In one of the small rooms of the Emperor's palace in Byzantium, a short
time after the Feast of the Floralia, a little man of insignificant
appearance was pacing to and fro, lost in anxious thought.
The room was quiet and lonely. Although outside it was broad daylight,
the bay-window, which looked into the court of the extensive edifice,
was thickly hung with heavy curtains of gold-brocade. Equally costly
stuffs covered the mosaic floor, so that no noise accompanied the
footsteps of the solitary inmate.
A softened light filled the room. Relieved against the golden
background of the walls, stood a row of small white busts of the
Christian Emperors since Constantine. Exactly over a writing divan,
hung a large cross of massive gold. Whenever the little man passed
this, he bent before it; for in the middle of the gold, and covered
with glass, a splinter of wood was enclosed, said to be a piece of the
true Cross. At last he stopped before a map, which, representing the
_orbis Romanus_, and traced upon a parchment with a purple border,
covered one of the walls.
After a long and searching look, he sighed and covered his eyes with
his hands. They were not beautiful, nor was his face noble; but his
features were exceedingly suggestive both of good and evil. Mistrust,
cunning and vigilance lay in the restless glance of his deep-set eyes;
deep wrinkles, more the result of care than of age, furrowed his
projecting forehead and hollow cheeks.
"Who can foresee the result?" he exclaimed, sighing again, and rubbing
his long and bony hands. "I am unceasingly impelled to do it. A spirit
has entered my bosom, and it warns me repeatedly. But is it an angel of
the Lord or a demon? Who can interpret my dream? Forgive, Thou Triune
God, forgive Thy most zealous servant! Thou hast cursed him who
interprets dreams. And yet Joseph interpreted the dreams of King
Pharaoh, and Jacob saw the heavens open; and their dreams were from
Thee. Shall I, dare I venture?"
Again he walked to and fro; and who knows how long he would have
continued to do so, had not the purple curtains of the doorway been
gently drawn aside. A slave, glittering with gold, threw himself on the
ground before the little man, with his arms crossed on his breast.
"Emperor, the patricians whom you summoned have arrived.
"Patience!" said the Emperor to himself, and seated himself upon a
couch, of which the supports were made of gold and ivory. "Quick with
the shoes and the chlamys!"
The slave drew a pair of sandals with thick soles and high heels upon
the Emperor's feet, which added some inches to his height, and threw
over his shoulders a rich mantle worked all over with stars of gold,
kissing each article as he touched it. After a repetition of the humble
prostration, which had lately been introduced at Byzantium in this
aggravated form of Oriental submission, the slave withdrew.
Emperor Justinian placed himself opposite the entrance in the attitude
in which he was accustomed to give audience, resting his left arm upon
a broken porphyry column from the Temple of Jerusalem.
The curtain at the entrance was again parted, and three men entered,
with the same salutation as the slave; and yet they were the first men
of the empire, as was shown by their characteristic heads and
intellectual features, still more than by their richly-decorated
garments.
"We have summoned you," began the Emperor, without noticing their
humble greeting, "to hear your advice concerning Italy. You have had
all necessary information--the letters of the Queen-regent, and the
documents of the patriotic party. You have also had three days to
reflect. Speak first, Magister Militum."
And he turned to the tallest of the three, a man of stately and heroic
figure, clad in a full suit of richly-gilded armour. His well-opened,
light-brown eyes were frank and confident; his large, straight nose and
full cheeks gave his face an expression of health and strength. There
was something Herculean about his broad chest and powerful thighs
and arms; but his mouth, in spite of the fierce beard, was mild and
good-humoured.
"Sire," he said, in a full, deep-chested voice, "the advice of
Belisarius is always, 'Attack the enemy!' At your command, I lately
destroyed the Kingdom of the Vandals, in Africa, with fifteen thousand
men. Give me thirty thousand, and I will lay the Gothic crown at your
feet."
"'Tis well," said the Emperor approvingly. "Your words have done me
good. What say you, Tribonianus, pearl of jurists?"
The jurist was little shorter than Belisarius, but not so
broad-shouldered and stout-limbed. His high, grave forehead, quiet
eyes, and expressive mouth, bore witness to a powerful mind.
"Emperor," said he firmly, "I warn you against this war. It is unjust."
Justinian started up indignantly.
"Unjust!--to recover that which belongs to the Roman Empire!"
"Which _did_ belong. Your predecessor, Zeno, ceded the West to
Theodoric and his Goths when they had overthrown the usurper Odoacer."
"Theodoric was to be the Viceregent of the Emperor, not the King of
Italy."
"Admitted. But after he had become King--as he could not fail to do,
for a Theodoric could never be the servant of another--the Emperor
Anastasius, your uncle Justinus, and, later, you yourself, acknowledged
him and his kingdom."
"That was under the pressure of necessity. Now that they are in need,
and I the stronger, I revoke that acknowledgment."
"That is exactly what I call unjust."
"You are blunt and disagreeable, Tribonianus, and a tough disputant.
You are excellently fitted to compile my pandects. I will never again
ask your advice in politics. What has justice to do with politics?"
"Justice, Justinianus, is the best policy."
"Bah! Alexander and Caesar thought differently."
"But, first, they never completed their work; and, secondly----"
He stopped.
"Well, secondly?"
"Secondly, you are not Caesar, nor are you Alexander."
All were silent. After a pause, the Emperor said quietly:
"You are very frank, Tribonianus."
"Always, Justinianus."
The Emperor quickly turned to the third of his advisers:
"Well, what is your opinion, Narses?"