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| 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:
[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.”
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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.”
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:
“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.”
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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:
- Because he would not transgress the solemn oath he took to Justinian.
- Because he would not transgress the solemn oath he took to his wife.
- 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.
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