Chapter 27

 

Imperial Palace, July 431

 

PULCHERIA SAT TO THE RIGHT OF HER BROTHER in the Daphne audience room. It felt good to be back in the seat of power. The ancient archimandrite, Dalmatius, stood before them in rough brown robes, his gray hair and beard long and matted. The revered holy man hobbled forward with the help of a staff. Pulcheria caught a whiff of sweat, urine, and incense.

Theo stepped down from his throne and personally sat the ancient on a stool. Dalmatius looked at Theo with blazing eyes. “Emperor, I have broken my vow. I left my cell and life of perpetual prayer for the first time in forty-eight years because this cause is most important to the souls of your people.”

Pulcheria nodded. The holy archimandrite’s sacrifice, to confront her brother, must surely shake Theo to his core. He had wanted Dalmatius as bishop and had high regard for the holy man.

“I am most humbled by your presence, Father, and understand the issue must be very grave to bring you from your holy house into our presence.” Theo bowed briefly. “In what way may I serve you?”

“Agents and agitators block communication with you from your most humble and holy servants in Ephesus. Bishop Cyril sent me a message concealed in this beggar’s staff, as the only way his words might come to your ears. He begs you to receive his emissaries.” The old man unscrewed the steel tip from his staff, pulled out the rolled-up message, and handed it to Theo.

Her brother read the missive, then shot an angry glance around the receiving room. “I had no notion messages and emissaries were blocked from my presence. I vowed to hear both sides, if the bishops could come to no conclusion.”

Pulcheria was pleased he had given no such orders. It meant Theo was open to persuasion—from the outside, if not from her.

Dalmatius continued. “Your own man, Count Candidian, set spies and guards on all the gates of Ephesus and Constantinople, to stop any word from Bishop Memnon and Bishop Cyril reaching you.”

Theo reddened under the holy man’s scrutiny. “I will replace Count Candidian and order the way clear at once. Both delegations shall provide their findings, and I will decide.”

“That is all I ask.” The holy man rose. “Blessings on the house of Theodosius. God give wisdom to the Pious Emperor and long life to the Virgin Augusta.”

“Thank you, Father, for your wisdom and blessings.” Pulcheria rose to escort the old man to the door. “Our guards will provide a litter to your monastery.”

“That is not necessary, Daughter. The people escort me and offer a shoulder when I falter.” She knelt before him. He put a dirty hand on her head. “The people love you, Augusta. You are their voice with the emperor. God bless you and give you strength to guide your brother onto the right path. Amen.”

“Amen.” Pulcheria rose.

The old man hobbled out to a cheering crowd. Dalmatius’ command rang in her ears. She was the voice of the people. They needed to be heard.

 

*****

 

THE NEXT WEEK, after hearing both delegations, Theo retired to the Saint Stephen chapel to pray on his decision. Pulcheria silently prayed in the audience room that he would make the right one and disavow Nestorius and his heresies. She took the opportunity to circulate among the courtiers to see how the court reacted to the emissaries. As she suspected, most were cautious, awaiting Theo’s decision before taking a stand. About to leave in disgust, she spied Arcadia entering the audience room, face screwed in a worried frown. She and Marina were supposed to be ministering in the hospital attached to the Great Church. What could have brought her to the court?

Pulcheria hurried over. “Arcadia, what’s wrong? Where’s Marina and our ladies?”

“Marina’s fine. She and the ladies stayed to work at the hospital.” Arcadia wiped sweat from her flushed face. “I came to warn Theo. The people gather in the Great Church and demand his presence. They want Nestorius gone. They threaten riot if he does not answer their call.”

“It’s as I feared.” Pulcheria reviewed Theo’s options, and could come up with only a single satisfactory one. She escorted Arcadia out. “Take an extra contingent of guards to the hospital. Escort Marina and the ladies back to our palace in Hebdomon. I’ll fetch Theo. We will confront the people.”

Arcadia nodded. “Be careful, Ria. I’ve never seen such a restless mob. God be with you.”

“And with you.” Pulcheria kissed her sister on the cheek. “Now go.”

Pulcheria hurried through corridors, past dawdling servants and alert guards, to the chapel. She entered to find her brother prostrate before the shrine. The carved ivory triptych, covering the small vault where the saint’s bones resided, showed the adventus from ten years ago in exquisite detail. The sight brought back memories of her triumph. She waited, head bowed, sending her own prayers to the Protomartyr for success in this next battle.

Theo must have heard her rustling. He slowly came to his feet. A beatific smile graced his face to tug at her heart. “Ria! Did you come to join me in prayer?”

“No.” This was the Theo she loved, the gentle man who shared her devotion to God. Pulcheria was genuinely sorry she had to spoil his peace. “Brother, the people have occupied the Great Church. They demand your presence.”

“What for?” Theo stood gape mouthed.

“They recognize your responsibility to govern both Empire and Church. They tire of turmoil in the streets. Riot and dissension are not good for trade or family. The people have rejected Nestorius. They wish his ouster. Some even demand his death. You must take control, make a decision. Be aware, siding with Nestorius will mean the end of your rule.”

“I know.” He turned his back on her to look up at the bejeweled cross above the marble altar. “But Nestorius is a friend and loyal supporter. How can I give him up?” His shoulders shook with the violence of his emotions.

“Theo.” She put an arm around him. “His time is done. All stand against him and his heresies. Your continued support brings discord to your people, confusion to their minds, danger to their souls. Their love for you is slipping away. Go to them. Show your people you are their Father and Emperor. You love them and care for them. You protect them from their enemies, both external and spiritual. They need you.”

“Husband.”

Pulcheria looked over her shoulder. A visibly distraught Athenais stood in the door.

Theo turned around. “What’s wrong?”

“Flacilla.” Athenais wrung her hands, eyes darting from place to place. “The doctors say you should come.”

“I didn’t know she was ill. How serious is it?” Pulcheria took her sister-in-law’s hand in hers, looking into her anguished eyes. She barely knew her six-year old niece, since she left the palace.

“The doctors are with her. She runs a high fever.” Athenais reached out to her husband. “Theo, will you come? I need you.”

“Yes, My Love.” Theo took Athenais from Pulcheria’s grasp, escorting her from the room, an arm about her waist. He looked back over his shoulder. “Ria, will you go to the Great Church? Hear what the people have to say?”

“Of course.” She bowed slightly. “I’ll say prayers for Flacilla while I’m there.”

 

*****

 

FOR ONCE, Pulcheria was grateful for her escort of guards. The square outside the Chalke Gate and the Great Church teemed with people: monks, holy women, shopkeepers, tradesmen, dock workers, all manner of people mixed and cheered. Monks led choruses in praise of Cyril “the gift of God” and in condemnation of Nestorius “the heretic.” They demanded Nestorius and his supporters be thrown from the episcopal palace and delivered to flames as “sorcerers and shameful creatures.”

She entered the Great Church, head high with confidence her people would listen to her. Despite the press, they parted before her, crying “Make way for the Virgin Augusta! Make way for the Pious One!” She reached the front of the crowd and mounted the steps to stand before the altar, flanked by her guards. Sweat trickled down her back and ribs. The Great Church, normally a pleasant place in late July, reflected a fierce heat from the crowd, as well as a sense of violence. Pulcheria looked left to make sure there was an avenue of escape into the priests’ quarters if needed. Please God, give me strength and keep my voice steady!

“Peace, my good people.” The crowd quieted. “I have come among you with armed guards in the sanctity of the Church because there is riot and danger in the streets.”

“No danger to you, Augusta!” several people shouted. “The Holy Virgin protects you!”

“Why have you assembled in this holy place?” Pulcheria cried.

“The emperor must listen!”

“Nestorius must die!”

“Cyril must be restored!”

Again, Pulcheria signaled for silence. “I have heard your voices, and the emperor will hear them through me. He would come, but his daughter, the Princess Flacilla is ill and he will not leave her side.”

Murmurs of sympathy and concern spread through the crowd. The feelings of anger and menace subsided.

“You must do your part, as well. Go home in peace. Leave this holy place for prayers and joy, not riot and despair. Be assured, I am on the side of our most holy and revered Mary Theotokos, as is my brother, your emperor! He will hear your words. Do the Holy Virgin honor and moderate your behavior.”

The crowd erupted in a chorus of “Many years to Pulcheria! She who strengthens the faith! Many years to the Virgin Augusta. Blessings on the orthodox one!”

The cries spread to the people outside as she left the Great Church. Voices boomed through the square, lifting her soul. Her people! With them at her back, she knew she had won. Nestorius was defeated. Blessings on you, Mary Theotokos. Thank you, Saint Stephen, for answering my prayer.

Now she had to convince Theo to do the right thing.

 

*****

 

TEARS TRACKED HER FACE as Pulcheria ran a hand over the small marble coffin. She had forgotten to say a prayer for her niece in the Great Church a week ago but made up for it now. After her speech to the people, they had dispersed. As word of the little princess’ illness spread, people brought wooden crosses, dolls, and flowers to the palace gates. Pulcheria knew this was a temporary truce. The people would mourn their loss, but come back all the stronger, probably blaming Nestorius for bringing God’s wrath down on the child.

As dawn lightened the sky, she said her last prayer and rose stiffly to greet the morning. She had spent the night on her knees in vigil with her sisters in the palace chapel. Candles burned nearly to their stubs at both ends of the bier. The doctors had put the grieving Athenais to bed long ago, with a tincture of poppy to help her sleep.

Pulcheria touched Arcadia and Marina lightly on the shoulders. “We have done all we can, sisters. Go, break your fast. I will see to Theo.”

Arcadia lifted a tear-stained face, sniffing. “Are you sure we shouldn’t accompany you? He is our brother, as well.”

“Later, sisters. I have something important to discuss with Theo.”

They left.

“Where is my brother?” she asked the guard on the door to the chapel.

“He retired to his quarters late last night, Augusta.”

Pulcheria made her way down familiar halls to her brother’s suite of rooms. She found him kneeling at a private altar.

She thought her entrance silent, but he looked up before resuming his quiet prayers. Finally, he said, “Amen,” and rose.

Pulcheria enveloped him in a fierce hug. “Flacilla is with God now, and beyond all pain.”

“I know, but it still hurts, Ria.” He sobbed, turning away, shoulders shaking. “She was only six, with so much life to live!”

“Come sit.” Pulcheria led her brother to a padded bench and fetched him a cup of water. She settled next to him to watch the sun come up through the narrow windows as he mastered his grief.

After several minutes, Theo grasped her hand in a painful grip. “My son Arcadius dead. My daughter Flacilla dead. My empire in turmoil. I am cursed.”

“You are not cursed, Theo.” Pulcheria freed her hand to put an arm around his shoulders. “You have Eudoxia. She’s a fine girl. You are still young. Athenais is only twenty-eight. You can have more children.”

“I believe God is punishing me for my sins. I enjoy the pleasures of the flesh too much and have neglected my duties to God and Empire. Athenais’ womb has not quickened since Flacilla’s birth.” Theo leaned into her embrace. “You tried to warn me, but I would not listen.”

“We cannot know God’s reasons. All we can do is obey his commandments.” She hesitated. “I would not bring this up in this time of sorrow, but you have already touched upon it. After this week of mourning, the people will return to their riotous ways and the bishops will take up their squabbles. If this tragedy has changed your mind or strengthened your resolve, you need to let the Church and people know. End this turmoil, Brother.”

“And your advice?”

“Is already known to you. Pray on what God demands and make your decision.”

“I have already prayed. Nestorius must go. I cannot stand against the will of the people and God’s judgment.” He sighed. “Sister, your support and unfailing advice during this trying time reminded me of your value. Please do me the honor of returning to court as my chief advisor. I realize you will have to curtail some of your charity work, but surely Arcadia and Marina can take up your causes?”

“Oh, Theo.” She stroked his hair. “You know you have only to ask and I will obey. Your wife will need you during this time of mourning. I will take some of the burden from your shoulders, and gladly.”