Chapter 37

 

Hospital, Constantinople, April 448

 

“BASIL, WHAT NEWS FROM BISHOP FLAVIAN?” Pulcheria dried her hands on a cloth. It had been a difficult year, with famine and plague stalking the land. The Huns devastated the provinces south and west of Constantinople, having taken and destroyed over one hundred cities before being turned back at Thermopylae. Dealing with the immense number of sick and homeless strained her physical as well as her financial resources.

Basil looked around the hospital overflowing with refugees and city dwellers alike. “We should talk in private.”

She nodded, calling to Sister Helena, “I must consult with the bishop’s envoy. May we use your cell?” She led the way to the tiny room Sister Helena used as an office and sleeping place.

Pulcheria sat on the hard, narrow bed. Basil took the wooden chair. “Chrysaphius is stumbling. He now has enemies in the church, the government, and the army.”

“I know he alienated Aspar with his elevation of the pagan General Zeno. A clever move to keep Aspar in check, but little good against the Huns.” She snorted. “Now we’re paying triple the bribe we paid before.”

“Zeno is feeling his power after being named Consul. He realizes your brother needs his armies more than he needs Chrysaphius. But it is the eunuch’s dealings with the Huns that roils the landowners. He sent an embassy to Attila’s court: Maximin and his friend Priscus.”

“I know them. Maximin served as tribune in the Persian War.” She looked back on that conflict almost with nostalgia. At least the Persians were a civilized enemy.

“Included in that embassy was an envoy from Attila returning home. Our sly eunuch paid the envoy to assassinate his master Attila, but the envoy kept the money and promptly told Attila of the plot. Only because Maximin and Priscus knew nothing did they escape with their lives. Attila demands six thousand pounds of gold in “missed payments” for the insult, in addition to the annual tribute of twenty-one hundred pounds of gold. The people are groaning under increased taxes in a time when their lands are unproductive and trade disrupted. Even the nobles that previously sided with Chrysaphius are not happy.” Basil sat back; hands clasped over his small protruding stomach.

“So, the army and the people turn against Chrysaphius. I have heard no whispering against the emperor as a result of his eunuch’s schemes. Have you?” Theo would be in danger if the army and the people blamed her brother for the eunuch’s actions.

“No, Augusta, but the emperor is causing consternation and confusion in the Church.”

“My brother is a most pious man. What could he have possibly done to offend the Church?” Given her estrangement from the court, Pulcheria had little influence with the nobles or the army. The Church was a different matter; she had considerable ability to support her brother or hinder her enemies.

Basil frowned. “Bishop Diascorus of Alexandria—”

“A thoroughly despicable man, even more prone to violence than his predecessor Cyril,” Pulcheria interrupted with some heat. She still resented Bishop Cyril’s disruption of the Council of Ephesus. If he had left his murderers and bully boys at home, they could have resolved the Nestorian mess in short order. “What does Diascorus have to do with the emperor?”

Basil stifled a sigh and continued, “Bishop Diascorus has renewed his doctrinal feud with the Bishop of Antioch. The emperor seems to be inserting himself—at Chrysaphius’ behest—into the controversy. He’s taking the side of the Alexandrines that the Incarnate Christ possessed a single nature and that nature was divine. He sent General Zeno to enforce his orders in Antioch, where they preach Christ had a single nature and it was human.”

“Good Lord!” Pulcheria jumped up and started to pace. “The dual nature of Christ as both man and God has been settled canon for a century!”

Basil rose.

“Sit! Sit!” She impatiently waved her hands at the envoy, while assessing the implications of her brother’s actions. “Did he learn nothing from the Nestorian controversy? He needs to bring both bishops to heel and impose a compromise. Taking one side or the other only contributes to chaos and confusion.” She stopped before Basil, fists on hips. “How deeply is my brother committed to this heresy?”

“It seems Eutyches is behind it. A most holy man, much admired by your brother.”

“And the man who baptized Chrysaphius.” Pulcheria retook her seat on the bed. “The eunuch’s godfather would have influence even without being the preeminent archimandrite of Constantinople.”

“For now, this conflict is confined to Alexandria and Antioch, but Bishop Flavian fears Eutyches may take to preaching his heresy in Constantinople. Then he would be forced to act against him.” Basil clasped his hands, leaning forward. “The divine nature of Christ is quite appealing to the masses: Jesus as God who looks out for you, protects you from demons, and answers prayers. Jesus as the perfect man and a model for all men to follow is less appealing because it requires change in human behavior. It’s a doctrinal dilemma that was only papered over by past ecumenical summits.”

“I understand the underlying arguments, Basil,” Pulcheria answered tartly. She liked the Archbishop’s envoy, but occasionally he acted as if she had not studied these conundrums nearly her entire life. Few had her experience in meshing the religious with the political. “Combining the two doctrines with Christ as perfect man and perfect God is the only way to impose order and avoid schisms. Why on earth would the emperor take sides after imposing the compromise in Ephesus?”

She put up a hand to forestall the answer. “I know. Chrysaphius. I suppose our good Bishop Flavian did not shower the greedy eunuch with ‘golden eulogies’ to buy his favor?”

“Not a solidus.”

“To think Theo replaced me with that corrupt son of a sewer rat…” Pulcheria sighed. “I swear, my brother becomes more feeble-willed each year.”

“Bishop Flavian feels we have a crisis coming. Constantinople has always imposed its will on the other Sees and kept them in check. If the emperor publicly supports Eutyches’ heresy, Flavian will have to denounce him. Your brother’s actions could fracture the local Church.” Basil gave Pulcheria a sharp look. “Flavian wishes to rally the city orthodox. Can he count on your support, Augusta? Even against your brother?”

“Of course. In this, my brother is in error—both doctrinally and politically.” Pulcheria gave a tight smile. “I’ll work with the Bishop, and anyone else, to bring down the infernal eunuch who leads my brother astray. The suburban bishops and holy men and women will support the orthodox. They will follow where I lead. When the time comes, I’ll be ready.”

 

*****

 

Church in suburbs of Constantinople, October 449

 

PULCHERIA ADMIRED THE BEAUTY of the small Theotokos church on the outskirts of Constantinople’s suburbs. Carved lotus leaves graced interior pillars. Realistic wall frescoes of the Virgin’s life shone under the glow of dozens of candles and lamps. A blue silk robe graced the gilded altar, flanked by elaborate candlesticks.

But she wasn’t here to worship.

It had been a fraught two years, trying to oust that infernal eunuch. This meeting should be the beginning of the end. Her women and guards took their places in the nave and prayed, while she accompanied the local bishop to a private room. Two cloaked figures waited there.

Both pushed back their hoods and bowed. The taller one spoke. “Augusta. We are honored you agreed to meet with us. Especially since your sister is so ill.”

“General Aspar.” She nodded. “Marina suffers from a wasting disease. There is little we can do except pray.”

“Be assured, my prayers are with you and the emperor in this time of sorrow.” Aspar indicated his companion. “My second-in-command, General Marcian of Thrace. A most capable and discreet man.”

“General.” Pulcheria acknowledged. Marcian showed the hallmarks of a field military man—deeply tanned face with lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes, straight bearing, and a lean frame used to hard riding and indifferent food.

“Augusta, please sit.” Aspar pulled forward a padded chair, then indicated a second. “May I?”

“General, we are old friends. I have always championed your family, despite your unfortunate beliefs. There is no need for formality when we meet in private.”

Aspar sat, leaning forward, clasping his hands as if in appeal. “We need you back at the court, Augusta. Your brother needs your steady guiding hand. Several in my acquaintance wish to make that happen. The eunuch has reigned disastrously for ten years. He must fall.”

“I agree. I’ve watched Chrysaphius with ever-mounting alarm. General Zeno revolts and demands the eunuch’s dismissal. The Church rips itself apart. Bishops unseated and restored, councils summoned and discredited. Anathemas streak between Rome and Constantinople, Ephesus, and Alexandria. It is more than time, but my brother stands stubbornly behind his choices.”

“I was greatly saddened by Bishop Flavian’s death.”

“A most holy and noble man, and a dear friend.” Pulcheria’s face hardened. “I heard reports he was abused on his way to exile and died of the poor treatment. That will not stand. His replacement, Bishop Anatolius, espouses the Eutychian heresy. He was ordained by that wretched Bishop Cyril and represented Dioscorus at the Council that deposed Flavian.”

“My understanding is that you rally the faithful of Constantinople and its environs?”

“Yes, with the backing of Pope Leo of Rome. He told me he enlisted our relatives in the Ravenna court to appeal to Theo to give up his heresies. Our aunt Placidia and cousin Valentinian—even Theo’s daughter Eudoxia—appealed to my brother, pointing out his errors in belief. The effort seems to have come to naught. According to them, the responses they received sounded more like Chrysaphius than my brother. At least they received replies. I have heard nothing from the Augustus.” Pulcheria struggled to conceal her pain at the silence. “As he ages, my brother becomes more intolerant of anything resembling disobedience. Chrysaphius feeds his vanity and frames any contrary view as rebellion against the emperor’s will.”

“All the more reason to bring you back. You were always able to get the best from your brother. I believe the time is ripe, Augusta.” A crafty smile spread across Aspar’s face. “Zeno and his troops are not popular. They threaten revolt. He espouses the return of paganism! Yet Chrysaphius refuses to recall me to defend the realm.”

“You have allies? A plan in place?”

“The nobles will put pressure on your brother to dismiss the eunuch and bring me back. The people of Constantinople and the Church are unhappy over the treatment of their bishop and blame Chrysaphius. You are beloved by the people and respected by the Church. Ask and they will follow you, demanding the eunuch’s dismissal and your restoration. We can both be back in power within the year.”

“Agreed.” Pulcheria had turned fifty the year before and was feeling her age. If she did not move soon, she would never be able to rescue her brother from his follies. She raised an eyebrow. “Now to specifics. Exactly who among the nobles will support this plan?”

It was late in the afternoon before her women were off their knees.