Chapter 17

 

Imperial Palace, April 421

 

ATHENAIS WAS ALL that Theo bragged of and more. Pulcheria took a drink of diluted pomegranate juice. The sour taste matched her mood. Unable to persuade Theo to give up the girl during the past week, she finally agreed to meet with her. Athenais dressed the part of proposed bride; modest, but in a way that showed off her beauty. She wore no cosmetics but needed none. She wore only plain gold bracelets, and pearls in her ears. She tucked her hair under a thin veil, but several gold curls peeked out around her face. Someone—Paulinus?—had prepared her well for this interview.

“I understand you are an orphan?” Pulcheria put down her plain silver goblet.

Athenais’ eyes grew moist. “Yes. My mother died when I was quite young. My father, just two years ago.”

“We share that affliction. It’s a trial to lose one’s parents in youth, but adversity can also give one strength. I understand you have two older brothers who care for you.”

“They are both in Theo’s…the emperor’s, service, stationed away from Constantinople. When Father died, he left the bulk of his fortune to my brothers. For me, there was just enough money to travel here to my aunt and uncle.”

“That’s particularly harsh, not to provide for a daughter.” Pulcheria felt some sympathy for the girl. Widowed or orphan women of lower classes could start businesses or provide services. They were expected to work. Upper class women had few options, other than marriage, if they wanted to retain their status. A dowerless girl was at a disadvantage.

“My father loved me, but always said fortune would favor me,” Athenais replied, a touch of defensiveness in her voice.

So, she does not carry resentment for her father or more fortunate brothers? Pulcheria prodded, “Sons can go into the civil service or the army. They have the means to make their way in the world. Leaving a daughter without a dowry for a good marriage condemns her to the charity of others. Have your brothers been generous?”

“Enough to provide for my upkeep. Little more.” Athenais lowered her lashes. “They have families of their own to provide for and give what they can. My mother’s brother is a most generous man and treats me like a daughter. His wife has been a comfort to me.”

Pulcheria’s chest tightened. As much as she loved Nana, her nurse couldn’t guide her in the rough and tumble world of court politics. Would her life have been different with a loving mother or aunt to guide her? She turned her attention back to Athenais. “Have you considered holy orders?”

A blush tinted the girl’s cheeks. “I’ve only recently embraced Christ as my savior. The idea of becoming a holy woman did not occur to me.” She turned bright eyes on Pulcheria. “The whole city knows of your devotion, Augusta. Have you considered taking holy orders?”

Pulcheria nearly choked on her juice. “I have had more secular concerns to occupy my talents. If I took holy orders, I would be under the command of the bishop. That’s not appropriate for Regent or Augusta.”

“I see.” Athenais smiled, revealing a dimple in her right cheek. “You are Regent no longer, but still Augusta. Please forgive me. I am new to these ways.”

Athenais put her own goblet down to look Pulcheria in the eyes. “Augusta, I know this match is not of your choosing. I met Theo…the Emperor…”

“You may call him Theo in my presence.”

“I met Theo purely by accident. Paulinus brought him to a salon at my uncle’s. We talked and laughed. He treated me with great kindness. When I told him my story, he said he would rectify my father’s error. I thought he intended to provide more money to my uncle for my upkeep. I had no idea he intended marriage.”

If that was an accident, I’m no virgin! Pulcheria had no proof but, given Paulinus’ roots deep in the Hellene faction, she did not put it past him to have arranged the “accidental” meeting. “If you find the match offensive or not suitable, you can refuse.” She hoped her voice did not reflect the desperation she felt.

“Refuse the Emperor of Rome?” Athenais laughed. “Maybe if he had proposed a sinful alliance, but Theo would never do that. He is honorable and kind. I have grown to love him and wish this match to be successful.” A serious look replaced her smile. “I know it will not be successful if we do not have your blessing. Theo loves you too much and respects your opinion. He would be terribly unhappy in a home where his two great loves warred.”

That struck a chord with Pulcheria. She didn’t want her brother unhappy. And someone must secure the succession. Better Athenais than me. She put a hand on the younger woman’s arm and said, with resignation, “I have no objections, my dear. Theo and the empire are my first concerns. He is happy with you, so I am content.”

“Thank you, Augusta.” Athenais bowed. “You do me too much honor.”

“You may call me ‘Sister’ in private.”

 

*****

 

The Hippodrome, Constantinople, June 421

 

CROWDS ROSE TO THEIR FEET with a deafening roar when the imperial family entered their box at the hippodrome from their private tunnel in the palace. Pulcheria literally felt the wave of sound rush over her and reverberate through her chest. She stood at her brother’s left hand, leaving her usual honored right-side place for his radiant bride and his groomsman Paulinus. Arcadia and Marina stood on her left, in the first row of comfortable seats.

A gaggle of Athenais’ relatives—for an orphan she had plenty of people claiming kinship!—and members of the council took up the remaining rows of seats to the rear. Marble columns, topped with winged horses, supported a permanent overhang that provided shade from the blazing June sun. Imperial servants offered cushions, wine, and a wide variety of food to the wedding party.

Pulcheria turned her gaze toward the racetrack, admiring the various trophies displayed down the spina—a row of obelisks, statues and art decorating the middle of the hippodrome, around which charioteers raced. She might not approve of lavish living for herself but recognized the need for emperors to show their power by providing public art—particularly when it commemorated their own military conquests. Her grandfather’s Egyptian obelisk took pride of place, its base inscribed with the proclamation: “All things yield to Theodosius and to his everlasting descendants.” May it be so, she prayed.

“How exciting!” one of the aunts—Doria?—shrieked.

That annoying voice interrupted Pulcheria’s contemplation. A sharp glance over her shoulder quelled the excitable woman but didn’t wipe the triumphant smile from her face. Pulcheria sniffed. What was she thinking, wearing that ridiculous red wig? Her own wig of brown curls and braids sat hot and heavy on her head. She felt a trickle of sweat ooze down her back, stifled an instinct to scratch at the gold and silver embroidery covering her stiff purple robes. I hope there is a special place in hell for the people who thought dressing up their rulers in such uncomfortable clothes was a good idea!

After a few trumpet blasts, the crowd quieted. A professional announcer shouted out, “Our Most Noble Emperor presents these games in honor of his wedding to his Beloved, Aelia Eudocia Athenais. May their union be blessed with many children. Long life and God’s blessings on Theodosius Augustus and his consort Eudocia!” The crowd took up the chant of long life and God’s blessings, continuing for several minutes.

At least he didn’t elevate her to the rank of Augusta, Pulcheria fumed, still smarting over her failure to prevent the match. In the two months since she had given her blessing, she vacillated between irritation at the changes forced on her, anger at her brother for his intransigence, and—after she talked to Bishop Atticus—a measure of resignation and acceptance. With the actual marriage today, her irritation returned.

“Ria.” She felt a tap on her left shoulder. Arcadia nearly shouted in her ear, to be heard over the crowd. “Your face has been a thundercloud and body as stiff as a corpse since the wedding. It’s done. We have a new sister. Show some enthusiasm—at least in public.”

How dare Arcadia lecture me on public comportment! A tremor shook her body; anger warred with the truth of the accusation. She looked at the crowd, smiling and shouting their approval. They loved their young emperor and extended their love to his new bride. Pulcheria knew her sister was right. This marriage was a fact. She needed to deal with it. Let Athenais grow fat with babies and rule over the nursery. Theo knows my worth. Athenais will never rival me in ability to govern or in Theo’s affections.

She pasted a smile on her lips. The people must not suspect any discord in the imperial family.

Theo stood and offered his hand to Athenais, his face glowing with pride. Athenais rose, smiled and nodded. The people stamped their feet, sending tremors through the stone risers of the hippodrome. Pulcheria had to admit the girl looked every inch an imperial consort in white silk and imperial purple amethysts dripping from her neck, wrists, and ears. A double strand of pearls and gems wound through her hair. A gold embroidered purple cloak—but not a palumendum!—covered her shoulders. The largest purple stone Pulcheria had ever seen, set in a gold starburst fibula, clasped the cloak at Athenais’ right shoulder.

Theo raised his hands. The crowd quieted. He shouted, “Let the races begin!” The hippodrome erupted again in noisy bursts. Vendors hawked cushions, wine, sweets and other food to people in the regular seats. Despite herself, Pulcheria felt her heart beat faster as excitement rose in the crowd.

The Master of the Games blew a trumpet blast and announced the contestants. The first several races were between junior charioteers; youths younger than seventeen, driving two-horse chariots called bigae. The young men between seventeen and twenty-three, and the most experienced charioteers over twenty-three, would race later in the day, with four-horse rigs known as quadrigae. The most acclaimed champions raced last.

Pulcheria said a prayer for the safety of men and beasts, settled in her chair, and signaled one of the ever-present servants for a cooling drink. The eight youths competing in the first race drove their teams behind the spring-loaded gates at the canted entrance along the flat side of the hippodrome. A monumental bronze statue of a quadriga driven by winged Victory loomed over the gates. The gilded horses looked about to leap off their pedestal and race down the tracks. Pulcheria sighed. No modern artist did such realistic work as the ancient Greeks.

Real horses stamped and snorted as the crowds quieted and tension heightened. The young charioteers pulled on their reins to keep the anxious animals in check. Theo dropped the white signal cloth, and the gates sprang open. The horses leapt into a gallop, with the crowd roaring encouragement for their favorites and curses for their opponents.

The pair of drivers representing the blue faction took the lead, cooperating to block other teams going into the corner. They forced several teams to the outside, making them cover more distance. Because these junior races involved two-horse chariots, and only five laps around the spina instead of the usual seven, they ended quickly. However, the inexperience of the drivers meant the chance of accident and death was more prevalent.

“A siliqua on the blues!” Paulinus cried.

Several in the box took up his bet, including the annoying aunt. “I’m for the greens!” she screeched.

“Do you wish to bet, my love?” Theo leaned over to Athenais.

“In the past, I might have risked a coin or two.” She gave Pulcheria a cheerful look over Theo’s shoulder. “But you and your sisters find the practice distasteful. I follow your rules now.”

Pulcheria nodded approval at Athenais’ choice to abstain from betting, gave her credit for the love shining in her eyes as she gazed at Theo. The girl may be part of a plot, but it seemed unlikely she was aware of her role. If of a submissive character, she might not be much of a threat.

She shook off her bad mood and pulled her attention back to the contest. In theory, Pulcheria disapproved of the races, but she understood the need for the lower classes to have entertainment. Blood sports, such as gladiator games, were a thing of the past. Chariot racing afforded an opportunity for the masses to gamble and sometimes see a spectacular accident. Pulcheria wished it otherwise but knew converting everyone to her pastimes of prayer and good works an impossible task.

The hippodrome was also the only place regular citizens could confront the emperor directly with their complaints. Frequently, Theo found out about corrupt officials or churchmen while attending the races. It was unlikely anyone would spoil the celebratory nature of this day with complaints, so she settled in for a long afternoon of noise and meaningless chatter.

“I win!” Paulinus cried as one of the blue teams crossed the finish line.

“Not for long,” Pulcheria muttered under her breath, already plotting her next move.