Western Empire. (See my
Theoderic and Totila surely represent all that is best in the Teutonic character — courage and determination in the face of adversity, magnanimity, honour. Confronted by the overwhelming might of Narses’ Roman army at Busta Gallorum, Totila must have known this was the end. Hence, I believe, his amazing war-dance before the battle; at least he and his warriors would go out in a blaze of glory. Surely this scene (which reflects a Teutonic strain of heroic resignation and defiance in the face of certain death) has echoes down the centuries: in
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Some sources date the introduction of sericulture into the Roman Empire as 552, others as 554. A convenient discrepancy, as it enabled me to have the monks complete the round trip in two years (the usual time), after obtaining the commission from Justinian.
Paul the Silentiary’s long and detailed work, which elaborates on the coloured marbles, precious stones and gold and silver objects in the building, was indeed recited to the emperor — not in fact in 552 as I’ve suggested, but in 562 at the second dedication of the church.
Thus echoing (fictitiously) a sentiment of Vespasian. When it was suggested to that emperor that a special new machine (pulley-system? crane?) be used to convey heavy loads in the construction of the Colosseum, Vespasian declined, saying that its adoption would deprive many poor labourers of their living (which seems to confound the popular notion that the Flavian Amphitheatre was constructed mainly by slave labour).
Gibbon laments a lost opportunity in the failure of the monks to introduce printing to the West, nearly a millennium before Gutenberg: ‘I reflect with some pain that if the importers of silk had introduced the art of printing, already practised by the Chinese, the comedies of Menander and the entire decads of Livy would have been perpetuated in the editions of the sixth century’.
Jiayuguan today (a rebuilding of the Ming dynasty) is an imposing spectacle, carefully restored to something like its original splendour. In Justinian’s time, it marked China’s western limit. Since then, a vast new province, Xinjiang, has extended China’s border many hundreds of miles further to the west, taking in the lands of the Uighurs and the Kazaks. These are Turkic people — very different from the Han Chinese in ethnicity, culture, and religion (many being Muslim). Chinese occupation has resulted in considerable friction with the indigenous population, leading to political protest, which the Chinese authorities (displaying their usual horror and intolerance of dissent) invariably put down with harsh severity.
Some sources have the monks smuggling out the silkworm eggs from China itself, others from ‘Chinese- controlled Sogdiana’. Surely the first theory is the more likely. For such an important and jealously guarded state secret as sericulture, would the Chinese have permitted it to be carried on elsewhere than within the Celestial Kingdom itself? Somehow, I doubt it. Moreover, I remain to be convinced that Sogdiana/Bactria was actually ‘controlled’ by China in any meaningful sense; that it came within the Chinese sphere of influence is perhaps the most that can be argued.
This is
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‘His [Justinian’s] edict on the incorruptibility of Christ’s body. . is difficult to understand’. (Lucas Van Rompay, Chapter 10,
This occupied a prominent place in the Augusteum. Although melted down for cannon by the Turks after 1453, we know what it looked like from a drawing made before its disappearance. It is thought to have represented Achilles rather than the Roman general I’ve portrayed in the text.
Like the Huns before them and the followers of Genghis Khan after them, another fearsome Mongol horde — the Avars — swept across Europe in the sixth century, establishing a vast empire stretching from France to the Black Sea, while maintaining an uneasy alliance with the Romans. This precarious peace ended in the following century, when the Avars crossed the Danube, overran the Balkans, and nearly captured Constantinople. They introduced the use of stirrups into Europe, thus facilitating the eventual emergence of the heavily armoured mediaeval knight.
While keeping essentially to the known facts of this bizarre and fascinating interlude, I have, for dramatic reasons, combined its two separate strands into a single event: Belisarius’ tricking Zabergan into thinking his force many times larger than it really was, followed by his luring the Kotrigurs into an ambush and killing four hundred of them; Justinian’s deal with Zabergan, which actually took place a little later, and his subsequent return in triumph to the capital. For a man of sedentary habits in his late seventies to become actively involved in such a
Chapter 31
Apart from invented embellishments concerning the roles of Procopius and the fictitious ‘Horatius’, my description of the plot to assassinate Justinian, and its consequences for Belisarius, closely follows Gibbon’s account. (Chapter 43,
Although the banquet took place in the autumn of 562, and the re-dedication of Hagia Sophia in December of the same year, it seemed appropriate, for dramatic reasons, to have these happen in the story on the same day.
We don’t know if Procopius himself was directly responsible for unmasking the plot to assassinate Justinian; as prefect of the city it would certainly have been within his remit. So it would be surprising had he not been involved in some capacity, especially as we know that he interrogated the conspirators.
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It is doubtful if Justinian ever read