Nine For A Devil was—as they love to say in book blurbs—torn straight from the screaming headlines of the summer of 548, or would have been if anyone in Constantinople had invented newspapers. Empress Theodora in fact died around the end of June from a disease which, to judge by the sparse description left to us, was most likely cancer. What the historians all failed to note—even the sixth century writer Procopius who never met a scandalous rumor he didn’t like—is that there were a lot of real historical figures who had possible motives for killing the empress.
Theodora’s death allowed General Belisarius and his wife Antonina to prevent the marriage Theodora had arranged between their daughter Joannina and Theodora’s grandson or, according to some sources, nephew, Anastasius. Although Theodora’s meddling might sound farfetched, Procopius, as translated by Richard Atwater, avers that:
“She [Theodora] made the boy and girl live together without any ceremony. And they say she forced the girl against her will to submit to his clandestine embrace, so that, being thus deflowered, the girl would agree to the marriage, and the Emperor could not forbid the event. However, after the first ravishing, Anastasius and the girl fell warmly in love with each other, and for not less than eight months continued their unmarital relations.”
Antonina arrived in Constantinople, seeking military aid for Belisarius, around the time Theodora died. Some sources say she arrived after the empress’ death, but we side with those who say simply that she arrived too late.
Perhaps it would have been better for Belisarius, if not for Antonina, to have allowed Joannina’s marriage to take place. The historian Philip Stanhope says that whether Joannina eventually married someone else or whether Belisarius’ line even continued is unrecorded.
Another general, Justinian’s cousin Germanus, had indeed long seen his career impeded by Theodora, who all her life maintained an enmity to Justinian’s side of the family. In 550, with Theodora gone, Justinian was finally allowed to favor the man whom many expected to succeed him on the throne. He appointed Germanus to head the ongoing invasion of Italy. Unfortunately, Germanus fell ill and died on the way, giving Theodora a posthumous victory in the family feud.
The situation of the general Artabanes, prevented by Theodora from repudiating his Armenian wife to marry the patrician he had rescued from rebels in Libya, is as described, melodramatic as it may seem. We cannot confirm with absolute certainty that Artabanes had a borderline drawn down the middle of a house he shared with his estranged wife, but we are sure Procopius would have been happy to tell the story if he had thought of it.
Artabanes may well have been disgruntled enough to be suspected of the empress’ murder. Later in 548 or early 549 he actually became embroiled in an attempt to depose Justinian. The scheme was easily foiled and Justinian, acting inexplicably as he often did, granted clemency to the conspirators. Artabanes resumed his military career. He was sent to Italy, no doubt pleased to get away from his wife.
During 548, and for years before and afterwards, the empire was agitated by the religious controversy known as The Three Chapters. We refrained from any attempt to detail either the theological or political subtleties of the matter. In our defense we cite Edward Gibbon who, in The Fall of Roman Empire, referred to “The famous dispute of the Three Chapters, which has filled more volumes than it deserves lines…” Suffice it to say that Justinian hoped to broker an agreement between the various religious factions but ultimately failed, leading in time to the schism which still exists between the eastern and western churches.
As part of Justinian’s effort to unite the church, Pope Vigilius was invited to Constantinople for a full and frank discussion, or kidnapped, depending on which historian’s interpretation you prefer.
Emperors knew how to negotiate in those days. Vigilius was detained for eight years. He was finally allowed to leave the city in 555 but died before reaching Rome.
As for the monophysite Patriarch Anthimus, after he was deposed for his heretical views, the empress kept him safely hidden in her part of the palace where his presence was not discovered for twelve years, until Theodora’s death, if you believe John of Ephesus.
John the Cappadocian, the much maligned tax collector, was hounded by Theodora for years, even after she managed to have him removed from power and exiled. The tale of woe he relates to John is entirely factual. In a sense, the Cappadocian was a real life counterpart to our Lord Chamberlain, a powerful man, close to the emperor and trusted by him, whom Theodora hated and relentlessly sought to destroy.
While Procopius states that John the Cappadocian “…remained in prison till her [Theodora’s] death, after which he was allowed by the Emperor to return to Constantinople, a free man…” we calculated that a cunning fellow like the Cappadocian—knowing Justinian would allow him to return anyway—would surely have come back early. It isn’t surprising that Procopius failed to notice the Cappadocian lurking for a few days in the imperial kitchens. He failed to notice the former patriarch Anthimus hiding in the palace for twelve years.
Unfortunately, we must believe Procopius when he tells us that the Cappadocian had to be content with remaining a priest, despite his continuing ambitions. We can’t help but wonder if the formerly powerful official visited Theodora’s sarcophagus in the mausoleum next to the Church of the Holy Apostles. And if so, who did he count as the victor in their struggle?
From the foregoing it might be concluded that it is not so difficult making fiction out of history since so much of history is fiction to begin with.
However, having said all that we have, we can hardly shy away from two final items. We have to admit that from 541 to 552 the captain of the excubitors, the imperial guard, was a man named Marcellus, rather than a bushy bearded German called Felix who has held that position for many years in our books. All we can do is wave our poetic license, properly and impressively done up with various official seals! A detective needs a friend in law enforcement. We needed the excubitor captain to be friends with John and, frankly, Marcellus wouldn’t give the Lord Chamberlain the time of day.
Which brings us to the matter of “Lord Chamberlain,” a loose translation of the name of a high palace office, praepositus sacri cubiculi (head of the imperial bedchamber). At one time or another, the famous eunuch Narses probably held this office, amongst others such as treasurer. However, official titles multiplied endlessly and the duties attached were often nebulous. Narses, for example, was eventually sent like Belisarius, Germanus, and many others before him, to lead the armies in Italy, perhaps on the theory that if all else fails, try an eighty year old eunuch. Given all this, we decided it did not fly in the face of history to claim that Justinian had a close advisor with the title Lord Chamberlain of whom no record remains. John, like his authors, was a private person who preferred to live out of the public eye, and being a shrewd man, he succeeded.