclusion, offering the Goths a remnant of their kingdom in northern Italy in exchange for peace. 

Belisarius thought this offer to be extravagant given the dire situation of the Goths at the time. How he settled things in Italy, the resulting delay, and the unfolding catastrophe in the East forms the climax of my most recent novel, Belisarius, Book III: Rome the Eternal.

The Martyrdom of Pope St. Silverius -- Starved to death on the Island of Palmarola in AD 538

Pope St. Silverius is deposed in AD 537. Artwork by Lori Kauffmann.

Throughout the history of the Church, several Popes have been deposed for a variety of reasons. Pope Liberius was deposed and exiled by the Arian emperor, Constantius II in the mid-4th century. Six hundred years later, Pope Gregory VII was deposed by anti-Pope Clement III, the creature of the Holy Roman Emperor, Henry IV. 

During the reign of Justinian, Pope Saint Silverius, who I have written about previously on this blog, was not only deposed—he was martyred by the political forces who coveted his ecclesiastical power as head of the Church. In my previous post, I included an excerpt from the Liber Pontificalis that provided some extraordinary details of the event. Given that the Liber was first compiled in the late 6th century, possibly within living memory of the deposition, it is a solid source, and I used the account provided therein as the basis for that pivotal scene in Belisarius Book III: Rome the Eternal.

Most of what we know of Silverius's brief reign comes from the Liber Pontificalis and the writings of Procopius. To the best of my knowledge, the only written work of Silverius that survives is an epitaph that he wrote for his father, Pope Saint Hormisdas. After his deposition, Silverius was exiled to the city of Patara in Asia Minor. According to the account of Liberatus of Carthage in his Breviarium, it soon became clear to the resident bishop, a certain Licinius, that Silverius had been slanderously accused and wrongfully deposed. Licinius took it upon himself to go directly to Constantinople to advise the emperor Justinian of this fact. The bishop's effort had the desired effect because following this meeting, the emperor sent Silverius back to Italy to receive a proper trial.

But Silverius would never get the opportunity to defend himself. Upon his arrival in Italy, the deposed Pope was seized and hustled to the tiny island of Palmarola about 20 miles off the west coast of Italy, roughly halfway between Rome and Naples. 

A craggy islet about a mile long and a quarter of a mile wide, Palmarola is part of the Pontine Archipelago, a grouping of small islands which were used as places of exile during Roman times. One of the other islands in the group—known as Ventotene today and Pandateria in antiquity—once housed the disgraced Julia the Elder, daughter of Augustus Caesar. The same island also served as the place of exile for Agrippina the Elder, granddaughter of Augustus. Saint Flavia Domitilla, granddaughter of the emperor Vespasian, was also exiled there on suspicion of being a Christian.

But Pandateria at least has a harbor and some residents. Tiny Palmarola is uninhabited. It is said that Pope Silverius starved to death after being abandoned there. To this day, a shrine in his honor may be found on Palmarola. 

Here is how I have described the scene in Belisarius: Rome the Eternal. Silverius is a recurring character in the first half of the book, and I have given him a fictional servant named Philo to serve as an interlocutor:

Chapter XXIX

“Something’s wrong,” Philo whispered. “The pilots were supposed to conduct us into the harbor, but instead, they are taking us back out to sea.”

“We are in God’s hands, Philo,” Pope Silverius replied. “His will be done.” The Holy Father had become thinner since his exile in the east. A rough gray beard now covered his previously smooth chin. A raspy cough rattled in his chest, as he pulled his cloak tighter about him to ward off the chilly wind.

“That may be, but nevertheless, I am going to say something,” Philo persisted.

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“Friend, I beg you...” Silverius trailed off. But his servant was already making his way to the stern from whence the ship was conned. Silverius returned to his prayers, gazing out over the choppy sea. January was a terrible time for travel by sea and the sailors dreaded it. To this point, they had credited their unusually safe passage from Asia at this inauspicious time of year to Stella Maris smiling kindly upon their very special passenger. But their attitude had shifted after their arrival outside the harbor at Ostia. A large dromon had intercepted them and four men came across in a skiff, braving the rough seas. All aboard had assumed they were harbor pilots—until the ship’s prow was turned toward the south, back from whence they had come.

Striding with care along the pitching deck with Philo stumbling behind him, a hooded Calligonus approached Silverius with a stony expression. “My apologies but there has been a change of plans. It is too dangerous for you to land at Ostia now. We will therefore conduct you to a place of safety until the perils have passed.”

“Where?” Philo asked. “Neapolis? We seem to be sailing south.”

Silverius said nothing. He recognized Calligonus immediately as one who had been present at his deposition and none too friendly.

“Neapolis is not safe either, I’m afraid,” Calligonus said.

“Safe for whom?” Silverius asked. “Belisarius and his wife? Or for Theodora, perhaps?”

Calligonus gave a sly smile, bowed his head and walked away. 

“What do you mean?” Philo said, clutching Silverius’s sleeve, alarm rising in his voice. “Where are they taking us, Holy Father?”

“God knows,” Silverius replied.

Several hours of sailing brought them to within sight of a small islet with vaulting cliffs of sheer rock, almost white, emerging from a rolling azure sea. Using a combination of sail and oars, the crew maneuvered the ship to a sheltered spot about two bowshots offshore where they dropped anchor.

“May I present your new home,” Calligonus said as he once again approached Silverius and Philo.

“Does this rock even have a name?” an agitated Philo asked.

“It is called Palmarola,” Calligonus replied. “I am told that no one lives there at all, so you will have a new patriarchal see all to yourself with plenty of gulls and lizards to hear your homilies. Now, if you please. I would ask you both to step smartly into the boat. Your basilica awaits.”

“Is there even any fresh water?” Philo cried.

“That’s a fair question,” Calligonus puzzled. “You will have to find out.”

Pope Silverius and his servant climbed down into the heaving boat with friendly hands from the sailors, all of whom seemed to dread what was happening. “Remember us in your prayers, Holy Father,” one of them said softly. “What we do today we are forced to do.”

“Have no concern, my son,” Silverius replied. “Even Saint Peter was led where he did not wish to go.”

“Forgive us!” a few called aloud from the deck.

Silverius made the sign of the cross over the ship as the boat pulled away. “I shall always remember the kind sailors who risked the winter seas for me.”

Moments later, the boat grounded on a beach of brown sand. The three henchmen of Calligonus hurried Silverius and Philo out of the boat, dumped some meager supplies on the beach, and hastened to row back to the ship. Within an hour, the ship had sailed out of sight.

Resigned to his fate, Silverius soon found a small grotto which would at least offer shelter and a place to pray if nothing else. He put the supplies in order and attempted to set up a place of repose for them that was somewhat protected from the chilly wind. Philo, meanwhile, made a circuit of the tiny island which did not take him long.

“Based on what I have seen, we will starve within two weeks,” Philo declared. “Sooner if it doesn’t rain at all.”

“I doubt I will last even that long,” Silverius said, suppressing a cough. Even the light work he had done had exhausted him.

“Perhaps they will drop food and water for us?”

“I don’t think so, my friend,” Silverius smiled a little sadly. “I think Our Lord Jesus has offered us the palm of a bloodless martyrdom. Let us embrace it, come what may.”

Philo sighed, fingering the stiff fronds of a dwarf palm which he had collected during his walk. “A small, pathetic palm to match the stunted trees that clutter this tiny rock.”

Silverius smiled luminously. “There is no such thing as a small martyrdom. Let us fill this island with our prayerful voices so that blessings may flow from it for centuries to come.”

If you enjoyed that passage, you'll probably enjoy the entire book which is available for purchase at the Arx Publishing website. Other excerpts from this book may be found at these links:

• "He weathered their rage like some craggy rock in a howling tempest." ~ Belisarius and the lead-up to the Great Siege of Rome
• Saint Benedict Chases the Devil off a Boulder
• "They went with all speed to the palace carrying weapons and raising a great tumult" ~ March 23, AD 536, Mutiny of Justinian's Army in Africa

Palmarola today. The shrine of St. Silverius is atop the peak at left.

"He weathered their rage like some craggy rock in a howling tempest." ~ Belisarius and the lead-up to the Great Siege of Rome

Given the month, I am mindful of a February nearly 1,500 years ago when Belisarius, newly arrived in Rome after the withdrawal of the Gothic garrison, found his situation far from secure. The Roman citizens, who had welcomed his arrival with glad tidings, now began to suspect that their savior was not intent on pushing on to face the Goths in a decisive battle. Worse, the army of Belisarius that had liberated Rome was not some overwhelming force—far from it. An optimistic observer might have counted their number at 5,000. 

Such an army could not be expected to inflict an open-field defeat upon the vast Gothic hosts of Vitiges, the self-styled King of the Goths and Italians. Worse, it was not even sufficient to guard the 12-mile long circuit walls of Rome in the event of Gothic attack.

With these facts clear to even the most obtuse citizen, the Senate of Rome, still largely intact despite over sixty years of Gothic rule, watched with trepidation as Belisarius and his men began repairing the crumbling fortifications of Rome. The great walls which surrounded the city had been constructed 250 years before by the emperor Aurelian. Though imposing, these fortifications were ruinous and vulnerable in many locations, and Belisarius assiduously set about restoring them. Some of his innovations—such as adding a merlon to each battlement to protect the backs of the defenders—left the Romans impressed. Yet they remained deeply troubled by what these preparations presaged. As Procopius relates:

The Romans applauded the forethought of the general and especially the experience displayed in the matter of the battlement; but they marveled greatly and were vexed that he should have thought it possible for him to enter Rome if he had any idea that he would be besieged, for [Rome] can not possibly be supplied with provisions since it is not on the sea, is enclosed by a wall of so large a circumference, and above all, lying as it does on a level plain, is naturally exceedingly easy of access for its assailants. [Procopius, History of the Wars, Book V, Chapter XIV]

Procopius goes on to say that Belisarius heard all the criticisms of his strategy but redoubled his efforts, even compelling the indignant Romans to bring in all their provisions from the countryside.

In his novel, Count Belisarius, Robert Graves puts the discontent of the Roman citizens over the strategy of Belisarius into the mouth of Pope Silverius. In this, he plants the seed of the conflict that would later emerge between the Pope and the household of Belisarius. Given Graves's rather negative view of the Catholic Church which is evident throughout Count Belisarius, I have always disliked this approach.

In my third book, Belisarius: Rome the Eternal, I have opted to expand this discontent into a scene in which the Roman senators and clergy confront Belisarius at the Lateran Palace, taking the opportunity to work in some history lessons. Rather than using the scene to create conflict between the spiritual and temporal powers in Rome, I have attempted to show how Belisarius turned the situation to his favor, enhancing the loyalty of the doubtful Roman senators who were pretty clearly having second-thoughts at this time immediately before the commencement of the siege. 

Here is part of the scene. I have added a few notes in red, if for no other reason than to remind myself of why the individuals named are present. See what you think:

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...“Forgive the interruption, O General,” Fidelius said, bowing slightly. “All are now present. And here is Honorius, prefect of the city. Allow me to present him first.”

“At your service,” mumbled Honorius bowing.

“Ah, here is a man I am anxious to meet,” said Belisarius, raising the prefect up by his hand. “I am told you have a crew at your disposal whose purpose it is to repair public monuments and buildings. Is that correct?”

“Certainly. Three hundred men, no less,” Honorius bellowed in response. “Granted, some are slaves, but all have strong backs and are skilled in metalcraft and stonework. For the past months, they have been restoring the great bronze elephants along the Via Sacra, for this was our final order from Theodatus the tyrant.” [This is taken directly from the Variae of Cassiodorus, Book X, Letter 30]

“Laudable as that work may be, I must conscript all of your men starting tomorrow morning. Restoring the fortifications must take immediate precedence over all other construction work in the city,” Belisarius explained. “Let them know that they will be well paid for their labors.”

“Yes, that is something that puzzles us, Magister, if I may,” senator Gennadius Orestes spoke up with a slight chuckle. “Perhaps it is my fatalistic nature getting the better of me, but it almost seems as if you are preparing Rome for a siege.” [Gennadius Orestes was a Roman Senator who was Consul in AD 530]

“But we know that cannot be,” the elderly senator Anicius Basilius added. “Anyone who has studied the history of Rome knows that the city cannot be defended effectively without a great army, several legions at least. The walls are too long, the supply lines impossible to protect, the civilian population too huge. And your men, regrettably, are too few.” [Anicius Basilius was a Roman senator who would later be named consul by Justinian in AD 541]

“That brings us to another question, Magister,” senator Cethegus boomed in his pompous oratorical voice. “Where is your army? Surely, the skeleton crew that marched into the city with you is but the advance guard. When should we expect to see the rest?” [Nicomachus Cethegus was consul in Rome under the Gothic king, Theodoric the Great, in AD 504. He would later flee to Constantinople and play a role in the discord between Justinian and Pope Vigilius.]

Belisarius scowled slightly and scanned the faces gathered about him. It was time to deliver some hard truths to these men, many of whom had grown used to security and prosperity under the long reign of Theodoric. He wasn’t sure how they’d stomach what he had to offer them—the gloomy trio of hardship, want, and a desperate struggle.

“Noble senators, the rest of my army is scattered throughout Sicily and southern Italy. Just as I have brought the core of my forces here to guard Rome, so the remainder secure Neapolis, Cumae, Beneventum, Rhegium, Syracuse, Panormus and a score of other cities. Yes, it is my intention to hold Rome in safety against all attacks by the Goths. If that means enduring a siege, then endure it we must.”

An outcry immediately erupted from the assembled politicians.

“Your men are five thousand at most!” tall Cethegus cried. “You cannot hold the city with so few. It is impossible!”

“Do you not realize, O Magister, that this Vitiges whom the Goths call king, can muster an army of myriads upon myriads?” Orestes shouted. “If you attempt to defend Rome against the full power of the Goths, you will bring upon us destruction that will make the sacks of Alaric and Gaiseric seem like the Saturnalia. Olympius could not defend Rome from the Visigoths despite his lofty name. Petronius Maximus failed utterly to thwart the Vandals despite the greatest blessings of holy Peter. What hope have you, then, to repulse such a force when these others have failed with more resources at their disposal?”

“Peace, senators, peace!” Pope Silverius commanded in a loud voice, but few took heed even among the clergy who had joined the tumult.

Belisarius said nothing, but let the assembled men grumble, rant and vent their frustration. Wearing on his face a look of stoic dispassion, he weathered their rage like some craggy rock in a howling tempest.

Minutes more of clamorous outrage passed during which the expression on the face of Belisarius softened not at all but grew only harder, and it suddenly dawned upon the senators that he would not engage in debate with them. Soon they grew quiet, looking upon him in astonishment, wondering whether their outburst would ultimately elicit a reaction of anger or capitulation from the Magister Militum of Roman Empire, the right hand of the emperor Justinian.

“What say you, O General?” Honorius the prefect ventured, now feeling empowered by the near unanimity of the nobles. “Will you not—ahem—reveal to us your plans for defending Rome and defeating—uh—our enemies?”

Leaping up onto a low platform surrounding a fountain in the middle of the courtyard so that he could better be seen and heard, Belisarius began:

“It is not for you to know my plans, O Senators, for what fool of a general announces his intentions to the wide world? But I will say this: if you compare me with Olympius or Petronius Maximus you do me a great wrong. As you well know, Olympius of ill fame, took the administration of Rome after plotting the disgraceful murder of Stilicho, the greatest warrior of his age, who fearlessly defended the Empire. [Stilicho was the Master of Soldiers and principal support of the Western Emperor Honorius, assassinated in AD 408. Rome would be sacked by Alaric two years later.]

"In the same way, Petronius Maximus proved himself only the greatest of traitors, seeking ascendancy for himself by the assassination of Aetius, a general of such excellence that even the hordes of Attila quailed before him. [Aetius was the Master of Soldiers under the Western Emperor Valentinian III. He defeated Attila at the Battle of the Catalaunian Plains in Gaul in AD 451, but was assassinated following a court intrigue three years later. Soon after, Rome would be sacked again by Gaiseric.]

"Both Aetius and Stilicho feared not death and indeed preferred it to surrender to the enemies of the Empire. Both were ultimately undone not by lack of military prowess, but by short-sighted politicians bent on amassing power and fortune.

“Let us recall these events of a century ago with shame, for we have five-score years of gloomy hindsight to remind us where they led—defeat and fear, sack and slaughter, domination and ruin. But now this will change. I come before you not as a politician or as a bureaucrat, but as a soldier and servant of Justinian Augustus, most happy and victorious emperor of the Romans. I hereby pledge my life to your safety. If during the coming storm you suffer, know that I will suffer before you. If you are injured, know that the enemy will have to knock me down to get at you. If you are in peril of death, know that I will share that peril every day until the peril is gone. As Stilicho and Aetius, I do not fear my own destruction, but I will put everything I have on the line to protect Rome from our enemies.”

In stunned silence, the assembled nobles and clergy listened, amazed that this man whom they considered an unlettered Thracian was more knowledgeable in their own history than most of them. A smile brightened the wrinkled face of Anicius Basilius, and Orestes’s cynical scowl turned to a look of delighted stupefaction.

“You see that my army is small,” Belisarius continued, “but what you do not see is that it is filled with men of the greatest courage. I have, furthermore, requested reinforcements from the thrice-blessed Justinian Augustus, and these he will supply after no little time. But, noble senators and holy fathers, no strategy designed by a man can succeed without trust and ultimately obedience. I have no concerns in this regard when it comes to my soldiers. I know that they are loyal and will, when called upon, sacrifice their lives for the safety of Rome. Thus, the success or failure of this enterprise depends ultimately on the Will of God and on you, the inhabitants of this city. If you will support my efforts, trust my decisions, and obey my commands, there is no question in my mind that we will attain victory.

"If, however, you doubt, despair, demur and disobey, there can be only one result: death for me, defeat for the cause, and destruction for Rome.

“Friends, one year ago, no one believed that Justinian Augustus could liberate Rome. And yet, here I stand before you having accomplished the deed. Will you support me now in preserving the victory? Will you trust me?”

“Magister, please,” Basilius said quietly. “Please step down.” Belisarius stepped from the platform onto the flagstones of the courtyard. Now at eye-level, Basilius grasped Belisarius’s hand and fell to one knee, his aged frame tottering slightly. “You have my trust.”

“I will trust you as well, O Magister,” Orestes said solemnly, repeating the gesture of the older man.

“And I,” Cethegus said humbly.

“As for me, my life already belongs to Justinian Augustus,” Fidelius said with a smile.

The rest of the nobles crowded around to show similar obeisance. Belisarius accepted it, knowing well the sacrifices he would soon demand of these men.

“Command us,” Honorius the prefect said. “Whatever you would have us do, it will be done.”

“I shall confer with my commanders,” Belisarius replied. “Come to the Pincian at first light tomorrow morning.”

“And what of the clergy, Magister?” Pope Silverius asked. “How would you have us serve the people of Rome to aid this endeavor?”

“Far be it from me to advise your Holiness on how best to provide for your flock,” Belisarius replied. “Only do not disrupt the normal cycle of liturgies, feasts and processions in the city. And keep me informed as to the wants of the poor. I will do my utmost to ameliorate their travails.”

Rome the Eternal is deep in the edits, so feel free to hit me with criticisms of this scene if you feel the urge.  My expectation is that edits and some incidental interior art will complete in March, and this book will finally make it into print after over a decade of work.