Theodora (36 page)

‘Good. And do you think you can persuade them to want you as Empress?’

‘I don’t … we shouldn’t …’

Narses shook his head, ‘No, we shouldn’t, but we will. There’s only you and I here. Tell me, do you think you can persuade them to accept you as Empress? As you are now? This Theodora? The one they still remember from the stage, the one some of them believe has bewitched the Consul with her sex, others are sure has bewitched him with Egyptian drugs and Coptic magic, while some even think that he is a lover of men – why else would he have me so close after all? – and you are just here to make him look a better Christian.’

‘They really think that?’

‘That’s my point. You have no idea what they think any more. Even your own sister can’t tell you exactly what’s going on out there, because people are different around her too, now that she is the sister of Theodora first, Comito second.’

‘And how that angers her.’

Narses ignored her; sibling rivalry was the least of his
concerns right now. ‘You were of these people, you did know them, you played them and they were happy for you to play them. It was a pact created between you, as performer, and audience, you made them love you, laugh with you, and because of that you can be useful to Justinian, who will never be of them. But I assure you, you have no idea who they are now, any more than they know who you are since you have travelled, since you have found faith, since you have become a wife. I have people out there who report to me every day, from both Green and Blue camps, from every faithful sect and none, men and women, locals and refugees, rich and poor. Yes, we wanted you for Justinian, and when it became apparent that might work, we were delighted.’

‘We?’

‘Some of us in the Palace, others in the Church. You complete him in some ways that were sadly lacking. You are of the City, as he is a foreigner. You are of the people, as he was raised in the Palace. You are—’

‘Common?’

‘As he is, through his uncle, royal. Despite the obvious problems in getting you beside him, it is a good match, but don’t kid yourself it will suffice. You found it hard enough to cope with the animosity of the likes of the old Empress and Juliana Anicia, how will you cope when sitting with the Persian ambassador and he asks you about his country’s policies regarding the Nestorians, asks you because he knows you don’t know and he wants to take home a story about how the brothel girl could not compete with his Sassanid sophistry? How will you support Justinian to deal with warring bishops and patriarchs – and believe me, it may well come to that – if you only know your own beliefs, and then only from personal experience, and have not read the lessons and treatises that would give you greater understanding, more measured sympathies, wise counsel
to share with this man who will come to need you even more than he does now, this man you have married, who has given you so much in the transaction?’

‘I’ve given back to him.’

‘What? Sex? He could have got that anywhere. And with less aggravation from the likes of his aunt and the City dowagers.’

‘It’s more than that.’

‘Is it?’

Theodora’s voice was quieter now. Thinking as she was speaking, opening her mouth and surprising herself, she said the words, ‘I love him.’

She had not said this before, had not knowingly thought it of the man who had become her friend before he was her lover, but understood it to be true as the words were formed and spoken.

Narses paused, took it in. ‘Then act as if you do. You’ve been married for six months, you should be used to it by now. This really isn’t about you any more.’

His point made, Narses left the room, his own room, and Theodora could not have felt more like the eight-year-old bludgeoned into Menander’s idea of trained elegance if she had been made to stand on one leg, in perfect attitude for half an hour, before kissing her master’s left foot in penance for being insolent yet again.

Later that day she called Narses to her and agreed to his offer of lessons. He smiled and accepted her request as if it had all been her own idea, congratulating her on her good sense.

‘I do want a favour from you though, in return.’

‘Madam?’ Narses was irritated, he’d made his point perfectly well, was not expecting an exchange.

‘I have heard, from Leon, the uncle of my friend Sophia …’

‘Sophia the dwarf?’

‘Yes, that’s the one.’

‘Nice voice.’

‘She thinks so. Anyway, there was a man, a trader, on the ship from Antioch.’

‘When you came back?’

‘Yes. I have heard from my friend’s uncle that this trader has been dealing in young girls. There was a pilgrim family on the ship and Leon now thinks he saw one of the two daughters, Mariam, in the slave market. She was bought by a dance master, apparently.’

Narses simply looked at Theodora, waiting for her to continue. When she did not, he asked, ‘Yes?’

‘She was a sweet child, innocent. I would not wish for her …’

‘It may be too late, Madam.’

Theodora was tired of the coyness. ‘Yes, it may be too late for her virginity. But you know as well as I do that most of these dance masters are little more than whore traders. Even your beloved Menander sold us when we were girls, both as dancers and as women.’

‘And you would like to save just one?’

Narses couldn’t keep the cynicism from his voice, or he wasn’t trying. Theodora couldn’t be sure, but she wasn’t going to fight with him.

‘Narses, do I have any power with you at all?’

‘Madam, you are my master’s wife. Of course you do.’

‘Right. Then send someone to Leon, get a description of the dance master, find the girl and bring her to me. And find out where the trader is while you’re at it. The one who sold her to him in the first place.’

‘Madam, this is impracticable, it was four years ago—’

‘I don’t care,’ Theodora hissed, furious. ‘Yes, it’s quite probably too late. But I saw that trader spot her on the ship and
there was nothing I could do to stop him then. There is something I can do now. Or rather, there is something you can do now. I’m sure, Narses, you have the ability to make something happen? You seem to have made such a lot happen already. Lessons and tutors and … well, there was Euphemia’s opposition to my marriage …’

Theodora stared at Narses and he glared back. He understood she knew him better than his other masters had, knew him as well as he knew her.

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Your first tutor will be here in half an hour. You should be ready.’

‘I will.’

‘Good. I’ll get back to you.’

With Leon’s help and Sophia’s connections, Narses found the girl within the week. He was right, it was too late to stop her being used for sex, but Theodora was sure it was not too late to give her some new hope. The family had long ago given up on finding their child and moved away, she had no one. Theodora arranged for Mariam to have a place in her own retinue, plenty of time to play with the children of other staff, and with Ana who now lived in the Palace with Comito and Indaro. Mariam barely spoke, and smiled less, she was a very different child to the one who had played so openly on the ship, but Theodora once heard her humming almost happily as she and Ana played in a corner of a warm courtyard; the girls were obviously company for each other. Having grown up closer to her sisters and her fellow dancers than to Hypatia, Theodora relaxed a little seeing the girls together – she might never be the best mother for Ana, maybe it was too late now to become any more than an interested adult – but with a friend of her own, Ana might
do well enough. She would certainly never want for food or clothing or money, never have to work with her body as Mariam had already been forced to.

The trader himself was found several weeks later, his mutilated corpse dumped well outside the City walls. When Narses passed on the news to Theodora she congratulated him. He told her he had no idea what she was talking about, and reminded her that her afternoon lesson would begin soon, she’d do better to spend more time in preparation than in imagining extravagant scenarios: apparently her grasp of early philosophy was really quite poor.

Thirty-Six

There were those in the City who saw Justinian and Theodora’s marriage as a great new start for the Empire, exactly as Narses maintained; they believed the two were a perfect coming together of rich and poor, East and West. Those who knew about Theodora’s links with Timothy and Severus – and it was not something that had been widely promoted – saw hope for the Church in their union. These were the citizens who entirely approved Justinian’s waterfront building works, loved the City’s renewed ports and walkways, heard talk of the new cathedral being planned so far away in Ravenna, that last stronghold of true Roman Imperialism in Italy and loudly applauded the couple’s work, who were quietly keen to see Justinian named Caesar, before or after the old Emperor’s death, they didn’t mind which. There were others, though, perhaps less outspoken, who were not concerned about the works of man, but who saw the earthquakes in Antioch, the floods in Ephesus, and the drought in Palestine, as part of a divine warning. A warning of what in particular they would not say, but a warning nonetheless.

In the two years following Justinian and Theodora’s wedding it became increasingly obvious that age had suddenly caught up with the soldier Emperor. Already an old man when he came to the throne, Justin had given his best years and much of his strength to the military. Most of the young men now commanding his army were masters of rote-learned strategy; the Emperor’s knowledge had been won on the battlefield, as his
body was now reminding him. Suddenly Justin looked, and felt himself to be, the seventy-five-year-old that he was. Unlike his nephew, Justin had always been an intensely active man, which made it all the harder when ill health forced him to bed. He’d been barely content to allow the constraints of ruling to confine him to the Palace and the City, missing the freedom to ride out with his men whenever he wanted, and he now found it terribly frustrating that it was his weakness forcing him to keep to his rooms. There were still times when he felt better, occasions when he showed himself to the City and the Senate, as much for the happiness of the people as his own, but by late winter, when he could no longer walk ten steps unaided, when lying down brought on racking coughing fits, and sitting up the same, it was obvious the Emperor was preparing to die.

On the advice of his doctors and, eventually, by his own inclination, Justin began to further limit his public appearances. Soon after, with very little preamble, almost as a matter of simply stating what had come to be expected anyway, Justinian was proclaimed co-Emperor, anointed Caesar. The coronation was quiet by earlier standards, there was no big celebratory mass and meal as there had been for the wedding: the kind of money spent on the consular celebrations was happily saved for the City, and the citizens approved the economy.

Justinian’s coronation was a serious, solemn occasion, performed on Holy Thursday, allowing a clear comparison between the Christ’s passion and His sacrifice with the exaltation and similar sacrifice of rank. Purple-robed, in the chlamys of the August, and with the Imperial crown on his head, Justinian was now Justin’s equal, in the sight of both God and the state – and he was more than thirty years younger. The Empire had had old men in charge for so long; Justinian was young and healthy and hopeful. His bride, at her own coronation three days later on Easter Sunday, was younger still.

Again the solemnity, again a quiet occasion by City standards. Where Justinian’s coronation had taken place in Hagia Sophia, Theodora’s was a more private event within the Palace, with a very few dignitaries present. The Patriarch of Constantinople stood with Justinian to represent God and law. Justin, still tired from Justinian’s ceremony three days earlier, sat close by, watching carefully, pleased to see his plans for his nephew coming to fruition. Yes, his own wife had been against this marriage, but Euphemia had understood as well as he did that it was easier to govern with a partner, easier to rule with someone compassionate by one’s side. Justinian had chosen Theodora from any number of women he had been offered over many years. The lad – the lad who was now a man – was no soldier, but he was bright and well read. His nephew had made his choice, Justin respected it. Anyway, he liked the girl, she had fire, and Justinian could do with some fire.

The night before the coronation, alone in her rooms, more nervous than she had ever been, worrying about what was to take place the next day, worrying that all the machinations and planning and organising by so many different people and factions to get her to this place were somehow forcing a position upon her that she did not have the right to take, Theodora found herself on her knees in prayer. After a time, in the kind of semi-trance she had not experienced since she’d been in the desert, she recalled her dream of the huge domed church, and the words promising that Mary was the star of Bethlehem. And then, not entirely sure if she was making this connection herself because she wanted to see it or because it was truly there, Theodora decided she did have the right to assume the crown. If a fourteen-year-old Jewess in Nazareth could be Theotokos, then a twenty-six-year-old ex-dancer could probably become Augusta. It was the kind of comparison that might also have her
damned as a heretic, so she thought it best to keep it in her heart, and went quietly to bed, where she slept easily and well, waking smiling.

Later that day, Justinian raised the Imperial crown and lowered it on to his wife’s head. The dutiful shout came up from the men in the hall, both blessing and acclamation. Theodora’s resurrection in the purple was complete.

The immediate sign of the couple’s new status was the move to the Daphne Palace, the Emperor’s wing in the complex of buildings that made up the larger Palace. Bigger rooms, more light, better views of the City, an easier walk to the Kathisma, the Emperor’s box in the Hippodrome where, when Justin eventually died, they would present themselves to the people. They had the right to do so now, but Justinian was wary of seeming too triumphant, and Theodora was surprised to find she was nervous about showing herself in the Hippodrome after all this time. The doctors thought Justin had some months yet; until then, the business of getting on with the Empire, the day-to-day life in the Palace would help both Justinian and Theodora prepare.