The Purple Shroud: A Novel of Empress Theodora (6 page)

Theodora walked as quickly as she dared away from the main buildings, following the slope down to the wall above the rocky shoreline, the broken section she knew offered an opening to the water, the City, her old world. She hitched up the skirt of Mariam’s robe and vaulted the last of the low walls that separated the formal courtyards from the empty land just before the outer wall, whooping aloud as she did so, her pleasure in the physicality, in the freedom, in the moon and the strong scent of the sea too much to contain any longer. And then she came to a sudden halt as she realised she was not alone. Years of dance training had given her a sure sense of physical proximity, and she felt, rather than heard, that someone was close.

She took a slow breath to calm her breathing and therefore her voice, then turned and spoke quietly into the deep shadows cast by the moonlight hitting the wall, ‘Yes?’

‘Mistress, I thought it might be you.’

Before she could reply, John the Cappadocian walked out
of the dark, prostrated himself and leaned in to kiss her foot, lifting the foot slightly and almost knocking her off balance.

Almost. Not quite.

‘Sir,’ Theodora spoke sharply and stepped back, leaving him fumbling on the ground, ‘that is not necessary out here.’

The older man lifted his tall, wiry frame from the ground. ‘Perhaps not.’

Theodora was trying to think how much he could have seen or heard; whether he had been down here since she ran out of the main building or had followed her.

The Cappadocian came closer, and now she could see the heavy lines on either side of his mouth, dragging his smile into a leer. ‘You’re not sleeping well, Mistress? Perhaps you still find it hard to use your excess energy inside the Palace?’

Theodora waited to answer until she could trust herself not to snap at the man. The Cappadocian treasurer always seemed to be insinuating a great deal more than just her onstage career. He made her skin crawl, and he knew it.

‘I sleep perfectly. Not that it has anything to do with you, Treasurer.’

‘Yet you walk in the middle of the night? So far from the women’s quarters?’

He smiled then, and Theodora knew he’d happily restrict the women of court as tightly as he famously restricted his own daughter, keeping her confined to the house.

‘Or perhaps, you come – as I do – to inspect the grounds? I’ve made a note of the problems with the old wall, we don’t want people sneaking in. You’d agree, Mistress?’

‘Our builders are busy with other projects for me.’

‘Surely Palace security is more important?’

‘Than my wishes?’

‘I work for the August, Mistress.’ Theodora’s tone had been quiet, and hard, and the Cappadocian’s was just as strong, most
especially when he added, coming close enough for her to smell the mint leaves he habitually chewed, ‘As do we all.’

She turned then and walked away, back up the slope to her sumptuous prison, furious to hear the man chuckling behind her, free to walk all night if he wished, free to do exactly as he wanted.

A
week later, Theodora stood at a gate to the inner grounds and watched as a group of builders carried materials down to the outer wall. Narses, on his way to a meeting with the Persian delegation, stopped beside her.

‘You approved the Cappadocian’s request, Narses?’

‘I did, Mistress, for material and workers to rebuild a crumbling wall.’

‘When you knew I wanted them to continue remaking the old Empress’s courtyard?’

‘This will take a half a day.’

‘And last a lifetime.’

Narses sighed, started to speak, stopped himself, and then spoke anyway: ‘It’s important we ensure the Palace’s security.’

‘To make it impossible for those who might cause problems to enter the Palace grounds?’

‘Yes. Or to keep safe those who might wish to leave through exits other than the Chalke Gate.’

‘You think I’d sneak out?’

The Chief of Staff looked at the woman he had been instrumental in bringing to the Palace, the woman he had
plotted might become his mistress. ‘I know you find this place confining, Augusta,’ he said.

‘And that I have a deep concern for the people affected by that damn Cappadocian’s plans.’

‘Mistress,’ Narses said, ‘the Cappadocian treasurer is as rude to the eunuchs as he is to the women at court, I’m no fonder of him than you are, but the Emperor approves of his work. You and the August are very keen on the new Empire, rebuilding in Antioch, in Ephesus, naming new cities after the Emperor. It all costs, and those costs invariably create problems. We have our spies in the streets, you don’t need to worry about the people.’

Theodora turned, annoyed. ‘I thought my understanding of the people was one of the reasons you brought me to the Palace?’

Narses stepped back, ignored the chimes from the water clock and looked plainly at Theodora. ‘There was a time when you would have told me your concerns.’

‘Or you would have demanded them from me,’ she said.

‘Possibly.’

‘Our roles have changed.’

‘I can still listen, respectfully,’ he said.

‘Eunuch, you have often acted as if you’re listening respectfully, and then found a way to use what I tell you to your own advantage, or even against me.’

Narses laughed then. ‘Against you? You’re planning to overthrow the state so soon? You’ve barely had time to become accustomed to the purple.’

‘That’s just it,’ Theodora said. ‘The purple restricts me, which I resent, and yet I feel myself becoming used to it. I never wanted to be one of those women, the whore-wives who marry into wealth and power, doing nothing to earn it themselves.’

‘They would say providing an heir was part of that deal.’

‘They would, and we all know I haven’t done so. I may never do so.’ Theodora did not say that she believed the illness she’d suffered many years ago in the desert meant she would never conceive again. ‘But even if I did, it wouldn’t be enough. I’ve worked all my life. I’ve worked hard to become the Augusta…’

‘It’s a role, Mistress. You play it well.’

‘Some days it feels more than that, it feels like fate.’

The eunuch frowned. ‘You think it was ordained?’

‘I know you believe you made all this happen,’ she said, ‘you and Timothy, bringing me to Justinian. But I could have refused you, gone back to my old life.’

‘And why didn’t you?’

‘I fell in love. I didn’t expect it, you certainly didn’t, but my rise to this place was so unlikely I used to hope there was something fated in our coming together, greater than all your plotting.’

‘And now?’

Theodora shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Out there I had a purpose, I was one of Menander’s girls, working backstage, working on my back, what could be harder? Later, in the main theatre company, and again with Macedonia in Antioch, I played roles in order to survive. Now the real struggle is to live the role. I must be Augusta all the time.’

‘And the purple is too heavy a burden?’

‘I was raised in the Hippodrome, Narses, I understand as well as you that our ceremonies are theatre. What feels real is my marriage. So I have to put my hope in the possibility that our coming together, as August and Augusta, is meant. If I can find the reason for being beside him, I might feel that it’s not just fate pushing me around. Meanwhile, I waste time being cruel to bastards like that fat patrician last week, simply because I can.’

Narses raised an eyebrow and Theodora smiled, brought back from the edge of frustrated tears by how well the older man understood her. ‘Yes,’ she added, ‘and because it makes me laugh.’

He bowed then. ‘In that case, perhaps now is the time to tell you Ana is pregnant.’

‘My Ana?’

Narses nodded.

‘Dear God,’ Theodora shook her head, ‘I had no idea she had guts enough to talk to a man, let alone screw one. Do we have any idea who’s the lucky boy?’

‘It seems we’ve all been underestimating your daughter,’ he grinned, ‘she’s been sleeping with Probus’ son.’

Theodora laughed aloud then at the idea that her bastard daughter should have been secretly sleeping with not only a member of the Palace elite, but the great-nephew of Anastasius, who had ruled for twenty-seven years before Justinian’s uncle Justin was Emperor. Given her own lack of illustrious antecedents, it couldn’t have been a better match.

‘Let’s get them married, and quickly. With any luck it’ll silence that bitch Pasara, she’s been making sure we hear about her own new pregnancy night and day. You know she’s planning to call the child Justin if it’s a boy?’

Narses’ reply was noncommittal, ‘I believe the Emperor approves of the name?’

‘He’s more trusting than I am, sees it as a mark of respect for his uncle. And you know as well as I do that my lack of children in the purple has always delighted Pasara. So, Ana’s pregnancy is doubly pleasing: not only will we have a child in our own household, but Probus is bound to be related to the Anicii somehow. I’m sure Pasara will love to hear that my flesh and blood is polluting her own pure breed.’

*

Theodora’s show of joy in her daughter’s pregnancy and Pasara’s certain discomfort evaporated as soon as Narses left her. She and Pasara were almost the same age, relatively old to bear children, but certainly capable of doing so if only years mattered. Comito had announced her own pregnancy in the spring, and Antonina, older still, was also talking about her hopes for a child – Belisarius was young for one so successful, he wanted a son to follow him.

Justinian came to her rooms in the evening, as he often did, wanting a chance to talk together without courtiers and staff listening in. He knew about the scar, low across her belly, from when she had been so ill in the desert, he was the only one she never needed to pretend with.

‘They’re everywhere, damn pregnant women.’

‘The sages would say it’s a sign of a healthy court.’

‘The sages would point out that I am barren.’

‘Your daughter’s making you a grandmother. That’s hardly barren.’

‘But the baby won’t be ours.’

‘It will be born in the purple and so will the child Comito’s expecting.’

‘It’s not the same.’

Justinian took Theodora’s hand. ‘Leave the plotting to Pasara and the gossips she gathers around her; we’ll be remembered long after her child’s children have turned to dust.’

Theodora shook her head. ‘And those gossips think I’m the ambitious one.’

‘You are. Ambitious for me. It’s a fine combination, don’t you think?’

In the morning Theodora prepared to speak to her daughter. Despite her good intentions she and Ana had never become
any closer than they were when Ana was a baby and handed over to Theodora’s mother Hypatia, the cost of a wet nurse far less than the sum Theodora could earn back at work on stage. Theodora had tried to mother her daughter since her return from Antioch, had tried even harder since Hypatia’s death two years ago, but it was not a great success. Both women had been relieved when Sophia stepped in, telling Theodora to stop feeling guilty, the best she could do now was change the future. The Empress might never be a real mother to Ana, but Sophia believed there was a chance they might yet find friendship.

‘Do you love Paulus?’ Theodora asked, having summoned Ana to her rooms.

‘He says he loves me,’ Ana answered quietly.

‘That’s not what I asked.’

‘I apologise, Mistress.’

Theodora sighed, tried again to explain herself to her daughter. ‘I’m asking if you love him, if he will make you happy.’

Ana shrugged. She had few words ever, even fewer to converse with Theodora about something so personal. ‘I expect so. I hope so.’

‘I don’t want you to be unhappy. I know we’ve never really talked about these things.’

‘I talk to Sophia.’

‘Yes, you do,’ Theodora replied lightly, trying not to show her hurt. ‘You’ll have to keep the baby of course, it’s too late to get rid of it, but in many ways it’s easier to keep a bastard here than in poverty outside. All the same, you don’t have to marry him if you don’t want to.’

‘But we’re a useful union, surely, Paulus and I? The baby will bring together the families of the last three Emperors.’

‘I am aware of that. As is Narses.’

‘I’m glad to be of service.’

‘Ana, I want you to be happy.’

‘And you want this as my mother or as the Empress?’

Theodora stared at her daughter, impressed. The reply sounded like a retort, no matter that Ana’s head was still lowered, her eyes slightly downcast.

‘Clearly, pregnancy suits you.’

‘I’m pleased to be having a child, I’m happy to be useful to you, I’m glad Paulus wants me. It will do.’

Theodora shook her head. ‘You don’t have to put up with what will do, Ana, you’re the daughter of the Empress. We can wait, find a nurse for your baby, find a man you truly want.’

‘But whoever you choose for me will need to be useful, won’t he? A link to some important family or other? I can’t do as I want,’ Ana said, ‘as you did.’

‘And look how well that worked out for me, deserted and homeless in Africa. Few of us can do as we wish, Ana – not always, not often. Even Justinian constantly weighs his own desires against the needs of his role.’

‘I know how it works. Paulus says he loves me. It will do.’

‘When did you become so detached?’

‘When did you ever care?’

Theodora sucked in her breath and Ana waited for her mother’s attack. She knew she was pushing it and was surprised at herself, more surprised when no retaliation came.

‘I’ve always cared, even if I’ve not always acted on that care, or shown it. And I’m sorry, as you well know. I only…’

‘Want me to be happy. Yes. Then you can relax, I am, very happy.’ Ana looked up now, nodding. ‘I’m pleased to be pregnant, pleased that Paulus is someone you approve of. And I’m thrilled to be forming my own new bonds, even if I have to stay within the Palace. You can’t save me as you saved Mariam,
you don’t know how to talk to me, and I don’t know how to talk to you. Perhaps we’ll find a common bond in this baby. Sophia thinks it might help both of us.’

‘I’m delighted the dwarf tart approves.’

Theodora stopped herself remarking further, acknowledging what Ana had just made plain: that Sophia had known about the pregnancy, as had Narses, as had any number of others, long before Theodora did herself.