Theodora (31 page)

‘On the divinity question, yes,’ Justinian agreed. ‘Naturally we can’t be seen to be condoning their beliefs outright. On the other hand, if they feel we are privately finding a way … well then, all might be well. We really do have enough to worry about with the Goths in the west without taking on the Church in the east too.’

‘So I marry you and we let it be known, quietly, that I am sympathetic to the Alexandrian Patriarch’s views?’

‘I thought you were more than sympathetic?’

‘I am.’

‘There you are then. First, though, we need to change the law. Actually, having put some effort into the preparation, I don’t think it’ll be too hard. I’ve been working on the phrasing for some time; “Taking into account proper renunciation, forgiveness, redemption, blah blah blah, a woman, once an actress, might – with correct teaching, penance, guidance etcetera – be deemed renewed, take up a fresh life …” and so on. You get the gist.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re a Constantinopolitan. That will go down very well with the people … if, when …’ and here Justinian waved his hand again, indicating what neither of them could comfortably say within these walls. ‘You understand the people in a way I don’t. And we get on well enough, don’t we?’

‘Yes. I think so.’

‘Good. And when you speak, when you don’t let your temper get the better of you as last night – you’re brilliant. Far more clever in speech than I could ever hope to be. Better even than Macedonia suggested in that letter she sent Narses in the first place. I should show it to you some time, Macedonia’s letter, very impressive.’

Theodora was trying to take it all in, all that had been plotted while she’d been blind to it.

Justinian went on, giving her time to catch up as he spoke. ‘I have to take a wife eventually, there’ll need to be an heir, you already have a child, so we know that you can bear children … and, you know …’ He was speaking softly, more quietly, looking over towards the market, to the City, not sure how to say this to her, saying it to the air instead, ‘I do … I enjoy your company. So we might work, as a couple, but first we need to change the law. And before that …’ He looked back from the window, looked at Theodora, ‘You need, of course, to agree?’

Theodora did not say she doubted she could ever conceive again, not after what she’d been through in the cave in the desert. She did not say that she felt both betrayed and blessed by Timothy, that she felt managed and handled by all these men and was sick of being sent to do their bidding without knowing all the facts. She did not say that she’d like to see that ageing fucking eunuch Narses raise a finger to her once she was Justinian’s wife or that she was hurt Macedonia hadn’t told her the full story. She did not even say that she suspected Justinian was a bigger fool than his cousin’s people took him for if he thought he could get a law change like that past the Empress Euphemia without a fight. Theodora knew a good offer when she saw one. At the very least, even if the law, as was likely, was rejected out of hand, she might manage a position as Justinian’s mistress when he found he had to put up with one of the boring Anicii virgins for his bride after all. Nor did she question if love or passion were to be part of the equation. Hecebolus had been about love. Theodora had never been offered such good terms in her life.

She knelt and accepted Justinian’s offer.

She thought he might kiss her when he took her hand and
raised her to him; instead he held her with both hands on her shoulders and thanked her. He was happy, and keen to get back to his papers. He’d send someone to unpack her bag and bring her a few new dresses. That penitent look would do well for the law change he was proposing, good to show herself like that to his counsellors, but she probably didn’t need to go around looking quite so sorry. The black and grey shifts were all very well, but he was sure they could find a dark green silk that would do nicely. She had lovely eyes, no point pretending otherwise.

Thirty-One

Theodora thought she had heard every nasty epithet that could be applied to a woman of her rank and profession, she’d used most of them herself, either talking about her own work or slagging off other actress-whores while drunk with Sophia. But the vicious phrases that Euphemia now directed at Theodora were different. They were loaded, barbed, often more blatant than anything she’d ever heard whispered and, unlike the sniggers whispered in a bar, or even the outright taunts from the Hippodrome’s cheap seats, there was nothing she could do about them.

Whenever Theodora was in the presence of the Empress – and Euphemia made sure it was often, inviting her for pastries in the afternoon, to walk with her ladies in the gardens, to stand with them in church – Theodora simply had to smile and take it. Take being called the Bear-Girl, while ladies-in-waiting covered their delicate noses. Take being offered the largest cake, the fattest sweetmeat: after all, so much physical work must sap her energy, she had to be hungry. Take being offered longer time in church: with so many sins to expiate, Euphemia and her entourage didn’t mind waiting a few more minutes, hours, days. Then the laughter from the women, the rustle of silk robes pulled a little closer that they might not touch Theodora as they swept out of the room, leaving her alone. And every day she went back for more.

*

Justinian said she should simply turn down the invitations from the Empress’ household, but Theodora knew better than that.

‘No, that’s what she wants me to do, to run away. I won’t give her the opportunity to say I refused her friendship. Her women will tire of it eventually, even if she doesn’t. Already one or two of them have started looking sympathetically at me when she’s not around. You have no reason to know this, but most concubines are a bit stupid.’

‘How so?’

‘They’ve never done anything else but please their men …’

‘Not like you?’ Justinian asked, looking up from his papers, mock-frowning. ‘Not like me. My work has been to give and to pleasure – that is not entirely the same as to please.’

‘Interesting distinction,’ Justinian put down his pen. ‘Go on.’

‘Thank you, sir. I appreciate your interest.’

Theodora smiled. For the first time in her life she was enjoying a relationship with a man as her friend. She was not fighting him for control of her body or her spirit, and though his status was so much higher than hers, he was not interested in being in charge. There had been a few times in the past weeks when she’d tried to manufacture an argument with him, simply because it was what she was used to. Justinian very quickly made it clear that he had no intention of playing those games, he did not want to subdue her or to shut her up, he was not interested in training her. If Theodora was to be his wife, she would need to train herself, he was a busy man and he simply needed his partner to step up – as his equal.

She went on, ‘When a girl is raised to be a concubine, that’s all she ever thinks about – she spends all her time working out how to please her “master”. It makes them stupid. Euphemia …’

‘My aunt?’ Justinian asked, reminding her of the closeness of their tie, if not their relationship.

‘If you’ll excuse me speaking openly about the August’s wife?’

Justinian nodded.

‘The Empress is behaving like a sixteen-year-old concubine who’s just discovered her master has brought home a new woman. Her nastiness makes her ugly – she’s already old.’

‘And not very well, I hear.’

‘No, but, you know, her women are not all as stupid as she is, only impressed by appearance.’ Theodora was warming to her speech, balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to explain more. Her dark features were animated, not pretty, certainly not traditionally beautiful, but more interesting to Justinian than most of the women he’d been introduced to in his life in the Palace, the daughters of the gentry. ‘It does her no favours to make herself look unkind in the eyes of those who serve her.’

Justinian leaned forward. ‘I agree. But is it good for you to be hurt, so often?’

Theodora shrugged. ‘It’s not like I’ve spent my life with people only being kind to me.’

Justinian held her gaze. ‘That’s not what I asked.’

Theodora laughed, shrugged again. Justinian waited for an answer. And waited. Eventually she gave in. ‘Must all the men in my life want to know everything?’

Justinian liked this. ‘All the men?’

‘You, Timothy, Severus, Menander. Hecebolus.’

‘The Governor?’

‘Yes. And Narses now, to a degree.’

‘Really?’

Theodora picked at the skirt of her dress. ‘For a man more interested in the military, he’s pretty good at second-guessing my clothing requirements.’

‘Wonderful. So that’s me, the priests, the eunuchs, and the oaf. Now that you’ve lumped us all in together, perhaps you’d like to actually answer the question? I’m concerned about you, I don’t want my grand plan to mean you have to suffer.’

Justinian pointed at a stool against the far wall and a silent servant ran to fetch it so that Theodora might, with Justinian’s permission, sit closer.

She spoke quietly, not wanting this dissection of her feelings to get around the Palace. She’d begun making friends of her own among the servants, this boy who worked for Justinian was one of those she trusted, but Euphemia was the Empress, her affiliations were legendary. ‘Yes, it does hurt, more than I would have expected. Partly because I know she has the right to say what she wants, but also because what she says here, within these walls, must be soft compared to whatever they’re saying out there, beyond the Palace. You think Juliana Anicia isn’t furious?’

‘She can know nothing other than that we have requested that you are made patrician, prior to the law change going through.’

‘That’s all you’ve said publicly, but unlike the Empress, the dowager is not stupid.’

‘She’s arrogant, with too much money and appalling taste in architecture.’

Theodora agreed. ‘But not stupid, and neither, sir, are the people.’ She leaned in, closer still: ‘You really do need to understand this. The people hear things and it runs through them as one body, they feel as one body. The Greens are one half and the Blues another, but between them they are one, they learn as one. What’s repeated in the market at first light, a trader telling another a secret he heard from his wife in the dark of their bed, is carved into stone as truth by the evening. According to Comito, everyone out there knows about your plan for me, for us. Some people will like it, they love a good rags-to-riches story. Those who were my fans in the theatre will be
delighted, this sounds like just another role to them, becoming patrician, maybe marrying the Consul.’

‘Definitely marrying the Consul.’

Justinian was serious: since first suggesting the plan to Theodora, he’d become even more keen on the idea, precisely because of what she was showing him now. She knew the City, and the people, far better than he ever could, and he needed this knowledge close at hand, would need it even more if his ambitions were fulfilled.

‘You have to get the law changed first,’ Theodora reminded him. ‘And so yes, those who were fond of me on stage, they’ll be excited for me. As you hoped, it makes you look good too, they like you for it, for making an effort to make the lives of their favourite actresses better.’

‘Even if it means their most favourite actress can never perform again?’

Theodora laughed. ‘You don’t know much about audiences, do you?’

‘Very little.’

‘They’ve already got another most favourite actress, many more. They replaced me with someone else the day I left the stage, but they enjoy their memory of me. They like the idea of their little Theodora bettering herself – but only the fans. The others, those who thought I was a slut back then, will not have changed their minds, and unlike the fans, they do like to pick a scapegoat and hang on to her for as long as they can.’

Justinian sat for a long time. Theodora waited. It was a nice room, his study. Even without a sea view, she liked being here.

Eventually he spoke. ‘I’m sorry that my idea to help both of us causes you pain. I would not want that. I thought, simply it now seems, that we would be good together, useful to each other.’

Theodora stood to leave, touched by his care. ‘We are, sir,
we will be, in time.’ She leaned in closer, whispering against the servant’s attentive pose, ‘And anyway, Narses said her servants say she’s been unwell for weeks now, they excuse her nastiness because she’s in pain.’

‘My uncle suggested something similar.’

‘So maybe the old cow won’t hang on much longer.’

She offered a low bow and left the room, leaving Justinian to his work, to his creation of the law that would change her life. She waited until she was back in the privacy of her room before punching the air with delight. She had a friend in a very high place.

Four weeks later Euphemia was dead. Narses brought Theodora the news with appropriate ceremony and regard. Aware that far too many people in the Palace knew about the discord between herself and the Empress, Theodora didn’t betray the tiniest hint of a smile. Nodding at the information, she then dressed in appropriate mourning and hurried to Justinian, to comfort the man that everyone but Narses now believed to be her paramour. They had still not kissed.

Later that week, after the body had lain in state, and Justin had prayed with the corpse of his purple-shrouded wife, prayed with and for the woman who had risen with him to the highest office of the secular world, the ceremonies of her funeral began. Incense and chanting, several masses, both for Euphemia’s soul and for the strength Justin now required to continue without his helpmeet. Finally there was the long procession through the streets, as always, bringing the Palace to the people, the outer form of Justin’s personal grief taking shape in customs as old, and as new, as the City. Euphemia was laid out with full ceremony, wearing not only her own precious jewellery but also one of Justin’s intaglio rings, his name scored into the green
jasper, held in place with a filigree setting from a solid gold band. She was buried with the full ceremony as her husband’s wife and with his mark.