Silk and Islam

Justinian catches a big break after a certain textile secret gets out, while Belisarius' reputation undergoes a brief revamp. A succession competition heats up and another great love story emerges, as we say goodbye to Procopius and this cast of characters in order to introduce the Middle Ages and, in many respects, Europe as we know it.

To listen to the album, featuring all end-of-episode songs, search for T&J: A Roman Empire Love Story (Original Podcast Soundtrack) on Spotify, iTunes, Apple Music ... everywhere. Official release date is October 17, 2025 with preorder beginning October 10. Links to come!

Help T&J to win the LOVIE award for Best Indie Podcast in Europe! Voting ends October 16.

Transcript

Episode 12: Silk and Islam

Content Warning

Hello everyone! Some announcements! T&J: The Album is now available for streaming! That means all of my outro song earworms, classics like my Blondie-inspired barbarian song, the Hall of the 19 Couches, that Hagia Sophia disco jam — well, all twelve genre-defying, thematically crafted tunes are now in a single LP. Mm hmm. Just for you! And everyone you know.

Search for T&J: A Roman Empire Love Story (Original Podcast Soundtrack) in iTunes, Apple Music and Spotify and.every conceivable streaming platform and store. I’ll drop links in the show notes.

T&J has also been nominated for a LOVIE award for best indie podcast in Europe, and I need all of your and your friends and your families’ votes! Seriously, I submitted to a lot of awards the first year and felt like I’d gotten super scammed because they cost hundreds of euros/dollars per category, and yeah, it’s great to be a finalist. I’ll drop a link in the show notes. You can also go to lovieawards.com and search for ‘Best Indie Podcast.’ I wanna win. Voting ends on October 16th, so do not wait.

Now, my wonderful Patreon subscribers have already heard segments of my book, One Way Ticket to Tashkent, as bonus content. While I was hard at work scripting this episode about silk and Central Asian steppe people and Armenia, I was like, ‘I have witnessed silk being made in the old way! In Uzbekistan. When I was twenty-two. I have chronicled this swath of the world in words and pictures, plus a love story. Why not share and celebrate that by offering it as bonus material?’ So that’s what I did. I turned the publication of this episode into a holiday the old fashioned way — in the nine days leading up to it, I dropped one recorded excerpt of One Way Ticket to Tashkent per day plus photos. On Patreon for patrons.

If you want to check it out and support the show, which still needs money for award submissions, like I just mentioned, and maintaining the podcast and now the album feed each month, among other things, just go to patreon.com/tandjpodcast. It really, really means a lot.

And if you’re like, ‘Christine, way to bury the lede, you wrote a book?! Where can I buy it?’ The answers are yes, I finished the manuscript back in 2019, and … nowhere. Because after appealing to fifty or so literary agents and agencies during my lockdown spell, I couldn’t get one.

Memoirs, especially travel memoirs, weren’t on trend anymore. Central Asia was too niche, who cares? Who was my audience? Blah blah blah. But, you know, the response I’ve gotten from you all, my audience, from my show and my storytelling … I can do it. I can get agent, goddamn it. I can get a book deal, So, I’m going to give it another go. You’ve really taught me that. While I’m here, while I’m at it, we’ve already changed each other’s lives, why not change them some more? If you or anyone listening either are or know a literary agent interested in helping me get One Way Ticket to Tashkent on bookstore shelves …  I’m at tandjbyz@gmail.com.  

As always, there is swearing. If you’re worried the material might be too mature for young audiences, I recommend adults screen it first.  

It’s incredible that you’re here. Thank you. 

Intro

Belisarius. Cuckold, himbo, general. And when T&J weren’t stripping him of his assets and title — and then restoring them — for one infraction or another, Belisarius was also rich. Fabulously rich. One of the wealthiest Romans of the sixth century. But what is wealth if someone close to you, will often, in an instant, take it all away? Hrmmm… 

Last we heard from our beleaguered general, he’d been … quasi-restored. However, Belisarius, he was not going to wallow as the Count of the Sacred Stables, or whatever, forever.   

In the year 549, Belisarius leaves Ravenna and returns to Constantinople — where he rejoins his wife, Antonina — and is reinstated as … the Master of Soldiers of the East. 

Meaning, he was once again the lead commander of Rome’s border with its frenemy empire, Persia! However, he would also no longer be: Belisarius movin’ around. 

Belisarius, from here on out, insofar as Procopius, or any other surviving source suggests, Belisarius would stay put in Constantinople for the remainder of his life.
Who did do some moving around? Our homebody emperor! More on that later in the episode. 

But if Belisarius never physically left for the eastern front … did that mean his being reinstated as Master of Soldiers of the East was yet another case of Justinian replacing one honorary, in-name-only title with another?

Actually, no. This was the real deal. Because according to Byzantine scholar David Parnell:

[The] evidence suggests that when Belisarius arrived in Constantinople in April 549, Justinian asked him to resume his position as General of the East to defend Dara and prepare for the possibility of an expanded war with Persia. 

Now, the year 548 had been a devastating one for the Emperor personally. It was the year the T in our T&J, Theodora, died, at around age 50.  | Resting bitch face
But thanks to Khusro and his Roman treaty allergy, 548 was also the year when the tensions between the Roman and Persian forces had been heating up considerably.

First, in Georgia, known then as the kingdom of Lazica, about which Procopius had this to say: 

Procopius: For Lazica, I have stated, is a country of bad roads, and everywhere abounds in precipices. 

The second location, where things were getting a little tense, was the Roman fortress city of Dara. Located in what is today southern Turkey near its border with Syria, Khrusro’s attempt on Dara … Well, attempt is a little strong. It’s more like the two-kids in a trenchcoat pretending to be an adult equivalent of an attempt.  

What had happened was that Persia’s ambassador to Rome, a man with the indelible name of Yazdgushnasp, had tried gaining entry into Dara en route to a meeting with Justinian in Constantinople. 

Only Yazdgushnasp turns up at the Dara city gates and is like, ‘Yeah, um, as you can see, me and my team are in need of accommodation.’ Wherein Yazdgushnasp, with what I imagine to be the wave of his bejeweled hand, gestures to the 500 attendants waiting behind him. 

But it was just another Tuesday in antiquity! Because the Romans, they do not tell Persian Ambassador Yazdgushnasp — try saying that five times fast — to fuck off.

What they tell him is more like ‘Fuck no.’ The ambassador is allowed into Dara, although, with the number attendants the Romans considered appropriate, which was … twenty.  

Fortunately for Justinian, these border tussles and scrapes in Georgia and Dara, did not result in war breaking out in Mesopotamia. Woohoo!  

And that’s primarily because beginning in the 550s, King Khusro himself would be … scrambling to put out fires of his own. Taking a huge financial hit after a certain textile secret gets out, all the while wrestling with the bubonic plague’s disastrous grip on his own people.

These events would have devastating consequences, above all, in allowing opportunistic tribes to fill the ensuing power vacuum.  

Once the pandemic hit, it was the nomads — societies not clustered in tight, urban settlements with the rats carrying the fleas, with the plague — who had the advantage.  

Along the Persian-Chinese frontier zone, the dominant nomadic power for much of the T&J era had been a tribe called the Northern Wei. Spelled W-E-I. | 450-570 AD
But due to the environmental impact of that volcanic winter I discussed in Episode 9: The Plague Part 1, the 540s were not a good time for the Northern Wei, who had been overtaken by groups like the Hephthalites, also known as the White Huns. And the Avars; along with the Avars’ own rivals, an upstart steppe people known as … the Turks.

A weakened Persia did not equal a strengthened Rome. 

When it came to the barbarians on its own eastern frontier, Rome’s empire frenemy  had — this entire time — been doing some heavy lifting of its own. Keeping the Asian steppe nomads … over there. That is, until it no longer could.

So, while the beleaguered, cuckholded general from T&J’s hard core, ride-or-die-inner circle, Belisarius, would formally retire from military service by 551, or 552, we know based on Narses’ experience in Episode 11: Raised in the Shade how completely nonplussed Justinian was about yanking his generals out of retirement.

With Persia’s north and eastern bulwark effectively broken, in just a few years’ time, some far-flung — albeit very fucking cool — barbarians would be charging the walls of Belisarius’ very own city.

The fragility of these two empires would also create, within their buffer state of the Arabian peninsula, the precise circumstances for one charismatic, religious leader to emerge and transform the history of mankind.  

Aghhh. Here we are! There is really no nice way of putting it. Dear, listeners, like the god of gothic rock, Jim Morrison once sang in Episode  5: Gothic as a Modifier…

This is the end.
This is the end. 

The part of the story where everyone grows old and dies. 
Yet, what emerges …  is pretty much Europe as we know it. 

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. Welcome to the twelfth and final episode of the T&J podcast: ‘Silk and Islam.’  

Part I. The Road to Silk

Silk was Justinian’s big break. And boy, was he in need of one.  | Castle of Otranto
The love of his life was dead, and the general Narses’ hard-won Italy was losing tract thanks to a barbarian tribe, moving in from the northeast, known as the Lombards, who I’ll talk about later.

But silk … silk was something the Romans had had for a very long time. Just not the knowledge to produce it themselves. 

For centuries, the luxury fabric had been the domain of the Persians, who fiercely guarded its provenance in the east; all the while taking a sizable merchant tax on the textile when selling it to others, particularly Persia’s tunic-and-chlamys-wearing neighbors. But, thanks to a couple of monks. Nestorian Christian Monks. That all changed. 

Now, Nestorianism was a sect I touched on in Episode 2: One Iota. And its ouster from mainstream Chalcedonian Christianity, i.e. Roman Catholicism, over one century earlier, drove them into Persia — and as far east as China — in order to practice their beliefs. 

The irony that heretical Nestorians would ultimately save this particular Chalcedonian, or Catholic, emperor’s day …  is not lost on me. Although, Justinian’s own dedication to Catholicism does undergo a major transformation before he dies.

But at this particular moment in 550 AD, the same year Procopius completed the Secret History, these Nestorian monks alter that history … by revealing a secret of their own. 

Here’s Procopius’ account in Wars:

Procopius: For [the monks] had, they said, spent a long time in the country situated north of the numerous nations of India — a country called Serinda — and there they had learned accurately by what means it was possible for silk to be produced … The monks explained to [Justinian] that certain worms are the manufacturers of silk … After they had thus spoken, the emperor promised to reward them with large gifts and urged them to confirm their account in action. They then once more went to Serinda and brought back the eggs to Byzantium, and once transformed into worms, which fed on the leaves of the mulberry, they made possible from that time forth the production of silk in the land of the Romans.  

‘The land of the Romans,’ referred to those lands oriented around Rome’s Lake a.k.a. the Mediterranean Sea. A vast body of water filled with merchant and military vessels, pirate ships, fishing boats, ferries, and even … yachts. 

Roman Sycophant: I’m going after the Golden Fleece now, y’all! 

The centrality of the Mediterranean, however, did not stop Rome from pursuing sea routes between itself and kingdoms to the east. Routes that had Rome vying for the favor of Yemeni merchants and Sri Lankan royalty in order to obtain some of the finer things.   

Roman Sycophant: How much did that roasted Indian parrot weigh? Wait a second, let me right that down.

However, from the late fourth century onward, use of those Roman routes was on the decline. Those Central Asian nomads I mentioned at the top of the episode? They were extremely savvy business people. To maximize profits, via taxes and tariffs, they made sure this lucrative commerce moved mainly across the giant Eurasian landmass that they controlled. 

Silk was so critical, that this route, or this network, which had been operational as early as the first century BC … It was not called The Incense Road or even The Spice Road but … The Silk Road. 

Only now, thanks to these monks, Persia had now been cut out of silk — pun intended — as the middleman. 
Crucially, from then on, to the European mind at least, silk would be Byzantine silk, forming a major part of the empire’s economic arsenal well into the Middle Ages. 

Part II. Barbarians at the Gate! 

Constantinople had always been a walled city. 

Founding Emperor Constantine and his son, Constantius, built walls. Emperor Theodosius, in the early fifth century, responded to the city’s rapid expansion by building a second wall, practically doubling the enclosed area of the capital.  

Then, in the late 400s, under the order of Emperor Anastasius, there came the Long Wall, which answered a different need — that is, protecting Constantinople's wealthy suburbs and farmland from western invaders.

Located approximately in what is today Turkish Thrace, the Long Wall stretched from the Sea of Marmara, north, all the way to the Black Sea. We know from surviving sections that it was 3.3 meters thick and up to five meters high. That’s 11 ft thick and 16 feet high … for my fellow Americans — and it was replete with towers, gates, forts and ditches. 

Designed to fend off a brand new set of emergent barbarians: the Slavs and the Huns. 

Now, a bit of background on some of my own people: the Slavs, who we learned in Episode 6: Enslavement were captured and sold in such high numbers in the middle ages that their name became the word for ‘slave’ in English, most European languages, and Arabic. Perhaps it’s no surprise then, that the Slavs’ own origins, in the words of historian John Moorhead: 

To what degree the Slavs were distinct from other peoples called the Sklavinoi and the Antai remains … murky. 

What we do know is that by the 540s and 50s, the barbarian peoples known as ‘the Slavs’ emerged from the formation of larger tribal confederations that had moved south across the Danube River and into … the Balkans.

Such that, by the 580s, under Byzantine Emperor Maurice, the Slavs would capture major fortified cities in the Balkans, like Singidunum, better known today… as Belgrade, where they would remain … until this very day.

Justinian’s go-to strategy against the relentless and indomitable influx of barbarians — both on his capital and its surrounding environs — was simple: Justinian would identify a pair of tribal rivals, choose his favorite among the two, and then recruit that favorite — through a regular retainer of gifts — to keep the other one down, at a distance, and distracted.  

It was a tactic Procopius thought was super, duper dumb.

Procopius: All the barbarians, omitting no season of the year, made raids in rotation, plundering and harrying absolutely everything without a moment’s pause. For these barbarians have many groups of leaders and war went the rounds — war that originated in an unreasoning generosity. 

In the case of two tribes believed to be descended from Attila’s Huns: the Kotrigurs and the Utigurs, paying Peter to kick Paul’s ass had worked. 

Or, at least in the words of historian Robert Browning: 

The traditional policy led to short-term success.  

Until … the Kotrigurs and the Utigurs, were like, ‘Aren’t we kinda missing the big picture here, like, couldn’t we just take the Romans’ money and weapons and use it to sack them?’ 

In March of 559, that’s precisely what they did! Led by their commander, Zabergan, a band of Kotrigurs, crossed the frozen Danube and entered Thrace. Breaking through the Long Wall, and getting as close as 20 miles — or 32 kilometers — away from Constantinople. 

It was … unconscionable. 

Justinian reaching into his old imperial  bag of tricks, is once again, like, yoink. Pulling the 60-something-year-old Belisarius out of retirement to stop them. 

Procopius, we know, has been the primary chronicler of his former boss, the general Belisarius’ exploits. Which are … how do I put this delicately? Scathing.  

Procopius: For these reasons, then, I shall proceed to relate, first, all the base deeds committed by Belisarius ... And so, in all his undertakings thereafter, he naturally found the power of God hostile ... On one occasion Belisarius caught them in the very act in Carthage, yet he willingly allowed himself to be deceived by his wife ... And he went about, a sorry and incredible sight, Belisarius a private citizen in Byzantium … always pensive and gloomy, and dreading a death by violence. 

Damn, Procopius. Got any aloe for that burn? 

Which is why his final battle ever against the Kotrigurs on the doorstep of his home city … is shocking. Final battle Belisarius is barely recognizable.

Because final battle Belisarius is scrappy and decisive and dare I say it, clever?

Transitional Beat — 00:00  |

John Malalas: Belisarius took every horse, including those of the emperor, of the hippodrome, of religious establishments and from every ordinary man who had a horse. He armed his troops and led them out to the village of Chiton. He made an entrenched camp and began to capture some of the enemy and kill them. Next, he ordered trees to be cut and dragged behind the army.  The wind blew up a cloud of dust, which drifted over the barbarians. 

What you just heard was an account written by the sixth century chronicler. According to him, what Belisarius had done was recruit, basically, a Bad News Bears battalion — of around 300 men. Retired vets, city folk, peasants from the surrounding farmland … Were you a man with a pulse? 

Belisarius is then, like: Hey you! Chop down these trees! Dig a massive trench. And they’re like, O.K.! And, then, once the trench was done, Belisarius is like: Get inside. Some of you. The rest of you, take the trees and make some big clouds of dust. And they’re like: O.K.! But why? And he goes, that way we can fool these Kotrigur bozos into thinking we’re actually an army. And they’re like, got it.  

So, when the Kotrigur commander, Zabergan, charges with his own cavalry — which is seven  times bigger than Belisarius’ — the Romans spring up from the trenches, while ambushing them from the sides. Forcing the Kotrigurs to retreat.

Belisarius’ coming out of retirement to save the day in 559 was well-documented, not only by the chronicler John Malalas, who you just heard, but also the historian Agathias, who we talked about in Episode 8: Solomon, I Have Outdone Thee and in my special bonus episode with Steven D. Smith on Sex and Sexuality.

However, as Byzantine scholar, David Parnell, points out: 

Conspicuously missing from this list of historians … is Belisarius’ former secretary, Procopius. 

And that’s because our dear, cranky-pants historian of record, Procopius of Caesarea, was dead. We don’t know precisely when or how he died, only that he did not live long enough to document the Kotrigur attack or anything that occurred thereafter. 

I’m going to save Procopius’ in memoriam for later in the episode, but what I want to note here is that the baton of his tradition would be picked up by Romanized men of ascendent barbarian kingdoms in Europe — Gregory of Tours, Paul the Deacon — writing not in Greek, but in Latin. Writing not in the same classical manner of Herodotus and Thucydides but drawing on their own origin mythologies and … the Bible. Education was no longer secularized, therefore the most prominent medieval historians would from then on be clergymen.  

Procopius, he was dead. Belisarius, however, he was not quite done being beleaguered. 

In 562, when an assassination plot against Justinian’s life is traced back to members of Belisarius’ own household, in one last sadistic hurrah, Justininan strips Belisarius of his bodyguards and his titles again. Restoring them, such that, the general gets two more years of living in imperial favor before he dies. In Constantinople in March of 565 at the age of about 65. 

The fate of his wife Antonina, Theodora’s old theater pal, cougar wife, questionable mother — leader of troops and convoys, deposer of pope singular. Her fate is not known. Neither is the fate of their only child together, their daughter, Joannina … These women’s stories end with Belisarius. 

Justinian was about twenty years Belisarius’ senior, which at this time made him really senior.  The emperor was in his early 80s. And since he and Theodora had no children together, there was no heir apparent. 

So, who, when the time finally came, would ascend the throne when Justinian died? 

Succession! Once we return from a short break. What you’ll be hearing is a 1923 recording, written and performed by Louis Armstrong & His Hot Seven of ‘The Last Time.’ 

Instrumental Break: The Last Time  – Louis Armstrong & His Hot Seven (1923)

Part III. Deimatic Behavior 101

In the Encyclopedia of Entomology, Second Edition, deimatic behavior — spelled DEIMATIC — is defined as:

Behavior designed to intimidate predators and dissuade them from attacking [by causing them] to hesitate, and perhaps withdraw, thereby giving the prey animal a chance to escape.

According to Linnaean taxonomy, in the Order Lepidoptera, i.e. moths and butterflies, deimatic behavior is common and takes all kinds of forms.

With respect to patterns, there is Antheraea polyphemus, a species of moth with big, dark eyespots on both of its hind wings. Thereby, mimicking the appearance of an actual predator: the Great Horned Owl. 

And like the types of mutations exhibited by the species  Macrocilix maia, whose wings mimic the presence of two creatures rather than one, T&J … blended together.  

In T&J’s imperial habitat, the effect was never quite knowing what you were looking at, or who you were talking to, and the degree to which that distinction even mattered. Who pray tell was predator? And who pray tell, was prey? Hrmm … 

We catch glimpses of this deimatic behavior from Procopius’ accounts of Theodora and Justinian, both in The Secret History and in Wars. 

Recall Theodora’s directive to Rome’s ambassador to the Goths, Peter the Patrician, concerning the Gothic Princess Amalasuntha situation? You know, the one that kicked off the Gothic War?

‘Tell the Goths they can kill her for all I care. My husband won’t do anything.’

Justinian’s message to Peter was like:

‘Tell the Goths that they had better restore Amalasuntha to power ASAP, otherwise I’m going to have no choice but to intervene in Italy.’

Can you imagine having T&J as your bosses? Like, what in the power couple mindfuckery is that?

Or when Theodora penned this missive to a Persian diplomat, imploring him to avoid a war.

Theodora: How devoted I am to you, O Zaberganes, believing you to be loyal to our interests … 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. 

Procopius himself noted their ‘fierce’ debates in the Senate and was like, ‘Get outta here!’

Procopius: For the Senate sat as in a picture, having no control over its vote and no influence for good, but only assembled as a matter of form … And the Emperor and his Consort generally pretended to divide between them the matters in dispute, but that side prevailed which had been agreed upon by them in private.

So allied and blended were they … the extent to which the pair were even genuinely opposed to each other with respect to Theodora’s Monophysite beliefs and her intense hatred of John the Cappadoccian, while they make excellent dramatic arcs, I am not totally convinced.

What I am totally convinced of is: great love is really rare.

But deimatic great love? That is truly the rarest of them all. So much so, that  when it  does occur, it tends to change the world.

Because: spoiler alert, without it? There would be no Islam.

Don’t worry. We’ll get to it.

So couples: if you have a great love, and you’re both wildly talented, ambitious outsiders? Deimatic great love is the one you want. In the cutthroat intrigue and assassination-usurpation prone Byzantine environment? That’s really the one you want.

Case and point: in the decade and a half after Theodora’s death, predatorial conspiracies to depose Justinian pick up. His mimic, his mask, his camouflage was gone.

Justinian reigned for 14 more years following her death in 548. 

And if you’ve been wondering why the T&J podcast involves a dozen episodes spanning from 450-570 AD and the last one covers the two whole decades  after Theodora dies? Well, that’s because, dear listeners, not very much happens after Theodora dies.

It was a period where, in the words of historian Robert Browning: 

Increasingly, Justinian’s thoughts turned towards religion. 

Part V. Aphthart-what-ism?

We are all creatures of habit; it really just depends on the habit and for how long we are creatures. For example, I need to come home to a made bed. I also need chapstick with me at all times because if my lips aren’t slippery, that’s all I can think about.

Justinian, who at this stage, had been emperor for about as long as I have been alive,  well, he had his habits, too. He insisted on writing to the Pope in his native, Thracian bumpkin Latin.

Palace Scribe: Oh my god, his Latin is so embarrassing!  

He was also not a meals guy. As we learned in my bonus episode on Byzantine cuisine with Andrew Dalby, the man liked to snack, which people thought was kind of weird.

But Justinian, the old dog, he had some new tricks in him, yet!

Because in 559, the J in our T&J did something that he had not done in seventy years. Which was to leave … Constantinople. Woohoo!  

Not that he had gone particularly far — sixty-five miles or just a little over 100 kilometers. Ostensibly, to oversee the restoration of defenses damaged by a combination of earthquakes and that Kotrigur attack. We know this because Justinian paused his procession upon on its return to the capital, in order to light candles and pray at Theodora’s mausoleum. Awww. 

In 563, Justinian leaves again — Attaboy! — and visits a shrine in what is today Central Anatolia, because the spot was also famous for its healing, thermal waters. Gotta love a shrine-spa combo. 

Now, several historians speculate these two — and only two — trips functioned as cover for the treatments deemed necessary to improve the ailing, elderly, workaholic emperor’s declining health. 

Because evidently he was still staying up late at night … working on theological problems. About Christ’s nature. 

Justinian: The manner in which Jesus ate after the resurrection was not different to the manner in which he had eaten before the crucifixion …

The solution he came to —  known as Aphthartodocetism — is about as difficult to pronounce as it is for me to parse theologically.

Without getting too much into it, because I’m hoping you are you are not trying to fall asleep, Aphthartodocetism is essentially a belief that the earthly body of Christ had been incorruptible and impassable. 

Which meant that Justinian’s Aphthartodocetist epiphany in 564 … was not only very un-Catholic of him, it also actually fell into the Monophysite doctrinal camp. What’s more, it was considered radical even by Monophysite standards.  

Perhaps taking care of the hundreds of Monophysite ascetics over there in Theodora’s side of the palace had finally started to rub off on him. 

But if you thought professing allegiance to a radical Monophysite belief would get him on the wrong side of the very Catholic Pope over there in Rome! Think again.

You see, by this point, Justinian had deposed one pope, Silverius, and had driven another, Vigilius to an early, watery grave. 

Pope Vigilius: I swear that even if you keep me a prisoner, you cannot make the blessed apostle Peter a prisoner!  

These were, let’s call them, teachable moments — among many — for the Catholic clergy. 

Subsequent popes, Pelagius and John III, who served as head of the church until Justinian’s death, knew better than to wage war with the Emperor on matters of theology. They also knew on which side their proverbial bread was buttered.

Remember: Justinian had given the pope an unprecedented amount of power.

The Roman Senate, that is, the senate located in the city of Rome, no longer had any role to play. Instead, it was the Pope, who by law, would be the spokesman for: 

Justinian: All known inhabitants to the West. 

But here’s the thing about those inhabitants. They were now barbarians. Very Romanized barbarians. 

In Italy, it was not long after Narses victory that … like Starbucks franchises in a newly revitalized downtown, autonomous Lombard ‘duchies’ began popping up. Causing much of the Italian peninsula to once again slip out of Roman and into — Gasp! — Lombard hands  Where, for another two centuries, it would remain.  

The Ostrogoths, or the East Goths, were over.

And the Visigoths, or the West Goths, after maintaining themselves at Narbonne for a few years, moved onto Spain, rallying with so much success that by around 625, Roman authorities there had been completely expelled. Spain would remain the seat of the Visigothic kingdom until it was destroyed by the Arab invasion of 711 from North Africa. More on that shortly.

But the most successful barbarian kingdom to emerge in the West at this juncture were those fuckers in Gaul. Better known to us as the Franks.  

Last we heard from the Franks, back in Episode 9: The Plague Part 1, Frankish troops in Italy had come down with dysentery and had to hurry home. While the opportunistic, oathbreaking  Franks, had been unable to control their bowels, they did manage to maintain control of those alpine passes.

Such that, by 773, the Franks … were back. 

Sneak attacking northern Italy and snatching it from Lombard rule!  

Sneaky. Fucking. Franks!  

Leading the charge was a Frankish king, now Frankish and Lombard King, who would come to redefine the imperial status quo for Europe across the medieval period. And his name was Charlamagne.   

Part VII. Succession!

But back to the era at hand … For a long time, the most likely candidate to succeed Justinian had been his cousin Germanus. Remember him? 

But in 550, Cousin Germanus dies unexpectedly. Leaving behind his very pregnant wife, the Gothic princess Amalasuntha’s daughter, Matasuntha. And three adult children from his first marriage. Two of them sons.

And one of those sons  — along with the other likeliest of Justinian’s successors — like pop-hip-hop stars Bieber and Timberlake, both men were named Justin. 

But as the latter, elder Justin sang on the hit song from NSYNC’s 2000 smash album ‘No Strings Attached,’ I bet you each one of those succession Justin’s was definitely thinking: Guess what? It’s gonna be me!

Cousin Germanus’ death pushes his son, Justin No. 1, who was a general, off on assignment in Georgia into the potential successor pool. 

Justin No. 2. a popular courtier among members of the Senate, was in Constantinople. He was also both Justinian’s nephew and married to Theodora’s niece, Sophia. And Sophia, it is widely believed, was the daughter of Theodora’s older, starlet sister Comito, and the general Sittas, killed in the line of duty while doing a kick-ass job over there in Armenia.

Now, at the time, the Head of the Sacred Bedchamber — Narses’ old position — was a eunuch named Callinicus. As he was the only servant allowed to sleep in the emperor’s room at night, he was also conveniently the only witness to Justinian’s naming his successor before he died.

So, between the belabored breathing and the death rattle, Callinicus says he heard the emperor whisper:

Justinian: Justin.  

To which Callinicus had to have responded:

Yes, master. Um. Which Justin?

Justinian dies on November 14, 565 at the ripe old age of 83. And people either bought Callinicus’ story or were simply happy for the peaceful transfer of power that story allowed.

The new emperor Justinian airquotes named was not the general Justin, but the-courtier-physically-there Justin, and he ascends the throne as Justin II.

Per Roman custom, Justin II and his wife, Sophia, greet the thunderous applause and the cheers of thousands of citizens from their seats in the kathisma of the Hippodrome. But then, they do something brand new. They do not go to the Hall of the 19 Couches, but rather, to  the Hagia Sophia, for their coronation ceremony. Inaugurating a tradition that  would remain more-or-less consistent until the Ottoman Turkish conquest of 1453.

It was the end of an age. Historian James Allan Evans writes about how those shoes began to be filled. 

Sophia was only one generation removed from the theater, but a single generation was enough to ennoble a family. Sophia, like Theodora, was her husband’s partner, and unlike Theodora, her partnership was acknowledged on Justin’s coinage. When Justin II went mad during the disastrous war he provoked with Persia, which resulted in the loss of the great border fortress of Dara, Sophia stepped into the breach. She sent a letter to Khusro, appealing to his chivalry. She made a one-year truce and then managed to extend it three years.

That’s right. Sophia got Khusro to extend the length of a treaty.  | Shout out!
Empress would be the first to continue Theodora’s legacy of brazen, don’t-fuck-with-me-fellas, Byzantine queens: Irene, Zoe, Theophanu.

Empress Irene, who reigned from 797 to 802 AD, issued laws, put her portrait on both sides of the gold coinage she minted in her name. And while she did have her son blinded before she deposed him … she was the first woman to rule the Roman empire in her own right, leading negotiations with Harun al-Rashid of the Abbasid Caliphate and Charlemagne, King of the Franks and the Lombards.

Now, if you’re thinking: Wow, sounds like sexism went away!

Charlemagne and the Pope were like: Hold my beer.  

Because under the pretext that Empress Irene — a woman — could not rule the empire, Pope Leo,,  the man responsible for all known inhabitants to the West, he turns to his buddy Charlemagne and is like: 

I don’t see anyone on this throne? Do you? Yeah, me, neither. It’s vacant! The throne is vacant. We need an Emperor on it STAT. Someone who’s holy. And Roman.  

Which is how, in St. Peter’s Basilica, on Christmas Day in the year 800 AD the pope steps into his role as kingmaker, crowning Charlemagne Imperator Romanorum, The Emperor of the Romans. Defender of the Catholic faith — over what would  — for another thousand years — be known as The Holy Roman Empire. 

Conclusion 

Five years after the death of Justinian, in the year 570 AD, a child was born to a woman named Amina in the Arabian peninsula, and Amina had married into the Quraysh tribe — albeit the poor branch — that ruled the town of Mecca.

By the age of six, that child is an orphan. The boy’s paternal uncle, a caravan trader, adopts him and brings him into the family business.

Now, Mecca had — for a very long time — been the center of polytheistic worship in Arabia, and Mecca’s caravans went as far north as Jerusalem and Damascus to trade commodities like frankincense and myrrh; dates and camels; ambergris and musk, which brought the orphaned boy, as he grew up, into contact with other cultures and beliefs. Particularly monotheistic ones, like Zoroastrianism, Judaism, and Christianity.

The person whose early years I have been describing is none other than the Prophet Muhammad, who enters the picture a whole six centuries after the birth of Christ.  

By the time Muhammad was 21 years old, the young man had developed a reputation for his honesty and integrity in business. One exceptional businesswoman in his milieu … noticed. 

And her name was Khadija.

To be a woman, a widow, running your own thriving caravan empire in the mid-6th century Arabian peninsula, was in fact, as phenomenal as it sounds. Locating agents and employees who were not sexist AF and dead-set on swindling and undermining you… well, that was at a premium, too. 

So, when Khadija hires a 25-year-old Muhmmad to do a job for her in Syria, she has one of her people spy on him, obviously. And when he returns, having generated an impressive profit, as well as a glowing review, Khadija proposes marriage. And Muhammad, he says yes.

Now, sources put her age at either 28 or … 40 when they marry. But given she bears him six children, physiologically-speaking, 40 is a reach. It’s almost like, she might as well have been forty.   

But it was deimatic love, baby!

Muhammad loves and supports his wife’s boss b nature; Khadija loves and supports her husband’s evolving spiritual nature. They are married for 24 years. And despite polygamy being the norm, Muhammad never takes another wife while she’s alive.

Not only is Khadija Islam’s very first convert. She bankrolls the religion in its infancy — helping Muhammad and Islam’s early followers overcome that preliminary hurdle of persecution, that enabled it to become what it became.

Did Justinian himself play any direct role in the emergence of Islam? No. No, he did not. But according to Byzantine scholar Peter Sarris, the rivalry between Rome and Persia that dominated so much of the sixth century played a huge role in:

Creating the religious and political conditions in southern and central Arabia out of which Islam would emerge. |

Throughout the T&J era, c’mon everyone, one last time, from the diaphragm! The Arabian peninsula had been a buffer state, dominated by the Christian, Ghassanid, and the pro-Persian, Lakhmid, Arabs. 

The arming, encouraging and training of these respective Arab vassal principalities raised the level of the Arabs’ military skill as a whole — which in the coming century they deftly used: to defeat Roman armies, to snatch Egypt, Palestine and Syria from the Roman Empire, and to threaten the heartland of Asia Minor. Oh, and to completely destroy the Sassanian Persian Empire, after successfully capturing its capital, Ctesiphon, in 637. 

The Romans would hold onto North Africa until the late 7th century, when the Arabs, invaded, quickly capturing Carthage. Fourteen years after that, they captured Septem, which is today located in the autonomous Spanish city of Ceuta in Morocco. 

When Septem fell in 697, so, too, went the last remaining Roman outpost on the African continent. 

Such a significant loss of territory translated into the loss of cultural norms.  

From the year 619 onward, bread was no longer free.

That enormous grain fleet — the one that would depart every year in August? — stopped. And while alternative sources of grain were procured, the people now had to pay up. 

And the circuses? Well, here’s Byzantine scholar Judith Herrin on what happened to them:

The Roman policy of bread and circuses gradually evolved into a Christian one of soup and salvation, as the Church tried to curb popular enthusiasm for racing, betting and what it considered indecent entertainment. Theatrical performances of ancient Greek plays declined and the theatres and odeons, such a prominent feature of ancient cities, became quarries for building material. As they fell into ruins, these sites were often associated with evil spirits; prophetic powers were attributed to certain ancient statues; both were considered dangerous for Christians.

In the year 1054, when the Eastern churches, led by the patriarch of Constantinople, and the Western church, led by Pope Leo IX, irrevocably split over their theological differences, it was an event that came to be known as the East-West Schism, Byzantium, from then on was more-or-less dismissed as … this odd, fork-using, Greek-speaking, orthodox Christian outpost that had lost its grip? of the Holy Land. 

The Byzantines’ appeals to European kings as far away as England to come get it back during the Middle Ages? Were called the Crusades. 

What can I say? Jump at great love! Protect it. Create! And protect that, too. Not all of our words will be lost for a thousand years and then rediscovered in the Vatican library only to then be re-rediscovered by an American journalist for her groundbreaking podcast another four centuries after that … but don’t let that stop you!

True, Procopius, he was a misogynist, a conservative, a moral panicker, an unabashed gossip, and also a staunch defender of religious tolerance, but he cracks open this … this marrow of verisimilitude for T&J  we wouldn't have otherwise.

The legacy of our dear, crankly-pants historian of record is unparalleled. 

Here’s scholar Peter Sarris:

The Secret History is unlike any other literary work that survives from the ancient world.

Which is why, I’ll let Procopius have the last words.

Greek Procopius: So much, then, for this.
Procopius: So much then, for this. 

So much then, for this. 

Outro/Wrap

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

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

Procopius of Caesarea was voiced by Michael de la Bedoyere and Andrew Dalby, the Roman Sycophant and the Palace Scribe by Nathan Ma, Theodora by Laurel Kratochvila. John Malalas was voiced by Nick Welsh and Pope Vigilius by Ollie Walker. Justinian was voiced by Oliver Sachgau.

Additional sources for this episode are available in the show notes.

To every scholar that’s shown their support for T&J: David Parnell, Jane Hathaway and Shaun Tougher, Jeremy Swist, Tim Kearley, Dame Averil Cameron, Jared Secord, Steven D. Smith, Betsy Dospel Williams, and Andrew Dalby — thank you.

To every T&J Patreon donor and Apple podcast subscriber, to every one of you who took that extra step and supported the show financially — from the depths of my being, I cannot express my appreciation enough. You have truly kept me afloat above the choppy waters and enabled me to not only continue, but to enjoy this ride these past two years.

If you’re considering donating, it’s not too late! It’s never too late. To make a difference. To follow and donate on Patreon — just go to patreon.com/tandjpodcast. Or become an Apple Podcast subscriber.

You can also help folks find the show by telling them, leaving a 5-star rating, plus a nice note, in the review section wherever you’re getting your podcasts.

As I also noted at the top, you can now listen to T&J: A Roman Empire Love Story the Original Podcast Soundtrack the whenever you want — on Spotify, Apple Music, iTunes and more. Links in the show notes.

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

Whatever happened to Theodora
Who ran with boys
Whatever happened to Theodora
Who ran with boys

She saw an angel, but she did not know them
So ran to the noise
She saw an angel, but she did not know them
She ran to the noise

Stick or automatic
This truth is ecstatic
Stick or automatic
This truth is ecstatic
Stick or automatic
This truth is ecstatic
Stick or automatic
This truth is ecstatic
This truth is ecstatic
This truth is ecstatic
This truth is ecstatic
This truth
This truth
This truth
This truth is ecstatic
Stick or automatic
This truth is ecstatic
This truth is ecstatic
This truth is ecstatic
This truth
This truth
This truth
This, this truth is ecstatic

To start a fire is to see the forest
Its dirt and its joys
To start a fire is to see the forest
Its dirt and its joys

The eunuch bartender's not a chorus
But a whiskey invoice
The eunuch bartender's not a chorus
But a whiskey invoice
But a whiskey invoice

Whatever happened to Theodora
Who ran with boys
Whatever happened to Theodora
Who ran with boys
Whatever happened to Theodora
Who ran with boys
Whatever happened to Theodora
Who ran with boys
Who ran with boys