audience.
Justinian replied tartly: 'We have no money to clothe you, my Lord Belisarius. If you cannot afford to keep yourself in gowns, we had better strike your name from the roll of patricians: thus you will be released from all ceremonial obligations.'
Belisarius bowed low and replied: 'In whatever rank or capacity I am permitted to serve your Majesty, I can be counted upon to do my duty faithfully.'
His name was removed from the roll, and he did not return to the Palace for many months.
All this time, of course, my mistress continued to enjoy Theodora's friendship and, so far from being deprived of any of her possessions, was made richer by the grant of much of Belisarius's property, including his large estate at Rufinianae. She pretended to be much more indifferent to her husband's misfortunes than, I know, she actually was. For my part I never mentioned Belisarius's affairs to her if I could avoid doing so; and whenever she alluded to them herself I was careful not to commit myself to any attitude. But it made my blood boil to sec Theodosius pride it at Belisarius's expense. He was a great man at the Palace in those days, and went about attended by a train of 400 Thracians of the Household Regiment, whom Theodora had presented to him. He was constantly closeted with Theodora, having been appointed Master of Palace Entertainments.
Of the inner history of what occurred next many versions are current- some plausible, some ridiculous, none authentic. At all events, the essential happening was that Theodosius died of a dysentery on St Stephen's Day, which is the day following Christmas Day; and whether this was a sheer accident or whether he was poisoned at the Christmas feast, and if so by whom, was never brought to the light of history. The few who examined his corpse inclined to the view that he was poisoned.
This much can be confidently said: his death is not to be laid at Belisarius's door, nor was any friend of Photius's responsible for it. It is not outside the limits of credibility that some officious domestic of my mistress Antonina thought thus to anticipate her wishes. I cannot discuss this. Needless to say, suspicion never fell upon Eugenius.
My mistress's feelings on Theodosius's death were confused. She had recently changed towards him, and with strange suddenness. She had come to believe, rightly or wrongly, that her favourite, by using the same courtier's arts that he had used with her, had now made himself a lover of Theodora's. He certainly was then treating my mistress with an indifference which she must have felt very galling, though she did her best to conceal the smart from everyone.
Theodora took the death lightly; she did not even interest herself in its cause. Yet she showed my mistress unaffected sympathy in her loss, and seemed to have no notion whatsoevcr that she had been nourishing such bitter jealousy. Some said that this lightness of heart was assumed by Theodora in order to deprive Justinian of satisfaction in her grief; for they said that it was the Emperor himself who had arranged Theodosius's murder, in jealousy of his wife's pleasure in him, and that in truth she felt his loss very keenly. But that was nonsense.
My mistress now fell into a deep melancholy; sleeplessness and lack of appetite wore her so thin that she looked ten years more than her age, which was now two-and-forty.
One day when I went into her boudoir she looked up, with eyes red from weeping. Though I had often seen her sullen, fretful, angry, despairing, I had not seen her weep since her girlhood.
I said to her gently:' Mistress, I was your first slave, and I have been faithful to you all my life. I am devoted to you, above everything in the world, and would the for your sake, as you know. Let me share in your misery, learning the cause of it. O Lady Antonina, my heart sinks when I see you weeping.'
The tears burst out afresh; but she did not reply. Then I asked: 'Mistress, dearest mistress, is it that you mourn for Theodosius?'
She cried out: 'No, Eugenius, my faithful friend, no! By Hera and Aphrodite, no! It is not of Theodosius that I am thinking — but of my husband Belisarius. I must confide in you again, as I did long ago in my club-house days, lest my silence consume me. O dear Eugenius, I would give all I possess never to have cast eyes on false Theodosius. Belisarius has always been my real love — and, like a fool, I have utterly ruined him. Nor is there any undoing of my folly.'
I wept with her. 'A reconciliation must be brought about at once,' I cried impulsively. But she answered that neither Belisarius's pride nor hers permitted a reconciliation. Moreover, Theodora had by no means forgiven Belisarius, and the Emperor hated him above all human beings.
After a little thought, I said: 'I believe that I understand the whole case and can find a way out.' 'There is no way out, Eugenius.'
Nevertheless, I went on boldly: 'Mistress, it appears to me that if I were to go to Belisarius and tell him, what I believe has never been revealed to him, that Photius confessed under torture to having slandered you; and if I were to swear to him that you and Theodosius were never lovers; and if I were to tell him further that your oaths to Cappadocian John were sworn- were they not? — at the order of the Empress and that you have asked pardon of God for this offence and for your other blasphemies — would you not do that immediately, dearest mistress, to placate Belisarius? — and that you have far more cause to be offended by him than he by you…'
'O wise Eugenius, go with my blessing. Yes, I will ask pardon of God — I would certainly not let that trifle stand in my way. Tell him all that you have just said; and then, if he forgets his pride and anger, you may assure him that I never did love anyone else but himself, and that I will not rest until he is restored to freedom and honour — then he and I will never again be parted.'
'You will appeal to the Empress?'
' I will. I will remind her of the services that I rendered her lately in the matter of Cappadocian John, and of our old friendship, and of the friendship existing between her father, the Bear Master, and mine, the charioteer…'
But I said: 'Dearest mistress, I have a further suggestion to make. I believe that I am in a position to accomplish the final ruin of Cappadocian John myself. If this is done and if you take the credit for it, surely the Empress will give you everything you ask?'
'How?' she asked, eagerly. 'How can you bring this about?'
I replied: 'This afternoon, in a wine-shop, I fell in conversation with a poor young man of Cyzicus, who is dying of a wasting disease and has not long to live. He and his whole family, old grandparents and wife and three young children, have been driven from their home by order of the Bishop of Cyzicus. He came alone on foot to Constantinople, and today applied for justice and relief at the Palace; but the officials drove him away, because the Bishop is in good standing at Court. I sympathized with him, and gave him a piece of silver, telling him to meet me under the statue of the Elephant of Severus tomorrow at noon. I did not disclose my name or that of my employer, and I am not known in that wine-shop.'
'Well?'
'Give mc five hundred pieces in gold, mistress, and that will be sufficient to destroy Cappadocian John.' 'I do not understand.'
'Give me the money and trust mc to undertake the matter.' 'If you succeed, Eugenius, I will give you fifty thousand and your freedom.'
'What is money but bodily comforts, which I already possess? What is 'freedom' but to be well considered, as I already am? No, Mistress, my sufficient reward will be that you and my Lord Belisarius and the Empress are relieved of an old enemy, and that the death of your father Damocles, my former master, is avenged, and that I shall have been the means of reconciling the Empress to my Lord Belisarius.'
That evening I sought out Belisarius at his mean lodgings. Though weak from a return of his malarial fever, he rose from his couch to welcome mc. With a smile that concealed the depth of his feeling, he asked: 'And are you not afraid to visit mc, Eugenius, old friend?'
I answered: 'No, Illustrious Lord. With the message that I bring I would have risked passing through fire or a camp of Bulgarian Huns.'
He grew a little impatient: 'Do not address me by titles of which I have been deprived. What is the message?'
I related, as from myself, all that I had agreed with my mistress to say. He listened most eagerly, crying 'Ah!' when I told him that his wife had asked pardon of God. Then I showed him the State papers in which Photius's confession was recorded — having bribed the copying clerk to the Assistant-Registrar for a day's loan of them. Belisarius read them hastily, and then again with great care, and at last he beat his breast and said:' For my jealous rage and my credulity I deserve all that I have suffered. But alas, Eugenius, it is too late now. Your mistress will
