Count Belisarius (45 page)

Wittich, whose army continued to occupy its original camps, treacherously made three attempts at capturing the city by surprise. The first method he tried was the one by which Belisarius had captured Naples: entry by an aqueduct. A party of Goths stole along the dry conduit of the Virgin Water until they came to the masonry block far inside the city, near the Baths of Agrippa, and began to chip it away. But this aqueduct passes over the Pincian Hill at ground level, and a sentry on duty at the Palace happened to see the light of their torches shining through two holes in the brick-work. Trajan, going the rounds of the sentries, asked him: ‘Have you anything unusual to report?' The sentry replied: ‘Yes, sir, I saw a wolf's eyes flashing red in the dark yonder.'

Trajan could not understand how a wolf could have entered Rome through the closely guarded gates. It occurred to him, too, that a wolf's eyes only appear to flash red in the dark when a light catches them, whereas the sentry was standing in a particularly dark spot. But the man was positive that he had seen a something flashing from beside the aqueduct, and what could it be but a wolf's eyes? Trajan happened to mention this trivial incident when he breakfasted with us at headquarters the next morning. My mistress Antonina, who was present, said to Belisarius: ‘If it had been a wolf, the wolf-hounds would have given tongue from the kennels. They can scent a wolf from a mile away. Trajan, see that the mystery is cleared up!' Trajan made the sentry point out exactly where the wolf had been seen. There he discovered the two holes, where a long staple had once been hammered into the brickwork. A breach was at once made in the aqueduct and the droppings of Gothic torches were found, with signs of demolition work at the masonry block. The breach was sealed up again, but when the Goths came next night to resume work they were confronted by a placard reading: ‘Road closed. By Order of Belisarius.' They hurried back, fearing an ambush.

Wittich's next attempt was a surprise cavalry raid against the Pincian Gate one day at noon. His men had scaling-ladders with them, and also numerous flasks containing a combustible mixture for use against the gate, which was made of wood. However, our look-out on the tower signalled an unusual activity in the enemy's camp. Hildiger, who was on his way to luncheon with us at the Palace, happened to
see the signal. He immediately alarmed a squadron of the Household Regiment, rode out with them against the Goths, and stifled the assault before it was well launched.

Wittich's third and last attempt was against the part of the walls which is washed by the Tiber and has no protecting towers – the very spot where Constantine had repelled an attack during the fight at the mausoleum. It was to be a night attack in force. Wittich had bribed two Roman sacristans from the Cathedral of St Peter to prepare the way for him. They were to cultivate the friendship of the guards on this lonely stretch of wall; then, on the appointed night, visit them with a skin of wine, make them drunk, and doctor their wine-cups with an opiate which he provided. When the sacristans signalled with a torch that the coast was clear, the Goths would cross the river in skiffs, plant their ladders on the mud-flat and seize the city. It was a plan that might well have succeeded, had not one of the sacristans betrayed the other, who confessed as soon as the phial of opiate was discovered in his house. Belisarius punished the traitor in the traditional way, by cutting off his nose and ears and mounting him backwards on an ass. But instead of being exposed to the insults of the mob in the streets – the usual sequel – he was sent along the road into Wittich's camp.

After these flagrant breaches of the armistice had been committed, Belisarius wrote to Bloody John: ‘Overrun the Gothic lands in Picenum; carry off all the valuables that you find; capture the Gothic women and children, but do no violence to them. This booty is to be shared among the whole army; keep it intact. On no account forfeit the goodwill of the native Italians. Seize what fortresses you can, and either garrison them or dismantle their fortifications, but leave none still held by the enemy behind you as you advance.'

Bloody John found his task an easy one, since almost every Goth capable of bearing arms was away at the siege of Rome, and there were only small garrisons left in the fortified towns. His booty was enormous. Not content with raiding Picenum, he pushed up the eastern coast for 200 miles. He thereby disregarded Belisarius's orders; for he left in his rear the fortified towns of Urbino and Osimo. But a subordinate has a right to disobey orders if he thoroughly understands them and becomes aware of circumstances that make them out of date; and here was a case in point. For when the Gothic garrison of Rimini heard of John's approach they had fled to Ravenna, which is
only a day's march away, and the City Fathers of Rimini had invited John to enter. Bloody John judged that as soon as Wittich heard that the Romans held Rimini he would raise the siege of Rome and march back, for fear of losing Ravenna too; and he was correct in this forecast. Also, Wittich's wife Matasontha, who was at Ravenna and had never ceased to resent the marriage to which she had been forced, had opened a secret correspondence with Bloody John, offering him every assistance that would contribute to her husband's defeat and death. So he did right in pushing on to Rimini. Once Wittich acknowledged failure by a retreat from Rome, the end of his reign was near.

Now, Constantine was angry that Bloody John had been preferred to him in the command of this raiding expedition. Constantine had fought bravely and energetically enough throughout the siege, but nourished an ever-growing jealousy of Belisarius, whose victories he ascribed entirely to luck. Three years before, it will be recalled, he had been one of the signatories to the secret letter in which Belisarius was absurdly accused to Justinian of aiming at the sovereignty of North Africa. Belisarius had never told Constantine that the letter had been intercepted, but my mistress Antonina had recently hinted that she knew that a copy of it had reached the Emperor. Constantine was persuaded that, in revenge for the letter, Belisarius had, ever since the landing in Sicily, given him the most difficult, most inglorious, and most unprofitable tasks to perform. He therefore wrote to Justinian again, accusing Belisarius of having forged the evidence by means of which the Pope had been deposed, and – more absurd still – of having taken bribes from King Wittich to sign an armistice on better terms than the Goths had any right to expect.

He applied for leave to go hunting near the Port of Rome – not to return to his post at the Aelian Gate until the following morning. At the Port of Rome he gave the letter to the commander of a packet-ship that was to sail for Constantinople that day, telling him that it was a private letter for the Emperor from Belisarius. But the next day as soon as he returned he was handed a subpoena to attend Belisarius's military court at the Pincian Palace. Constantine naturally concluded that some spy had followed him and that the letter was now in Belisarius's hands; but he swaggered off defiantly to the Palace, ready to justify his action, if necessary. For he had a secret commission, signed by Justinian himself, to report at once upon any action on Belisarius's
part that showed the least taint of disloyalty. This commission had been sent to him at Carthage two years previously, in answer to his original report. It was still valid.

As it happened, the case which he had been summoned to attend merely concerned two daggers with amethyst-mounted hilts and a golden double-scabbard belonging to an Italian resident of Ravenna named Praesidius. Praesidius, who had fled to Rome at the outbreak of hostilities, prized these daggers as heirlooms, but had been robbed of them by one of Constantine's personal attendants; Constantine himself now wore them openly. During the siege Praesidius had made several appeals for their return, but was given only insults in reply. He had not brought a civil charge against Constantine, hardly expecting that in such times a mere civilian refugee would be given any satisfaction against a distinguished cavalry commander. But when the armistice was signed Praesidius at last made an application at the Palace for permission to swear a warrant against Constantine for theft. Theodosius, who as Belisarius's legal secretary was charged to settle as many cases as possible out of court, dissuaded him from proceeding. Constantine was nevertheless sent a note by Theodosius in Belisarius's name, asking him to restore the daggers – if they were indeed stolen property. Constantine disregarded this note, confident that the charge would not be pressed. In reply to a second note, signed by my mistress and written in a more peremptory style, he wrote a smooth denial of all knowledge of the matter. Praesidius, upon being shown this letter by Theodosius, grew very angry. It was St Anthony's Day (the same day that Constantine went hunting at the Port of Rome) and he waited in the Market Place until Belisarius came riding through on the way to attend divine service in St Anthony's Church. Then, darting forward from among the crowd, Praesidius caught hold of Balan's bridle and called out in a loud voice: ‘Do the laws of his Sacred Majesty Justinian permit an Italian refugee to be robbed of his family heirlooms by Greek soldiers?'

Belisarius's attendants threatened Praesidius and told him to be off; but he shouted and screamed, and would not release his hold on the bridle until Belisarius had undertaken to inquire personally into the matter on the very next day. Constantine, knowing nothing of all this, arrived at the Palace wearing in his belt the very daggers that were in dispute and of which he had disclaimed knowledge.

The charge was read out. Belisarius first examined the documents
in the case, including Constantine's letter of denial. Then he heard Praesidius's own evidence, and then the evidence of his friends. It appeared that the daggers had been forcibly taken from Praesidius's person by Constantine's servant Maxentiolus; that Constantine then wore them himself and persistently refused to return them, alleging that he had bought them from Maxentiolus, who had found them on a Gothic corpse.

‘Is it true that you made this statement, noble Constantine?'

‘Yes, my lord Belisarius, and I hold to it. This impudent fellow Praesidius is quite mistaken in thinking them his.'

‘Praesidius, do you see anyone in this court now wearing your daggers?'

Praesidius replied: ‘Those are they, Illustrious Belisarius, that the general is as usual wearing.'

‘Can you prove that they are yours?'

‘I can. My father's name, Marcus Praesidius, is damascened in gold on the blade of each.'

‘Noble Constantine, do any such names appear on the daggers you are wearing?' Belisarius asked.

Constantine flew into a rage. ‘What if they do? The daggers are mine by purchase. I would rather throw them into the Tiber than give them to a man who has publicly insulted me as a thief.'

‘I desire you to hand me the daggers for examination, my Lord.'

‘I refuse.'

Belisarius clapped his hands. In marched ten troopers of the bodyguard, lining up beside the door. Out of respect for Constantine's rank nobody had hitherto been admitted to the court-room (besides the two witnesses) but Hildiger, Bessas, and three other generals of equal rank with him.

Constantine cried: ‘You intend to murder me, do you?' His conscience was troubling him in the matter of the letter to Justinian.

‘By no means. But I intend to see that your man Maxentiolus returns to this Italian gentleman the daggers that he stole from him – if those are they.'

Constantine seized one of the daggers and with a great roar rushed at Belisarius, who was wearing no armour. He would have slit his belly open, but Belisarius side-stepped like a boxer and dodged behind Bessas, who was wearing a coat of mail. Constantine pushed Bessas aside furiously and made a second rush at Belisarius. Then Hildiger
and Valerian, another general, caught Constantine from behind and disarmed him. He was led off to confinement.

Later, this same Maxentiolus, examined by my mistress Antonina, told her that on the previous day he had seen Constantine hand a letter to the master of the packet, and heard him say that it came from Belisarius. Since the weather was unfavourable for sailing, the packet was still at its moorings; and the letter was soon in her hands. She read it, and made up her mind that Constantine was too dangerous an enemy to be allowed to live. Without a word to Belisarius, she sent one of my fellow-domestics to kill Constantine in his prison-chamber, of which she had the key. She was then for giving out that it had been a suicide; but Belisarius, who was both vexed and relieved at Constantine's death, would not tell lies of that sort. He preferred to take full responsibility for Constantine's execution and to justify it, in his report to Justinian, as a military necessity. Bessas, Hildiger, and Valerian countersigned this report, testifying to Constantine's mutinous words and murderous attack. Then Hildiger, at my mistress's suggestion, added (truly enough) that Constantine had lately been airing views on the nature of the Son which were not only highly heretical but attributable to the teachings of no reputable sect – too illogical, indeed, to be anything but the product of his own wild brain, notoriously unhinged since his sunstroke in Africa. So Justinian approved the sentence. But it was a great shame to Belisarius to learn, from the secret commission that was found on Constantine's dead body, that Justinian doubted his faith and employed agents to spy on him. He agreed with Antonina that, brave fighter though he had proved, Constantine's death was a public benefit.

On the twenty-first of March the armistice came to an end. At dawn of the same day King Wittich – having received by way of reply from Justinian no more than a curt: ‘I have received your letter and am considering what action to adopt' – raised the siege and marched back across the Mulvian Bridge with the remains of his army. He had given Belisarius warning of his intention by setting fire to all the huts, siege-engines, palisades, and other wooden material in his camps. It was Belisarius's principle not to press a retreating enemy with too great rigour, but these bonfires were lighted in defiance, and the Gothic divisions still preserved good military discipline. It would not be right to let them escape without one last blow. But Belisarius's forces had lately become so reduced by the detachment of garrisons
and raiding parties to various parts of Italy that he dared not risk a battle on equal terms. What he did was to call all his best remaining troops and hold them in readiness at the Pincian Gate until the look-outs on the walls reported that nearly half the Gothic army had now crossed the bridge. Then he led them out quickly and made a strong attack on the Goths drawn up near the bridge, waiting their turn to cross. Many men fell on both sides, for the fighting was hand to hand, until a charge of the Household Regiment broke the Gothic line. At this the whole disheartened mass streamed towards the bridge, with no thought in any man's mind but to get across it somehow. The confusion and slaughter in their ranks cannot easily be described, so fearful it was. Their cavalry rode down their infantry, and any man who slipped and fell was likely to be trampled to death. Moreover, our archers' fire was now concentrated upon the bridge, which was soon heaped high with corpses, and a great number of mail-clad men fell or were pushed over the arches into the water, where they were drowned by the weight of their armour. Ten thousand Goths died that morning at the Mulvian Bridge.