The Purple Shroud: A Novel of Empress Theodora by Stella Duffy Page B

brow would let him be, stopping every hundred paces to throw up. He crossed the City frightened too – worried that if the men weren’t freed the incensed mob might come after him. Right now they praised his accidental pardoning, in another three days they might condemn him for the two dead. He packed up his wife and children and headed out to her family’s farm, two days’ journey closer to Thrace, just in case.
    In the Palace, talks went on late into the night. At their final meeting, both Eudaemon and Tribonian insisted it was not possible to recant now: the condemned men had been tried and sentenced, the law on this was clear. Had there been some sign of intervention, a thunderbolt, a comet perhaps, then maybe they could all agree – as the Green and Blue leaders claimed – that God had intervened; there were times when it was expedient to accommodate the people’s fondness for signs and symbols. Unfortunately there were no signs. The hangman had simply made a mistake in calculating weight, haste had created its usual chaos, and to pretend otherwise would give the faction leaders the upper hand. Public feeling was already running too high, the Palace had to take control, and quickly. The majority of Justinian’s counsellors were adamant: the Emperor wanted a return to the glories of old and now was the time to show the strength of old.
    ‘It’s the only way, sir,’ said the Prefect Eudaemon.
    ‘It’s the Roman way, sir,’ said the Pagan lawyer Tribonian.
    With the volume increasing in the council chamber and the calls for aggression louder, Narses stood up. ‘Gentlemen, please, I’d like to suggest another possibility: that we consider clemency at this time.’
    ‘Clemency?’ Mundus frowned. ‘Not like you. Getting soft in your old age?’
    ‘Finally realising he’s a eunuch,’ Belisarius muttered, not quite under his breath, but not openly either.
    Narses nodded to the generals, both ready to get their men out on the streets at a moment’s notice, and went on, ‘I understand your enthusiasm for the fight. You’ve both done so well for us in distant lands, it’s only natural you’d want to show your prowess on our own streets, but yes, I believe clemency will help. It will encourage the people to see the August as less removed, more interested in their concerns.’
    ‘They know he’s interested in their concerns,’ interrupted Sittas.
    ‘They have done,’ Narses replied smoothly; ‘but just now, they seem to think he cares only for the greater Empire, and it’s not Italians or Syrians or Egyptians we have rioting on our streets, it’s the people of the City fighting out there. So, if the Emperor chooses to show kindness to his citizens, those closest to his heart, it won’t do him any harm.’
    Justinian nodded. He took Narses’ views seriously and had no appetite for bringing war closer to home. The younger generals weren’t so easily persuaded.
    ‘August,’ Belisarius said, ‘Narses may call it clemency, but there’s every chance the people will see it as spineless.’
    Mundus stepped in. ‘We believe it’s a simple matter to stamp out any hint of riot before it even begins. If the monks can’t be persuaded to hand over the condemned men, we would choose to storm the Church of St Lawrence, capture the prisoners, carry out the execution there and then, and be done with it.’
    ‘The longer this drags on, the more chance there is for greater disruption.’ Belisarius spoke quietly, seriously, for once not flashing his lovely smile, and it was clear most of the soldiers around the table agreed with him.
    Theodora whispered to her husband, ‘Even if your generals are right, this isn’t the time to allow Belisarius to head a show of Rome’s strength. You want him to be your emblem…’
    ‘Not stand for myself?’ Justinian interrupted her, his hand over hers, speaking more quietly still in this room full of advisers and counsellors and trusted friends.
    ‘Not your August