Procopius of Cæsarea to Cornelius Cethegus Cæsarius:
There is no longer either sense or reason in concealing my name; the bird would still be recognized by its song. And now I am almost certain that these sheets will not be seized in Constantinople; for we shall soon be swimming on the blue waves.
So it is war with the Vandals! The Empress has accomplished her design. She treated her husband, after he hesitated, very coldly, even insolently. That is always effectual. What motive urged and still impels her to this war, Hell knows certainly, Heaven vaguely, and I not at all.
Perhaps the blood of the heretics must again wash away a few spores of her sins. Or she expects to gain the treasures brought to the capitol in Carthage from every land by Genseric's corsair ships,--the riches of the temple of Jerusalem are among them. In short, she wanted war, and we have it.
A devout bishop from an Asiatic frontier city--his name is Agathos--came to Constantinople. The Empress summoned him to a private audience. I heard it from Antonina, the wife of Belisarius, who was the only person present. Theodora showed him a letter which he had written to the Persian King. The Bishop fell prostrate on the floor with fright. She pushed him with the tip of her golden slipper. "Rise, O Agathos, man of God," she said, "and dream to-night of what I now say to you. If you do not tell this dream to the Emperor, before tomorrow noon I will give him this letter to-morrow afternoon, and before to-morrow evening, O most holy man, you will be beheaded."
The Bishop went out and dreamed as he had been commanded--probably without sleeping. Before the early bath on the following day he sought Justinian, and, in the utmost excitement,--which was not feigned,--told him that Christ had appeared to him the night before in a dream and said: "Go to the Emperor, O Agathos, and rebuke him for having faint-heartedly given up the plan of avenging me upon these heretics. Tell him: Thus saith Christ the Lord: 'March forth, Justinian, and fear not. For I, the Lord, will aid thee in battle, and will force Africa and its treasures beneath thy rule.'"
Then Justinian was no longer to be restrained. War was determined. The opposing Prefect was thrown into prison. Belisarius was made commander-in-chief. The priests proclaimed the pious Bishop's dream from the pulpits of all the basilicas. The soldiers were ordered by hundreds to the churches, where courage was preached to them. Court officials told the dream in the streets, in the harbor, and on the ships. By the command of the Empress, Megas, her handsomest court poet, put it into Greek and Latin verses. They are astonishingly bad, worse than even our Megas usually writes; but they are easy to learn, so by day and night soldiers and sailors sing them in the streets and the wine-shops, as children sing in the dark to keep their courage up; for our heroes really do not yet feel very anxious to make the holy voyage to Carthage. So we shout incessantly,--
"Christus came to the holy Bishop; Christus warned Justinian:
'Avenge Christus, Justinianus, on the wicked Arian.
Christus himself will slay the Vandals, Africa give to thy hand!'"
The poem has two merits: first, it can be repeated as often as you please; secondly, it makes no difference with which verse you begin. The Empress says--and of course she must know--that the Holy Ghost inspired Megas.
We are working night and day. The shaggy little nags of the Huns are neighing in the streets of Constantinople. Among these troops are six hundred excellent mounted archers, commanded by the Hunnish chiefs, Aigan and Bleda, Ellak and Bala. There are also six hundred Herulians, led by Fara, a Prince of that people. They are Germans in Justinian's pay; for "Only diamond cuts diamond," Narses says: "always Germans against Germans is our favorite old game."