The Purple Shroud: A Novel of Empress Theodora (20 page)

‘And I’m sure my husband is grateful.’

‘I’m sure he’s not.’

T
heodora was not able to dismiss her adultery with the composure Antonina brought to her own affairs, but nor could she ignore her desire for Anthemius. The knowledge that the danger she welcomed into her life might bring her downfall at any moment was a powerful attraction. The next time they met, a long-booked arrangement to discuss the artists commissioned to decorate the small Church of Sts Sergius and Bacchus, she used Comito’s daughter Sophia as a prop to keep him at arm’s length. Anyone in the room would happily have taken the child from her, at least two maids were employed to do nothing but attend to the baby, but Theodora was Augusta and if she chose to fuss over little Sophia rather than talk with the architect – the maids knew which option they’d have taken – no one was going to argue with her.

When Anthemius came to the Palace a few days later, with new plans for the Church of Hagia Sophia and asking the Augusta’s preference for stonemasons, Theodora’s response was the same, and the time after. At last Antonina took her friend aside and told her to stop being so stupid.

‘You’re being too obvious.’

‘I’m doing nothing at all.’

‘Theodora, people gossip whether there’s something to gossip about or not. A month ago you were all over the plans for the great church and all over the architect as well.’

‘I was not.’

‘You were, but most people thought it harmless fun. Now you practically ignore him, and when there’s nothing to prompt speculation – truly nothing – that’s when gossip becomes most rife.’

The Empress pulled her friend a little closer, and walked to a corner with her. ‘I’ve been in this Palace too long. If I’m not careful I’ll end up like that damn Pasara, so concerned about my image that it’s all I am.’

Both women looked across the room then, aware Pasara was watching them as she so often did.

They nodded to the aristocrat and Theodora continued, ‘I’ll take more care.’

‘You should take less care.’

‘Thank you, Antonina.’

‘Augusta.’

Antonina left with an exaggeratedly low bow and a broad smile accompanied by a sly wink and Theodora couldn’t help thinking her old friend could do with some of Pasara’s attention to form.

The following days were spent trying to pace herself around Anthemius, to find a place between holding him at a distance and holding him too close. For several nights he held her closer than anyone but Justinian ever had, safely trusting that the Emperor was days away, meeting with the Bishops in Thrace. Yet also unsafe in the awareness that if Macedonia could send Theodora messages from the house of the Pope in Rome, then the chances of this affair remaining hidden, so much closer to home, decreased with every delicious night.

The third time that Theodora yawned her way through the morning service in the Palace chapel, Comito took her aside, grabbing her arm very much as an elder sister, not as subject to Empress.

‘Pasara is speaking openly about the architect as your lover. Is it true?’

‘What?’ Theodora answered, ignoring her sister’s question. ‘Has she said so to you?’

‘Not to me, but to Germanus, who told Sittas.’

‘Who told you,’ Theodora breathed out and removed her sister’s clawing hand from her wrist, ‘and you believed third-hand gossip?’

Comito looked hard at Theodora, at the rings under her eyes, at the yawn she was even now trying to stifle, and thought of the smile she’d seen on her sister’s lips only moments earlier.

‘I don’t usually watch you grinning thorough the long chant of the liturgy.’

‘You wouldn’t be watching me at all if you were attending to your own prayer.’

Comito shook her head. ‘Someone needs to take care of you, little sister, and I’m better placed to warn you than Pasara, no?’

The first thing Theodora did was call for Narses. The Chief of Staff stood before Theodora, waiting for her to speak. When she did not, he hissed and scratched at his shaved head with both hands, hands Theodora could see were itching to turn into fists.

‘Speak, Narses.’

‘I’m waiting for you to say it, Mistress.’

‘Say what?’

Narses stared straight at her. ‘If the Anicii’s story is true or not?’

Theodora shook her head, saying nothing.

‘Given your haste in calling me to you,’ said Narses, ‘I’ll assume Pasara speaks the truth.’

‘I didn’t say.’

‘You don’t need to, it seems your years of training have deserted you.’

‘What do you mean?’

Narses stared at her. ‘You are blushing, Mistress.’

Theodora could feel the heat in her face, knew Narses was right and knew it was still safer to say nothing, no matter that her cheeks were giving her away.

‘Do I need to dismiss the architect?’ Narses asked.

‘You can’t, his plans for the church are perfect, and no one else could work with Isodore,’ Theodora said quickly. Sending Anthemius away would only confirm the rumour as true and besides, while she craved the architect’s presence, she craved the completion of his work almost as much.

‘Then you must go away.’

‘I can’t do that either. If I go anywhere those who dislike me will step in and push Justinian to leave me for the Goth’s Regent Queen.’

‘Amalasuntha?’ Narses asked, genuinely confused, ‘What’s she got to do with this?’

Theodora shook her head, not speaking.

‘Mistress,’ Narses continued, more surprised now than angry, ‘you’re jealous of the August’s support for the Goth child and his Regent mother?’

‘I am not concerned about the child. I’m concerned that my husband and his court have taken it upon themselves to promote the needs of the Goth queen.’

‘It’s politic to support her regency, that’s all.’

‘Many would think it wise for Justinian to marry her, a useful alliance,’ Theodora said. ‘I hear she’s very beautiful.’

‘They say that about any queen.’

Narses glared at Theodora, wanting to undercut her fear, to understand what he saw as her absurd jealousy, and instead he saw, briefly, a hint of the damaged and uncertain young woman she’d been when she came to the palace.

He ran his hands over his shaved head and tried again, using her name for the first time in a long while: ‘Theodora, we need Goth rulers in Italy holding firm for us. Supporting Amalasuntha’s regency is sensible, that’s all.’

‘Before our marriage there were those who suggested she would be the perfect match for him, bringing East and West together.’

‘Amalasuntha herself was married then.’

‘And she’s been a widow for seven years. My people tell me there are suggestions she’s holding out for my husband.’

‘Your people might also suggest that you’re going the right way to push him into her arms. You need to get away from this gossip about the architect, prove there’s no foundation to it.’

‘I’d rather get rid of Pasara. Can’t we marry Germanus to Amalasuntha? He’d like that, he’s always been a social climber.’

‘And in line for your husband’s throne,’ Narses answered quickly. ‘I hardly think giving Germanus rule over half of Italy is taking care of the August’s interests. I have another plan.’

Theodora sighed; she should have known better than to think Narses would have come unprepared. ‘Of course you do.’

‘I think it’s time you visited some of your people.’

Theodora listened.

‘Go to Bithynia. Not just a visit to Metanoia but a full procession, a real event. Take your staff, the whole entourage. We’ll make a show of it – gold for power, combined with penitence to exhibit your piety.’

‘I don’t know. Justinian needs me here, he’s hoping to bring the bishops together after their work in Thrace.’

‘Yes, and he doesn’t need your actions to undermine his confidence before he’s even started with them.’

‘There’s no sign he’s heard the rumour?’

‘I don’t think so. Assuming it is only a rumour?’ Theodora didn’t respond and Narses went on, ‘And the Emperor keeps his own counsel more often than not.’

‘You know his thoughts as well as anyone.’

‘No, Mistress, not where his feelings for you are concerned,’ Narses admitted. ‘But perhaps we can make this work for the August. We’ll send John of Tella with you, he’s always been the mouthiest of your anti-Chalcedonian priests. With him out of the way the bishops may well come to an agreement here.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on it.’

‘Neither would I,’ Narses said and shook his head. ‘In truth, I can’t imagine anyone making sense of this mess the Church has made for itself, but the Emperor is doing more than betting on it, and we’re bound to support him. Besides, Bithynia will be lovely in spring, and you can show penitence by visiting some of the monasteries. You can leave an endowment, the monks always welcome gold.’

‘From whose purse?’

Narses moved closer and spoke more quietly, but the vehemence of his tone left Theodora in no doubt about his feelings: ‘Yours, Mistress.’

‘From my household budget?’

‘No, from your private purse. The Emperor has given you estates that earn plenty, even if they’re not always mentioned at tax-collecting time. I’m sure your accounts could endow a few religious houses. You should know by now that every action results in some payment or other.’

‘Don’t judge me, eunuch.’

Narses looked down at his Mistress, more than a head shorter and many years his junior. ‘Then don’t place yourself in a position to be judged, Mistress.’

The conversation finished, Narses left to continue preparations for a journey Theodora knew he had already decided on long before she had called him to her rooms. She sat alone, furious with the eunuch and more furious with herself, for minding his censure, for being found out, for betraying Justinian whom she did love, and for still wanting Anthemius. Wanting him very much.

Late that night Anthemius came to Theodora’s room as usual, quietly entering through the side door from a hidden corridor. He waited in the dark antechamber while she ordered her servants to leave, waited while she made up an excuse for Mariam to go too, and then, unusually, he waited while Theodora ranted at him, stood quietly while his mistress, the Empress, the Augusta, furiously blamed him for her predicament.

‘I’ll go back to Tralles.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Theodora hissed, ‘you have the church to finish. You work for the Emperor, you can’t just leave.’

‘I’d rather risk his anger at leaving a project unfinished than Narses’ censure over…this.’

Theodora glared at him. ‘This? This what? Why so coy all of a sudden? Why not name it for the fucking it is?’

‘Mistress…’ Anthemius crossed to her, his voice gentle, but the hand he held to her mouth strong and fast, ‘you’ve taught me well about the gossip in this place. Be quiet.’

Theodora shook her head, biting at his fingers to push him away. ‘I hardly think gagging your Empress will look good as you sneak from the City.’

Anthemius stepped back. ‘I apologise.’

‘No,’ Theodora said, ‘I do. Of course you’re worried, I am too. Narses is sending me away. Perhaps it’s a good idea. You can look around for a young woman in my absence, someone safe and easy.’

‘I don’t want safe and easy.’

‘What do you want?’

‘You.’

He smiled, and she smiled, and then she laughed, holding her own hand, and his, over her mouth again, holding in the hysteria and the shiver of danger and the pleasure that was fear and wanting and waiting for gratification. The doors were quickly locked, shutters closed, Anthemius’ body slammed into Theodora’s, her hands locked with his, mouths closed fast on each other, eyes open to peril and indulgence and the yawning gap between the two that made their joy in each other still more fierce.

For the next three weeks Theodora saw Anthemius only with her women in attendance, visited the building sites on public excursions, and otherwise stayed away from the works. She threw herself into supporting Justinian’s business with the bishops, urging those of her own belief to lean towards his plan, just as he did from his side of the divide. Anthemius smiled as fondly at the Empress while surrounded by her ladies as he ever had when meeting with her alone, accepted the baby Sophia’s presence in the room when he explained his drawings and designs, and did not look back when he walked away. Theodora, seated, could not stop herself watching him go.

At the end of the month Theodora, Comito, the younger women and babies, the priest John of Tella, along with an entourage of ladies-in-waiting and assistants and all the staff
needed to care for them, prepared to travel. Pasara and her family had expressly not been invited, and she was left behind, feeding her anger. Mariam too stayed behind, her absence not a punishment but to save her from travelling; during her two years as a child sex slave she had been dragged from place to place and Theodora wanted her to be spared the memory of those days. Enormous quantities of food, wine, gold, silks, jewels, clothes, carpets, drapes and hangings were hoisted on to the five ships that formed the Empress’s grand procession to Bithynia. The two days of loading were supervised by Armeneus, who was not at all happy that his mistress’s affair meant he was forced to leave Narses behind for the next month. At last all was ready and Theodora was called. She had spent the previous night with Justinian, as she had done every night since Narses decided the trip was necessary, making love to Justinian, sleeping with Justinian, taking care of Justinian – playing the traditional wife as opposed to her preferred role of equal consort, and doing her best to ensure that no matter what poison Pasara might have passed on, her husband would think of her fondly while she was away, desire her more keenly from the moment she left.

The Emperor and Empress walked together down to the dock.

‘You look tired,’ she said.

‘I am,’ he agreed, ‘but the work on the edict is going well, I’ll have a break soon.’

‘And then begin plans for sending Belisarius’ troops to Carthage.’

‘Yes.’

‘Antonina will travel with them?’

‘She will.’ Justinian started to say more and then stopped. Leaning closer to his wife he said quietly, smiling still, ‘I used to think Belisarius was a fool, frightened to leave Antonina
behind in the City.’ Justinian had been holding her hand lightly, guiding her down the path, a touch just to show they were together, so the people would view the August as one, and now he grabbed Theodora’s fingers so tightly that they were crushed into each other. ‘Now I understand,’ he whispered, ‘that Belisarius would rather put up with her infidelity than lose her altogether.’