Count Belisarius

Belisarius said to my mistress: 'My dearest, this army is like three drops of water on the tongue of a man dying from thirst. I confess to you that my resources are at an end. I have now spent all my personal treasure in the expenses of this war, except for a few thousand gold pieces; I have mortgaged half my property in Constantinople and sold outright my estates at Tchermen and Adrianople. Much money is owed me that I cannot collect. There is, for example, the matter that I have concealed from you, for shame – my dealings with Hcrodian, the general who commanded at Spoleto two years ago. He had borrowed fifty thousand gold pieces from me for three months, without interest; telling me, truly enough, that he had been left a large legacy by an uncle, and that he needed money for paying and feeding his troops. When, after six months, I asked him for repayment, knowing that the legacy money had arrived for him at Ravenna, he insolently threatened to sell Spoleto to the Goths if I pressed him so barbarously, and to pay me with the proceeds. When I reproached him for this answer he did indeed sell Spoleto, and became one of Teudel's boon companions. He now has my money, his legacy, and the reward for betraying Spoleto; I have nothing. The Emperor himself owes me an enormous sum for what I have advanced to the regular troops on his behalf. Of that I make no complaint; I dedicate my life to the Emperor's service, and am honoured to be his debtor. But without men and money no war can be fought.'

My mistress replied: 'Let mc go in person to Constantinople, my dearest husband. I undertake that the Empress will persuade the Emperor that cither a great army and plenty of treasure must be sent for the reconquest of Italy or that Italy must be abandoned to the Goths. You may be sure, my love, that 1 shall not delay over the business.'

So she sailed away, and I with her; and it was now mid-July. The journey was tedious because of contrary winds. We were coasting around Greece, having just passed the island of Salamis, when a ship from Salonica came bowling down the breeze on our starboard. I was standing on the forecastle, and shouted out in Latin: 'What good news have you, sailors?' For it is unlucky at sea to ask for any but good news.

The mate of the vessel shouted back:' Good news indeed. The Beast is dead.'

I cried: 'What Beast, excellent man?'

There was a confused shout in answer. The ship was almost out of hail as I shrilly repeated, 'What Beast?'

A sailor, making a trumpet of his hands, bawled back into the wind: 'Periunt ambo', meaning' Both are dead.'

Then we heard a great shout of laughter, but nothing more.

We guessed the name of one of the two Beasts correctly – the whale Porphyry; but there was much speculation in our vessel as to the identity of the other. So Porphyry had met his death at last! The account we heard at our next port of call was somewhat absurd. We were well aware that Porphyry, because of the construction of his throat, only ate small fry; but he was now credited with having pursued a flock of dolphins into shallow water close to the mouth of the river Sangarius (which flows into the Black Sea about a hundred miles to the eastward of the Bosphorus) and engulfed a dozen of them, and to have been busy chewing their bones when found stranded on a mud-bank close to the shore. What really happened, I believe, was that Porphyry and the dolphins were both in pursuit of a very large shoal of little fish, and that Porphyry was enticed into shallow water by the dolphins. In any case, the fishermen of the neighbourhood came up in boats and attacked Porphyry with axes and boat-hooks. He was so fast in the mud that he could not hoist up his tail to destroy them. However, he seemed proof against all their weapons, so they passed a number of heavy ropes around him and, by means of a pulley attached to a great tree by the river-bank, hauled him ashore. Then they fetched soldiers from a neighbouring post, who dispatched him with long spears. Porphyry measured forty-five feet in length and fifteen feet at his broadest part. He provided the district with food for many months; since what meat they could not cat fresh they smoked or pickled. In the flesh of his head – or her head, for Porphyry proved to be a cow whale – they found embedded a long arrow with white feathers, doubtless the same that Belisarius had once fired, but in the throat no blue-painted catapult-spear.

The other Beast to which the sailor had referred was no Beast at all, to my mistress's way of thinking. Indeed, so far from being good news, it was the worst news that we could possibly have received from the city: Theodora was dead. A sudden cancer beginning in her breast had spread rapidly through the whole of her body, and she had died, not without courage, after a few weeks' sickness and much pain.