the Hippodrome to salute the Emperor.
They would pass through the great squares: the Square of Arcadius, the Ox Market, the Square of Theodosius and the Square of Constantine, where the city militia were drawn up on parade and would then fall in. This last stopping point was particularly apt, thought Theodora, since it was the public space where, during the riots, the usurper Hypatius had been crowned with a borrowed chain as diadem. It had suffered arson and the violent destruction of buildings and statues. Now restored, it would be ceremoniously included in a communal act of obeisance to the true emperor.
It was a day of beneficent sunshine, a day of flowers and flags and jubilant festivity. Justinian and Theodora were resplendent in their purple robes, sparkling diadems and scarlet boots. Juliana and Zeno were there, but the small Anastasius had been left with his nurse. Theodora had wanted her grandson to be present, but his mother thought he would get tired and restless. Juliana in her cream silk tunic, her black curls bound in pearls, looked properly regal, thought Theodora. Sadly, not even the richest patrician robes could make her son-in-law resemble anything other than a caparisoned horse.
From her seat in the Kathisma, Theodora could see the gate through which the parade would enter. The ranks of spectators were predominantly blue on the one side and green on the other, but this would not be a day for chariot races, nor for competition. It was a celebration in which everyone could join and rejoice together. Green and blue flags fluttered in the light breeze.
“Who rides with Belisarius in his carriage?” Theodora asked. “His other generals?”
“Belisarius will not ride,” said Narses. “He told me he would walk, side by side with Gelimer. And he will not be preceded by trumpeters, as the ancient custom was. The procession will be led by priests and bishops.”
Theodora thought, crossly, that Belisarius would always find some way to be different and therefore memorable.
“He is a remarkably humble man,” said Antonina, “for one so exceptionally able.”
A wave of cheering could now be heard swelling in the distance.
“Ah! Here they come,” said Zeno, leaning forward expectantly.
Through the gates walked a group of priests led by the Patriarch of Constantinople; they were a mass of bright colours in their vestments, swinging censers and chanting a solemn Te Deum. The spectators settled down respectfully, but then the victorious general came into sight, walking shoulder to shoulder with the vanquished Vandal king. The huge circus erupted as the crowd roared their approval.
“Good heavens,” said Narses, “Gelimer is not only unchained, he’s wearing the purple!”
Indeed, he was wearing a robe of richly purple brocade. Belisarius looked splendid in his uniform, with a laurel wreath on his yellow hair.
Theodora went cold with foreboding. What was this? Could Belisarius and Gelimer be staging some kind of rebellion? Had they made a devilish deal? She glanced at Justinian, who watched the parade silently and intently, his expression hard to read.
Narses had unobtrusively drawn his sword.
Chapter 5: A better empress
Gelimer and Belisarius continued their measured march toward the Kathisma, accompanied by wave after wave of delirious applause.
“Gracious, he is goodlooking,” said Juliana, clearly not referring to the stocky, swarthy Vandal, whose legs were somewhat bowed. His purple looked to have been lent him, temporarily, by a better figure of a man.
Behind the two leaders rode cuirassiers, marines and mercenaries on horseback, each division preceded by a tall standard with its glittering golden eagle. They rode at a slow pace to keep their places with those who walked. These included members of the Senate in their striped togas and the urban militia in spotless white. All the elements of society were present, thought Theodora in growing dread. The army, the Senate, the people, the priests, even the Patriarch. Perhaps she and Justinian were facing a carefully staged coup.
Now more prisoners entered the stadium, although they hardly appeared particularly abject; they were walking tall.
“He’s brought only the tallest and the best-looking,” said Antonina. “Very handsome they are, too. And there are the other members of Gelimer’s family.”
But not in chains, noted Theodora. Nobody was in chains.
Round the circus the procession made its stately way. Now some heavily laden mule-drawn wagons rumbled into sight. They bore extraordinary treasures. Piles of armour, gold-inlaid. Gold-handled swords, scimitars and daggers. Cups and vases and dishes and spoons and bowls and salt-cellars glittering in the sun. A huge branched candelabrum with tongs and snuff-dishes. A gold seat flanked by winged cherubim. Golden statues with jewelled eyes. The sun struck sparkles on the multiple bright surfaces, brighter than the bronze heads of the snakes atop the serpentine column on the central spina around which the procession had to go.
Next followed an entire gold carriage, drawn by four high-stepping chestnuts; even their coats had a golden sheen. It was empty, with only the driver up on the box. The cheering spectators roared with joy. The triple bronze snakes’ heads appeared to be grinning.
“Incredible riches, quite incredible,” said Justinian, awed. “It is truly hard to believe one’s eyes.”
“All the hoarded treasures of the Vandals, gathered over a century of conquest,” said Narses in wonderment.
“Oh, yes, he scoured the vaults and cellars of all the palaces in the cities he took from the Vandals,” said Antonina.
“Some of it must be old Geiseric’s booty from the sack of Rome,” said Narses. “I believe I can see sacred items of the Jews that Titus looted in Jerusalem and bore home to Italy. It must all be here.”
A king’s ransom, thought Theodora in terror. More than a king’s ransom. Enough to buy and finance an entire empire. They could have planned to have the reigning emperor and empress killed. They could have bribed the guards. They could have brought the carriage to drive in triumph out of the Hippodrome to the palace. No doubt they would be cheered, especially if they distributed largesse. Oh, why had Juliana and Zeno come! Oh, dear God, let them not kill my grandson also, she thought. If we are deposed, he won’t be safe. She put up a hand to cover her trembling lips, feeling faint and nauseous.
Now Belisarius and Gelimer had reached the hard and dusty area below the Kathisma. They looked up at the royal couple. The brightly gaudy procession came to a halt. The Hippodrome went silent. In the hush, Belisarius stepped behind his prisoner, reached out and stripped off the purple robe. He flung it aside.
“Thrice August,” he declared, in a stentorian voice accustomed to addressing massed ranks of men without the services of a mandator to speak for him. “We present to thee and to the Empire of Byzantium the vanquished king of the Vandals, and the spoils of war. And we both declare our solemn oath of loyalty to thee.”
Gelimer stood motionless, denuded of his authority. He bowed his head in sorrow, and said in a less carrying but still audible voice: “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.”
Then the two men made full prostrations, side by side.
Once more the crowd erupted in an approving roar. Justinian bowed, throwing his arms wide to indicate his acceptance and grateful thanks. Delighted, Juliana and Zeno waved.
