Theodoric

scholar (Professor Sauro Gelichi, of the University of Venice) maintains that the dome was modelled on a yurt, the circular tent used by nomads: a fascinating theory of whose validity I remain to be convinced. Overall, opinions regarding design seem to settle for a classical late-Roman structure with a few Gothic touches, especially in the decoration of the outside walls of the upper storey. Within that storey lies Theoderic’s sarcophagus of Egyptian porphyry — significantly, the material reserved for the use of emperors. Today, it lies empty, his body probably removed, at the time of Justinian’s re-occupation, by zealous Nicene Catholics.

Chapter 35

the ‘kingdoms’ of Dyfed, Ceredigion and Gwynedd

According to Winbolt (Britain under the Romans), native rulers — called gwledig — undertook the defence of Britain after the departure of the legions. In this context he mentions Ambrosius Aurelianus (actually of Roman rather than British origin), one Cunedda, who maintained a force of nine hundred horsemen on the Roman Wall, and Cunedda’s descendants who ruled in Wales, such as Keredig and Meirion who gave their names to the areas they ruled (Ceredigion and Merioneth). Arthur is referred to as a semi-mythical ‘king’ leading a British resistance movement against the Saxons.

a holy man of great repute, one Deiniol

Deiniol (later canonized) founded a college in Bangor in 525, and became the town’s first bishop in 550.

a most beautiful region

Known today as the Lake District.

Here, the Kymry are still strong

At the time of the Roman invasion of AD 43, there were two separate Celtic peoples in Britain: the Picts living to the north of the Forth-Clyde valley, and the Welsh-speaking Britons who inhabited the rest of the island. After the departure of the legions c. 407, German tribes — Jutes, Angles and Saxons from coastal northern Germany and the Jutland peninsula (who had been raiding eastern Britain for more than a century) — began to arrive in ever greater numbers, to settle south of Hadrian’s Wall. The invaders (Saxons in the south, Angles in the Midlands and the north) gradually pushed the Britons into the far west, mainly Wales and Cornwall, where they continued to live in freedom, speaking their own language. (Cornish died out about two hundred years ago, although efforts are being made to revive it; Welsh not only survived but is flourishing.)

Undoubtedly, the Romans were responsible for creating a feeling of unity among the Britons, who were a collection of disparate tribes at the time of the invasion. After the legions had left, this ‘Britishness’ was almost certainly strengthened by resistance against a common Anglo-Saxon enemy — to the extent that Ambrosius Aurelianus seems to have been a genuine national leader rather than a local warlord. That Cunedda could rule in Cumbria, and his descendants in Wales, reinforces the idea that the Britons saw themselves as a single people, the ‘Kymry’, as does a tradition (which I’ve made use of in the story) that the Votadini moved south (perhaps to Wales, but we can’t be sure) to assist their hard-pressed kinsmen in their struggle against the invader.

a great plain called Camlan

In legend, Arthur was mortally wounded at the Battle of Camlan (site unknown) and was then rowed to an island in a lake (Avalon?) by six black-clad queens. Slightly adapted, I’ve incorporated this account into the story.

an arresting spectacle

The imposing remains of Hadrian’s Wall, which crossed England from the Tyne to the Solway (a distance of seventy-three miles), are testimony to the power and organizing ability of Rome. That such a massive undertaking (not just a wall, but a complete frontier zone including huge fortresses, ‘milecastles’ and turrets, and a complex infrastructure of roads, supply depots and a port) could happen in a remote and comparatively unimportant province, speaks volumes about the empire’s vast resources and terrifying efficiency.

The term Vallum Hadriani, which is what the Romans called the Wall, is slightly misleading. Strictly, the ‘Vallum’ was the broad ditch fronting the inside of the Wall and demarcating the military zone, not the actual barrier itself.

Chapter 36

Creeping Germanization, that’s what happened

Despite Paul’s fears, it didn’t creep very far. Unlike Normanization in post-Hastings England, or Africanization in post-colonial Rhodesia, Germanization in Theoderic’s Italy was very limited, being essentially confined to manning the army with Goths — hardly a radical step, as the Army of Italy in the last years of empire had been largely made up of federates. Otherwise, the phasing out of the Roman palace bodyguard, together with sundry palace officials and the silentiarii, and replacing them with Goths, seems to have been the only other significant change. The administration continued to be run almost exclusively by Romans.

Fridibad, the ‘saio’

Theoderic’s power ultimately resided in his ability to persuade his Ostrogothic fellow tribesmen to accept his authority; unlike Roman emperors, German kings ruled by consent. Gothic nobles (comites, or counts) saw themselves as a warrior elite, the risk of them becoming ‘overmighty subjects’ always present, as men like Theodahad and Tuluin graphically demonstrated in Theoderic’s closing years. Between the nobles and the mass of the Ostrogothic people were the saiones. The term’s meaning is hard to define exactly; perhaps the English ‘sheriff’ (in the mediaeval sense) comes closest. Intermediaries, and enforcers of the king’s writ, representing the personal leadership invested in the royal power, they eschewed lofty ranks and titles. Burns (in his scholarly and highly readable A History of the Ostrogoths) is most enlightening: ‘the actual royal ‘firefighters’ were the saiones. . the king’s men [taking] charge for the king himself, wherever they went. Unless the king retained their loyalty and obedience and the respect they inspired, he could not rule.’

Chapter 37

a leading senator, one Albinus

Son of a consul (Basilius in 480) and himself a consul (in 493), Albinus was a scion of the very powerful and distinguished family of the Decii, had been connected with the negotiations to end the Acacian Schism, and was a leading member of the Senate. That he had been engaged in correspondence with Constantinople is not in doubt, though whether this was treasonable cannot be confirmed.

Cyprian, the Referendarius

He charged Albinus with having sent Justin a letter hostile to Theoderic’s kingdom. Unfortunately, we have no details about what precisely this implied. Cyprian was an interesting character and, as far as we can tell, an honest official. He had served in Theoderic’s army — one of the few Romans to have done so — and, almost uniquely among Romans, could speak Gothic. A riding-companion of Theoderic, he was, according to Cassiodorus, a man of action rather than reading. Burns asserts that in charging Boethius Cyprian ‘was just doing his job’, and cites his subsequent promotion to Comes Sacrarum Largitionum and Magister Officiorum as evidence of his probity. Given this, it is at least open to question whether Boethius was telling the truth when he claimed that the letter written supposedly by him that contained the damning words ‘libertas Romana’ was a forgery. However, as Gibbon — with the splendours of the English justice system in mind — said, ‘his innocence must be presumed, since he was deprived by Theoderic of the means of justification’.

Written at the Villa Jovis

Coming hot on the heels of the political catastrophes that afflicted the late years of Theoderic’s reign — the urban riots, defection of allies, Constantinople’s anti-Arian laws, etc. — the apparent treachery of Albinus and Boethius (just the presumed tip of a senatorial iceberg) must have been particularly cruel hammer-blows. I have taken advantage of the uncertainty regarding dates for this period to present the events covered by the chapter (which have a real sense of nemesis following hubris, befitting Greek tragedy) as occurring in rapid sequence, in order to heighten the dramatic tempo. As Moorhead says, ‘The timetable of these events is not as clear as we would like, especially as there are problems in the chronology of Anonymous Valesianus’.

imprisoned in its forbidding keep

As the tower of Pavia no longer exists (it was demolished in 1584), we can only speculate as to its