and imprisoned her on an island.
“After all, he is a Barbarian,” said Narses. “One cannot depend upon his given word.”
Now, thought Theodora, Justinian would arrange for the woman to be rescued. She would come to Constantinople after all, deeply in his debt. Beautiful and needy. And fertile, thought Theodora.
I don’t want that woman here, the words formed in her mind.
Narses the eunuch: his journal, AD 535
Possibly she expected a kiss
1 May, AD 535
I have discovered, through my spies, that there is a close bond between Cappadocian John and Amalasuintha. Theodahad has imprisoned her on the small volcanic island of Martana in the middle of Lake Bolsena, a crater lake not far inland, in Tuscany. I’d wager all I have that she will not stay there long. Before her son died John visited her in person, and they have since been corresponding regularly. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he were to launch a rescue mission; it is the kind of bold, dramatic action that appeals to him. If those two work together, there is no knowing what they might achieve. It could be an unholy alliance.
The Empress Theodora is certain that John has designs on the throne of Byzantium, and I agree with her. He is an intelligent, ruthless and crafty man of immense personal power, and he has amassed a substantial fortune. My spies further report that he has been allowing certain of the great landowners off the hook with taxes. And he has undeniably been responsible for spreading awful rumours about the Empress. He is clearly hatching some plan.
And as for Amalasuintha – her father, Theodoric, was a great king, and under his rule the Gothic empire became powerful and rich. She is of a truly royal lineage; she is a woman of many accomplishments and, rumour has it, considerable personal charm. In spite of my assurances, I agree with the Empress: she should under no circumstances be given a home in Constantinople, nor the opportunity to build up a power base here. If she and the Cappadocian should attempt to overthrow the Despotes and Despoina, there are still many aristocrats and senior officials who are disaffected and might rally to their cause.
I have tried to convince the Emperor that this is a real possibility and that bringing her here, which he plans to do, would be extremely dangerous, but he does not heed me. He too has corresponded with her and he believes that she is much maligned, that she is primarily an intellectual person and as an ally has a right to our support. For a man who is often an excellent judge of character and capabilities, our Emperor can sometimes be almost wilfully blind. In this instance he will not be warned.
I pretended to have come round to his views on this. But I remain adamantly opposed. I shall have to find a remedy.
14 May, AD 535
And so I did. Justinian dispatched Peter the Patrician as the official envoy of the Byzantine state to negotiate with Theodahad about Lilybaeum in Sicily, since it had belonged to the recently vanquished Vandal king, and Justinian, as the victorious emperor, was stating his claim to it. At the same time, Peter had instructions to have secret talks with Amalasuintha, to arrange the timing and details of a rescue mission that would bring her safely to Constantinople. Justinian offered to send a fast dromon, the speediest ship he has, to transport her and a suitable retinue to the capital.
“Despotes,” I said to him, “this dromon should depart immediately, and hove close to the Italian shore. No time must be wasted once the arrangements have been made. We shall have to spirit the lady away before Theodahad realises what is happening.”
“Narses, you are right, as usual.”
“I shall sail on the dromon,” I offered, “to ensure that everything is carried out with dispatch and in complete secrecy.”
“Certainly. An excellent plan. You should leave at once.”
The weather being set fair, we made very good time to Tuscany, reaching its shores before Peter, sailing on a cargo boat, could arrive. We cast anchor in a cove with a flat beach, not wanting to be seen in port. My spies had reported that Amalasuintha was not in chains, nor was she locked up, since there were no boats handy with which she could escape.
I went ashore from the dromon by myself, informing the captain that I wanted no escort at all. As my spies had recommended, I found a horse-drawn farmer’s cart to transport me to the shore of the lake. There I hired a small rowing boat from a fisherman, and began to row myself out to the island. I learned to row as a child, since we lived near a river, and my body remembered the rhythm of the dip and pull. The lake has waves and tides and is reputedly sometimes stormy, but it was a lovely day and the water was crystal turquoise, so clear that I could see the fugitive shapes of darting fish. I rowed without urgency, enjoying the sun on my back and the gentle caress of the breeze. Soon I reached the steep dark volcanic cliffs, found a cleft with a beach and stowed the boat on the almost black sand and pebbles.
The deposed queen and her entourage had been housed in a summer villa that sat on a rocky flank of the island looking eastwards. It was a substantial stone building, with long wings on either side of a large portico complete with Greek and Roman statues and urns full of scarlet petunias. Off to the side, a winding path led up the hill to an imposing pillared pavilion.
There were guards, no doubt, but they were not in evidence. Probably dicing, I thought. After all, the royal prisoner had no way to flee and they were expecting nobody. I skirted the villa and reached the path to the pavilion unchallenged. Up I climbed, my feet still cool and sandy. At last, only slightly winded, I reached the top. In the centre of the pavilion there was a luxurious bath. Marble paving surrounded a sunken oval filled to the brim with water. It had ledges set all around it, at just the right level so that one could sit comfortably in the water, with a spectacular view in all directions to the hills that surrounded the lake. Their undulating shapes were shadowed with purple in the late afternoon light.
I stepped forward out of the shade cast by the tiled pavilion roof. Amalasuintha was sitting on the underwater ledge at the nearest end of the oval bath, her abundant chestnut hair loose around her creamy naked shoulders, her body shimmering under the surface like some strange forked sea creature.
“Good afternoon, Majesty,” I said. “I am Narses, an emissary from Justinian, Emperor of Byzantium, who sends his greetings.”
“Good afternoon,” she responded, not at all put out at being found unclothed by a complete stranger. “Narses, did you say? We have heard of you. How did you get up here without an escort of the soldiers set to guard me?”
“I can be unobtrusive, if need be.”
“So I see. Would you care to join me? The water is balmy. It is heated, but not too much.”
“I think not, but thank you.”
She arched her back, so that her nipples rose above water level, the dark rosy shade of ripe plums. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, thank you.”
She relaxed. “A eunuch. We heard that. Did they neuter you entirely? Are you left with a frightful scar?”
“It was done by professionals,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Quite neatly. At the behest of my parents, so that I might find a good administrative post at court. I can still urinate standing up.”
“Really? Interesting. Perhaps then you are capable of … somewhat more than that?” She looked up at me with
