marriage, Honoria embarked on a series of clandestine Sapphic liaisons with some of the community’s freer spirits. The latest was with Priscilla, who had recently displaced Ariadne in Honoria’s affections. Ariadne, however, had not accepted her dismissal meekly, confronting Honoria in tearful rages in which she declared her undying love for the one-time Augusta, whom she accused of betrayal. To all of which, Honoria, infatuated with the comely Priscilla, responded with indifference, and in the end exasperated impatience.
At the eighth hour, a time assigned for private prayer, Priscilla slipped into Honoria’s cell. ‘It’s all right — no one saw me,’ she giggled shakily, her voice husky with excitement, and started tearing off her habit, an ankle-length tunic of coarse undyed linen. Within seconds the two women stood naked before each other, their eyes mirroring their mutual desire. Embracing, they locked mouths hungrily, then began to fondle each other’s breasts with eager fingers, the nipples swelling erect and darkening. Leaning backwards on the bed, Honoria opened her thighs, gasped in ecstasy as Priscilla’s lips found those other lips, and her flickering tongue caressed the swelling bud-
The door crashed open, revealing the skinny form of Sister Annunciata, flanked by two burly eunuchs. ‘Caught —
Along with the other inmates assembled in the courtyard, Honoria was forced to watch while her lover, restrained by two eunuchs, was whipped by an enthusiastic Sister Annunciata till her back was bloody. To Ariadne, who had reported the assignation, the victim’s screams were as music. Priscilla would be packed off in disgrace, back to her family. For Honoria, there was to be no such release.
Summoned before Pulcheria, she was told in icy tones that henceforth, following a spell of solitary confinement, she would be under constant surveillance, to prevent any recurrence of the disgraceful scene just witnessed.
‘You should have shared Priscilla’s punishment,’ Pulcheria continued, ‘but unfortunately, as the daughter of an Emperor, you cannot be chastised. Sexual congress with one’s own gender is expressly forbidden in Scripture.’ Her expression softened, and a note of concern entered her voice. ‘Have you no thought for your own immortal soul, or for those of the women you have corrupted? The fires of Hell burn even more fiercely than the fires of lust.’
‘I will pray for God’s forgiveness, Your Serenity,’ murmured Honoria in simulated contrition. She had long ago learnt the futility of fighting her rulers. As for punishment in the hereafter, she was troubled not one whit. She had been brought up in the Latin West, where the influence of paganism lingered more strongly than in the East, encouraging a more liberal and sceptical outlook. Here, religious fervour and obsession with the afterlife often dominated people’s thoughts and behaviour.
‘Within these walls, I am not “Your Serenity” but simply “Mother”’ corrected the older woman mildly; since becoming Empress, she found that many in her little community were confused as to how to address her. ‘Let us hope that God will hear you. Meanwhile, I shall confer with the holy Daniel1 as to what penances are appropriate for you to undergo. His pillar is not yet so high that he cannot give advice to those who ask it. Now, let us pray to Christ together, that His light may show His erring child the way to true repentance and a purer life.’
Chafing against the restrictions — now even more severe — of a life she despised, tormented by desires she could no longer gratify, Honoria grew more and more angry and desperate. Then, one day, a wild idea came to her, one which offered a chance of escape from her intolerable confinement, and a means of revenge on those who had imprisoned her. Before her resolution could waver, or common sense persuade her to desist, she penned a letter, little reckoning on the appalling consequences that would flow from its dispatch. The task completed, she gave it, together with a ring, to a faithful eunuch, charging him upon his life to deliver it in person, and to make sure that it was seen by no other eyes than those it was intended for.
1 One of the astonishing ‘pillar saints’ who lived on top of columns, whose height tended to increase to avoid pestering by the pilgrims who flocked to such sites. The most famous was Symeon Stylites, who occupied the summit of a column near Antioch from 420 to 459.
PART III
FORTY-FOUR
Honoria, the sister of Emperor Valentinian III, invited Attila into the empire
Never had Attila felt so torn. The Council, convoked to decide what should be done in this crisis, had assembled in an atmosphere of restless anger and uncertainty. Ever since the news that the East was discontinuing tribute had landed among the Huns like a fireball hurled from a catapult, hotheads had been clamouring for action. To be met with determined resistance was a new, and disconcerting, experience for the Huns. From the time they had burst upon the European scene seventy years previously, no one had stood effectively against them. Until the Utus. Times had changed in other ways, Attila thought as he looked round the packed Council chamber. In his father’s day, the Council, which was open (in theory at any rate) to all adult males, had met in the open and on horseback. Now it assembled in private, and its membership was limited to senior members of prominent families, these having founded aristocratic dynasties, somewhat on the Roman model.
The initial hubbub took rather longer to subside than usual, Attila noted as he seated himself in the middle of the circular chamber. Could it be that some of them, like pack animals challenging a leader grown old, felt that his powers were beginning to wane? Best then, right at the start, to steer the meeting in the direction he wanted it to go. He nodded towards Onegesius, he of Roman bath-house fame, a man of moderate views and accommodating personality, as well as a personal friend. ‘Speak, Ungas,’ he invited, using the Hun form of the name which the other, an admirer of things Roman, had Latinized.
‘Sire, as Marcian is refusing us tribute,’ replied Onegesius in reasonable tones, ‘perhaps the time has come for the Huns to change their ways. To rely on plunder as a way of life is surely not a policy that can be sustained indefinitely. We were foolish not to realize that, sooner or later, the Romans would find the courage and the will to resist us. The Utus should have taught us that.’
An angry outburst, in which shouts of ‘Coward!’ and ‘Traitor!’ could be distinguished, followed his speech.
‘Silence,’ rumbled Attila. His basilisk gaze, moving round the chamber, instantly quelled the tumult. ‘In Council any man may speak his mind freely, without fear. It should not be for Attila to remind you of this. Eudoxius, I heard your voice above the others. What is your complaint?’
The fugitive leader of the Bagaudae, a thin, intense man with burning eyes, declared, ‘Since it is permissible to speak with frankness, Your Majesty, I shall not blunt my words. The shameful advice of Onegesius is not even to be thought of. You have a simple choice. Resume the campaign against the East, or — if the King of the Huns has no stomach for that course — attack the West. It has never been more vulnerable. Half the Frankish nation supports the claim of Merovech’s brother, and would join you. The Huns have but to cross the Rhenus and Aremorica would rise. Gaiseric urges you to sound the war-horns, and would back you to the hilt. Unpaid, half-starved, the Roman army in Gaul grows weaker by the day. But if Attila prefers to stay at home and count his flocks. .’ Leaving the
