As for the religious disputes: Anastasius, though inclined to the theory of the single nature, had, as I have explained, found it politic to nominate a Pope who favoured a compromise between this and the Orthodox, or double-nature, view. The Blues were Orthodox for political reasons; the Greens were either for compromise with Monophysitism or for plain Monophysitism. One day such rioting broke out in the Hippodrome over these religious differences that the old Emperor had to stand as a suppliant by the race-post (as Theodora and her family had done some nine years previously), and offer to resign his throne. The Blues pelted him with stones, but the Greens stood by him, since to them, as the stronger faction, he had allotted the best seats in the Hippodrome. In gratitude, he gave the Monophysite cause every possible support. But not long afterwards the Blues massacred a party of arrogant Monophysite monks; and because Anastasius did not venture to avenge their deaths, the power of the Blues became dominant in the City and Senate. But Vitalian, a Green of patrician rank, raised an army of 40,000 Thracian Monophysites and led them against the Blues, laying siege to the City. In fear of his life Anastasius then announced that he would assemble a General Church Council to resolve the whole religious difficulty; at which Vitalian disbanded his army before any fighting had taken place. But Anastasius did not keep his promise.
Such matters concern my story more closely than appears at first sight, because this queer fellow Justinian played a leading part in the negotiations between the Emperor, the Blues, and Vitalian on behalf of the Greens. Justinian represented the Blue faction, and assured Vitalian that matters could be arranged honourably to the satisfaction of both Colours and both Dogmas and of the Emperor himself. He even took the Eucharist at Vitalian's side as an additional proof of the Blue faction's good intentions towards him, and swore an oath of brotherhood on the Bread and Wine. Justinian was offered patrician rank for his services, but did not wish to accept this honour until he had first married our Theodora, with whom he was still infatuated. His aunt, Justin's wife, however, a virtuous old country woman who could talk no Greek, or very little, opposed the marriage – horrified that her nephew should consort with a woman who had once been a prostitute. Justinian was thus in a predicament: once he had accepted patrician rank he could not marry Theodora, and yet to refuse the honour would seem disloyal; and he was afraid of his aunt. He consulted with Theodora, who smiled and said: 'Accept the rank, for I cannot stand in the way of your advancement.' Theodora also went to the aunt, to tell her the same thing: which so pleased the old dame that she withdrew her opposition to Justinian's friendship with Theodora, if only she would leave her quarters at the club-house – as a decently repentant Mary Magdalene should already have done. So Theodora left us for a fine mansion, well-staffed and furnished, that Justinian gave her, and drove about in a carriage drawn by a pair of white mules. Justinian himself used a chariot with silver wheels and frame, and a team of four black horses harnessed abreast.
It was not long after this time that Helisarius came to Constantinople to study at the cadet-school, but my mistress Antonina saw nothing of him. She and the other ladies had given up the club-house, which had proved very profitable. Chrysomallo had married a rich wine-merchant, and Indaro had gone to live with Theodora, as her companion. My mistress thought that she might as well marry too. She found a solid, middle-aged Syrian merchant whom she could rely upon to treat her indulgently, not to live too long, and to leave her comfortably off when he died. She met him by accident: he was on a business visit to Constantinople and had taken a furnished house near the docks, of the sort that the owner lets, wife and all complete, while he lives uproariously by himself at a wine-shop. In this case the rented wife had died suddenly and the merchant was left without cither a bedfellow or a house-keeper. My mistress consented to manage for him temporarily; and pleased him so well that they were legally married within a few days. He is not of great importance to this story, because (to be frank) he was not even the father of the two children of my mistress who survived – her son Photius and her daughter Martlia -and of only one of the two who died. But he did just what was expected of him in life and death, and it seems that my mistress satisfied him as the best of wives, since he described her so in his will.
