Justinian

‘Domina,’ the man gasped, ‘the Persians are here. An advance party, I think; the main force is not expected till tomorrow.’

‘Let them in,’ Macedonia instructed, striving to sound calm despite the pounding of her heart. ‘Tell the staff to behave with courtesy, and do nothing to antagonize them. If necessary, offer them refreshment.’ Hurriedly throwing on some clothing, she proceeded to the atrium which, by the dim light of dawn, she could see was already occupied by a dozen wild-looking irregulars in filthy sheepskins, and frightened members of her household cowering against the walls.

Grinning evilly, one of the strangers advanced on Macedonia. Grabbing her by the arm, he began roughly to drag her back the way that she had come. The major-domo rushed to her aid, but was brutally felled by a blow from her assailant’s buckler. ‘Don’t try to help,’ Macedonia called in a trembling voice to her visibly shocked staff. ‘Anything I may have to suffer would be nothing compared to the death of any of yourselves.’

In the semi-darkness of her cubiculum, Macedonia found herself being thrust backwards onto her bed. Easily pinning her down with one hand, the soldier ripped apart her dress with the other. She gagged with disgust as a rank stench of stale sweat, unwashed skin and rancid breath filled her nostrils. With a mounting sense of horror, she realized that she was helpless to prevent what was about to happen, as he thrust his knees between her legs, prising them effortlessly apart. That this brutal coupling was being forced upon her by a man made it all the more repugnant.

Suddenly, the soldier gave a choking gasp. He stiffened; blood gushed from his mouth, drenching Macedonia, then his inert body rolled aside from his intended victim. .

Macedonia came to, her spinning brain registering the elements of the scene that met her eyes: the corpse of her would-be rapist face down on the floor, a bloody puncture in his back; a man — clearly an officer from the quality of his armour and accoutrements — standing beside the bed, a reddened sword in his hand.

‘A thousand apologies, Lady,’ declared the officer in halting Greek. ‘That a man under my command should have behaved so bestially is a stain upon my honour and my conscience.’ He shifted uncomfortably. ‘Did he. .’ he began.

‘Rest assured, sir,’ Macedonia replied tremulously, covering her semi-nakedness with a blood-spattered sheet. ‘You intervened in time.’

‘Bactrian scum,’ declared her rescuer, an edge of bitter anger in his voice. ‘We recruit them for their horsemanship and scouting skills, but I sometimes wonder if they’re not more trouble than they’re worth. In charge of a billeting party of them in advance of the king’s main army, I was careless enough to leave them unattended while I checked the stabling for my horse. I should have known better. I hope you can forgive me, Lady, for I find it hard to forgive myself.’

After promising to arrange for armed protection for her house when the army should arrive, the officer departed with his troop — chastened after receiving a savage tongue-lashing.

The first intimation of the Persians’ approach was a wall of dust extending along the horizon to the north- east. At last the van could be distinguished — company after company of cataphracts in glittering armour; before it, borne by white-clad priests, flew the Drafsh-i-Kavyan, the huge Sassanian royal flag, its gold and silver cloth encrusted with gems.

For hour upon hour the Persian host streamed onto the level ground before the city, not being finally assembled until mid-afternoon, its presence indicated by a sea of tents extending from the banks of the Orontes to the fringes of the coastal plain. Khusro himself, accoutred as a cataphract (following the custom of Persian commanders), his silvered carapace of articulated plates blazing in the sun, advanced with his entourage of satraps, generals and attendants to the suburb of Daphne. Here, villas had already been commandeered by advance parties for their residence, and Prudentius and his staff were already installed.

The latter group, plus the citizens of Daphne (which included Macedonia, whose house was now under guard, as the Persian officer had promised), were invited to meet the Great King. Fearful yet curious, they obeyed the politely veiled command, finding the king seated on a throne before his retinue, a short distance from the city walls, its ramparts crowded with excited Antiochans. The throne was flanked on one side by a curious iron tripod, on the other, ominously, by a gibbet.

A formal exchange (couched in terms of flowery politeness) followed between Prudentius and Khusro. The Roman informed the king that, in obedience to Justinian’s command, the people of Antioch were determined to resist any Persian attempt to take their city. Khusro thereupon gave assurances that should the Antiochans change their minds and pay the thousand pounds of gold agreed upon, the city would be spared. He would give them until the following morning to decide. The inhabitants of Daphne (unless they chose to join their fellow citizens inside the walls) would not be affected by the consequences of any siege.

Persian intermediaries, mingling with the citizens of Daphne, then asked them (in Greek and with impeccable courtesy) if they had any requests or enquiries to make of the king. Macedonia, full of gratitude towards the Persian officer who had saved her, commended him warmly for his timely action. A short time later she was summoned to appear before the king himself. Suddenly nervous and regretting her impulse to speak out, she found herself facing a strikingly good-looking young man, whose welcoming smile helped to put her at her ease.

‘What unit was this officer in charge of, Kalligenia*?’ the king asked politely, in the purest Attic Greek.

‘I think he said his men were Bactrian scouts, Your Majesty.’

The king rapped out an order to one of his attendants who instantly departed, then, turning back to Macedonia said, ‘I can only apologize for the failure of one of my officers to keep better discipline among those whom he commanded. Failure for which you nearly lost your virtue. Rest assured, he will be duly punished.’ And he inclined his head in dismissal.

Macedonia, who had assumed that the officer was to be congratulated or promoted, was shocked. Opening her mouth to protest, she was confronted by an official who placed a warning finger to his lips, then led her from the scene.

Soon after, the unfortunate officer was conducted under escort to the iron tripod, to be questioned brusquely by the king. Khusro then issued a command, whereupon two brutal-looking menials seized the officer by the arms and hustled him roughly to the gibbet. His hands were bound behind his back, a noose whipped round his neck, and, before the horrified gaze of the assembled Romans, he was hauled aloft, kicking frantically as the cruel rope choked his life away.

Next morning, the Daphne Gate was opened and, to the jeers of the Antiochans and the laughter of the Persians who opened ranks to let them through, the six thousand Roman reinforcements sent by Justinian fled, heading north for the Cilician border. Persian heralds then rode up below the walls and repeated the terms that Khusro had specified to Prudentius. On these being greeted with yells of defiance, the heralds withdrew and the Persian host rolled forward to commence the siege.

First to the attack, advancing to the beat of drums and cymbals, were the Jan- avaspar — ‘the men who sacrifice themselves’ — assault troops carrying scaling-ladders. Time and again the ladders were sent crashing to the ground, spilling their human cargo, the defenders shoving the topmost rungs from the ramparts with long, forked poles. But so vast was the perimeter of the walls that it proved impossible to repel all such attacks, and gradually the Persians began to infiltrate the city, meeting desperate resistance from the citizens who knew that they were fighting for their very lives.

Meanwhile, Persian miners dug tunnels beneath the fortifications from which they began excavating galleries. Listening for the tell-tale clink of picks on rock beneath their feet, the citizens dug counter-mines, breaking into some of the subterranean passages where, in pitch-blackness, they fought bloody hand-to-hand battles with the enemy. But they could not detect every man-made cavern; in the largest of these, the Persians ignited the wooden beams supporting the roof. Minutes later, with a rumbling crash, a section of wall collapsed in a vast pall of dust and smoke.

Into the gaping breach charged a mass of cataphracts, scattering any defenders foolhandy enough to contest their passage. The heavy cavalry was followed by the Sogdian Brigade. These mailed giants from beyond the Hindu Kush were armed with heavy battle axes that inflicted fearful damage on the Antiochans, severing heads or limbs with nearly every stroke. With the cutting edge of the Persian army driving all before them, a torrent of infantry now poured through the gap and began a systematic slaughter of the citizens, suddenly reduced to a demoralized mob possessed of but one thought — escape. However, for the fleeing, huddled crowds and screaming women and children corralled inside the bulwarks, there could be no escape. For the remainder of that day and through the night, the killing continued, the Persians hunting down every man, woman, and child that they could find. .