iron tag at the end of each strap; and the public slaves laid on extremely hard.
As a good example of Theodora's way with husbands, let me describe how the son of the Master of Offices fared. He wished to marry a second cousin of his; but Theodora, who had decided to match him with the Lady Chrysomallo's daughter, told him that this was quite out of the question: she disapproved of marriages between cousins. He was obliged to yield, of course, because Theodora was to the Court what an old grandmother is to the members of a large country family. He was lucky enough to be marrying the Lady Chrysomallo's daughter, who was young and pretty and intelligent; but after the wedding he grumbled to a friend of his that the girl had been 'tampered with'. The fact was that the Lady Chrysomallo, though nominally a Christian, kept to the customs of her family — which, because of its connexions with the Hippodrome, was a pagan one. Thus the girl, instead of presenting her husband with an intact maidenhead, had undergone the traditional pagan ceremony'of dcflorcscence- namely, equitation of the stone phallus of a Priapic image, to induce fertility. The bridegroom's complaint came to Theodora's ears, and she was very angry. ' What airs these young gentlemen give themselves to be sure I' she cried. 'I suppose he has never in all his life tampered with a girl himself! 'Tampered' indeed!' Then she gave orders that he should be tossed in a blanket by her servants, just as vain and unpopular schoolboys are tossed on the way to school by their schoolfellows. And, after the tossing, they thrashed him.
Theodora, as the story of Severus's elephant reminds me, never lost a chance of paying off an old score. The patrician Hicebolus was among the first to pay for his former ill-treatment of Theodora: he was brought back from Pentapolis on a charge of sodomy, Theodora herself judging the case, was convicted (not without justice) and sentenced to castration. He died of blood-poisoning after the operation.
Here, too (because of the sequel), I should tell the comic story of Hippobates, the old Senator who came to Theodora's audience one morning to appeal to her for justice against Chrysomallo's husband, one of her gentlemen-in-waiting, who owed him money. This Hippobates had once in the old days been brought by a friend — none other than the Demarch of the Blues — to spend an evening at the clubhouse. He was expected to choose one of the ladies to pair off with, while the Demarch chose another, but for some reason or other he did not feel equal to female company. Then instead of plainly confessing-as a man of honour would have done- that he was a Christian, or impotent, or that he preferred the other sex, or whatever else ailed him, he began to find fault with the physical charms offered him. Indaro was too tall and too square-shouldered, he said; and Theodora too skinny, and her mouth was too large; and my mistress had red hair, which he could not abide, and 'a mattock-shaped face'. I forget what was wrong with Chrysomallo — perhaps her hooked nose. Since he was a detestable old satyr, all felt relieved to be excused from entertaining him. Still, he had no right at all to criticize the ladies in this way, and his remarks were strongly resented. It was unfortunate that the Demarch had introduced him, for the ladies must keep on the very best terms with the Demarch. Otherwise, they would have punished him in the humiliating ways in which they were adept.
Theodora knew in advance that Hippobates was coming to appeal for the money, so she had everything carefully prepared for his reception. He entered with a very unhappy countenance, and grovelled most abjectly as he kissed her insteps, and pretended to weep. I do not think that he realized that Theodora the Empress was Theodora of the club-house, whom he had once insulted. She asked him kindly what his trouble was. He began in a most unbecoming beggar's whine:' Oh, Resplendency, it is a grievous matter for a patrician to be penniless. My creditors dog my steps, duns rap perpetually at my door, I have hardly a crust of bread in my house. I entreat you, most gracious and lovely Empress, to persuade your servant to pay me the money that he owes me.'
Theodora began: 'Oh, most excellent and Illustrious Hippobates
…' From behind the curtains a concealed choir of eunuchs, formed into two semi-choruses, broke into a mysterious, soft chant:
First Semi-chorus: Excellent Hippobates, You have a bald pate! Second Semi-chorus: Excellent Hippobates, You have a bad breath! Full Chorus: You have a big belly, Excellent Hippobates — Bald pate, bad breath, Big belly too!
She turned to my mistress: 'My dear Lady Antonina, did you hear a queer noise then?' 'No, Resplendency.' 'And you, Lady Chrysomallo?' 'Nodiing at all, Majesty.'
'It must have been a singing in my head. Proceed, Hippobates!'
Hippobates, not daring to notice what he had heard, nervously recommenced his petition: 'If a patrician like myself runs short of money, through no fault of his own, he is ashamed to mention the incongruous fact to his creditors. They would not at first wish to believe it. When they did finally realize that he was a beggar, he would have to suffer social disgrace as well as bankruptcy; and social disgrace, as you know, Your Loveliness…'
Theodora began again: 'Oh, most excellent and Illustrious Hippobates…' And again the concealed choir struck up, a little louder this time:
First Semi-chorus: Excellent Hippobates,
You have a humped back! Second Semi-Chorus: Excellent Hippobates, You have a hernia! Full Chorus: You have haemorrhoids, Excellent Hippobates — Hernia, humped back, Haemorrhoids too!
'Lady Chrysomallo, did you hear anything then?'
'No, Resplendency.'
'And you, Lady Antonina?'
'Not a murmur, Majesty.'
'I could have sworn I heard a sort of noise. But proceed, Hippobates!'
And still he had to pretend to have heard nothing himself. Each time he began his petition the choir broke in upon it, and each time the verses were increasingly scurrilous. In the end, he had to give it up, retiring in frantic discomfiture, but with the obligatory serene obeisance.
The sequel was that his creditors, who had originally prompted his appeal to Theodora, became more insistent than ever, until he was forced to apply to his old friend, the Demarch of the Blues, who sent a group of factionists to protect Hippobates' house. There ensued a riot, in which two of the creditors, who were Greens, were killed and a number of Blues wounded. News of the disturbance reached the Palace; and Cappadocian John, aware that Hippobates was out of favour with Theodora but not realizing that some of the men engaged had been sent from Blue military headquarters, thought that he would please Justinian by intervening in the name of public order. He sent a strong force of Guards to the scene of disturbance, who arrested Blues and Greens indiscriminately, several of each Colour. A hurried trial was held, four of them were sentenced to decapitation for being found in possession of weapons, and three to the gallows for conspiracy to kill; and all were marched off to execution.
It happened that the gallows rope was not stout enough. It broke twice — under the weight of a Green and of a Blue. These miserable men fell to the ground and were left lying for dead, it being assumed that their necks had been broken. That evening, however, some monks sought out the bodies and found life still in them; and conveyed them to St Lawrence's Hospital, where they recovered. This Hospital was a sanctuary. But Cappadocian John arrested them again, violating the sanctuary, and put them into the State Prison (which, with the police- barracks, comprised a whole wing of the Brazen House on the side nearest to the Hippodrome).
The Demarch of the Blues then took a remarkable resolution. He went at once under a flag of truce to Green headquarters, and in an interview with the Demarch of the Greens suggested joint action against the police who had dared to interfere in the traditional feud between the two Colours. The Demarch of the Greens was most eager to declare a temporary truce. The thirteenth day of January was near, the date of the New Year's Races. They agreed that, after their usual loyal greeting to Justinian as he entered the Hippodrome, they should all, Blue and Green alike, appeal for the release of the prisoners, whose lives God had spared by a miracle, and for the dismissal of Cappadocian John — whom the Blues loathed as a turncoat and envied for his wealth, and whom the Greens hated as a traitor and oppressor. So this was done, and I think that Theodora had a hand in the plot. But Justinian took the matter very coolly and made no reply to the appeals for release, which continued throughout the day, after each of the twenty-two races that were run.
The two Demarchs then agreed on more vigorous action and on a common watchword, which was 'Victory!', for the two factions. That evening after the races they surrounded the State Prison and demanded the persons of the two men who had been removed from sanctuary. No answer was given them, so they set fire to the porch with torches. The flames spread and destroyed the whole wing, police-barracks and all. Most of the prisoners were rescued, but a number of warders and police were burned to death. The Guards, who sympathized with the rioters, did not intervene. Their own quarters in the centre of the Brazen House had not been attacked, and the fire was now under control.
The next morning Justinian decided to continue the Races as usual without taking any notice of the outrages
