Chapter 12

 

Imperial Palace, February 420

 

“BROTHER, YOU MISSED THE MORNING AUDIENCE and the day’s prayers.” Pulcheria’s gaze pinned Theo as he traversed the corridor to his private rooms. The boy emperor had grown into a man during the past five years. Riding, hunting, and sword practice honed his body and gave him an animal grace. He would never be a burly man, but her brother was handsome and healthy.

He turned; a blush crept up his neck to suffuse his face. “My apologies, Sister. Paulinus invited me to spend the day. We rode and dined at his father’s estate.” His eyes took on a wary cast. “I told the Master of Offices. Did he not inform you?”

“Of course.” Little or nothing happened in the palace that she did not know of. When she took over running the household after Antiochus’ retirement, she also took over his network of informants among the servants. As government absorbed her time, over the past couple of years she had turned more and more responsibility for running the palace over to Arcadia. Luckily, her younger sister showed an admirable talent for organizing, and took to the tasks willingly. Pulcheria did not want another eunuch meddling in her life.

She took her brother’s arm as they walked towards his rooms. At their posts, the ever-present guards stared straight ahead. Servants retreated to the walls to stand with downcast eyes as they passed. “I was disappointed you did not see fit to tell me yourself.” She let him squirm during the moments of silence that followed.

His mouth twisted into a sulk. “I never get to leave the palace. I’m emperor and have less freedom than any of my subjects. People attend me constantly. Court ritual and Church obligations mark my hours, night and day.”

“God did not make you emperor to constantly carouse and ignore His business on earth. You were chosen and must fulfill your obligations to empire and Church.” She patted his arm. “But I’m sure God did not intend you to have no recreation to lighten your burden. You are just shy of nineteen. Exercise and pleasant companionship are good for the soul, as well as the body. What did you and Paulinus speak of?”

“Not much. Hunting. Horses.” His voice trailed off.

Pulcheria gave him a sharp look. Theo’s boyhood companions were a constant thorn in her side. Her brother had a true and loyal heart. He lavished honors on the boys and their families. Placitus had taken an important position in Moesia and was thankfully gone from the palace, but Paulinus shadowed Theo still. She suspected Isidorus coached the boy to bend Theo to his will. She could almost feel Anthemius’ son lurking in the shadows. She needed to keep a closer eye on Paulinus.

They arrived at the brass-bound door marking Theo’s suite of private rooms. He dithered, obviously not wanting to invite her in.

She dropped his arm to confront him. “We have important news from Persia. May I come in?”

“What news?”

“Something not to be discussed in the corridors!” She pursed her lips in exasperation. What’s wrong with Theo?

“Fine. Come in.” He opened the door and bowed her in.

His rooms were austere, but not as monastic as her own. The walls of his personal audience chamber sported frescoes of nature and hunting scenes. Niches which normally held statuary contained fragrant pots of flowers grown indoors over the winter. The lavenders teased her with the scent of spring, still a month or two away. Pulcheria passed carved oak chairs sporting purple cushions with gold tassels but chose to sit on a bench devoid of padding.

Inside, Theo relaxed a bit, taking one of the chairs across from her. “Are you sure we shouldn’t walk in the garden?”

“In this weather! We’d freeze.” She gave a fake shiver and laughed. The use of their childhood code brought a rush of affection, pushing aside her irritation. Busy with the work of running an empire, she did miss her brother! The code also reminded her their days in the nursery were anything but carefree. Pulcheria glanced at the servants. “Warm spiced wine for the emperor.”

Her action brought another frown to Theo’s face. “I am capable of directing my servants, Ria.”

“I know.” She waited until the servants left the room. “It was my way of getting us a little private time. The palace will soon be ringing with the news.”

“Are you going to tell me before the servants announce it?” His eyebrow rose in imitation of her own when exasperated.

“King Yazdgard executed a Christian bishop and several of his followers.”

“What?” Theo leapt to his feet and started pacing—echoing another of her habits. Theo’s cheeks turned red again, this time with the hot blood of anger. “How dare he execute Christians? We have a treaty!”

Pulcheria’s fears that the Hellenes led her brother to light-mindedness receded. She had been unaware she carried such a burden until it lifted like a weight from her shoulders. She should never have doubted her brother’s faith and dedication to the Church, having raised him in piety. His occasional small rebellion was a function of his youth and vigor, to be expected. I should find him a suitable wife soon, one without the burden of too many family connections. It is time he fulfilled his dynastic obligations and produced an heir.

“The bishop destroyed a state Zoroastrian fire-altar. He and his followers did not repent. I’m afraid Yazdgard had little choice but to execute them. However, we must be on our guard and object to any further persecution of our co-religionists.”

“I don’t understand.” Theo sat, a frown puckering his brow. “We’ve been at peace with Persia for years. Prefect Anthemius insured Christian freedom from persecution in exchange for granting the same rights to Persians in our lands. Father even named Yazdgard as my protector in his will.”

“A clever ploy to protect you from our more ambitious nobles.” Pulcheria snorted. “More likely that scheme was executed by Antiochus than Father. I always suspected the wily eunuch of taking a Persian pension.”

“Really? You never told me.”

“You were young and had no need to know.” She reached across a low marble table to grab his hand. It was imperative Theo understand her next point. “Brother, it is time your people see their emperor not just as Protector of the Empire, but Protector of the Faith. We will meet with our generals tomorrow to plan our strategy. I hope to avoid further bloodshed, but if Yazdgard pursues Christians, we must respond. This will not be a normal skirmish about borders or trade. If it comes to it, this will be a holy war.”

“I understand, Ria.” He squeezed her hand, looking grim. “Now I must repair to bed. Only a few hours until midnight prayers.”

 

*****

 

GENERAL ARDABURIUS STRODE INTO THE CONSISTORY with the confidence of a successful man. He spied his father-in-law in conference with Helion, the current Master of Offices, at a sideboard laden with food and drink, and approached. “Helion, Consul.”

General Plinta’s lips twitched. He was but two months past his consulship and preferred his martial title to the new civil one. “General,” he acknowledged. “We were just discussing the Persian—”

“The Augustus and Augusta” a young page announced.

The trio turned as the young emperor and his sister entered the room, linked arm in arm, both cloaked in imperial paludamentums and crowned with matching gold and pearl diadems. Ardaburius always found it a bit shocking to see the Augusta in court regalia and elaborate wig. He had developed a warm relationship with the young woman over the past five years and was more accustomed to her severe religious garb.

The Augusti took their seats at the head of the ebony table. The rest of the small gathering ranged themselves on either side by strict precedence. Aurelian, Helion, Plinta, Ardaburius, and General Anatolius, who now had Plinta’s command, along with the court treasurer. If there is going to be a war, we will need money.

Servants filled goblets with minted water. An officious middle-aged man stood behind Helion, clutching a sheaf of papers. Ardaburius caught his father-in-law’s eye across the table and gave a slight jerk of his head toward the unknown man. Plinta shrugged. We’ll find out soon enough. Ardaburius angled his body forward as the emperor spoke.

“As you have undoubtably already heard, the Persian King Yazdgard executed a Christian bishop and several of his followers for destroying a state Zoroastrian fire-altar.” Heads nodded around the table. “According to our treaty with the Persians, he was within his rights to take this action. However, we have some additional disturbing news from the Persian court.” He nodded to his Master of Offices. “Helion.”

“Asclepiodotus, my head clerk in the office of agents en rebus,” Helion introduced the unknown man standing behind him, “will tell you what we know so far.”

The man bowed to the head of the table. “Most Esteemed Augustus, Most Holy Augusta, councilors, my people have compiled an extensive report on the number, training, and distribution of the Persian armies.” He passed out copies. “I’m here to talk about the mood of the Persian court and our analysis of what we might expect next.”

Ardaburius gazed at Asclepiodotus with some curiosity. The agents en rebus operated in obscurity, quietly gathering information on various fronts, foreign and domestic. It was rare that you could put a name to one. Helion must be grooming Asclepiodotus for greater responsibilities, to bring him out of the shadows.

“King Yazdgard is ailing,” Asclepiodotus continued. That elicited murmurs of concern around the table. “He has been a moderating influence during these past twenty years. His son Vahram is much more hostile towards us, and eager to show his martial prowess. I believe he will move against us after his father dies, if not before.”

“What will be the nature of this attack?” The emperor leaned forward, frowning.

“We don’t know for sure, Augustus. We think it likely he will attack or expel Christians from his lands. He might test our borders in hopes of acquiring more territory. He might do nothing. We should plan for the worst.”

Ardaburius glanced at the curiously quiet Augusta. Surely, she already knows this. Why has she expressed no opinion? Unless…he suppressed a smile. Pulcheria wants her brother to shine on this occasion. She knows the people won’t accept a warrior empress.

Theodosius looked around the table. “And the rest of you? What are your recommendations?”

Aurelian cleared his throat, “Most Wise Augustus, I agree with Helion and Ascplepiodotus. We should watch the situation closely. We have been at peace with Persia for many years. It would not do for us to suddenly attack over this incident, yet we should be vigilant.”

So that’s Pulcheria’s position, Ardaburius thought: wait and see.

“I believe we should take some precautions.” Plinta spoke up. “Strengthen our fortifications on the border; recruit and train additional troops.”

Ardaburius and Anatolian agreed.

“Good!” The emperor nodded. “We are agreed on a strategy. We watch Persia carefully and prepare in case of attack. Generals, follow through and report directly to me on the outcomes.”

Theodosius and Pulcheria rose and exited as they’d entered, arm-in-arm.

Ardaburius escorted his father-in-law from the room, “Have you ever been in a meeting where the Augusta did not speak?”

“Never.” They watched the two imperial siblings exit toward their private residence. “But it is more than past time the young man took up his title and ruled his empire. The Augusta is an able ruler, but in time of war people need a man at the helm.”

“The Augusta is a remarkable woman, and I do not see her giving up power, even in a time of war.” Ardaburius rubbed his jaw. And we may be better off if she doesn’t.

 

*****

 

Refugee Hospital, Constantinople, August 420

 

“AUGUSTA, PLEASE! It is not appropriate that you wash their wounds and feed their children.” Helion fussed as Pulcheria tended the Christian refugees from Persia.

“Why? Did not Jesus tend the sick and minister to the dispossessed?” Pulcheria fed another spoonful of broth to an emaciated child. So many families had fled Persian persecutions with little more than the clothes on their backs! With Yazdgard dead, his son Vahram intensified attacks on Christians. Did I make a colossal mistake in not prosecuting this war earlier? Should I have sent armies to the rescue of these wretched people last spring? These broken bodies and ruined hopes accused her of timidity, if not outright negligence.

“Jesus was not the Empress of Rome!” Helion fumed. “You’ve established churches, hospitals, and charities for the poor. The Roman world knows Christian refugees will be honored and cared for in your city. Leave these daily ministrations to the monks and holy women.”

“I will not have this argument with you again, Helion. God calls me to this ministry. I answer.” She put the spoon down and wiped the child’s mouth; a little girl with lank brown hair and green eyes, dulled with hunger. Three years old? Maybe four? The child reached up with stick-thin arms. Pulcheria hugged the fragile body and rested the child’s head on her breast. “Hush, child. There is plenty of food here. You will not go hungry again.”

A flea hopped from the small form onto her woolen robe. She crushed it between her fingers. The child stank. Pulcheria’s nose had become inured to the rank smell in the room: boiled cabbage with a whiff of feces and stale urine.

These people need baths and clean clothes as well as food! Pulcheria looked around for the holy woman running the charity. Seeing Helion still hovering, she said, “If you want to help, fetch me Sister Catherine. I think she’s supervising the cooking.”

Helion walked stiffly in the direction of the kitchen.

Pulcheria set the girl on her knee. “What’s your name, child?”

“Miriam.” The girl stuck a thumb in her mouth, looking up with big eyes.

“That’s a strong name. Miriam was a prophetess and protected her brother Moses. Is your family here?”

Miriam shook her head.

“Well, then. We’ll find you a new family. Have some more soup.” The little girl opened her mouth like a fledgling bird, eager to gulp down whatever Pulcheria provided.

Warm nourishment did its job. Soon, the child nodded sleepily. Pulcheria tucked her into a pallet. Helion arrived with Sister Catherine, a round-faced, portly woman in her middle years. She had smile lines at the corner of her eyes and the dark marks of sleeplessness under them.

The holy woman bowed low, trying to muster some energy in her welcome. “Augusta, we are honored by your presence. How may I be of service?”

“It is I who wishes to serve. I’ve brought my sisters and court ladies to help today.”

“God bless you, Augusta!” Tears of relief sprung to the woman’s eyes. “We have so much need.”

Pulcheria pointed at the sleeping girl. “Do you know this child’s story?”

“A wine trader found her along the road, sitting next to the bodies of a woman and a newborn babe. The mother must have gone into labor fleeing the Persians and died in childbirth.”

“No sign of the father?”

Sister Catherine shook her head. “The woman and infant had been dead for days, any possessions stolen, and the child starving, when the merchant found them. Yet she protected her dead mother, threatening the merchant with a stick when he came close.” Sister Catherine smiled. “A survivor, that one.”

“I agree.” Pulcheria studied the child’s face. She would have no children of her own, but the innocent always tugged her heart, creating a sensation approaching pain in her breasts and womb. “I will establish an orphanage for Miriam and any other Persian orphans that come to you. They will be educated and trained in a profession or trade if they show talent. At the proper time, the girls can marry or enter holy orders. I’ll provide a dowry or gift to the church as needed.” Watching another flea escape the child’s hair, she added, “I’ll send over firewood and tubs, so the people can bathe. In the meantime, my almoner will provide you with additional funds to care for the refugees.”

Helion opened his mouth and closed it again when he saw her determined face.

“Augusta, you are too generous. Will you pray with me?” The two women dropped to their knees, holding hands. Helion joined them, grimacing as he knelt on the stone floor. “Lord God, Our Father, Jesus the Son, and Holy Mother Mary bless these children. Give them strength to endure their pains and afflictions. Give them Your love and the hope of everlasting life in Your grace.”

Pulcheria took up the prayer. “Dear Lord and Mother Mary, give me strength and wisdom, that I may end this persecution of your people, and proclaim your glory throughout this land. Amen.”

Pulcheria stood and offered a hand to Helion as he struggled to rise on stiff knees. “I’m sorry, Master Helion. I should have asked for a cushion. I know your joints give you pain.”

“Thank you, Augusta.” He ran a hand through greying hair. “It is good to be reminded of one’s lacks and frailties on occasion. Do you wish me to make arrangements for the child?”

“No. I’ll send a servant later. Let her sleep for now.” Pulcheria reached to push a stray curl from the girl’s forehead. “I’ll make things right. It’s time to go to war and stop this carnage.” She turned to Helion. “We’ll need more than armies. We must have a potent symbol of God’s grace and approval of a holy war.”

“Of course, Augusta. I’ll have the mints draw up a design.”

“Do that.” Pulcheria nodded. “I want something more than the usual communication by coin and statue. I’ll give this more thought.”