Justinian (37 page)

In slow and solemn procession, the mourners followed the bier down the length of the great hall, out of the Palace, through the Augusteum, along the Mesé thronged with silent citizens, through the Fora of Constantine and Theodosius, to the empress' last resting-place – the Church of the Holy Apostles. Here, while a choir of clergy sang the Office for the Dead, Theodora's small body was lifted from the bier and gently placed within a porphyry sarcophagus. ‘Enter into thy rest, O Empress!' declaimed the master of ceremonies, and the enormous lid of the sarcophagus was lowered by pulleys into place. The congregation then dispersed, and Justinian returned to his empty Palace, broken and in tears.

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She died on the 28 June 548.

As he rode he hurled his javelin into the air and caught it again . . . then
passed it rapidly from hand to hand . . . with consummate skill

Procopius (commenting on Totila's display of martial skill before the
Battle of Busta Gallorum),
The Wars of Justinian
, after 552

Seating himself on a marble bench in a little garden in the Palace grounds whither he had been summoned, General Narses awaited the arrival of the emperor. Rumour had it that this was the spot where Justinian had first met, then wooed and won, Theodora; also that, since her death two years before, it had (no doubt on account of its fond associations) become a favourite retreat and a venue for informal interviews.

Why had Justinian arranged this meeting? Narses wondered. It could hardly be to ask him to take command on any military front. Belisarius (together with the official war historian, Procopius) had recently been recalled from Italy to keep an eye on Lazica, where trouble had again flared up. But he had been replaced by an able general, Germanus, cousin
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of Justinian, and his heir-designate. And in Africa, John the Troglite was successfully grinding down Moorish resistance. Perhaps Justinian just wished to have Narses' views on the way strategies were being handled. If so, the Armenian general had plenty to say about the conduct of the war in Italy.

In Narses' view, it had been utter folly on Justinian's part to have recalled Belisarius. Any semi-competent general could deal with Lazica, but in Italy, where Totila had been making all the running, you needed the best military talent you could find to counter him. The brilliant young Gothic leader had captured a string of strong points across the peninsula, consolidating his support among the Roman population, and raising a powerful fleet. This last had enabled him to capture Sicily, enriching his war-chest with a vast quantity of booty, and ravage the coastal cities of Dalmatia; for the first time the Goths had seriously challenged Roman sea-power, previously unassailable. Meanwhile, Belisarius, starved of resources by the imperial government despite increasingly desperate appeals for reinforcements, had barely been able to hold his own.

The situation fairly reeked of muddle and incompetence. What
should
have happened, it was clear to Narses, was for Belisarius to have been given sufficient troops; he would then have been able to regain the initiative, perhaps even to the extent of landing a killer blow on his adversary. Instead, despite being recalled to deal with Lazica and appointed Master of Soldiers in the East, he had, incredibly, been kept in the capital as commander of the Palace Guard!

Things in Italy following the appointment of Germanus as Belisarius' successor had been even more bizarre, reflected Narses. Germanus was married to Matasuntha, widow of Witigis, and daughter of Amalasuntha whose father had been Theoderic. The plan was that the Western Empire be restored, with Germanus, popular with troops and citizens alike, as its emperor. Also, that some sort of power-sharing deal with Totila's Goths be negotiated, whereby as well as for the first time sitting in the Senate, Goths would man the army, protecting Italy from invasion by Lombards, Franks, and Alamanni. Any son born to Germanus and Matasuntha would, as a matter of course, become in turn the Western emperor, half-Roman and half-Goth, preserving through his mother the old Amal royal line. Should all this come to pass (and it seemed to Narses there was nothing to prevent it doing so), then, the general thought in disgust, the whole Italian war had been for nothing – a colossal waste of manpower and resources, resulting in the destruction of the country's infrastructure and the ruin of her people. With Italy the permanent homeland of barbarians, who would also have a major say in running it, Theoderic's ghost would have surely triumphed. But then, reflected Narses, ever since Theodora had died, Justinian's grip on affairs had seemed to falter, his policies increasingly lacking in coherence and consistency.

‘Thank you for coming, General,' announced Justinian, breaking in on Narses' thoughts. He seated himself beside the general. Narses was shocked to notice how much the emperor had aged, the once-handsome face now gaunt and lined beneath a thinning fuzz of lint-white hair, the neck all scrawny and wattled like a vulture's. Although older than the emperor by a good five years, Narses reckoned he himself must look at least a decade younger.

‘How would the idea of returning to Italy appeal to you, old friend?' enquired Justinian. ‘You once served me well in that same theatre.' He added with a gentle smile, ‘Although I seem to recall, on that occasion yourself and Belisarius had views that, let us say – “diverged”.'

‘You could say that, Serenity,' acknowledged Narses wryly. He shot the
other an appraising look. ‘Of course I'm honoured by your suggestion, but, to be frank, I think it's a bad idea. I suspect I'd get along with Germanus even less well than I did with Belisarius. With Totila's star in the ascendant, the last thing you need at this stage is a divided command.'

‘Germanus is dead,' declared Justinian sadly. ‘After driving from the Balkans a huge force of Slav invaders, he suddenly fell sick and died at Sardica.
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What an emperor he would have made! – as Augustus of the West uniting Goth and Roman, then, upon my death succeeding to the Eastern throne, leaving his son to become the Western emperor.'

Masking his huge relief that this nonsense of a reconstituted Western Empire-cum-Romano-Gothic entente was now dead in the water, Narses enquired, ‘You wish me then to take over as supreme commander in Italy?'

‘Precisely.'

‘Then I gladly accept, Serenity. ‘However,' he went on, a note of steel entering his voice, ‘there are conditions.'

‘Conditions?' Justinian's eyebrows lifted. ‘You forget yourself, I think, General.'

‘I'll be blunt, Serenity. I leave for Italy only when I have sufficiency of troops. And
Roman
troops at that, drawn from regular units of the field armies. Not a ragbag collection of personal retainers, mercenaries, and barbarian federates, such as Belisarius was fobbed off with. Before you recalled him, that is.'

‘My hands were tied!' protested Justinian. ‘You must see that, Narses. With revolt in Lazica threatening to destabilize the whole eastern frontier, I needed a strong general on the ground to contain a crisis that could escalate.'

‘I understood that Belisarius was no further east than Constantinople.'

‘Granted he may not physically be
in
Lazica, but his very presence in the capital has been enough to make the Lazi draw their horns in. As to your military demands –' Justinian shook his head and spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Impossible, I fear. The financial resources of the Empire are severely over-stretched – suppressing insurgency in Africa, countering Totila in Italy, building a chain of forts across the Balkans against Slav invaders,
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relocating troops to meet this new threat in the East, the cost of rehabilitation following the plague . . . You'll just have to make do with whatever extra forces can be scraped together, I'm afraid.'

‘Then, Serenity, I must decline your offer,' declared Narses with icy self-restraint. ‘Find some pliant nobody to do your bidding – a yes-man who won't object to taking up lost causes.' He rose and bowed. ‘With your permission Serenity, I'll take my leave.'

‘Oh for God's sake, Narses, do sit down!' snapped Justinian. ‘I daresay we can come to some arrangement that'll keep you happy.'

Sensing victory, the general re-seated himself. ‘My request's a simple one, Serenity,' he said with a conciliatory smile. ‘Give me the men; I'll give you Italy.'

To meet Narses' ambitious targets, with chilling efficiency the full might of the Roman tax machine now bore down on all parts of the Empire, including Italy (or at least those parts of it not under Totila's control) and Africa, now largely pacified by John the Troglite. Men, equipment, ships and money were raised in ever-increasing quantities, creating a force of awesome power such as Rome had seldom mustered. Narses, tirelessly involved on a tour of military establishments based mainly in Thrace and Illyria, at last declared himself satisfied.

A realist who was also both humane and clear-sighted, the Armenian knew that the surest way of mitigating the cruel consequences of war was to defeat the enemy as swiftly and decisively as possible. Men like Belisarius, Totila and Germanus, the general reflected, obsessed with outmoded ideals of restraint towards an enemy they respected and admired were anachronisms – more suited to the Trojan War than to this modern age of realpolitik. Their peculiar code of honour had allowed the war in Italy to drag on for nearly twenty years, laying waste vast swathes of the peninsula and inflicting untold suffering on the civilian population. What was needed was a speedy victory. And this could only be achieved, Narses told himself, by taking on the Gothic host with a force of such overwhelming power as to utterly annihilate it. That this inevitably meant the wiping out of most male Goths of fighting age was unfortunate. But in the end it was more merciful than waging a campaign of slow attrition, which ultimately must bring about the same result, as well as prolonging the country's economic misery and incurring the death of many thousands of non-combatants.

At last, the great expedition fully mobilized, Narses set out northwards from his headquarters at Salonae
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and, the fleet keeping level with the army, rounded the head of the Adriatic and descended upon Italy.

On the last day of June of that same year, Totila, pushing up the Via Flaminia from Rome, halted his army (the bulk of which was cavalry) near the village of Tadinae, midway between Ariminum to the north and Perusia to the south.
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Accompanied by his chief general, Teia, he rode out a further mile to survey the terrain on which he would most likely have to fight the Romans – a bleak plain surrounded by the high peaks of the northern Appennines. The place, so Totila's scouts had informed him, was called Busta Gallorum – ‘The Tomb of the Gauls' – site of a great Roman victory against that people, fought eight centuries before.

‘Good cavalry country, Sire,' observed Teia, a tough veteran who had vainly tried to halt Narses' advance, flooding the Padus valley by breaching the dykes of that river and its tributaries – a move that Narses had circumvented by marching his army along the coast, crossing the delta's mouths by means of pontoon bridges.

‘Provided they choose to fight us on the level,' muttered the young king (he was not yet thirty), noting with dismay the Roman dispositions. Narses had drawn up his army, which far outnumbered the Goths', on rising ground at the northern end of the plain, which was surrounded by steep and broken slopes, ruling out all but a frontal attack on their position – save at one spot. This was a gully to the right
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of the low ridge on which the Romans had encamped, constituting a possible route by which they might be outflanked. Pointing out the feature to Teia, Totila said, ‘Today we rest. Tomorrow, by which time our expected cavalry reinforcements should have joined us, we will try to force the gully and attack the Romans from the rear.'

Though making himself sound calm and positive, Totila in fact felt close to despair. In the ten years since his great victory at Faventia, he had fought the Romans to a standstill, occupied the greater part of the peninsula, taken Sicily, achieved naval superiority in western waters, won over the Roman people to his side, and come within a hairsbreadth of securing an honourable peace by which Goth and Roman would share the government on equal terms. Yet it had all been for nothing. With the sudden and unexpected death of Germanus, the picture had changed completely. That terrible old man in Constantinople had recovered his resolve and, prompted by Narses, mobilized the full might of the Roman Empire against Totila's people. Even at the height of his success, Totila had known he could never achieve full victory against the Romans; a
compromise settlement was the best that he could hope for. Their Empire was simply too strong, their resources too vast, for him to match. Clearly, between them Justinian and Narses had decided finally to bring matters to a head in an attempt to finish off the Goths for good. The fate of his nation, Totila told himself, depended on whether he could push through that gully on the morrow.