and Julian was clearly determined to teach Theoderic a lesson. Here was a marvellous opportunity to be revenged on the youthful prince who, thirty years ago, had shown him up at the hunting of the great boar Cambyses, and who later had made him look a fool by countermanding his order to shoot, when charged by Zeno’s Excubitors. Recognizing Timothy even after such a lapse of time, Julian had shot him a look of pure malevolence, stemming, the Isaurian had no doubt, from the slap he had administered at the boar-hunt — a blow clearly neither forgotten nor forgiven. Timothy knew that, should Julian ever find the opportunity, he, too, would be singled out for vengeance.
‘“Deric”? I know no “Deric”,’ replied Theoderic in coldly sneering tones. The two men — Timothy standing, Theoderic enthroned — were in an audience chamber in the king’s palace in Ravenna. ‘You will address me as “
Timothy ploughed on wretchedly:
. . delivered and announced by our trusty and well-beloved servant Timotheus Trascilliseus, you hereby withdraw all troops from our imperial territory and from the other regions aforesaid (a state of war now prevailing between the Regnum Italiae and our Imperium Romanum), which action will suffice to signify the cessation of hostilities, and hereinafter do solemnly swear and promise to limit your activities solely to those proper to the remit of the office of vicegerent, on pain of forfeiture of the said office.
Given under our seal and hand, the Most Holy the Most Serene Anastasius, Augustus of the Romans, at the Great Palace of Constantinopole, IV Kalends October in the year of the consuls Sabinianus and Theodorus.*
‘You have betrayed me, Trascilliseus,’ accused Theoderic. ‘The very fact that you come from Anastasius tells me you have spoken to him concerning myself.’
‘I would never betray you!’ cried Timothy, hurt to the quick. ‘It is true that I spoke of you to Anastasius, but only in your best interests, in an attempt to remedy the misunderstanding that has developed between yourself and the emperor. A dangerous misunderstanding. As things stand at present, you could be in peril, Majesty. Anastasius’ senior general is Julian, whom you must remember from your youth. He is to raise an expedition to enforce the withdrawal of your troops from Moesia and Pannonia. Don’t tell me he won’t exploit his command as an opportunity to settle old scores. For your sake, Majesty, it’s vital he be given no excuse to do so.’
‘Your concern is touching, Trascilliseus. First treachery, now a warning. You would do better to consider your own position. No doubt you’ll be expecting to return to Anastasius bearing my reply. Instead, you will remain here in Ravenna, as. . let us say as my “guest”, pending further developments.’
In other words, a hostage against any tricks that Julian might play, thought Timothy, grim foreboding growing like a cold lump inside him.
In the Senate House, old Festus, the
The City Prefect rose from his place on the crowded marble benches and made his way to the rostrum. He was a red-faced, paunchy individual, whose sweating face betrayed his nervousness at addressing the august assembly of ‘his betters’. (Oh yes, he’d overheard some of the snide put-downs whispered behind his back by these snobs of Roman senators. Just because they’d all got pedigrees stretching back to Romulus and owned a few farm-middens in the sticks. .)
‘One of Theoderic’s “new men”,’ whispered Faustus
‘He’s not one of us, that’s for sure,’ Cethegus concurred. ‘“Us”, I fear, being very much personae non gratae with our Dear Leader in Ravenna. Have you noticed that, ever since we stood up to him over the Laurentius
‘You’re right. It must go back to that do in Domitian’s Palace, where he handed out those silly medals.’ Faustus chuckled; ‘Mine comes in handy as a paperweight. As I recall, your father got bawled out on that occasion — shocking bad form. Better shush: our country cousin’s about to grace us with his views.’
‘Honourable Members of this ’ouse,’ Constantius began, speaking in a broad north-western accent with a hint of Gallic, ‘it is my ’umble opinion that you may not be fully aware of the danger in which our fair City stands.’
A buzz of puzzled speculation rippled round the benches. ‘Danger?’ whispered Faustus to Cethegus. ‘What on earth’s he on about?’
‘As you all know,’ the Prefect continued, ‘Theoderic ’as pulled back ’is troops from Moesia and Pannonia to Ravenna, so as to be able to counter possible threats from two directions. Threat number one.’ He held up a forefinger. ‘In Gaul, Clovis is waiting to pounce on the Visigoths — which ’e can’t risk doing for the nonce, because Theoderic, their ally, is too close. Threat number two.’ Up came the forefinger again, joined by a thumb. ‘A great sea-borne expedition from the Eastern Empire, commanded by General Julianus, Master of Soldiers for the Diocese of Oriens, is presently patrolling off the coast of south-east Italy. Result: Theoderic’s in a bind. If ’e marches south to protect the ’eel of Italy, Clovis will attack the Visigoths. But if ’e ’eads for Gaul to ’elp King Alaric, that would leave the Eastern expedition free to strike.’
‘But where’s the threat to Rome in all of this?’ one senator called out, in tones of mild exasperation.
‘From the Adriatic coast to Rome is no great distance.’
‘With the Apennines between — good God, man, you’d think this Julianus was a second Hannibal!’ exclaimed another senator. ‘The expedition’s only there as sword-rattling. Basically, to remind Theoderic to behave himself.’
‘Well, in my ’umble opinion, we can’t afford to take no chances. The walls of Rome need strengthening in places. ’Appen Julianus should besiege the City, I wouldn’t like to bet we’d keep ’im out.’
A chorus of sardonic groans greeted this observation.
‘The man’s panicking,’ Faustus murmured to Cethegus. ‘Either that or he’s hoping to curry favour with Theoderic by a flag-waving gesture.’ He stood up and called, ‘And where’s the money coming from, I’d like to know? You can be sure the Public Purse in Ravenna’s not about to cough up, and, thanks to the Church lands settlement, most of us are pretty strapped for cash.’
‘We must all do our patriotic bit. A spot o’ belt-tightening’s ’ardly going to kill us. ’Sides, Theoderic wouldn’t be impressed if ’e ’eard we was too mean to defend our noble City.’
‘Might have known it would come to that,’ Cethegus whispered disgustedly to his friend. ‘Fellow’s got the ear of you-know-who, unfortunately. We can’t afford to hand the king another stick to beat us with.’
And so (reluctantly) the vote was passed to strengthen Rome’s defences.
As Clovis’s mighty host grew daily greater on the north bank of the Liger, so Alaric’s appeals to Theoderic became ever more frequent and urgent. Torn between the desire to help his Visigothic kinsmen, and the need to keep watch from Ravenna on the Eastern war-fleet, Theoderic set in train a massive warship-building programme. A fleet of sufficient strength would neutralize the threat posed by Julian’s naval expedition, and the king would then be free to march to Alaric’s aid. The shipyards of Arimimum, of Classis* and Tergeste, rang to the thump of adze and mallet as a steady stream of galleys slid down the ways and into the holding-docks. But before enough could be built, news arrived that Clovis had crossed the Liger and was pushing south, carrying all before him.
In rage and desperation, Theoderic despatched Duke Mammo and Count Ibba with the host, to succour his beleaguered allies. Too late. Before the Ostrogoths reached Gaul, terrible intelligence began to filter through: the Visigothic host had been destroyed* — King Alaric being among those killed — the population scattered and in flight. And to compound a sorry situation, the Burgundians, despite prior friendly overtures from Theoderic, now switched their allegiance to the Franks, laid siege to Arelate, sacked Tolosa and, led by Gundobad, their king, took Barcino† in Hispania.
When Julian (aboard his flagship) heard that Theoderic’s host had marched for Gaul, his glee and satisfaction
