The Plague Pt. 1

A huge swath of the world goes dim for a year and a half after a mysterious haze covers Eurasia's skies. The abrupt dip in climate creates some pretty ideal conditions for the bubonic plague. Meanwhile, T&J set out to restore the Roman Empire with less-than-desirable results.

All 12 of T&J's original, end-of-episode songs are also available in one album! Buy T&J: A Roman Empire Love Story (Original Podcast Soundtrack) on Apple Music and iTunes and/or stream on Spotify, Tidal, YouTube Music, Amazon Music, and wherever you listen!  

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The Plague Pt.1

Content Warning

I was going to open with a quick content warning about there being swearing, but this podcast is marked Explicit on the feeds and if you’ve been following the show, you’re all used to it by now. 

Really, I think I want to use this moment … as democracies worldwide dip into fascism, as Palestinians and Ukrainians are still fighting their existential fight. I feel pretty angry and terrible. So if you want to drop me a line and tell me: hey, I’m listening. That would be so great. I’m at tandjbyz@gmail.com. If not, thank you for being here. Also, my end-of-episode song this time is startlingly topical. And I must say, an earworm. I hope it gives you some relief.   

Intro 

Something very strange had been  going on with the sky. 
One day, in the year 536 AD, it had suddenly, and inexplicably, gone dim … and then stayed that way … for another eighteen months.

Procopius himself even noted the change in Wars: 

Procopius: During this year a most dread portent took place. For the sun gave forth its light without brightness … [and] it seemed exceedingly like the sun in eclipse. 

A Roman senator named Cassiodorus, in Italy, described the sky this way in a letter.

Cassiodorus: We marvel to see no shadows of our bodies at noon, to feel the mighty vigor of the sun’s heat wasted into feebleness … The moon, too, even when full, is empty of her natural splendor.  

All across the Eurasian continent, this eerie, uncanny event — and its direct impact on local harvests — had been recorded.

Crop failure in Ireland; snowfall in August in China. 

However, it wasn’t until the 1990s that tree ring analysis would offer compelling scientific evidence that, yes, summers around the year 540 had been unusually cold. 
And still, the exact cause of the haze and cooler temperatures remained elusive. The laser technology glaciologists use to read ice cores simply wasn’t sophisticated enough before the mid-to-late 2010s to pinpoint the culprit. 
And the culprit — thanks to ice collected from a Swiss glacier by a team of scientists and historians — the culprit turned out to be a volcanic eruption so massive that it caused what’s called a volcanic winter. 

Temperatures drop because the quantity of sulfur, bismuth and ash spewed from a volcano, or volcanoes, is so great  — and the force so powerful — that much of it ends up high in the earth’s atmosphere, aand this volcanic ash particle veil is what people in the year 536 were experiencing for that weird year and a half when the sky went dim.  |

Because those particles functioned like these teeny tiny mirrors, reflecting the sun’s light — and warmth — back into space and thus, cooling the planet. Some scientists think the temperature dip averaged between 1.5 to just under 3 degrees Celsius. Or between 3 to 5 degrees in Fahrenheit.

That first eruption, we are pretty sure happened in Iceland.
And then, there were two more eruptions in the years 540 and 547.
This was … catastrophic.  
The year 536 would kick off the coldest decade on record in over two millennia and usher in a mini-Ice Age.   
Europe would take a full century to recover. 
According to a 2018 article in the journal Science:
The repeated blows, followed by plague, plunged Europe into economic stagnation that lasted until 640 AD, when another signal in the ice — a spike in airborne lead — mark[ed] a resurgence of silver mining.

The past is the past. It is locked in. 

Yet, I cannot help but wonder how the T&J era of Byzantium might’ve played out had nature spared our favorite couple … the consequences of a fucking volcanic winter. 

On paper, these were inspired times. Because in 536, the Hagia Sophia was close to completion and already changing the course of architecture.
Empress Theodora was leaving her mark on the rights of women and sex workers. Enshrining into law a wife’s right to dissolve the marriage and harsher punishments for pimps.
Vandal North Africa had been Roman North Africa for a few years now, and the Gothic War had recently begun. 

If you’ll recall at the end of Barbarian Makeover Part 2, in 535, once news reached Emperor Justinian of Gothic Princess Amalasuntha’s murder, he orders a core member of his Nika Riots ride-or-die inner circle, the General Mundus, to make moves to take back Italy …  

Another member of that inner circle, the General Belisarius and his wife, Antonina  — Theodora’s old pal  — were already in Sicily pitching in with the war effort.
The point is, 536, the start of weird-sky year, Justinian was well on the path to restoring his damn empire! 

That is, until some acts of God – and Persia – were like, ‘Nope! Not so fast.’  

This episode is a prelude and a preamble to the main event; a look at the ways in which catastrophe can be set into motion long before we even realize it, and how surviving the pestilence does not necessarily mean you’ll live long enough to see the return to normalcy.  

O, my dear listeners, we are at the point when things really start to get dark. Literally.  

Plus, climate change, a pandemic, some boat terrorism from the deep, and lots and lots of war.  

Sound familiar? 

I’m Christine Laskowski and this is T&J, a limited series podcast devoted to sixth century Byzantium and the greatest recorded love story on earth  – that between Empress Theodora and her husband, the Emperor Justinian. This is Episode 9 and Part 1 of a two-part series on: ‘The Plague.’ 

Part I. The Gothic War Gets Started 

General Mundus …  He never makes it to Italy. He never even makes it out of Croatia before he’s slain by the Goths in combat; beneath a dim, foreboding-looking sky. 

Only one year in … Mundus’ death already marks a major turning point in the Gothic War.  The northern Roman expeditionary force loses its leader, which means Justinian’s two-pronged attack is missing a prong. A weakness the Goths use to regroup. 

What Mundus’ death also means is that — generally speaking, beginning in 536, Justinian’s hard core Nika Riots ride-or-die inner circle consists of only Belisarius and the eunuch Narses, Justinian’s Grand Chamberlain.

On the Gothic front, Theodahad, the dickhead cousin-husband of the poor, murdered Princess Amalasuntha … Theodahad pretty quickly gets killed by the Goths, who were none too happy with his leadership.
Theodohad is then followed by a succession of replacements, but the most important for our purposes is the Gothic king, Totila. And Totila appears on the scene in the fall of 541.  
With the Goths finally united behind him at a pivotal moment in the conflict, Totila … totally changes the wargame. 

Now, I don’t want to get too bogged down by the military minutiae of the Gothic War, but I will here and there throughout the remainder of the series because the Gothic War is major. And veni, vidi, vici it is not. The Gothic War spans 19 years! 

It was, as medieval historian Edward James put it:

A traumatic quarter-century of wars and reconquest.

It’s one thing to win a war, but to successfully incorporate that land and its people long term? Why, that is another skill entirely. 

A skill that the Gothic leadership in Italy had by this point demonstrated!
Sure, they were an Arian Christian minority, but they practiced religious tolerance. Notably, King Theodoric had allowed Italy’s Jewish population to worship freely and to repair their synagogues, despite protests from the Chalcedonians. Better known to us as the Catholics. And the Catholics, they had no need to get their tunics all in a twist. Because their rights to worship as they wished were protected, too!

Overall, the people of Italy, they dug the Goth’s approach. A lot.  

Which is to say that trying to liberate a population, that when you arrive, is like, ‘Liberate who? Me?’ Indeed poses a major tactical challenge. On top of many other tactical challenges. As Belisarius and the Romans quickly learned.  

Because before he could even truly begin his Italian mission, Belisarius was forced to make an emergency pit stop at his old Vandal stomping ground of Carthage. 

Part II. Carthage: Another Thing Falls Apart

To paraphrase William Butler Yeats, the gyre was widening; the falcon wasn't falconing; the center clearly was not holding. 

A mere 2 years – 2 years! – after Belisarius’ victory against the Vandals, the Roman army in North Africa mutinied for a bunch of reasons that I won’t get into. But that forced Solomon, the eunuch commander there, to flee to Sicily. 

Belisarius and Antonina, we know, were already in Sicily, which they’d handily subdued. Their army was preparing to sail over and siege Naples when Solomon shows up and is like, ‘Belisarius, pretty please with sugar on top come down to Carthage. You’re really good at this stuff.’ And Belisarius, true to form, was like, ‘Ok!’

Belisarius sails down to North Africa and does what he can. Meanwhile, back in Sicily, I should note, this is precisely the point in the timeline when the incestuous affair between Antonina and their adopted son Theodosius gets … reckless. Allegedly.

Now, Justinian, while certainly appreciative of Belisarius’ efforts in North Africa, needs him back in position – as prong, singular – Mundus RIP — for the Italian campaign. So, Belisarius? He hurries back to Sicily. 

If this already sounds like a lot of Belisarius moving around … just you wait. 

But this leaves a vacancy for the lead command. And, who does Justinian send in to deal with the North Africa mess?

Why, Justinian sends a talented general from the very same Thracian backwater; a blood relative: Cousin Germanus.   

And if you are wondering why you’re only learning about Cousin Germanus now … it’s because for all of Theodora’s strategic yenta-ing and T&J’s bolstering of family and friends while in power. They were very much capable of the opposite. 

Cousin Germanus’ story is one of the golden hand of nepotism gone necrotic.
All because Germanus, a general, had the misfortune of being a touch too sparkly; of lookin’ just a li’l too imperial.
So they turn Germanus into a cautionary tale. 

But, at least he was a living, breathing cautionary tale. T&J could always, at any time, make him into a dead one. Like … Vitalian. 

Part III. Vitalian: The Dead Cautionary Tale  

At least for the purposes of this podcast, Vitalian’s story begins and ends on a summer day 16 years prior in 520 AD. The day he was murdered in broad daylight. 
You see, back in those days, there was a lot to endear Justinian’s Emperor Uncle Justin to Vitalian. For one, the two men were both staunch Chalcedonians. They were also both military guys. 

Something his scholarly nephew, now-adopted-son Justinian … was not.

But then, Uncle Justin — Gasp! — makes Vitalian consul. And consul, remember, was the highest rank available to anyone who was not the Emperor. It was also a higher rank than Justinian himself held at the time, which was no bueno. 

So, after an important papal delegation leaves Constantinople — one that Vitalian and Uncle Justin were closely involved with — Vitalian is assassinated right out in the open. Or, in the words of Byzantine historian Peter Sarris:

Vitalian was suddenly and unexpectedly cut down and killed in a parade ground near the palace, probably by members of the palace guard. 

Multiple sources, including Procopius, accuse Justinian of orchestrating Vitalian’s murder! And while we can’t say with 100% certainty that Justinian was behind the hit,  the hit was … suspiciously convenient.

Like, once Vitalian’s out of the picture, all of Justinian’s dreams come true.
He succeeds Vitalian as consul, and Cousin Germanus, the family member with the most military shine at the time, is dispatched as lead commander of Thrace in Vitalian’s place.

Justinian would go on to appoint more members of his own family to high office than any other emperor of the sixth century. Yet, when it came to Cousin Germanus, the childless couple’s obvious heir, their sanguine ties … enriched but also really hurt him.
T&J blocked any advancement for Germanus or his sons. And, going against the overactive yenta persona she’d cultivated, Theodora also made sure no one dared to marry any of Germanus’ three children. Who, he’d named Justin, Justinian, and Justina for Christ’s sake, like, he was trying so hard…

Now, this … This was the state of things when Justinian sends Cousin Germanus to manage the deteriorating North Africa situation beneath a dim, foreboding-looking sky. in 536. And it would be the state of things for Germanus for many years to come. 

So, let’s put our mindselves in lotus position for a moment. And imagine how Germanus might’ve felt arriving in Carthage under these circumstances only to learn that two-thirds of the remaining Roman army he was supposed to command there … had gone to the rebels … over unpaid wages.

Part III. Postcards from Italy

Back in Italy, the Goths knew this was serious. 
They needed their whole army ready before engaging directly with Beliarius. So, they quickly wrapped up this war in the north with the Franks over there in Gaul by giving them … Provence – Ooh lala! – which included the very important ports of Arles and Marseille. And as if that weren’t enough: 2,000 pounds of gold.

The Franks, if you’ll recall, unlike most other barbarian nations on the European continent at the time, were Calcedonians, or Catholics. Albeit recent Catholics. Like, 506 AD recent.

Which, as far as Procopius was concerned, was way too recent to be sincere.

Procopius: These barbarians, though they have become Christians, preserve the greater part of their ancient religion; for they still make human sacrifices and other sacrifices of an unholy nature.

Now, there were technically three Frankish kings at the time, each in charge of their own territory. But the most important for our purposes is King Theudebert. Whose own dad, Clovis, had previously forged an alliance with the Roman Emperor Anastasius.

Justinian’s envoys make a point of reminding the Franks of this Roman Catholic bond and Clovis’ promises while trying to convince them to attack Italy, from the northwest, as Rome’s ally. A third prong, if you will. That is, you know, before the Romans, you know, dwindled down to, er, Belisarius’ one.

But seeing just how lame the Roman offensive had become, King Theudebert is like, ‘Justinian, sorry mate, sending our guys to help you defeat the Goths in Italy isn’t  in the cards right now. Now, I know you know we just negotiated a peace treaty with them, but do not worry. We are not going to send them troops.’   

Which was technically true. Because, at least initially, those troops weren’t Frankish. They were composed of other barbarians. But, soon, to the fury and despair of both the Romans and the Goths, that would change very soon. 

Here’s Procopius in Wars:

Procopius: So, forgetting for the moment their oaths and treaties they had made before with both the Romans and the Goths (for the Frankish nation in matters of trust is the most treacherous in the world), they straightaway gathered to the number of 100,000 under the leadership of Theudebert and marched. 

And march they did, I must note, with the Franks’ signature stumpy-handled battle axes. 

Procopius: They are accustomed always to throw these axes at one signal in the first charge, and thus to shatter the shields of the enemy and kill the men. 

The Franks would sure do a number on the major Gothic city of Pavia, but then they wound up doing a number, too. Succumbing to diarrhea and dysentery, they were forced to turn back. Although, crucially, and something to remember: the Franks continued to control the Alpine passes … that would enable them to return.

But it’s not as though there hadn’t been some wins for the Romans.

By March of 537, the Goths had abandoned Rome, and Belisarius beseiges it. In yet another move of Byzantine lady badassery, Antonina leads a supply convoy there from Naples  – woohoo! – with Procopius, which I am sure he loved.   

Belisarius and Antonina also depose a pope together — I know, so romantic — in what turns out to be a once in a century event! They’d nixed Pope Silverius, either because he’d secretly negotiated with the Goths or because Theodora found him non-compliant … who really knows.

But Justinian, paradoxically, despite his track record of both humiliating and deposing popes, hee actually really elevated the pope’s status. He treated them — and not the Senate — as the main point of contact between the city of Rome, imperial authorities, and as he himself put it:

Justinian: All known inhabitants to the West.

According to Byzantine historian Peter Sarris:

One of Justinian’s most significant contributions to the development of the medieval West was his role in the creation of the papacy … The medieval papacy, which would reach the height of its powers as a ‘papal monarchy’ in the eleventh century, could ultimately be seen as a product of Justinian's political and religious agenda.

And yet another win for the Romans was that by 537 serious help was on the way! From the east … in the form of a general and men.   

Would it be Cousin Germanus? Or, perhaps the other remaining member of the ride-or-die Nika Riots inner circle, the eunuch Narses? 

Find out! Once we return from a short musical break. This time from Ma Rainey performing ‘Don’t Fish In My Sea.’

Instrumental Break. 

‘Don’t Fish In My Sea’ – Ma Rainey (1923) 

Part IV. Narses v. Belisarius 

If you guessed that it was the eunuch Narses, then, you, dear listener, get a gold star. Because it was Narses who was sent to Italy with 9,000 troops to relieve Belisarius, who had been stuck in Rome under siege from the Goths. 

Born sometime in the 480s AD, Narses was Persarmenian. Meaning he was from the part of the Armenian buffer state under Persian rule. 

How Narses first enters the imperial service is not known, but he rises through the ranks of the palace eunuchs to become Justinian’s top chamberlain. He is in his forties during the Nika Riots when he shows everyone the massive size of his metaphorical cajones.  


But returning to the present moment, this 538 AD Gothic assignment represents the official start of Narses’ military career, which leads us into some pretty murky territory with respect to his free status. 

Because eunuchs, we already know, were the enslaved servants of the nobility. Which begs the question: was Narses leading military campaigns as an enslaved man? One owned by T&J?

Posing this question in an email to historian Shaun Tougher, whose scholarly work focuses extensively on eunuchs, had this to say:

Yes, Narses could have been freed earlier on. It’s frustrating our sources don’t provide more information!

Frustrating, indeed! 

But per my Enslavement episode, in the Roman Empire, military service was an occupation for which enslaved people were uniquely barred. Furthermore, Justinian would eventually issue a law, or a Novel — Novel 142, to be exact — that would emancipate all of the Empire’s eunuchs, but not until November 17, 558, so a whole two decades later. And with a caveat that would have excluded Narses from its benefit. A real fuck you considering the mountains Narses had moved in Italy by that point, which we’ll learn all about in a future episode. 

I suspect that T&J likely freed Narses shortly after the Nika Riots as a reward. Then, Theodora, to her credit, seized an opportunity to draw on Narses’ talents in order to quash a Roman mob in Alexandria after a Monophysite patriarch there had been toppled. By the mid-530s, Narses was loyal, and he had the resume to lead armies. For T&J: check and check.   

So, why doesn’t the written record tell us more? It could be those details were documented and then lost, or perhaps the men writing these histories didn’t see it as important. Or maybe they respected Narses so much perhaps the collective omerta over Narses’ status was, in fact, to honor him. We’ll likely never know. 

What we do know is that once Narses arrives in Italy with his 9,000 desperately needed troops … Narses and Belisarius do not fist bump and bond. Rather, in 538, in the Italian theater of war and reacquisition, we get the opera buffa personality battle disaster that is, generally speaking, Narses v. Belisarius. 

Although, being no stranger to bad bosses myself, I can’t shake the feeling that Justinian might’ve communicated more clearly Narses’ intended role. 

Was he in Italy to help Belisarius, as in, assist as his second-in-command? Or was Narses there to help Belisarius, i.e. take over?

To add to this confusion, there was another general under Belisarius’ command who’d shown up recently with 5,000 troops and his name was John. Now, John, I should mention, was also a nephew of Vitalian — Vitalian-the-general-Justinian-had-likely-assassinated, Vitalian. 

And John … is the reason why Belisarius and Narses could never be friends. 

In the top-down, command-driven ecosystem of the military, what happened was that John had defied Belisarius’ orders. John … had made a call. 

He’d recently taken the city of Rimini and decided to stay — even after Belisarius had told him and his men to withdraw. 

John was not without justification. He was basically, like, ‘Belisarius, listen. If you come and help me, we can hold onto Rimini, besiege the Gothic capital of Ravenna nearby, and end this war! Queen Matasuntha, the granddaughter of King Theodoric, she is ready to defect!’   

As John was relaying this, deep within enemy territory, a war conference was convened. All of the high-ranking commanders and officers, including new-to-the-scene Narses, were there to figure out the whole John-Rimini situation. 

Initially, everyone is on Belisarius’ side. John disobeyed lead command. So fuck him. 

But Narses is like, ‘Gentleman, am I the only one here not drinking crazy juice? It is John we’re talking about! One of our best guys with precious, credible intel and upwards of 5,000 badly-needed soldiers! And you’re going to … just walk away? Because of a rule? Because your tender, big man egos are hurt?’ 

Lucky for us, Procopius captures Narses’ third degree burn of a rejoinder in Wars. Here’s a snippet for you. 

Narses: Fellow officers, these are circumstances where it is possible even for those who have had no experience of war to choose the better course. If we fail at Rimini, we shall in all probability, shatter the strength of the Romans. 

The remainder of Narses’ speech is directed, like a proton laser beam, at … Belisarius. 

Narses: If John treated your commands with insolence, most excellent Belisarius, the atonement you have already exacted from him is surely ample, but see to ir that you do not exact from the emperor, and from us, the penalty. For if the Goths capture Rimini at the present juncture, it will be their good fortune to have made captive a capable Roman general, as well as a whole army and a city subject to the emperor. And the calamity will not stop with this. 

Now, it’s unclear whether Narses and John were close in Constantinople prior to their Italian encounter or simply locked eyes across the proverbial conference room over what they felt was Belisarius’ bad strategy. Either way , while Belisarius does deftly save him in Rimini, John, from then on, is like: ‘Belisarius, you’re a dumbass. I’m only listening to Narses.’ And Narses is like, ‘I’m only listening to you, Belisarius, when your ideas align with my own.’   

After the dysfunction causes them to lose the city of Milan, Justinian is like, Yoink! And recalls Narses back to Constantinople. 

Yet, the irony of all of this, is that shortly after the John-Rimini incident, Belisarius winds up … making a call of his own; disobeying Justinian’s orders in a manner that loudly echoes what John had done to him. 

You see, Justinian, the emperor, decides, ‘You know what? Total victory in Italy isn’t possible. The Romans can just take what’s south of the Po River and leave what’s north to the Goths.’ 

And Belisarius is like, ‘Dude, why the hell would you do that?! I am that frickin’ close to winning this frickin’ war!’

So, what does Belisarius do? He negotiates a secret, back door deal with the Goths where, in exchange for delivering Italy, they’ll make Belisarius … drumroll please! The Emperor of the West! 
The Gothic leadership who’d cooked up this idea throw open the gates of their capital, Ravenna, to let their new emperor in. And once Belisarius and all his men are in, he’s like, ‘Psych!’ And occupies it, in Justinian’s name. 

Belisarius makes the right call! He takes back Italy. All of it. Not just what’s south of the Po River. Pffft!! And in a sick, Trojan horse-esque operation. 

But for a power couple that valued their absolute power absolutely, T&J were clearly shook by Belisarius’ maneuver. 

Because Justinian’s Achilles heel … was that he was no Achilles. He didn’t travel. He didn’t fight. He did not have military sparkle or acumen … and it showed.

Emperor of the West? Oh, no, no, no. Belisarius was now way too sparkly. If the Goths could see him in an Emperor role, why not others?

Belisarius and Antonina are recalled to Constantinople immediately, bringing with them some VIP Gothic captives, like Queen Matasuntha, her Gothic King husband, as well as some serious Gothic loot, like the royal treasure of her grandfather, King Theodoric. 

Only when they arrive in the capital this time … There are no cheering crowds lining the streets, there’s no public fêting from T&J inside the Hippodrome. There is no triumph like the one he’d gotten after Carthage. 

No, Belisarius? He gets an honorary mosaic. And orders … to embark on his next mission.

Because it’s bad news out of Mesopotamia. And I’m talking … bleak.  

Part IV. Persia, a Prelude 

In the Constantinople of the T&J era, there was a large public square dedicated to the emperors known as the Augusteum. 

Amidst the many classical statues of other emperors there, Justinian had erected his own column. And atop that column, Justinian placed an equestrian statue of himself wearing a Persian military uniform. And since Persian clothing had way more tailoring, imagine Justinian uncharacteristically fitted in a jacket and pants.

With that in mind, here’s more from Procopius in Buildings:

Procopius: And Justinian looks toward the rising sun, directing his course, I suppose, against the Persians. In his left hand he holds a globe, [with] a cross stand[ing] upon [it], the emblem by which alone he has obtained both his Empire and his victory in war. And stretching forth his right hand toward the rising sun and spreading out his fingers, he commands the barbarians in that quarter to remain at home and to advance no further. So much, then, for this statue. 

Basically, equestrian statue Justinian has in his left hand a globe and a cross on top while his right hand is up, in the direction of Persian territory, going ‘Stop!’

And do you wanna venture any guesses as to what the Persians did not do? 

To me, the Roman-Persian dynamic has strong notes of the situation between the English and the French. Historically, most of us know, the English hated the French; the French were the enemy. But the English also thought the French were exotic and fancy. 

There was antagonism, sure, but there was also a deep appreciation. In this case, Persia was Rome’s nemesis, but it was also where silk came from. And that’s just one example. In short, the Persians were tastemakers that were worth paying attention to. Who could also be agents of chaos. Emphasis on the agents of chaos part.

Last we heard from Emperor Justinian’s Persian counterpart, King Khusro in the T&J podcast was the year 532; when Khusro, new to the Persian throne, had taken a huge payout deal from Justinian titled ‘The Treaty of Eternal Peace,’ wherein Justinian had given Khusro 11,000 gold pounds in exchange for … eternal peace. 

However, by the year 540, Khusro’s been in the job a while. He’s watched Justinian’s siege of the Vandals. Now, he’s watching Belisarius retaking Italy from the Goths. 

Khusro… he is not dumb. For one thing, he knows that, militarily, Rome’s outstretched. But Rome’s also been meddling in Armenia and Arabia, meaning that even the buffer states were not properly buffering, putting his empire at risk.

And then, there were the letters. People that were not his friends start frantically sending letters to Persia telling Khusro what to do.

The Goths disguise two guys as a bishop and a chaplain to deliver a message to Khrusro in-person that it’d be awesome if Persia were to preemptively attack Rome.

And in one of the rare instances in The Secret History where Procopius claims to quote the over-stepping empress directly, Theodora herself pens a note to a Persian diplomat she’s met once saying … the opposite.

Theodora:  How devoted I am to you, O Zaberganes, believing you to be loyal to our interests, you know already, since you quite recently came to us on an embassy. You would then be acting in accord with the high opinion I hold of you, if you should persuade King Khusro to adopt a peaceful attitude toward our State. For in case you do this, I promise that great benefits will accrue to you from my husband, who can be counted upon to carry out no measure whatever without consulting my judgment.

Khusro? He’s twirling his fragrant and perfectly curled beard and assessing the situation, which includes this Treaty of Eternal Peace he’d signed with Justinian back in 532. And he concludes that eight years of peace … was quite enough.  | 

Part IV. Persia, Actually 

In 540 AD, when Khusro breaches the Treaty of Eternal Peace for the first time. LMAO. He leaves the Persian capital of Ctesiphon, which is today located not far from the city of Baghdad, and goes west, marches into Roman territory and just … starts demanding ransom.

Only, it was also like, ‘Want me to not sack your town and sell everyone into Persian slavery? Pay me. Want me to not sack your town and sell everyone into Persian slavery? Fucking pay me.’ Sometimes they do pay him and Khusro sets the towns on fire and sells everyone into Persian slavery, anyway. 

Meanwhile, the Roman general Justinian dispatches to help is … Cousin Germanus.

And since he was sent to bribe, not to fight, Germanus arrives grossly understaffed — as in, has only 300 soldiers understaffed. So, when the offer of money doesn’t tempt Khusro, at all, and why would it, when he can make way more from pillaging, Cousin Germanus basically goes, ‘Yeah, uh, I … can’t do anything about this,’ and withdraws. But given that T&J are the dark lords behind the cruel stagnation of his life and that of his children, I could also understand why Germanus might not have been super motivated to try. 

And thus, completely unencumbered, in 541, Khusro makes it so far west into Roman territory that he sacks the Roman city of Antioch, which is, and I cannot underscore this enough …  unfathomable. 

Antioch was the capital of the eastern provinces. Up there with Alexandria as one of the Roman Empire’s most important cities. 

And this. This is why it is Belisarius who Justinian sends to Syria afterward. Given his experience in the region, the General Belisarius is absolutely the best man for the job. It also probably explains why he wasn’t outright punished for disobedience. 

Although this time, Antonina doesn’t accompany her husband on his Persia campaign. She stays in Constantinople. For the most part. Where her reputation continues to corrode over allegations of an affair with Theodosius, her adopted son. And the efforts by Photius, her incel-y biological son, to keep his adopted brother, mother-lover, away. 

But for now, I want to return to Khusro’s sacking of Antioch because it is equal parts flamboyant and troll-y and extra to the extra power … extra. 

To start, Khusro takes a very public, nanny nanny boo boo you can’t catch me dip in the Mediterranean Sea … Followed by a day of chariot races in the hippodrome of a nearby city and Khusro sits in the kathisma and fixes the races so the Greens win. Ouch.  

Khruso orders 30,000 of Antioch’s residents be shipped back to Persia, to a site near his capital, Ctesiphon, in order to populate a brand new Persian-ified Antioch that Khusro builds for them there. 

He will go on to name it Weh Antiok Khusro, which loosely translates into: 

King Khusro: Khusro’s Antioch Is Better!

Or maybe ...

King Khusro: Khusro’s Better-Than-Antioch! 

I know this podcast is about the Roman Empire, but Khusro’s Better-Than-Antioch appropriated toy city is my Roman Empire. 

This highly lucrative, attention-seeking jaunt of Khusro’s across Syria was super lucrative and super smart for Persia and devastating for Rome. But it was a loss that Justinian basically … had to accept. 

Conclusion 

Khusro’s Persian incursion wasn’t about conquest. Since whatever you took, you then had to manage and defend. No, for Khusro, strategically, it was all about plunder, sending a message, and weakening his frenemy while he could. 

Historian James Allan Evans summed it up this way:

On the whole, Khusro’s raid was a great success. He returned to his capital of Ctesiphon loaded down with captives and plunder, leaving a trail of panic and ruin behind him. The cities of Syria were so devastated that Justinian had to remit their taxes for a year to allow them to recover. 

And if this fiscal decision had the Roman Finance Minister a.k.a. Justinian’s money-savvy scapegoat, John the Cappadocian’s silk tunic in a twist, well, John either had other things to worry about. Or he was already long gone. As we’ll uncover in depth in the next episode. 

But territories meant land which meant taxes. And taxes meant imperial revenue. 

Egypt, in particular, had been super profitable for the state: one estimate suggests that three-fifths of all imperial revenues came from there. 

Only at exactly this time, the year 541, the impact of that weird, dim sky and the subsequent volcanic winter that it caused… was being felt in Rome’s most lucrative region. Terrifying accounts were emerging out of the Egyptian port of Pelusium… of bubonic plague. 

Outro/Wrap

Research, scripting, narration, and editing for this episode were all done by me, Christine Laskowski.

Scoring and musical arrangements for T&J were also written and performed by me in collaboration with the illustrious Jack Butler. The T&J logo was designed by Meredith Montgomery. 

Procopius of Caesarea was voiced by Michael de la Bedoyere, Cassiodorus by Simon Petre Justinian by Oliver Sachgau. Narses was voiced by Mark Nelson, Theodora by Laurel Kratochvila and King Khusro by Otabek Madyarov. 

Special thanks to Tim Kearley and Shaun Tougher. Additional sources for this episode are available in the show notes. 

If you liked what you’ve heard, spread the word and leave a nice note in the review section wherever you’re getting your podcasts. Follow and donate on Patreon – that’s patreon.com/tandjpodcast. It really helps me keep the show going and give you access to all upcoming T&J episodes in addition to other objectively delectable perks. 

Now, enjoy the outro because I wrote it just for you.   

Empires

Empires rise and empires fall
From erect to derelict
It’s nothing at all

Empires rise and empires fall
So full of epoch and apocryphal

Another war
Another thrill
Another fuck
Another kill
Another grab
Another aim
Another God
Another shame

Leave it to the mountain
tall and stout
hot of temper
with bismuth mouth
Leave it to the valley
So busy below
Where waters roll
And humans shoal

Empires rise and empires fall
From erect to derelict
It’s nothing at all

Empires rise and empires fall
So full of epoch and apocryphal