Count Belisarius (25 page)

Theodora knew in advance that Hippobates was coming to appeal
for the money, so she had everything carefully prepared for his reception. He entered with a very unhappy countenance, and grovelled most abjectly as he kissed her insteps, and pretended to weep. I do not think that he realized that Theodora the Empress was Theodora of the club-house, whom he had once insulted. She asked him kindly what his trouble was. He began in a most unbecoming beggar's whine: ‘Oh, Resplendency, it is a grievous matter for a patrician to be penniless. My creditors dog my steps, duns rap perpetually at my door, I have hardly a crust of bread in my house. I entreat you, most gracious and lovely Empress, to persuade your servant to pay me the money that he owes me.'

Theodora began: ‘Oh, most excellent and Illustrious Hippobates…' From behind the curtains a concealed choir of eunuchs, formed into two semi-choruses, broke into a mysterious, soft chant:

She turned to my mistress: ‘My dear Lady Antonina, did you hear a queer noise then?'

‘No, Resplendency.'

‘And you, Lady Chrysomallo?'

‘Nothing at all, Majesty.'

‘It must have been a singing in my head. Proceed, Hippobates!'

Hippobates, not daring to notice what he had heard, nervously recommenced his petition: ‘If a patrician like myself runs short of money, through no fault of his own, he is ashamed to mention the incongruous fact to his creditors. They would not at first wish to believe it. When they did finally realize that he was a beggar, he would have to suffer social disgrace as well as bankruptcy; and social disgrace, as you know, Your Loveliness…'

Theodora began again: ‘Oh, most excellent and Illustrious Hippobates…' And again the concealed choir struck up, a little louder this time:

‘Lady Chrysomallo, did you hear anything then?'

‘No, Resplendency.'

‘And you, Lady Antonina?'

‘Not a murmur, Majesty.'

‘I could have sworn I heard a sort of noise. But proceed, Hippobates!'

And still he had to pretend to have heard nothing himself. Each time he began his petition the choir broke in upon it, and each time the verses were increasingly scurrilous. In the end, he had to give it up, retiring in frantic discomfiture, but with the obligatory serene obeisance.

The sequel was that his creditors, who had originally prompted his appeal to Theodora, became more insistent than ever, until he was forced to apply to his old friend, the Demarch of the Blues, who sent a group of factionists to protect Hippobates' house. There ensued a riot, in which two of the creditors, who were Greens, were killed and a number of Blues wounded. News of the disturbance reached the Palace; and Cappadocian John, aware that Hippobates was out of favour with Theodora but not realizing that some of the men engaged had been sent from Blue military headquarters, thought that he would please Justinian by intervening in the name of public order. He sent a strong force of Guards to the scene of disturbance, who arrested Blues and Greens indiscriminately, several of each Colour. A hurried trial was held, four of them were sentenced to decapitation for being found in possession of weapons, and three to the gallows for conspiracy to kill; and all were marched off to execution.

It happened that the gallows rope was not stout enough. It broke twice – under the weight of a Green and of a Blue. These miserable men fell to the ground and were left lying for dead, it being assumed that their necks had been broken. That evening, however, some monks sought out the bodies and found life still in them; and
conveyed them to St Lawrence's Hospital, where they recovered. This Hospital was a sanctuary. But Cappadocian John arrested them again, violating the sanctuary, and put them into the State Prison (which, with the police-barracks, comprised a whole wing of the Brazen House on the side nearest to the Hippodrome).

The Demarch of the Blues then took a remarkable resolution. He went at once under a flag of truce to Green headquarters, and in an interview with the Demarch of the Greens suggested joint action against the police who had dared to interfere in the traditional feud between the two Colours. The Demarch of the Greens was most eager to declare a temporary truce. The thirteenth day of January was near, the date of the New Year's Races. They agreed that, after their usual loyal greeting to Justinian as he entered the Hippodrome, they should all, Blue and Green alike, appeal for the release of the prisoners, whose lives God had spared by a miracle, and for the dismissal of Cappadocian John – whom the Blues loathed as a turncoat and envied for his wealth, and whom the Greens hated as a traitor and oppressor. So this was done, and I think that Theodora had a hand in the plot. But Justinian took the matter very coolly and made no reply to the appeals for release, which continued throughout the day, after each of the twenty-two races that were run.

The two Demarchs then agreed on more vigorous action and on a common watchword, which was ‘Victory!', for the two factions. That evening after the races they surrounded the State Prison and demanded the persons of the two men who had been removed from sanctuary. No answer was given them, so they set fire to the porch with torches. The flames spread and destroyed the whole wing, police-barracks and all. Most of the prisoners were rescued, but a number of warders and police were burned to death. The Guards, who sympathized with the rioters, did not intervene. Their own quarters in the centre of the Brazen House had not been attacked, and the fire was now under control.

The next morning Justinian decided to continue the Races as usual without taking any notice of the outrages committed; but the factionists surrounded the Palace, demanding the dismissal of Cappadocian John and of Tribonian the Lord Chief Justice, and of the City Governor. When there was still no reply, and no Guards or police arrived to disperse them, the factionists knew that they were at liberty to riot to their hearts' content. First, they heaped wooden benches, dragged
from the Hippodrome, against a number of public buildings and set fire to them. Then under the cover of the smoke and confusion they began joyfully murdering, robbing, raping, and plundering. Convinced Blues showed a preference for damaging Green property, and convinced Greens for damaging Blue property; but most of the rioters were not particular in their choice of victims, because of the truce. The watchword was, as I have said, ‘Victory!' and the combined Colours won a great victory indeed over the City. Soon the central district was alight in several places; the fire-brigades did not attempt to extinguish the outbreaks – most of the firemen themselves were busy looting. The flames spread unchecked. Fortunately it was a windless day, or the whole City would have burned down. There was a general rush to the docks, where people offered the boatmen enormous fees to ferry them across to safety on the Asiatic shore.

I was at our suite in the Palace as usual, in attendance on my mistress Antonina, and I must confess that the whole household was terrified, in spite of Belisarius's calm, not to say scornful, demeanour. Imperial orders came that none of us should leave the Palace grounds under any pretext. Vigorous action of some sort should clearly have been taken long ago, but Theodora could do nothing with Justinian, who was praying in his private chapel. Cappadocian John had disappeared, and the Guards, in the unburned part of the Brazen House, were consequently without orders. However, the rabble would certainly have slaughtered them if they had attempted to intervene. Belisarius was still nominally Commander of the Armies in the East, but had no authority in the City. When my mistress urged him to offer Justinian his services and those of his Household cuirassiers – they were quartered not far away – he refused: as a servant of the Emperor he must not speak out of turn, but wait for orders. No orders came. Justinian was as obstinate as a mule; praying fervently and assuring Theodora that Heaven would provide.

At last, on the fifteenth day of January, Justinian moved to end the disorders. His method was to appeal to the Christian scruples of his subjects. He sent out a deputation of bishops and priests with banners and a parcel of sacred relics – a small portion of the True Cross, and the authentic horn of the Patriarch Abraham's ram, which will be sounded upon Judgement Day, and the serpent-shaped rod of Moses with which miracles were once done in Egypt and Sinai – and, besides these, the bones of Zoe the virgin martyr and of some other martyrs
of lesser importance. But no miracle resulted, and the clergy were forced to retreat to the Daphne Palace, pursued by a smart shower of stones and bricks. Justinian was watching from a balcony and called out: ‘Oh, protect them, quickly! Let someone go out at once and protect them!' Belisarius went out, glad of an opportunity for action, with a party of forty Thracian-Gothic soldiers who were on permanent duty in the Daphne colonnades; and drove the rioters back, killing a number of them, so that the clergy returned with the relics undamaged.

This action of Belisarius's enraged the factions, which were now altogether out of control. On the next day Justinian sent out a herald to the Square of Augustus to announce that Cappadocian John had resigned his command and that the City Governor and Tribonian, the Lord Chief Justice, had also retired from office. (Tribonian had been so busy with his work of re-codifying the laws that he had not had sufficient time to supervise the administration of justice.) But this concession was no longer enough to restore peace, especially as the truce between the factionists had been broken in quarrels over the division of plunder, and the Green cause had revived with unexpected strength. By the seventeenth of January there had been sacked and burned: the churches of St Sophia and St Irene, and the Royal Porch, which was a famous library containing among other curiosities the complete works of Homer written upon the intestines of a serpent forty yards in length, and the Baths of Zeuxippus lying between the Brazen House and the Hippodrome, and the silversmiths' colonnades, and the High Street as far as the Square of Constantine. A vast amount of treasure was thus destroyed. We domestics watched the fires from an upper window and did not dare to go to bed at night for fear of being burned to death if we did.

It was not until the fifth day of the riots, which was the eighteenth of January, that Theodora managed to persuade Justinian to enter the Hippodrome and make a public appeal for peace. The Hippodrome runs parallel with the Palace, on the slope leading down to the Sea of Marmora. At the northern end are two towers, and stables, chariotsheds, and offices for the entertainers, and, high up to one side, at the point commanding the best view of the start, the Royal Box surmounted by the gilded horses from Chios. This Box was reached by a private colonnade from the Daphne Palace, skirting St Stephen's Church, so Justinian did not need to risk driving through the public
streets. Holding a copy of the Gospels, he appeared in the Royal Box before the packed Hippodrome and began one of those vague paternal exhortations to peace and harmony, combined with vague promises, which are usually effective, after a riot, when popular heat is beginning to cool somewhat and the graver sort of people have begun to reckon up the damages. But it proved perfectly useless, because not backed up by any show of force. Half-hearted cheers came from the Blue benches, interspersed with hisses – but yells of execration from the Greens, who were now in the ascendant again, many deserters having returned to their old allegiance. Stones and other missiles were thrown at the Royal Box, as once in Anastasius's time, and Justinian retired precipitately, the mob streaming out of the Hippodrome in pursuit of him. Thereupon the Thracian-Gothic Guards withdrew from the Palace and joined their fellows in the Brazen House. The mob plundered and burned down the extensive block of Palace buildings, adjacent to St Stephen's Church, which was the residence of the eunuchs of the Civil Service.

Now, the least worthless perhaps of Anastasius's worthless nephews, of whom one or other had been expected to succeed to the Throne before Justin seized it, was Hypatius. He had served under Belisarius at Daras, somewhat ingloriously indeed – it was his squadron that had been forced from the trenches on the right wing when the Immortals charged; but it could at least be held of him that his ambitions did not exceed his capacities. As soon as the riots broke out he came modestly to Justinian, with his brother Pompey, and said that the Greens had made approaches to him, offering him the Throne; that he had indignantly refused to countenance any movement on his behalf, and that to show his loyalty he now put himself at Justinian's disposal. Justinian praised and thanked Hypatius, though unable to understand his frankness in admitting that he had been offered the Throne – unless possibly as an attempt to disarm suspicion and seize the supreme power as soon as a favourable opportunity offered. But after this attack on the Palace, Justinian sent word to him and Pompey that they must leave at once if they did not wish to be executed as traitors. As soon as dark came, they slipped away, very unwillingly, and managed to enter their houses unnoticed. Unfortunately the news somehow reached the Greens that Hypatius was at large. They surrounded his house, forced it open, and carried him off in triumph to the Square of Constantine. There, at the centre of a tightly packed, screaming
crowd, he was duly proclaimed Emperor, and crowned with a golden collar for want of a diadem, though the remainder of the insignia was available, having been plundered from the Palace. Hypatius was genuinely unwilling to accept the Throne; and his wife Mary, a pious Christian, wrung her hands and wailed that he was being taken from her along the road to death. But the Greens were not to be gainsaid.