The Purple Shroud: A Novel of Empress Theodora Read Free

costume settle, to let her spirit rise to the demands it imposes, and Theodora is ready.
    A call is given and answered a moment later, answered again, and again, the corridors and tunnels, raised walkways and colonnaded paths echoing. There is a tangible shiver throughout the Palace, staff and servants and slaves stand to attention in readiness, even those hidden from regal view in distant offices, or in the kitchens far below. Those who believe themselves unnoticed in their menial tasks, opening gates or lighting corridors, take up a slightly more respectful stance nonetheless. The shiver spreads to the Hippodrome. They are coming. Slaves stand alert at the Kathisma doors. Thirty thousand pairs of eyes focus on the empty space that will be filled. Justinian and Theodora are on their way.
    Justinian held out a hand to stop the slave opening the door before him. ‘Theou doron,’ he greeted his wife for the first time that day, as every day, calling her his ‘gift of God’, the play on her name obvious even to the nine-year-old Nubian slave hiding in a dark corner of the hallway, hoping to see the Imperial couple without being seen, ‘How are you?’
    And Theodora greeted him as she always had since his elevation to the purple, with a deep formal bow, her eyes low, voice quiet, ‘How are you, sir?’
    Justinian smiled, masking a yawn and pulled her closer with one hand, rubbing the other over his face.
    She saw the bags under his eyes, darker than usual, and asked, ‘No sleep? Again?’
    ‘There were things to do. Figures we needed to work on…’
    Theodora hissed, soft enough for only Justinian to hear, ‘You are August.’
    Justinian nodded. ‘The purple would confirm it.’
    ‘The Treasurer works for you, not you for him.’
    ‘And we need the funds his reforms will bring. The Goths and the Persians won’t wait while we arrange our finances for war…’
    ‘So your Cappadocian drunk dismantles our postal service, knowing it’s the poor who are hardest hit?’
    ‘Perhaps you’ll be pleased to know he also has plans for increasing the taxes on our wealthier citizens?’
    ‘I’d be happier if I trusted him to do his work without you overseeing every step. It astonishes me that Narses allows it, I’d have his balls if he wasn’t already a eunuch.’
    Justinian smiled, there was no point explaining again that his treasurer’s reforms of the Empire’s postal service were a welcome distraction from the weightier matters he also dealt with on a daily basis. Theodora was, he knew, concerned only for his welfare, and he liked that she was.
    ‘Good. Now you’ve finished re-castrating my Chief of Staff as well as decrying my treasurer, shall we go? The people are keen to get on with today’s races…’
    Theodora bent her head, acknowledging the subject was closed, for now. ‘We’re still dining together?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes, Belisarius will be joining us.’
    ‘And his wife?’
    ‘If you must,’ Justinian answered, biting his lip as he always did when agitated, ‘but keep her away from me.’
    ‘Antonina’s my friend.’
    ‘Then sit her beside you.’
    ‘She’s no less ambitious than her husband.’
    ‘I trust Belisarius,’ Justinian replied.
    ‘And I like Antonina.’
    ‘So we are balanced?’
    ‘In all things,’ Theodora answered him, lightly touching her husband’s hand.
    They both understood her touch was a cue to let the matter drop, with the full Hippodrome waiting on their arrival, there were more pressing matters than wondering which of their circle was least trustworthy. Justinian had been brought up in the court, Theodora in the bowels of the Hippodrome; they knew there were few they could fully trust.
    Theodora took a step back, nodded towards the rising clamour behind the closed doors. ‘Shall we?’
    The Emperor of the New Rome gestured for the slaves to open the doors.
    As the light flooded in, along with the sound, sight and smell of a packed arena waiting for their ruling