"Helena was visited that emperors might be redeemed." ~ The ancient sources on Saint Helena's discovery of the True Cross

Early 9th century illustration from northern Italy of Saint Helena discovering the True Cross.

The feast day of Saint Helena, the mother of Constantine, is commemorated by Catholics on August 18. Aside from her role as matriarch of the Constantinian dynasty, Helena is most remembered today for her finding of the True Cross of Jesus Christ. This discovery took place during Helena's celebrated pilgrimage to the Holy Land near the end of her life, during which time she undertook the task of uncovering the sites associated with Christ's life and passion and the building of commemorative shrines.

Eusebius Pamphilus, Helena's contemporary and bishop of Caesarea Maritima, records many of Helena's deeds during this trek. Curiously, he does not mention her discovery of the True Cross. For this, we must seek another early source, and one even more illustrious than the historian Eusebius: Saint Ambrose of Milan. 

In his eulogy on the death of Theodosius the Great, a man whom he had once barred from the Sacred Liturgy due to his very public sins, Ambrose provides a lovely interlude commemorating Helena. He uses her discovery of the True Cross, along with the nails of the crucifixion, to relay a moral lesson on the difference between the Christian Roman Emperors who are restrained in their actions by the tenets of Christianity, and the pagan emperors who were encumbered by no such restraints:

Blessed was Constantine with such a mother!...The mother, solicitous for her son to whom the sovereignty of the Roman world had fallen, hastened to Jerusalem and explored the scene of the Lord's Passion....

Helena, then, came and began to visit the holy places. The Spirit inspired her to search for the wood of the Cross, She drew near to Golgotha and said: "Behold the place of combat: where is thy victory? I seek the banner of salvation and I do not find it. Shall I," she said, "be among kings, and the cross of the Lord lie in the dust? Shall I be covered by golden ornaments, and the triumph of Christ by ruins? Is this still hidden, and is the palm of eternal life hidden? How can I believe that I have been redeemed if the redemption itself is not seen?"...

And so she opened the ground and cleared away the dust. She found three fork-shaped gibbets thrown together, covered by debris and hidden by the Enemy. But the triumph of Christ could not be wiped out. She hesitated in her uncertainty. She hesitated, as a woman, but the Holy Spirit inspired her to investigate carefully, because two robbers had been crucified with the Lord. Therefore, she sought the middlebeam, but it could have happened that the debris had mixed the crosses one with another and that chance had interchanged them. She went back to the text of the Gospel and found that on the middle gibbet a title had been displayed, 'Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.' Hence, a sequence of sound reasoning was established and the Cross of salvation was revealed by its title. This is what Pilate answered to the Jews who petitioned him: "What I have written, I have written," that is: "I have not written these things to please you, but that future ages may know them. I have not written for you, but for posterity," saying, as it were: "Let Helena have something to read whereby she may recognize the cross of the Lord."

She discovered, then, the title. She adored the King, not the wood, indeed, because this is an error of the Gentiles and a vanity of the wicked. But she adored Him who hung on the tree, whose name was inscribed in the title...

She sought the nails with which the Lord was crucified, and found them. From one nail she ordered a bridle to be made, from the other she wove a diadem. She turned the one to an ornamental, the other to a devotional, use. Mary was visited to liberate Eve; Helena was visited that emperors might be redeemed. So she sent to her son Constantine a diadem adorned with jewels which were interwoven with the iron of the Cross and enclosed the more precious jewel of divine redemption. She sent the bridle, also. Constantine used both, and transmitted his faith to later kings. And so the beginning of the faith of the emperors is the holy relic which is upon the bridle. From that came the faith whereby persecution ended and devotion to God took its place....

But I ask: Why was the holy relic upon the bridle if not to curb the insolence of emperors, to check the wantonness of tyrants, who as horses neigh after lust that they may be allowed to commit adultery unpunished? What infamies do we not find in the Neros, the Caligulas, and the rest, for whom there was nothing holy upon the bridle? 

What else, then, did Helena accomplish by her desire to guide the reins than to seem to say to all emperors through the Holy Spirit: "Do not become like the horse and mule," and with the bridle and bit to restrain the jaws of those who did not realize that they were kings to rule those subject to them? For power easily led them into vice, and like cattle they defiled themselves in promiscuous lust. They knew not God. The Cross of the Lord restrained them and recalled them from their fall into wickedness. [Fathers of the Church, Vol. 22, Funeral Orations, pp 325-331]

Ambrose's eulogy for Theodosius was written about 70 years after the death of Helena.

Additional details on the discovery of the True Cross are provided by (among others) Hermias Sozomen in his Ecclesiastical History, which was written approximately 120 years after the death of Helena: 

...The emperor [Constantine] rejoiced exceedingly at the restoration of unity of opinion in the Catholic Church [following the Council of Nicaea], and desirous of expressing in behalf of himself, his children, and the empire, the gratitude towards God which the unanimity of the bishops inspired, he directed that a house of prayer should be erected to God at Jerusalem near the place called Calvary. 

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At the same time his mother Helena repaired to the city for the purpose of offering up prayer, and of visiting the sacred places. Her zeal for Christianity made her anxious to find the wood which had formed the adorable cross. But it was no easy matter to discover either this relic or the Lord's sepulcher, for the Greeks, who in former times had persecuted the Church, and who, at the first promulgation of Christianity, had had recourse to every artifice to exterminate it, had concealed that spot under much heaped up earth, and elevated what before was quite depressed, as it looks now, and the more effectually to conceal them, had enclosed the entire place of the resurrection and Mount Calvary within a wall, and had, moreover, ornamented the whole locality, and paved it with stone. They also erected a temple to Venus, and set up a little image, so that those who repaired there to worship Christ would appear to bow the knee to Venus, and that thus the true cause of offering worship in that place would, in course of time, be forgotten. And that as Christians would not dare fearlessly to frequent the place or to point it out to others, the temple and statue would come to be regarded as exclusively appertaining to the Greeks. 

At length, however, the place was discovered, and the fraud about it so zealously maintained was detected. Some say that the facts were first disclosed by a Hebrew who dwelt in the East, and who derived his information from some documents which had come to him by paternal inheritance. But it seems more accordant with truth to suppose that God revealed the fact by means of signs and dreams, for I do not think that human information is requisite when God thinks it best to make manifest the same. 

When by command of the emperor the place was excavated deeply, the cave whence our Lord arose from the dead was discovered. And at no great distance, three crosses were found and another separate piece of wood, on which were inscribed in white letters in Hebrew, in Greek, and in Latin, the following words: "Jesus of Nazareth, the king of the Jews." These words, as the sacred book of the Gospels relates, were placed by command of Pilate, governor of Judæa, over the head of Christ. There yet, however, remained a difficulty in distinguishing the Divine cross from the others. For the inscription had been wrenched from it and thrown aside, and the cross itself had been cast aside with the others, without any distinction, when the bodies of the crucified were taken down. For according to history, the soldiers found Jesus dead upon the cross, and they took him down, and gave him up to be buried, while, in order to accelerate the death of the two thieves, who were crucified on either hand, they broke their legs, and then took down the crosses, and flung them out of the way. It was no concern of theirs to deposit the crosses in their first order, for it was growing late, and as the men were dead, they did not think it worth while to remain to attend to the crosses. 

A more Divine information than could be furnished by man was therefore necessary in order to distinguish the Divine cross from the others, and this revelation was given in the following manner: There was a certain lady of rank in Jerusalem who was afflicted with a most grievous and incurable disease. Macarius, bishop of Jerusalem, accompanied by the mother of the emperor and her attendants, repaired to her bedside. After engaging in prayer, Macarius signified by signs to the spectators that the Divine cross would be the one which, on being brought in contact with the invalid, should remove the disease. He approached her in turn with each of the crosses, but when two of the crosses were laid on her, it seemed but folly and mockery to her for she was at the gates of death. When, however, the third cross was in like manner brought to her, she suddenly opened her eyes, regained her strength, and immediately sprang from her bed, well. It is said that a dead person was, in the same way, restored to life. 

The venerated wood having been thus identified, the greater portion of it was deposited in a silver case, in which it is still preserved in Jerusalem: but the empress sent part of it to her son Constantine, together with the nails by which the body of Christ had been fastened....

The above incidents we have related precisely as they were delivered to us by men of great accuracy, by whom the information was derived by succession from father to son; and others have recorded the same events in writing for the benefit of posterity. [Sozomen: Ecclesiastical History, Book II, Chapter 1]

Regular readers of this blog know that Helena is among my favorite saints. Here are a couple other posts about her:

• Helena's role in Constantine's execution of Crispus and Fausta
• Review of Saint Helena and the True Cross by Louis de Wohl

"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.

Was Constantine a Sincere Christian? ~ In his own words: The Oration of Constantine to the Saints

At 43 feet in height, the replica of the Colossus of Constantine in Rome is truly impressive.

Most visitors to Rome over the years have marveled at the famous fragments of the Colossus of Constantine. Largely destroyed and dismantled in antiquity, this massive work of marble, wood and bronze once stood in the Basilica of Maxentius. Significant chunks of the Colossus are now located in a courtyard at the Capitoline Museum in Rome where my wife and I visited them on our honeymoon a few decades back. 

In 2024, a magnificent replica of the Colossus was erected nearby in the garden behind the Capitoline Museum. While the sheer size of the work has drawn considerable attention, the fact that it does not display any obvious Christian iconography and, indeed, seems to portray the emperor as Zeus-like, has led some folks to assume that the replica is evidence that Constantine's Christianity was somehow insincere. 

My wife with Constantine's
tremendous head in 2000.

How close this modern replica resembles the original is a matter of conjecture, as its creators exercised some significant interpretive license with regard to the design. This matter is dealt with in considerable detail in an excellent post on the NumisForms site entitled: Designing a Colossus. So I'll not get into much detail on that question here. Suffice it to say that the decision by the Factum Foundation to portray Constantine as Zeus was based on "conjecture, maybe not even particularly well informed conjecture."

The point of this post is to contradict the facile confirmation bias that many experience when seeing this version of the Colossus. The most common immediate reaction is: "See? Constantine was a pagan and portrayed himself as such." 

Well, sure. Up through about AD 306 Constantine was a pagan. Beyond that, he reportedly even had a vision of Apollo a few years before his more famous vision of the Cross. But after the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, Constantine began the process of becoming a Christian. It is not known when exactly he became a catechumen, but after about AD 312 when he and Licinius issued the Edict of Milan, his affinity for Christianity becomes increasingly evident.

By AD 324, following his defeat of Licinius, it is absolutely evident that Constantine is a Christian. Anyone who doubts that can read the words he himself spoke in his Oration to the Saints. The text of this lecture was preserved by the bishop Eusebius Pamphilus who knew Constantine personally and also wrote his well-known ancient biography, Life of the Blessed Emperor Constantine. The entire oration is a profession of Constantine's faith and a defense of Christianity. In it, you will find the emperor praying emphatically:

"Do thou, O Christ, Savior of mankind, be present to aid me in my hallowed task! Direct the words which celebrate your virtues, and instruct me worthily to sound your praises." [Oration to the Saints, Chapter 11]

You will also find Constantine presenting evidence for the truth of Christianity, not only from the Hebrew prophets of the Old Testament, but also from pagans such as the Erythrean sibyl and from the Roman poet, Virgil, author of the foundational epic of Rome, the Aeneid. 

The emperor goes on to condemn those pagans who have persecuted Christians, even going so far as to ridicule pagan beliefs, saying: 

"What, then, have you gained by these atrocious deeds, most impious of men? And what was the cause of your insane fury? You will say, doubtless, these acts of yours were done in honor of the gods. What gods are these?...You will allege, perhaps, the customs of your ancestors and the opinion of mankind in general, as the cause of this conduct. I grant the fact: for those customs are very like the acts themselves, and proceed from the self-same source of folly. You thought, it may be, that some special power resided in images formed and fashioned by human art; and hence your reverence, and diligent care lest they should be defiled: those mighty and highly exalted gods, thus dependent on the care of men!" 

[Oration to the Saints, Chapter 22]

Finally, in an echo of his contemporary and sometime confidant, Lactantius, Constantine gives a brief catalog of the dreadful ends suffered by those emperors who persecuted Christians most severely: 

"To you, Decius, I now appeal, who has trampled with insult on the labors of the righteous: to you, the hater of the Church, the punisher of those who lived a holy life: what is now your condition after death? How hard and wretched your present circumstances! Nay, the interval before your death gave proof enough of your miserable fate, when overthrown with all your army on the plains of Scythia, you exposed the vaunted power of Rome to the contempt of the Goths.

You, too, Valerian, who manifested the same spirit of cruelty towards the servants of God, hast afforded an example of righteous judgment. A captive in the enemies' hands, led in chains while yet arrayed in the purple and imperial attire, and at last your skin stripped from you, and preserved by command of Sapor the Persian king, you have left a perpetual trophy of your calamity. 

And thou, Aurelian, fierce perpetrator of every wrong, how signal was your fall, when, in the midst of your wild career in Thrace, you were slain on the public highway, and filled the furrows of the road with your impious blood!" [Oration to the Saints, Chapter 24]

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Of course, he could not leave out his contemporary and one-time mentor/captor, Diocletian. In this passage, Constantine provides his own witness of Diocletian's vicious character and unstable psyche, attributes which are echoed by Lactantius in his own work, On the Deaths of the Persecutors: 

"Diocletian, however, after the display of relentless cruelty as a persecutor, evinced a consciousness of his own guilt and owing to the affliction of a disordered mind, endured the confinement of a mean and separate dwelling. What then, did he gain by his active hostility against our God? Simply this I believe, that he passed the residue of his life in continual dread of the lightning's stroke. Nicomedia attests the fact; eyewitnesses, of whom I myself am one, declare it. The palace, and the emperor's private chamber were destroyed, consumed by lightning, devoured by the fire of heaven. Men of understanding hearts had indeed predicted the issue of such conduct; for they could not keep silence, nor conceal their grief at such unworthy deeds; but boldly and openly expressed their feeling, saying one to another: What madness is this? And what an insolent abuse of power, that man should dare to fight against God; should deliberately insult the most holy and just of all religions; and plan, without the slightest provocation, the destruction of so great a multitude of righteous persons?" [Oration to the Saints, Chapter 25]

Interestingly, Lactantius also reports fire destroying parts of the imperial palace in Nicomedia on two separate occasions 15 days apart. He claims that the fires were set by Diocletian's junior emperor, Galerius, in an effort to frame the Christians for the deeds. [see On the Deaths of the Persecutors, Chapter 14]

Constantine wrapped up his oration with a ringing profession of his faith in Jesus, urging his hearers to pray fervently to Christ:

"It becomes all pious persons to render thanks to the Savior of all, first for our own individual security, and then for the happy posture of public affairs: at the same time intreating the favor of Christ with holy prayers and constant supplications, that he would continue to us our present blessings. For he is the invincible ally and protector of the righteous: he is the supreme judge of all things, the prince of immorality, the Giver of everlasting life." [Oration to the Saints, Chapter 26]

After reading the entirety of Constantine's oration, it becomes impossible to maintain the position that the first Roman emperor to tolerate Christianity formally in law did not truly believe Christian doctrine or remained partially pagan to the end of his life. 

Although he was unbaptized until shortly before his death, Constantine was clearly a believing Christian catechumen with a zeal for bearing witness to the faith even publicly with his own lips.  

"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.

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.

"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.