The Secret History: A Novel of Empress Theodora (42 page)

Belisarius saluted Justinian. “Next time we meet, I shall bring you Rome.” His
voice was loud enough for everyone on the docks to hear. The little man next to him yelled at a slave carrying a crate of parchment and pens. He was Procopius, the historian sent along again to record Belisarius’ triumphant campaign for all posterity. I still thought the man resembled a monkey.

Justinian clapped Belisarius on the arm and Amalasuntha boarded her ship, trailed by her entourage.

“Are you sure you want to go with him again?” I asked Antonina, nodding toward Belisarius.

“I couldn’t possibly let him sail all the way to Rome with that harlot.” Antonina scowled, but then I saw the true reason she wished to travel with the army. Her golden godson emerged from the crowd and took his place beside Belisarius, taller and more handsome than I remembered. She at least had the decency to blush. “Belisarius asked Theodosius to accompany him.”

“Don’t let him find out about the two of you.” The old advice was a feeble attempt to ward off the possible coup I feared from Belisarius. I found I no longer cared much what happened to Justinian’s crown.

I saw Antonina’s son Photius then, looking very much like his mother, but dressed in a fierce scowl along with his new military uniform. “Photius is joining you?”

“He’s not pleased about it either. He’d rather apprentice himself to a fresco artist. Or a sculptor, if he had to,” Antonina said. “He’ll get over it soon enough.”

The rest of the officers were filing onto the waiting ship. “Write to me?” I asked her. The days ahead promised to be bleak—I hoped Antonina’s letters and news of her intrigues would keep me sane.

“I’ll send you all the latest gossip.” She kissed me on the cheek, but I stiffened to see Justinian striding toward us. “Talk to him, Theodora. Your husband is a good man.”

Instead, I turned on my heel and walked away.

.   .   .

“A letter from Antonina.” Narses offered me the parchment as if it were a dead rat.

I let it dangle there for a moment, then swiped it with a roll of my eyes. “I’ve never understood your low opinion of Antonina. I’d have thought she’d have grown on you by now.”

His upper lip curled, and he brushed his hands as if to rid them of contagion. “Antonina is the lowborn daughter of a whore and a charioteer who has managed to hoodwink a line of men using her sexual wiles. She’s a crass and filthy pagan with a sharp tongue, hardly company fit for the likes of the Augusti.”

“Well, if that’s all.” I borrowed the knife from his belt and used it to slice Antonina’s seal from the letter. “It almost sounds like you’ve just described me.”

He crossed his arms. “You are not a pagan, and you have managed to rise above your birth because you have an uncommon mind. And, despite my best intentions, I’ve grown accustomed to your sharp tongue.” He cleared his throat, and his features softened. “That said, Augusta, you haven’t been yourself lately. If there’s anything I can do to help—”

He dared squeeze my shoulder, and for a moment I almost told him everything, wanting to unburden myself. But I was Empress.

I handed back his knife. “Thank you, Narses.” I managed a wan smile. “This will pass. And then you’ll have to deal with my sharp tongue once again.”

“I look forward to it, Augusta.” Narses bowed and walked off, all business once again.

My smile fell as I read Antonina’s letter.

I wanted answers and I wanted them now, no matter how they might kill me. I shoved open the doors to Justinian’s chambers and kicked them shut behind me, both relieved and terrified to see my husband at his desk.

“Did you have a hand in this?” I stormed to Justinian and shook the paper in front of him, but he barely glanced up from the schematics of the Hagia Sophia’s colossal dome to scan the letter. We’d scarcely spoken since Amalasuntha’s entourage had departed, not for lack of trying on his part, but because I could barely stand to look at him. To make matters worse, Justinian had invited John the Cappadocian back to the capital, although I had yet to see him. Eventually, Justinian had given up until we acted like charged magnets, one of us pushing the other away so we never shared the same room.

Justinian gave me a wary look. “Actually, some people think you may have had a hand in Amalasuntha’s death.”

“Me? That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” Justinian’s eyes were hooded. “You certainly made it plain that you didn’t care for her while she was here.”

Of course I didn’t care for her. And while I almost entertained Antonina’s idea of rewarding Amalasuntha’s cousin, I hadn’t ordered her murder. At least not yet.

Justinian sighed. “Do you honestly think I’d send Amalasuntha back to Rome, knowing her cousin would offer her the crown and then kill her?”

“I don’t know what to think. Did you send your lover with Belisarius to help you conquer Rome, or did you have her killed?”

He set down the plans. “My lover? Is that why you’ve been acting this way?”

“I practically caught you in the act.”

He exhaled and tipped his chair back, running hands through his hair. “That day in my chambers—that’s what you thought?”

“What was I supposed to think? That you two looked like you’d just tumbled out of bed because you’d been arguing?”

“Actually, that’s not far from the truth.” He stood up and paced before his desk. “Amalasuntha did propose we, er…further our relationship.” His cheeks flushed. “She was quite convinced that I’d be lucky to have her, and she was rather put out when I refused.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?” And yet I wanted to so badly.

He clasped my hands. “I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you, Theodora. I moved heaven and earth to marry you. What do I have to do to prove that love?”

I sniffed and blinked, pulling my hands back. “So you didn’t have her murdered?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I love you, Theodora,” he said, “but you do test my limits. I did not have Amalasuntha murdered. Nor did I have my aunt murdered as you once believed. I have never plotted anyone’s murder.”

I searched his eyes, but they were bare. I’d never felt more alone than these past few weeks without Justinian. I needed him like I needed air in my lungs and blood in my veins.

“I believe you.”

“Good,” he said, his hand cupping my face. “I’ve missed you, Theodora.”

“I missed you, too.” I buried my face in his shoulder, my dry eyes managing to find the last of their tears. “I love you.”

I was broken, but perhaps my love for Justinian would heal me.

.   .   .

Dawn raised her rosy head over the Queen of Cities when a scrawny messenger was ushered into the royal box at the imperial
tzykanion
grounds a few months later. The sport had been imported from the Persians decades ago, one of the only useful contributions the fire-eaters had made to civilization.

Justinian cantered over on his black horse, the net at the end of his stick trembling over his head like a war pennant. The courtiers watched the leather ball as they waited for the Emperor, their horses eyeing the tufts of grass at the edge of the field. “What is it, boy?”

The runner fell to one knee and bowed his head. “The Goths in Ravenna have offered General Belisarius peace to end the siege on their city and all of Italy.” He glanced at Justinian and a tremor traveled up his thin frame. “They’ve offered him their crown.”

Justinian’s fist tightened on the horn of his saddle. “And what did he say?”

The youth swallowed again, his eyes on the grass. “I don’t know, Augustus. That was the entire message relayed by the last herald.”

By now Belisarius might have traded his silver general’s belt for a king’s crown of gold. Justinian bellowed a curse, and the messenger scuttled from sight. I called him back, forcing him to wait until I’d written a hasty letter to Antonina, commanding her to explain what had happened.

Word spread about the debacle in Italy—Narses’ spies reported many in Constantinople believed the calamity was related to the bearded star that had recently streaked the sky. Yet it remained to be
seen whether Belisarius would betray us and we’d soon have to send another force to conquer the conqueror. Finally a response came from Antonina.

I gave a wry chuckle—Antonina called me an alley cat, but she was like a scorpion, always waiting in the shadows until the best moment to strike. Justinian received confirmation of his general’s loyalty that
same day and summoned Belisarius back to Constantinople, although he could have stomped through the rest of northern Italy all the way to the Alps.

Vitiges and his wife arrived in Constantinople dressed in heavy silver chains instead of their stolen purple. But this time there was no triumph for Belisarius. Instead, I suggested a mosaic commemorating Belisarius’ victory in the Sacred Palace—the gold-studded work of art was almost finished by the time they arrived in the Sea of Marmara. Justinian ordered the ships anchored outside the harbor until night fell to avoid any sort of spontaneous triumph by the people. We weren’t taking any chances.

Plus, another public slight to Belisarius fit my latest plan to perfection.

I sent Narses to escort Antonina from her villa before the sun had risen. He muttered something about fetching filthy pagans under his breath but stalked off to do my bidding. Antonina arrived in a foul mood as the sparrows began to chirp.

“I’ll have you know I was in bed when that demon of a eunuch summoned me,” she said, straightening from her bow.

“With Theodosius, no doubt.”

Antonina shrugged and yawned into the back of her hand. “I needed to relax after being imprisoned in the harbor all day by your brute of a husband.”

“That was my idea, actually.” I ignored the glare that flickered over her face. “Belisarius still doesn’t know about you and Theodosius?”

She plucked a peacock feather from an alabaster vase, twirling it under her nose. “He came upon us in Rome. Theodosius was caught with his trousers down—literally. I told him my godson was helping me bury the most precious of our plunder so the Emperor would never discover them.” She gave a catlike grin. “It’s amazing what a tunica can hide.”

Belisarius was no fool. What game did he play that he’d allow his
wife to cuckold him? Perhaps he didn’t care what his wife did, so long as she ran his household and her affairs remained secret. “I need to pull you from Theodosius for a rather delicate job.”

“I’m all ears, darling.”

“It’s time to rid the Empire of John the Cappadocian.”

“I’ve always thought you should have fed him to the rioters at Nika.”

“Now is the chance to rectify that egregious error.”

She perked up. “Perhaps this was worth getting out of bed.”

“Which side will Belisarius take?”

“Whichever side I tell him to.” I frowned, but she sat up straighter, the peacock feather forgotten as she leaned forward on her elbows to inspect her perfect manicure. “He’s still furious at John for the spoiled supplies in the Carthage campaign.”

“I need you to convince the Cappadocian that you and Belisarius want to overthrow Justinian and me.”

Antonina’s elbows slipped. “You want us to commit treason?”

“It’s not treason if you’re acting at my behest. I’ll sign an affidavit if you want. You convince John to act against us, and I convince Justinian to execute him after he’s caught in the act.”

Antonina shook her head. “The Cappadocian hates me almost as much as he hates you. He won’t believe me.”

“Your husband was formally snubbed after returning victorious from conquering Rome.”

“About that,” Antonina drawled, “you may want to stay away from Belisarius. He figured that was your idea, and he’s fit to be tied.”

“Precisely. He could have been Emperor, but instead he received a slap in the face.”

“And a mosaic.” Antonina rolled her eyes.

“A very expensive mosaic.”

“In
your
palace. I should have known you were up to something when they wouldn’t let us off our ships.”

“Perhaps Belisarius is tired of campaigning without reward? When this is over, you’ll find an unimaginable sum mysteriously funneled into your accounts.”

“How unimaginable?”

“Beyond your wildest dreams.”

Antonina grinned. “Music to my ears.”