widely unpopular. To block a key papal delegation would cause enormous offence, not only to the bishops but to their flocks throughout the Western Empire. It would be disastrous for the Emperor’s already tarnished image. Bishops were powerful men, with strong influence on public opinion and increasingly involved in civic administration, as the decurions, overburdened by responsibilities, sought escape by flight, or by enrolling in the army or the civil administration. Heraclius was astute enough, Leo realized, to know that any crisis affecting Valentinian might affect his own position, possibly resulting in his being made a scapegoat.
‘I would of course be at pains, Your Serenity, to ensure my delegates made clear to the assembled Council that they came only with your consent,’ Leo said tactfully. ‘And with your blessing too, I trust.’
‘Oh very well then, go — go!’ cried the Emperor peevishly. ‘Empty our coffers, impoverish your sees — what do these things matter so long as Christ is served?’ He waved his sceptre dramatically in a gesture of dismissal, covering his eyes with his other hand. ‘See to the arrangements, Heraclius, and speed them on their way.’
‘What’s happening to the Roman world, old friend?’ Marcian asked Aspar, as the old Emperor and his Master of Soldiers strolled in the gardens of Constantinople’s main imperial palace. ‘People seem more concerned over what constitutes the exact Divinity of Christ than over repelling Huns or Germans. When I was a child, the first Theodosius was on the throne and the empire was still one. Theodosius may have been obsessed with enforcing Catholic orthodoxy, but his priority was always the security of the state. He died leaving the frontiers intact and strongly defended. God, how things have changed!’ He stared moodily downhill at the old Wall of Septimius Severus, which here formed part of the sea defences. ‘The West crumbling, the East preoccupied with theological minutiae — the legacy of Greek philosophy, I suppose. The people pay more heed to Daniel on his pillar than they do to any edict of mine. Meanwhile, the empire continues to drift apart, like a cracked ice-floe. To help stop the rot, I suppose I had to convene this wretched Council, but believe me it went against the grain. There are weightier matters claiming my attention — rebuilding the country after Attila’s ravages, for a start.’
‘As to the Council, you had no choice, sir,’ assured Aspar. (The long association between the two men had led to the dropping of the honorific ‘Your Serenity’.) ‘We simple soldiers may not like it, but this new world has to embrace religious obsessions — sorry, attitudes.’
‘Already, I’ve lost the thread of my reasons for convoking the assembly,’ groaned Marcian. He clapped Aspar on the shoulder. ‘Remind me, please, old friend. It was your idea in the first place.’
‘You may recall, sir, the case of one Eutyches who championed the monophysite doctrine that Christ has only one, wholly divine, nature. For this he was charged three years ago with heresy, and condemned by a small council at the instigation of Flavian, the Patriarch of Constantinople. Flavian received the backing of Pope Leo in the West, whose view — that Christ’s nature is both human and divine — of course directly contradicts monophysitism. A year later, however, the case came up for reconsideration at the Council of Ephesus. Dioscorus, the ultra-monophysite Patriarch of Alexandria was in the chair, and the council was packed with his episcopal supporters — staunchly monophysite Egyptians and fellow believers from Palestine.’
‘And the result was a foregone conclusion, I suppose?’
‘It could hardly be anything else, sir. The council’s verdict was to vindicate Eutyches, condemn Flavian, and set aside Pope Leo’s judgement as expressed in a written treatise,
Marcian frowned. ‘Forgive me, but I seem to be missing something. Exactly why is all this so important?’
Aspar laughed. ‘I confess my own head’s beginning to spin a bit. Essentially, it’s a political rather than a religious issue, and the nub is Constantinople, the imperial capital — your city. For Dioscorus of Alexandria to have humiliated Flavian of Constantinople is both a snub to the pope and a challenge to your authority.’
‘Thank you,’ said the Emperor. ‘It’s all coming clear now. Dioscorus must be taught a lesson and, very publicly, put in his place. Right? Everyone, in both empires, must be left in no doubt that, in matters of doctrine just as much as government, Constantinople, the seat of the Emperor and of his patriarch, has the final say. And the best way of ensuring that is to reopen the Eutyches case. By pitting Leo against Dioscorus, figuratively speaking, in public debate, and making sure that Leo wins, we shall establish our supremacy in the most telling manner possible. That’s the position more or less, isn’t it?’
‘Admirably summarized, sir. Flavian himself would be impressed.’
‘Then let’s drink to success.’ Signalling a slave to bring wine, the Emperor pointed to where, two miles distant on the opposite Asian shore, the neat little city of Chalcedon gleamed white in the warm October sun. ‘Looks peaceful, doesn’t it?’ he murmured. ‘But in a few days, now that the papal delegates have docked, it’ll be war to the death over there — metaphorically speaking — with no quarter given or taken. Mind you, with Rome, Constantinople, and the Eastern Emperor arrayed against them, I don’t see how the monophysites can win. Ah, here’s the wine.’ The slave filled goblets and handed them to the two men. Before raising his cup, Aspar dribbled a little wine on the ground.
‘Aspar?’ queried Marcian, with a puzzled frown.
‘A libation, sir. Just in case the old gods are watching. After all, we may as well enlist all the support we can.’
Black and hideous, the skull-like head of the mummified Saint Euphemia, martyred in the Great Persecution under Diocletian, grinned up at the two boys, junior singers of the church named for the saint, who gazed into the open coffin with a mixture of disgust and fascination.
‘Ugh!’ Simon, the younger, shuddered. ‘I don’t think I want to go on with this, George. Let’s go home.’
‘Afraid she’ll be waiting to grab you one dark night?’ mocked his companion, waving his arms and uttering low moans. ‘All right, all right,’ he went on hastily, seeing real fear register in his friend’s face. ‘Sorry. Come on, Simon, don’t back out now. It’ll be fun — just think of their faces when I pull that thread.’
‘All right,’ conceded Simon hesitantly. ‘But no more fooling.’
‘Choirboy’s honour,’ promised George solemnly. ‘You remember how to tie that slip-knot round her finger?’ Simon nodded, holding up a knife and a spool of black cobbler’s packthread. George went to the back of the church, climbed down the stairs leading to the crypt, and positioned himself below a small ventilation grille piercing the floor of the nave above. Presently, the end of a thread descended through the the grille. Taking hold of it, George called, ‘Ready?’
‘Ready,’ came back Simon’s voice from above.
George tugged, but the thread barely moved. He rejoined his friend, who said, ‘It’s catching on the edge of the coffin.’
George felt the lip of the casket’s head end. ‘Wood’s rough,’ he said. ‘Soon fix that.’ Taking one of the lighted candles from the altar, he dribbled wax on to the offending area. Having checked that the thread ran smoothly over the waxed surface, he returned to his post, and at the signal tugged again. This time, he was able to pull in several feet of thread, and after a tiny resistance drew in the rest.
‘Perfect,’ said Simon, sticking up a thumb as George returned to the nave. He pointed to the saint’s right arm, which now rested across the withered chest instead of along the mummy’s side.1 Pronouncing the rehearsal an unqualified success, they replaced the arm in its original position, then hurried giggling from the church.
Preceded by candle-bearers, chanting singers, censer-swingers, and acolytes, and headed by the Emperor and Empress, the commission and delegates making up the Fourth Ecumenical Council filed in solemn procession into the church of St Euphemia in Chalcedon. Members representing the monarchical bishopric of Rome and the patriarchate of Constantinople took their seats in the nave to the right of the altar, those of the patriarchates of Alexandria and Jerusalem to the left. Between the two groups, on raised benches behind the altar, were seated the commission or guiding panel of ten ministers and twenty-seven senators. Before the altar, like some mute and grisly president, in her open coffin lay the shrivelled corpse of St Euphemia. On her chest reposed a copy of
In a brief address, Emperor Marcian welcomed the assembly and asked God to help steer them to a right decision; then he and Empress Pulcheria departed. The head of the panel then opened proceedings by summarizing the opposing positions of the Roman and Alexandrian parties, after which he invited the Roman lobby to comment.
