Theodora (29 page)

Theodora didn’t have the words to help Sophia understand. She wasn’t having sex with Justinian, not yet: maybe never. His role in the Imperial and government hierarchies meant it was impossible to think of him as anything but a potentially dangerous friend. If he ever did become her lover, it could only be difficult. She was well aware of an undercurrent of opposition to her presence in the Palace, an undercurrent that became more blatant the closer she found herself to the Empress, especially once the full extent of her past had been revealed and the Empress realised Theodora had taken the work of weaver as a penitent. Unlike the religious, Euphemia didn’t fully believe in the possibility of total absolution. Even beyond the displeasure at their growing friendship, there was the simple fact that it was legally impossible for Theodora and Justinian to have anything more than an affair. The legal barriers that prevented an actress, indeed any woman of no status, from marrying a man of rank were no different than they had been when she was with Hecebolus.

Mindful of her duty to the Patriarch, who no doubt had his own plans for her future, as well as her precarious position as staff and yet not staff, Theodora left every step up to Justinian. It had been Justinian’s idea for her to move into the Palace, the better to be able to work with him at all hours, Justinian’s idea –
with Narses’ prompting – to give her the small staff of her own, to help her feel more comfortable in the vast warren of buildings that could just as easily resemble a prison, Justinian’s idea to speak in Greek when Latin did not offer them enough scope. Whatever came next, it would be Justinian’s move. Theodora’s job was to wait and see what that might be.

Twenty-Nine

During her work on the consular celebration, Theodora became friendly with Antonina, an older woman, the wife of Belisarius, one of the few men Justinian truly trusted. Belisarius was everything the new Consul was not: strong, brave, respected in the ranks and, as Theodora told his wife, he was really very lovely. According to Justinian, Belisarius was a fine specimen of the old Empire, the kind of Roman he kept in mind when he talked to Theodora, at length, about his plans for the new forms of government, law and architecture that might renew the Empire’s pride. It was clear that Justinian was not merely interested in the law; no matter how bookish he was perceived to be, his ambition extended far beyond the borders of his library and office. Unlike most men though, as well as dreams, he now had the power to bring them to fruition.

Belisarius was indeed beautiful and his wife Antonina, ten years his senior at least, was one of the toughest women Theodora had ever met, herself and Sophia included. Like both of them, Antonina had once been a dancer. She had, however, only ever worked privately, and so had never gained the kind of reputation – for skill either on stage or in the bedroom – that provided Sophia with her hungry audience and made Theodora the target of snide Palace gossip. Antonina maintained she had remained virginal throughout her few years as a dancer, and had been a good wife to her first husband. Belisarius backed up her claim that she was a chaste widow when they first met, and
though the priest was not a little disapproving, there was no legal reason that a young, very hopeful soldier and a widow could not be married. Had their union come later, when Belisarius had been promoted through the ranks, it would have been a different matter, but with Justin so heavily reliant on Justinian’s judgement, and Justinian so fond of Belisarius, any censure Antonina might have experienced in the Palace could not readily show itself; not without seeming small-minded at least, or incurring the anger of the Emperor. This did not stop the Empress Euphemia or her friends from sneering at Antonina, but it did stop them doing so when either Justinian or his uncle was present.

The most vindictive of Euphemia’s friends was the dowager Juliana Anicia. She of the bald spot Theodora had first spied from the aqueduct as a child. Now an even wealthier widow, Juliana had provided herself with an array of methods to hide her problem, creating something of a fashion for wigs and hairpieces among the older women at court. When the old lady spoke rudely to her, or condescendingly to Antonina – or not at all, which was more usual – it helped Theodora to remember that the wigs weren’t merely for fun. As Theodora had been quick to learn and use in the consular celebration, the people liked shows of wealth, displays of grandeur, status symbols that included them, and for many years now Juliana had been endowing city buildings with her own personal wealth. A new church here, a monastery there, she gave the people what they wanted – not the bread and circuses provided by the state-supported games, but elegant, longer-lasting and determinedly Christian marble and stone. Further, the older woman understood perfectly that neither name nor money counted for long without power and so, while she mocked the once-concubine Empress in the privacy of her own home, in public she was
happy to be seen as Euphemia’s good friend. It did Euphemia no harm to have the aristocratic Juliana of the Anicii as her confidante either. Wealth met power, prestige met name in the friendship between these women. They made a successful and formidable pair. If Juliana Anicia had had her way, and she’d certainly tried, she would have married her own granddaughters into Justin’s family, but although Germanus had married her niece Pasara, Justinian had never paid any attention to the girls of her dynasty. Which made it all the more galling when people began to say that the one woman he was interested in was that slut Theodora – not that Juliana Anicia had ever been to the theatre, but she’d certainly heard stories.

In one part of the Palace then, Juliana Anicia was regarded as the wealthy endower of grand new buildings, useful to the Emperor who needed someone to put gold into the walls and the streets, as he certainly wasn’t interested in spending the Empire’s wealth to do so. Justinian would have spent more on building and state occasions – for a man supposedly obsessed with his books, he had a passion for building that rivalled Juliana Anicia’s – but Justinian was not Emperor, and while he and his uncle agreed on many things, finances weren’t one of them. Which was why Theodora was applauded by the businessmen of the Palace: she’d not only brought the consular celebrations in under budget, she had somehow fooled the people into thinking more money had been spent on them than ever before. Theodora believed any good actor should be able to make something out of nothing, light from shade, rich cake from dry bread, but the Palace was not used to such impressively lavish economy. It was the reason the Emperor Justin warmed to the girl. That and her delicious breasts, though he didn’t say so to Justinian, or to his own wife.

Justinian didn’t enjoy Juliana Anicia’s company any more
than Theodora did, but he did agree with the dowager on one thing: like her, he didn’t much trust Antonina. He did not fear Antonina’s ambition, Justinian had no problem with ambition that accorded with his own, and he trusted Belisarius implicitly for both his heart and his skills; he’d happily promote the younger man when the time came. It was more that Antonina seemed to enjoy too many secrets, and while Justinian was very keen to keep his own secrets, he didn’t like other people to have them. Theodora noticed this early on and made sure she told him hers directly – those she wanted him to know. Once Narses had explained about her theatrical past, Justinian felt he knew more than enough anyway. It wasn’t all, but it sounded like plenty, and helped him trust her. Most of the time.

‘But why not? It’s a very useful proposal.’

Theodora, always polite, certainly deferential in front of Justinian’s servants, chose not to bite back the sharp tone in her voice. She’d been trying to get Justinian to agree to a dinner between City officials and several key military figures for a few days now. In her self-assumed mission to make the Consul more popular with the people, Theodora thought it an ideal opportunity for him to show that he could converse as well with soldiers and generals as with librarians and lawyers.

Justinian sighed, motioning for his servants to leave them. The small entourage backed out of the room as silently as possible and when the door was closed with a soft shush, he answered, ‘Because I don’t want a dinner. I can talk to any general or soldier any time I want in the baths, that’s where half the conferences go on anyway.’

‘Yes, and then the men keep it between themselves.’

‘Isn’t that the point?’

‘It would be, sir,’ she added, ‘if you wanted a secret meeting
about kicking the Goths out of Italy or something equally irrelevant to our own City …’

Justinian winced, all too aware of Theodora’s raised voice and that this kind of talk kicked off wildfire rumours, especially in Palace state rooms where no one was ever truly alone. ‘Luckily I don’t have to think about that right now, what with merely being Consul?’

His heavy eyebrows were raised as high as they would go and she lowered her tone, took a step closer. ‘But you don’t want, always, to be just Consul …’

‘Just?’

‘You know what I mean, sir. As does the August himself. And you also know that when talks happen purely between men, they tend to stay that way. But when wives are present, there is more chance of …’

‘Gossip?’

Theodora smiled. ‘Dissemination.’

‘And you’d like to disseminate the idea that I’m capable of talking intelligently to a couple of soldiers?’

‘Frankly sir, I’d like to disseminate the idea that you’re capable of talking at all.’

‘We are not talking?’ Justinian shifted to Latin to emphasise his disappointment that this woman, with whom he enjoyed all manner of conversation, seemed to be dismissing their relationship.

‘What we do doesn’t count,’ she answered in Latin herself now, before reverting to Greek, the better to make her point. ‘It’s what the people think that matters. And Narses is the one who’s keen on you talking to soldiers …’

‘So you’ve dreamed this up between you?’

Theodora went on, ‘Antonina would welcome a chance for Belisarius to be seen more at the Palace.’

‘I’m sure she would, she’s an extremely ambitious woman.’

‘Married to an extremely capable young man. Narses says—’

‘Again? You two have become very close?’

‘We have an understanding, sir. And we both have your best interests in mind.’

Justinian sat down heavily, causing the thick leather of the stool to creak. ‘Go on.’

‘Narses maintains that ambitious soldiers can be dangerous. I believe he feels it is best to encourage loyalty.’

‘And he thinks I can best encourage loyalty in this boy-wonder, who is already a friend, by the way, by inviting him and his hard-faced wife and God knows how many others to a dinner? By making a show of a friendship that is already real?’

‘Sir, the dinner is my idea. Yes, Antonina suggested it, but I’m sure she’s right, she knows the City wives better than I do these days. She assures me it will do you good, as well as Belisarius, of course – it will show that the two of you have a working relationship.’

‘We do.’

‘Yes, but it needs to be shown. A meal is easy, it need not be lavish, we can keep it simple.’

‘And brief?’

‘If you like. But it is a statement, and the message will get out.’

‘What message is that, Theodora?’

There was a pause. A moment for the gulls to scream outside, for the sounds of the City to drift in over the wall, for Theodora to note the hurrying of feet down a distant corridor, to catch a brief scent of sweet spices, perhaps from the Palace kitchens, where cakes were being prepared for Euphemia’s ladies. Justinian was waiting for an answer and she needed to pick her words well. She liked this job, loved having her own rooms in the Palace, but there was no need for Justinian to keep her if she had nothing to do and, mindful also of Timothy’s
desire for her to stay put, Theodora didn’t want to screw it up. She knew as well as Justinian that while the Emperor himself often spoke of his nephew following him in the purple, it could be dangerous for anyone else to suggest the possibility.

‘The message that you can converse with anyone, sir.’ She smiled, the distant feet came closer, ran past the door and away, quieter again. ‘That you can tear yourself from your books every now and then to dine with friends, just as the ordinary people do.’

‘I’m a farmer’s son from Illyricum, what could be more ordinary?’

‘And it doesn’t hurt to show that the stars of our military find it easy to trust the farmer’s son who has become a man of books and letters.’

Justinian shook his head, giving in. ‘A simple meal, Theodora. And keep Antonina at the other end of the table. You and she might want to pass on all the comings and goings of the Palace to the eminent wives of the City. I’d rather everyone didn’t know that I prefer meat to fish.’

‘It’s the abundance, sir. Proximity to the water. The fish are so easily caught, and fresh, our chefs get lazy. I’ll make sure there is flesh on the menu.’

Theodora bowed, and left the room smiling. Even a small dinner needed a couple of weeks to plan properly. She was staying for now.

Justinian watched the door close behind her, waiting for his servants, idly dropping a heavy glass paperweight from one hand to the other. The weight was locally made, stamped with a bust of his uncle, the dark green of the laurel in late summer, he liked its smoothed edges, ran his thumb over the Imperial inscription. He would order a pile of papers to be brought from the library, there were several old folios he was keen to read. He
liked the outlook of this room, not over the gardens or down to the water, but close to the wall; the noise and scents from the City assured him that the Palace wasn’t entirely cut off from the people. He also liked that Theodora had been sitting here with him all morning, would come back later with plans and ideas, returning with the street passion she could not contain no matter how hard she tried – and he did enjoy watching her try. Justinian didn’t want Theodora to leave the Palace any more than she did, there was something about her, a zeal he’d missed since he’d been under his uncle’s protection, she was much more like the assertive women he’d grown up with back home in his town of Tauresium than the tamer delights he’d been offered since he’d come to the Palace.