Theodoric

dying Caesar. ‘“Theodericus Augustus”, the first in a glorious new dynasty of Western emperors.’

‘“Theodericus flamin’ Augustus?”’ shouted a burly cobbler. Crowds had gathered in the forum of Terracina,† to witness the unveiling of an inscription commissioned by Senator Caecina Decius. ‘’Oo the bleedin’ ’ell does ’e think ’e is?’ He spat vigorously on the cobbles.

‘You ain’t ’eard nuthin’ yet, mate,’ called a man in a blacksmith’s apron. ‘The buzz in Rome says ’e’s to be crahned emperor.’

‘A Jerry emperor? Over my dead body!’ bawled the town drunk.

A storm of boos and catcalls erupted from the crowd. A mudball splattered the gleaming white marble of the plaque, swiftly followed by a barrage of missiles pillaged from the cart of an unfortunate fruit-vendor.

The discontent spread like wildfire throughout Italy. Disturbances broke out in many major cities,* taking the form of serious rioting in Rome and Ravenna. Afraid, perhaps, of the consequences of openly expressing anti- German feelings, the mobs discovered in a half-forgotten piece of legislation a useful screen for their actions.

Earlier in his reign, Theoderic had issued an Edict of Toleration for all faiths.† In practice, this meant freedom of worship for the Jews, ‘toleration’ being hardly applicable to Nicene Catholicism, the religion of the vast majority of the population. The Gothic conquerors — Arians, and therefore technically heretics — did not need the protection of an edict, since no one in their right mind would dream of persecuting them, for fear of armed and instant retribution. An unfortunate consequence of this humane and enlightened decree had been the creation of a smouldering resentment among the Catholic Romans (for whom heresy was an abhorrent aberration) against Jews and Goths alike, the two peoples being vaguely lumped together in the collective consciousness.

Now the Romans had a perfect cover for their anti-German rage. They dared not openly attack the Goths, but the Jews were a different matter. Wealthy and defenceless, they were a convenient (and lucrative) target on which the mobs could safely vent their fury. All over the country an orgy of Jew-baiting exploded, accompanied by robbery, house-breaking and the burning of synagogues.

‘Why?’ exclaimed an anguished Theoderic to Eutharic. ‘Surely I don’t deserve this? Throughout my reign I have tried my best to rule justly and well. I have bent over backwards to be even-handed in treating my own people and the Romans alike. What should I do, my son?’

‘They must be punished severely, these ungrateful dogs of Romans. Perhaps, father, you’ve been too soft with them in the past. Set up a legal enquiry immediately, so that the perpetrators can be brought to justice. Here, in Ravenna, which saw some of the worst of the rioting, let me make an example of the ringleaders.’

‘Very well, my son. Do as you think fit. I put the whole matter in your hands.’

Directed by Eutharic, retribution was swift and harsh. Failure to identify individual offenders resulted in the imposition of collective fines on whole communities, so that damage to Jewish property could be repaired. In Ravenna a significant number refused to pay the fines, and accordingly were whipped through the streets by the executioner — immediately becoming ‘martyrs’ in the eyes of the populace, their stand applauded from three hundred pulpits throughout the length and breadth of Italy. In Verona, in the chapel of St Stephen, a statue of Our Lady, commissioned by Theoderic, for no apparent cause toppled and shattered. Public jubilation over this ‘miracle’ soon turned to fury and dismay when the chapel, in consequence, was ordered to be demolished. As a reminder that violence would not be tolerated, an edict was issued forbidding all Romans to carry any arms whatsoever except a small knife for domestic use.*

Among the Romans of Italy, a spirit of sullen hostility and passive resistance replaced the rejoicing and euphoria that only a few short months before had accompanied the inauguration of Eutharic as consul. Secluded in his palace in Ravenna, the old king, his imperial dreams shattered, surrendered to a black mood of bitterness and indignation.

In the basilica of St Peter, outside Rome, Pope Hormisdas, Theoderic’s loyal friend and colleague, sadly locked away in a vault the robe and diadem for the coronation that would never now take place.

* See Notes.

† A town on the Appian Way between Rome and Naples.

* Especially Naples, Rome, Ravenna, Milan and Genoa.

† In deference to constitutional sensibilities, Theoderic issued edicts rather than promulgating laws — an imperial privilege. The effects, however, were the same.

* Reviving a law passed in 364 by the emperor Valentinian I.

THIRTY-FOUR

Shortly after that [the riots of 519 — 20] the Devil found an opportunity to steal for his own a man who was ruling the state well and without complaint

Anonymous Valesianus, Excerpta: pars posterior, c. 530

Striding along Ravenna’s cardo,* Eutharic chuckled to himself as Romans hurriedly made way for him. The fact that they now feared and hated him — who had been but a short time before the most popular man in Italy — bothered him not one whit. That was the trouble with dear old father-in-law: he wanted to be liked, and was hurt and puzzled when his subjects bit the hand that fed them, so to speak. If you were a ruler, the only thing that mattered was to be obeyed; if the price of that was to make those you ruled afraid of you, too bad.

Eutharic had never liked the Romans: an arrogant lot who couldn’t get used to the fact that they’d lost an empire — the Western ones anyway. This fracas with the Jews had given him the chance to rub their long noses in it. Not that he had much time for Jews, either — too devout and cliquish for his liking. But the fact that his own people, the Visigoths, had tramped around the Roman Empire for forty years before being granted a homeland, gave him a sneaking sympathy for a people who had spent the same amount of time wandering the desert before entering their Promised Land.

Hullo, what was this? A man was standing by one of the newly repaired synagogues, painting a message on a wall: ‘Iudaei spurci’.† Delighted to be gifted such an opportunity to make an example of an offending Roman, Eutharic moved up silently behind the graffitor, who was so absorbed in his work that he failed to notice the other’s arrival.

‘Good on you,’ murmured Eutharic. ‘These Yids need keeping in their place.’

‘You’re not wrong there, mate,’ replied the man, adding a crudely daubed skull to his slogan. Then his smirk faded, as he turned and saw who the commentator was. ‘Er. . just a bit of fun,’ he faltered.

‘Lick it off,’ said Eutharic, smiling pleasantly.

‘Sir, y-you don’t mean that,’ stammered the man, his face suddenly white. He laughed nervously. ‘’Course you don’t. I’ll fetch a scrubbing-brush and water. Come off in a jiffy, it will.’

‘I said, “Lick it off” you Roman bastard,’ reiterated Eutharic, his words all the more menacing for being uttered softly. His voice suddenly cracked like a whiplash: ‘Now!’

Trembling with fright and revulsion, the man began to lick, while a silent crowd, fearful and curious, gathered to watch. Fortunately, the paint was still wet enough to come off fairly easily, and within half an hour a faint smudge was all that remained. The culprit, his lips and jaws smeared with pigment, vomited on to the cobbles.

Chuckling, Eutharic walked on in high good spirits.

In the palace kitchens, Amalasuntha, Theoderic’s beloved daughter and wife of Eutharic, supervised the