Chapter 20

 

January 423

 

“THIS IS YOUR DOING!” Pulcheria slapped a sheaf of parchment on the marble table next to a blue silk divan in her sister-in-law’s private anteroom. The space was tastefully, if lavishly, decorated in soothing shades of blue and green. Pulcheria sniffed, stifling a sneeze. Her sister-in-law overused a rose scent.

Athenais looked up from her book of poetry by that pagan, Olympiodorus. “Sister. This is an unexpected visit. As you know, it’s my habit to retire for two hours after the noon meal. What is so important that you intrude on the only time I can be alone?”

“This latest constitution from your uncle.” Pulcheria stabbed an accusing finger toward the parchment.

Athenais gave a sharp look at the frightened servant hovering in the doorway, then sighed. “Shut the door on your way out, Dorothea.”

The servant fled.

Pulcheria scowled. Did the girl really think a lowly servant could keep me out of any part of the palace?

Athenais sat up, retrieved the paper, and scanned it. Since Theo had raised her to Augusta a few weeks ago, Athenais had been more willing to test her power over her husband. It seemed to Pulcheria that whatever relatives and friends whispered into Athenais’ ears she whispered into Theo’s. More of the Hellenes’ agenda became public policy.

“You give me more credit than I deserve, Sister. Uncle is prefect in the East, and consul. These are his words, not mine.” She looked up from the decree. “And the seal is your brother’s.”

Of course, Athenais was right. But, if not for her marriage, Asclepiodotus would never have reached the highest offices in the land and polluted her brother’s mind with these heretical ideas.

“Then you disagree with reversing imperial policy on Jews and pagans?” Pulcheria probed.

Athenais put the declaration aside. “I don’t think this is a reversal. It extends protection to all of our citizens from criminal behavior.”

“Criminal behavior?” Pulcheria drew a deep breath. “Six years ago, I and my brother authorized the destruction of synagogues in desert places. This constitution reverses that law.” She snatched the parchment and read, “Christians shall refrain from injuring and persecuting Jews and henceforth no person should seize or burn synagogues, nor lay violent hands on Jews or pagans who live quietly and attempt nothing disorderly or contrary to law.”

“I see no harm in letting our citizens go about their business. Pagans and Jews contribute to our society through learning and trade. Why persecute them for their beliefs, if they harm no one?”

“But they do harm. Their very existence causes discord in our cities. Our people will not tolerate their presence when it is an affront to God and brings His displeasure down on the people.”

“Does it?” Athenais looked up with wide eyes.

“What?” Pulcheria huffed, annoyed at this unexpected question. She was unused to people disagreeing with her, especially over matters of law and religion.

“Does the mere presence of pagans and Jews bring God’s displeasure down on the people?”

“They believe so.”

“Do you?” Athenais waved a languid hand “I’ve seen no evidence.”

“What I believe is not important. Different faiths cause discord and civil disruption. The Great Constantine said, ‘One Emperor, One Empire, One God.’ He was a wise man.”

“But Rome has two emperors and, until recently, we had three. There is no disruption or chaos.”

Her sister-in-law’s observation gave Pulcheria temporary pause. Diocletian’s experiment in dividing the Empire between East and West over a century ago had stabilized the country. Since then, only the rare man of talent and martial temperament, such as the Great Constantine and her grandfather Theodosius, managed to successfully rule as sole emperor. She abandoned that argument for a more vital one.

“The best way to control the Roman Empire is by fusing the emperor and the Church. The emperor is God’s Viceroy on earth and rules by His design,” Pulcheria explained impatiently. Was the girl a lack-wit that she couldn’t see such an obvious truth? “If the emperor allows paganism, Judaism, or other non-Christian faiths to flourish within his boundaries, he shows disrespect to God and can be overthrown by the people.”

Athenais pursed her lips. “I don’t agree with your premise. It seems dangerous to fuse the emperor with the Church. An emperor who rules with tolerance and justice for all people of all faiths seems more likely to achieve harmony and peace. Each faction has a stake in keeping the balance and will cooperate with the ruler for fear they may be the ones out of favor. Outlawing religions drives them underground and promotes rebellion. Did not the Persian War teach us that?”

“I have no time to argue philosophy with you.” Blood pounded in Pulcheria’s temple. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Your theories are fancies drawn from books. I’ve ruled this empire ten years for, and with, my brother. I know what works, and what is right.”

“I thought my theories drawn from the Bible. Did not Jesus teach us to love our neighbor as ourselves? And St. Paul taught us, ‘there is neither Jew nor Greek, nor slave nor free, nor male nor female.’ Are we not all equal in the eyes of the Lord?”

“Jesus also said ‘render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s.’ I’m talking about how to use the power of the Church to support the emperor; how to unite the people against our enemies and bring order to this earthly realm.” Pulcheria shook the parchment. “This will bring trouble, I know.”

“Perhaps, but it is not our place to challenge the emperor’s actions after the fact. It’s Theo’s name on that law. You should support your brother in his rule or take your objections to him directly.” Athenais turned her attention back to her codex.

Jaw firmly clamped at this obvious dismissal, Pulcheria marched out of the room, back stiff and head high. That ignorant girl and her rabble of a family will bring Theo’s reign to ruin!

She stormed into her women’s work room to collapse onto a chair amid stunned silence. The murmuring of women’s voices resumed after she shot an angry glare around the room.

“Ria, drink this.” Arcadia approached with a steaming cup. “You are obviously upset and need to control your feelings. The women will gossip.”

Pulcheria sipped the chamomile tisane sweetened with honey. Her heart slowed. Breathing deepened.

Marina joined them in the secluded nook. “Ria, are you well?”

Pulcheria nodded, setting the cup aside. “That girl will be the death of me!”

Arcadia and Marina exchanged significant glances. Pulcheria’s anger returned. “What?”

“Ria.” Arcadia sighed. “You must give up this opposition to Athenais. She is our brother’s wife. We should treat her as the sister she is.”

“It’s not just Athenais. It’s her relatives and friends. They infest the court, and counsel Theo poorly. They are determined to reverse all the good I’ve done these past ten years.” Pulcheria paused, struck by a revelation. Was that the true reason she detested her sister-in-law? She feared for her legacy? She willed the angry tears from her eyes. She would not show how much that prospect upset her.

Arcadia pursed her lips in disapproval. “Sister, we’ve talked of this before. You are no longer regent. It is Theo’s will we—and the empire—must obey.”

Pulcheria shook her head. “But—”

“Ria.” Marina interrupted with a gentle hand on her arm. “You are so much wiser than we in many ways, but we feel your…uh…forceful temperament puts our family at odds. If you won’t listen to our counsel, perhaps you should talk with Bishop Atticus.”

Pulcheria slowly nodded agreement. Her sisters were right; love and concern sometimes led her to overstep her legal authority. Then she recalled her conversation with Athenais and her anger returned threefold. In this, she did not just act out of love, but out of righteousness!

 

*****

 

PULCHERIA FELT HER ANGER SUBSIDE and calm return as she entered the Great Church. It was impossible to hold onto any disquiet in the presence of God. She knelt to say a prayer at the altar before seeking Bishop Atticus. When she arose, the Good Bishop approached her. Evidently, some servant or priest had alerted him of her presence, although she had sent no advance warning.

She smiled, holding out her hands.

He smiled back. “What brings you to our presence, Daughter?”

An echo of her anger returned, though not with the same force. “I need your help. My brother is being led astray—again—by those wretched men who control his wife.”

“That is a serious accusation.” He frowned.

“Let us repair to your offices, Bishop. I would not infect this holy place with secular woes.” She turned to her retinue. “Stay and pray. I will return shortly.”

Atticus linked arms with her as they walked through the nave to his luxurious receiving room. He dismissed his scribes. She declined food and drink.

“What has you so upset, Daughter?”

“Asclepiodotus—with Theo’s concurrence—issued a law reversing our policy on pagans and Jews and imposing severe penalties on Christians who harass them or destroy their property.”

“That is serious!” The bishop’s eyes went wide with alarm. “Why does Theodosius agree to this?”

All her boiling rage at being outplayed by the Hellenes and replaced by a simpering wife in Theo’s affections returned. “Why do you think? His pagan bitch of a wife leads him around by his cock!” Pulcheria’s hands flew to her mouth. “Forgive my rude language, Good Father. I didn’t realize I was so angry.” She stood, blood staining her cheeks, deeply ashamed.

The lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled. His lips trembled, suppressing a smile. “You must indeed be angry.”

Pulcheria knelt at the bishop’s feet. “Please forgive my unkind thoughts and improper words.”

“I forgive you, Daughter. Rise and have a cup of wine. It will calm your nerves.”

She rose and took a goblet, relaxing after a couple of sips. Then she lowered herself onto a well-padded divan. “I have better control now.”

“Good.” Atticus looked at her with concern. “I have to confess, I haven’t seen you so distraught since you came to me for advice on avoiding marriage. There seems more at play here than a law. I baptized Eudocia Athenais myself. She is a Christian. This enmity towards your brother’s wife cannot be good for the peace of the imperial household, or your soul.”

“I’ve tried to love her as a sister! But her ways irritate me so.” Pulcheria slumped on the divan, ticking off Athenais’ worst offenses. “She created her own retinue with women from the Hellene faction. They read poetry rather than scripture, spend their time on gossip and music rather than doing God’s work.”

“Eudocia Athenais is an Augusta now. It is appropriate she have her own retinue of noble women to add distinction to her imperial presence. As you have your virgins and chaste women, she should have matrons with children. What they do neither adds to, nor detracts from, your own imperial dominion. You have your own residences inside and outside the city. Perhaps some distance from your brother’s wife would be beneficial.”

Pulcheria’s hands tightened on the goblet. She wanted to shout, I can’t leave the palace! She steals my brother’s love from me! but knew it sounded childish and petty. Instead, she stated another truth. “Good Father, you know my brother. You’ve ministered to us since we were children, given us excellent advice. He is a good man with a kind heart that sometimes leads him astray. You know he is vulnerable to the influence of those closest to him. He lacks the will to cross them, gives in when he should be firm.” Another reason I should not leave the palace. At least by staying close I can counteract some of the damage caused by the Hellenes.

“My daughter, Theo is no longer a child. You should not think of him in that way. He does not need your protection. He is a man of twenty-two, with the responsibilities of an empire on his shoulders. He also has many strengths you seek to deny. Have you not raised him well? Does he not live an authentic devout life? I believe he would surprise you with his strength if you let him.”

Perhaps the good bishop did have a point about her view of her brother. She had difficulty thinking of him as anything but a child needing her protection and guidance. Now that he had married, he no longer looked to her for affection. She missed him. Pulcheria sighed. She should encourage her brother to take on more oversight of his officials as emperor; insist he read the papers brought to him to sign. She had raised him right. If he knew in full what his advisors proposed, he would never agree. She needed to retire her role as regent and fully take on the mantle of Chief Advisor.

“You are right, Father. I should moderate my feelings toward my sister-in-law. Our enmity can only cause my brother grief.” Pulcheria surveyed Atticus over the rim of her goblet. “The fact remains, this law is a backward step in our governing. The people will be confused. We cannot have good Christians punished for destroying pagan idols and Jewish synagogues.”

“Did you come to me for counsel, or action?”

“Both.” She set the goblet on a side table. “Please write to the other bishops, encouraging them to protest this law. And I hope you will visit Theo and counsel him. He prizes your advice.”

“I’ll do what I can, Augusta.” He smiled. “You have my full support in this.”

 

*****

 

February 423

 

PULCHERIA HESITATED in the doorway, scanning her brother’s work room, stuffed with the usual scribes, servants, and a couple of close friends. Paulinus joked with Theo as he signed and sealed various papers. She didn’t want a crowd for what was to happen next.

“Augustus, may I have a word in private?” She indicated a sheaf of papers. “There are issues of some delicacy we should discuss.”

Theo nodded. “Paulinus, join me in sword practice after the noon meal. The rest of you, out!”

Paulinus gave her a sharp look as he and the others trooped out of the room. Pulcheria sat across the marble-topped table that served as Theo’s desk. “Thank you, Brother. These papers need your attention and seal.” She put her stack of parchments on the desk.

Theo drew them to him, took out his pen, signed and sealed each. “Is that all, Ria? I thought you had something of urgency to talk to me about.”

“I do.” She took the papers back, shuffled through a couple and pulled one out. “Did you read this one?”

“You watched me, Ria. I didn’t read any. I trust that what you bring me is needed.” He snorted. “What is this about?”

“You just sold your beloved wife Aelia Eudocia Athenais to me as slave for this.” She handed him a gold solidus. “A bit overpriced, I believe.”

“What?” Theo clenched the coin until his knuckles showed white.

Pulcheria gave him the deed of sale. “Read it.”

He sat reading, blood draining from his face. “What is the meaning of this, Sister?”

“Of course, I won’t enforce this deed, Theo.” She shook her head. “Tear it up. Burn it. I’m making a point. You trust too easily. You’ve installed incompetent and dangerous people to high positions, and they are taking advantage of you. Did you know your consul and prefect of the East had you sign a constitution that punishes Christians for destroying Jewish and pagan property?” She handed him a copy of the law.

Theo skimmed the first page. “This constitution confirmed penalties against heretics: Manichaeans, Novatians, Sabbatians. I discussed it with Asclepiodotus at the time. As to the pagans and Jews, he assured me there were no more pagans. The proscription on burning Jewish synagogues was to rein in the Syrian Barsauma, who was raising havoc in Jerusalem. The Jews of the city appealed to me for relief.”

“Look at the second page. Did he discuss the penalties with you?”

Theo read the offending passage. “Any who attack the persons or property of such law-abiding Jews would have to make triple or quadruple restitution, and governors, their staff, and anyone else who connived in such crimes face the same penalty.” His jaw clenched. A vein pulsed in his forehead. “The man misled me.”

“I thought as much.” Pulcheria nodded. “This has wreaked havoc in the lands. Asclepiodotus is enforcing the law. Innocent Christians are being prosecuted. Bishops are preaching against you in the churches. This just arrived from Simeon the Stylite. He addresses you as Flavius Theodosius but does not give you the title of Augustus.” She handed him a ragged piece of folded parchment tied with twine. Pulcheria watched as her brother read. Blood drained from his face.

“What does the holy man say?” Pulcheria had a good idea of Simeon’s complaint. Bishop Atticus had kept his word and sent letters far and wide. As the Patriarch of Constantinople, he held considerable influence with his fellow bishops.

Theo passed the missive to her with shaking hands. She read:

 

*****

 

“Since your heart has grown arrogant and you have forgotten the Lord your God who gave you your diadem and the throne of empire, and since you have become friends, comrade and protector of the faithless Jew, know now that you will soon face the punishment of divine justice, you and all who share your view in this affair. You will raise your hands to heaven and woefully cry: “Truly because I have denied the Lord God has he brought this judgement upon me.”

 

Her heart thumped with fear. She had expected a rebuke, but this was a serious curse from one of the most revered holy men in the empire. Once the people learned of it, they would riot and denounce their emperor. She needed to mitigate the danger she had unwittingly put her brother in. “Theo, you must take immediate steps to remedy this error.” She leaned forward to touch his shaking hand. “Brother, this curse is dangerous, not only in God’s eyes, but the people’s. Go to church and publicly repent. Revoke this law, dismiss Asclepiodotus, and ask forgiveness from your people.”

“I will.” He looked at her with some of his old affection. “Thank you, Ria. You always tell me the truth, even when I might be angry with you. You have been, and always will be, my best advisor.” He tore up the deed of sale for his wife and handed back the gold coin. “Arrange for my progress to the Great Church. I will send a revocation to all my governors and copies to the bishops.”

“And Asclepiodotus?”

Theo hesitated, reluctance showing on his face.

Pulcheria held her breath. Would her brother do the right thing, even if it meant disappointing his wife?

“I will dismiss him.”

“Your people and the Church will thank you for it.” Pulcheria left, relieved that her appeal to the Church had yielded such valuable results; chastened that it almost led to disaster. If her brother had been less malleable, his reign might be forfeit. His bending to her will also proved her point. He still needed her guidance.