Chapter 23

 

Placidia’s Palace, Constantinople, February 425

 

PULCHERIA ENTERED HER AUNT’S RESIDENCE with a touch of guilt. Eighteen months since they received word that Honorius had died! Placidia had been more than patient as Theo settled with the Huns in the north—three hundred and fifty pounds of gold a year for that thief Ruga—and dealt with his and Athenais’ grief over their stillborn son Arcadius. At last the invasion fleet was ready for the formidable army General Ardaburius had assembled. His son, General Aspar, led the cavalry which would take the overland route.

She followed a servant through the entrance hall, past the audience chamber and dining hall, to her aunt’s work room. While Placidia and her children resided in their own palace, they spent most days at the Constantinople court. Pulcheria had never been to Placidia’s residence and proceeded with more than a little curiosity. On the eve of Placidia leaving, a flurry of servants packed away paintings, rolled up carpets, covered furniture. The domus, awake for less than two years, was going back to sleep.

She found her aunt busily reviewing lists and giving orders to scribes. Placidia looked up with a genuine smile.

“Niece! I’m pleased to see you. We’ve had so little time together these past couple of months.” She waved over a scribe. “Send for food and drink for the Augusta, to be served in the small triclinium. Then you are all dismissed.”

“I did not mean to interrupt your work. Preparing for an invasion takes time and planning.”

“No matter.” Placidia rose, put a hand to Pulcheria’s back, and escorted her down the corridor to a small, finely furnished room decorated in soothing pinks and grays. “I was just about to break from my labors for a bit of food. When I work, I’m afraid I neglect the needs of the body.”

“Fasting is good for the soul but I agree, too much can dim the mind.” Pulcheria chose a cushioned chair opposite the small divan where Placidia sat. A low marble table, with gilded legs in the shape of lion’s paws, separated them.

“Ah, Lucilla!” Placidia looked toward the doorway. “Prompt as ever.”

A young serving woman entered, carrying a tray of food, followed by a boy who placed a pitcher of wine on a carved sideboard. Pulcheria had seen the female servant shadowing her mistress about the imperial palace. Her own servants whispered that the young woman was mute. A handy thing in a body servant. When she turned her right side to Pulcheria she looked quite pretty, but on the left hideous scars marred the flesh over a misshapen cheekbone.

Placidia dismissed the boy. Lucilla arranged sliced fowl and boiled beef doused with garum, salad greens dressed with vinegar, pickled eggs, olives, cheese, and a variety of fresh fruits imported from Egypt—a rare treat for this late winter season.

“What brings you to my residence, Niece?” Placidia indicated Pulcheria should help herself to the food, nibbled on a piece of cucumber topped with creamy cheese and crushed walnuts.

“Theo isn’t feeling well. His stomach gives him problems. He fears he cannot travel with you to Italy.” Pulcheria was not surprised when this illness came upon him. He frequently had stomach problems when the need to travel beyond the suburbs of Constantinople presented itself. Thankfully, that was not often!

Placidia put down her morsel, eyes clouded with concern. “Is he seriously ill? Should we postpone the invasion?”

“The doctors say he is in no danger. His bile is out of balance and they have him on a strict regimen of bland food. I’m not sure which bothers him more, the plain porridge or the stomach pains.” Pulcheria tasted the pickled eggs. “We will send our Master Helion to advise you and crown Valentinian in Theo’s name in Rome. No need to delay.”

“Good. I’m hoping to avoid fighting altogether. The people of the city of Rome rejected the usurper and minted coins in my and Val’s name. They have ever been my champions, since I refused to abandon them during the Gothic sieges. General Boniface halted the African grain shipments to Ravenna, so the hungry people there have no love for the false emperor.” Placidia sipped her wine. “Civil war brings nothing but destruction to the people. I pray God grant me the means to avoid it.”

Pulcheria lowered her eyes, crossed herself, and added her prayers to her aunt’s. “The marshes of Ravenna are formidable. How will you breach them?”

“I’m hoping God will send an Angel to guide me.”

Pulcheria raised an eyebrow in question.

“Years ago, a young boy helped me escape from Ravenna through the marshes. If I can find him, he might guide my army back.” A smile lightened her features. “Angelus was quite a scamp. His sort are survivors. I’m hoping for the best but planning for the worst.”

“Our prayers are with you.” Pulcheria looked over her goblet. “I understand you and the children travel by land this time.”

“Yes! We accompany General Aspar and his cavalry.” Placidia shivered. “I will never travel by sea again. The Good Lord saw us safely to your shores after much trial and prayer and I made Him a promise. My first act upon gaining the throne is to build a church in fulfillment of my vow.”

“A most appropriate endeavor.”

“How is Athenais faring?” Placidia looked up with genuine concern. “I wanted to be a better friend during the past few months, but with all the final preparations…” She shrugged.

“She is understandably anxious about the upcoming birth, given her previous loss, but the midwives and doctors assure us she and the baby are healthy. We pray for a strapping boy.”

“As do we all!” Placidia raised her goblet. “To a healthy son, and long life to his mother and father.”

Pulcheria raised her own goblet of water to acknowledge the toast, watching her aunt’s face closely for any sign of disappointed ambition. A boy could be a rival in the East if Placidia had ambitions for her son beyond the troubled West. Fortunately, Placidia seemed genuine in her affection for Athenais and her hopes for the unborn child.

They chatted companionably the rest of the meal about Athenais’ advancing pregnancy, the health and education of the children, and Pulcheria’s recent charity work. Lucilla cleared the remains of the food and poured each a hot brew of mint and honey.

“Aunt…” Pulcheria hesitated, finally coming to the reason for her visit. “I have some concerns about your venture. I don’t want to insult you, but a good number of our court feel you are not suited to be Regent.”

“Are you one of them?” Placidia leaned forward, jaw clenched. “You seemed to take my part during all these months.”

“I have reservations but have not stated them publicly.”

“To Theo?”

“Yes, but he rejected them. Athenais pleads your case most eloquently.”

“Theo has given his blessing. The venture is launched. Why tell me your reservations now? They serve only to undermine my confidence and incite my enmity.”

“That was not my intention.” Pulcheria leaned back, staring at her hands. “Unlike the others, it is not your abilities I question. I know a woman can rule as wisely and well as a man. It is your soul, your lust for power that I fear.”

“You accuse me of wanting power?” Placidia spluttered. “Look in the mirror, Niece!”

Pulcheria shook her head. Her words came out badly. She tried again. “I sense a darkness in you, Placidia, a hardness that might bring you to ruin.”

“You, of all people, know what it takes to keep a young boy alive and on the throne: hardness to do what it takes and power to make sure it sticks. Darkness?” Placidia stood, shaking. “What do you know of my soul? I saw my beloved Uncle and Aunt, the people who raised me, murdered by order of my brother. I cradled two dying husbands in my arms, one covered in assassin’s wounds.” Her voice grew husky with unshed tears. She clasped her arms across her stomach. “I buried a child of my womb, dead from disease, and four step-children butchered by a usurper. I rode through cities ravaged by war as captive and conqueror. Don’t talk to me about darkness until you’ve lived my life!”

“I do not accuse you! I know you’ve lived through extraordinary travails.” Pulcheria looked up at her aunt. “Please believe me when I say I care for you, Aunt. I sense in you a kindred soul, but you seem in much pain. I want to help. The only way to take the pain away is to offer it to God. In his light and his love, you will be healed. Pray with me?” She dropped to her knees; hand extended to Placidia.

Her aunt knelt, placing her arm around Pulcheria’s shoulders. In a low, wavering voice, Placidia said, “I can’t pray for that pain to go away just yet. I need it to keep me strong, to remind me what happens when I let down my guard. Val is still a little boy. He will need me sharp and hard for many years.” She sighed. “The day will come, Pulcheria, when I can lay down that burden. I will kneel with you then. Come.”

They rose. Pulcheria wiped away a tear on the sleeve of her gown. “Until you can pray for yourself, I will pray for you.”

“Your prayers are most welcome, Niece. Now I must get back to work.”

Pulcheria left with mixed feelings: pride in her aunt’s strength and self-sacrifice, sorrow for her past pain and future trials, hope for the future.

When she is ready, I will help her save her soul.

 

*****

 

Imperial Palace, May 425

 

THEO FINISHED READING the reports with a sense of elation. Placidia had taken Ravenna in a bloodless coup. There was a rumor God had aided her by sending an Angel to lead her troops through the dangerous marshes. I must ask Pulcheria about that! His aunt seemed in firm control of the West, having executed the usurper and quashed a rebellion led by the soldier Aetius and a band of mercenary Huns. Helion reported they would travel to Rome to acclaim young Valentinian Augustus. Yes, a most satisfactory ending to this adventure.

He set aside his reports and surveyed the intimate family setting in this, his favorite room of the palace—a place filled with warm carpets, cushioned chairs, and children’s toys. A soft spring breeze wafted the scent of orange blossoms from the garden beyond the open doors. The late afternoon sun faded from the sky. A servant lit oil lamps to chase away the shadows.

His pregnant wife played with their three-year-old daughter, rolling a ball back and forth on the floor. His aunt-by-marriage sat embroidering some trifle for the coming child while she chatted with Athenais. His brother-in-law seemed to be beating Paulinus at a game of latrones, judging from the pile of white stones Valerius had accumulated on the side of the board. Athenais only yesterday had urged him to appoint her brother comes rerum privatarum—the minister in charge of the private estates and revenues of the emperor. It would be good to have family in charge of such a sensitive position. How did Pulcheria put it? Blood to protect blood!

Athenais seemed to struggle to stand. Theo scrambled to give her a hand.

“Thank you, my love.” His wife’s eyes shone with affection. “I shouldn’t get down on the floor when I can’t get up!”

“Do what you want, Dearest. I’ll always be there to offer a helping hand.” Athenais glowed with health, but he worried about her upcoming trial. The midwives assured him third births were easier and safer than first labors, but he couldn’t shake his doubts. His own mother died giving birth after several successful pregnancies. He said a silent prayer to ward off the evil those thoughts brought with them.

“Nana?” Athenais turned to the watchful nurse in the corner. “It’s time for Eudoxia to go to bed.”

“No!” His small daughter, a miniature of her beautiful mother, clutched his leg. “Story first, Papa!”

He lifted her into his arms. “What do you want the story to be about?”

“Lions!” She gave a miniature roar.

“Lions? They’re too scary for bedtime stories. You’ll have nightmares.”

“Won’t!” Her little face screwed up in concentration. She roared again.

He pretended to be frightened. “See, lions are scary.”

Her lower lip trembled; tears sparkled in her eyes. His heart melted. “All right, my little princess. Lions it is.” He took her to a comfy couch and settled her on his lap. Her head rested on his breast where she could hear his heartbeat. “I’ll tell you the story of Daniel in the lion’s den and how the Lord saved him.”

He was barely halfway through the story when her eyes began to droop. Before he reached the scary lions, she was fast asleep. He carried her to the nurse and kissed her forehead as he handed over her limp, vulnerable body. He thought his heart would burst with love for his child. Tears came to his eyes. He wiped them away before turning back to the domestic scene.

Before he could say anything, Pulcheria, Arcadia, and Marina entered the room dressed, as usual, in the modest robes of holy women, and accompanied by a priest. The easy chatter and laughter stilled. A distinct chill filled the room that had nothing to do with the open doors. He looked to the water clock. It was time for evening prayers. His wife and her family felt keeping church hours excessive, but his own heart lightened when communing with God.

“Sisters.” He held out his hands and smiled. Arcadia and Marina smiled back. Pulcheria kept that pinched sour look that marked her face more often of late. He worried about her. She spent too much time contending with his other councilors. Theo wanted harmony on the council. Often his sister sowed discord. He knew her heart was in her charity work and regretted she felt so obligated to her role of advisor. I should give some thought to how I can make her life easier.

 

*****

 

Imperial Palace, June 425

 

“CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR SECOND DAUGHTER, THEO.” Pulcheria found her brother properly sober after Flacilla’s birth and nodded in approval.

“She’s as beautiful as her mother.” A broad smile lit his face. “Athenais asked a favor as a birth present.”

Pulcheria shielded her alarm. Athenais’ brother Valerius had recently been made master of the privy purse, which gave him tremendous opportunity for corruption. Not that Pulcheria had caught him with his fingers in the pie, but given time… “What does your lovely wife wish of you this time?”

“She wishes to endow chairs for thirty professors of grammar, rhetoric, philosophy, and law here in the city.”

“Of course she does. Has she built one church? Endowed one charity? What happened to tending to ‘the least of these’?” Pulcheria fumed.

“That’s unfair, Sister! Athenais attends you when you visit your charities and monasteries. She sees what you do and wishes to emulate you in a sphere in which you’ve shown little interest.”

“Grammar, rhetoric, philosophy, and law—the secular sphere!”

“Which a well-functioning government needs.” Theo snapped. “These teachers train our civil servants and offer a path to prosperity for those endowed with intelligence and talent, but little wealth or connection. Why are you so set against that?”

“I’m not! I…it’s just…not seemly for an Augusta.” She stammered to a close trying to sort through her tangled feelings. “Women should engage in the Church, not the government.”

Theo initially looked puzzled, then laughed. “Ria, you do hear how that sounds coming from your mouth.”

“I’ve done what was necessary.” Pulcheria turned with a stiff back to stare out the window at the sun sparkling on the Propontis Sea. The harbor bustled with grain boats and merchant ships bringing treasures from the far corners of the empire. The sight soothed her. She took a deep breath of the fresh air. Why do I let Athenais upset me so! Her request is not an unreasonable one. She turned to her brother. He surprised her before she could utter an apology.

“I have a gift for you, as well, Ria.”

“I need nothing.” She frowned. “As you well know.”

“This is something you will enjoy…freedom!”

Alarms tingled along her nerves. “Freedom? From what?” What new scheme has his wife cooked up now!

“This palace. I know you and our sisters crave a more quiet existence, one more suited to contemplation and reflection.” Theo handed her a sheaf of papers with the wax seal of deeds. “You may have the palaces in Hebdomon and the Rufinianai, as well as those you already hold in your own name from our father. As an Augusta, you may have a chief eunuch to run your household. Choose your own man: a eunuch from the palace or someone else. I will also provide a detail of the scholae to guard you and escort you about the city…”

As Theo continued, Pulcheria grew stiffer. He finally stumbled to a halt as he noticed her anger.

Blood suffused her face. She mastered her tongue. “Are you sure this is a gift for me, and not your wife? This is Athenais’ idea, isn’t it? She wishes me out of the palace, thinking, with me gone, she and her brother can control you and the empire.”

“You think so little of my abilities?” Theo dropped his hand, hurt pinching his mouth. “Maybe it’s good that you not only move out of the palace, but also give up your councilor duties. Given some distance, you might see I can govern without you and take pride in that.”

Her heart sank as she realized her error and the pain she caused her brother. “Theo, no…I didn’t…”

He put up a hand to forestall her. “It is done. Please leave with our sisters and your women as soon as you can arrange it.”

Theo stalked to the door. There he hesitated to look over his shoulder. “It was not Athenais who proposed this move. It was me. I thought you’d be happier without the discord of the court. I did this for love of you.”

“I’m sorry, Brother.” Pulcheria bowed low as he left.

What have I done?