Amalasuintha: The Transformation of Queenship in the Post-Roman World 9780812294347

Table of contents :
Contents
Author’s Note
Map of Europe and the Mediterranean World at the Beginning of Amalasuintha’s Regency, Late a.d. 526
Genealogy. The Family of Theoderic
Introduction
Chapter 1. Mother, Regent, and Queen: Amalasuintha and the Institutions of Power
Chapter 2. Amalasuintha at the Palace of Ravenna: The Making of a Queen
Chapter 3. A Regent with Imperial Ambitions
Chapter 4. Balancing Gothic Tradition with Roman Ideals
Chapter 5. Amalasuintha: A Meeting Point Between Kingdoms and Empire
Epilogue. Amalasuintha’s Legacy in Early Medieval Italy
Notes
Bibliography
Index
Acknowledgments

Citation preview

Amalasuintha

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Amalasuintha The Transformation of Queenship in the Post-Roman World

Massimiliano Vitiello

u n i v e r s i t y of pe n ns y lva n i a pr e s s p h i l a de l p h i a

Copyright © 2017 University of Pennsylvania Press All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations used for purposes of review or scholarly citation, none of this book may be reproduced in any form by any means without written permission from the publisher. Published by University of Pennsylvania Press Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19104-​­4112 www.upenn.edu/pennpress Printed in the United States of America on acid-​­free paper 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Library of Congress Cataloging-​­in-​­Publication Data Names: Vitiello, Massimiliano, author. Title: Amalasuintha : the transformation of queenship in the post-Roman world / Massimiliano Vitiello. Description: 1st edition. | Philadelphia : University of Pennsylvania Press, [2017] | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2017005982 | ISBN 9780812249477 (hardcover) Subjects: LCSH: Amalasuntha, Queen of the Ostrogoths, 498–535. | Ostrogoths—History. | Queens—Italy— Biography. Classification: LCC DG508 .V57 2017 | DDC 945/.01092 [B]—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017005982

Dedicated to the memory of Il maestro Bruno Conflitti († Campoli Appennino 2015) and Professor Shona Kelly Wray († Florence 2012)

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Contents

Author’s Note

ix

Map of Europe and the Mediterranean World at the Beginning of Amalasuintha’s Regency, Late a.d. 526

xi

Genealogy. The Family of Theoderic

xii

Introduction 1 Chapter 1. Mother, Regent, and Queen: Amalasuintha and the Institutions of Power

21

Chapter 2. Amalasuintha at the Palace of Ravenna: The Making of a Queen

42

Chapter 3. A Regent with Imperial Ambitions

78

Chapter 4. Balancing Gothic Tradition with Roman Ideals

126

Chapter 5. Amalasuintha: A Meeting Point Between Kingdoms and Empire

172

Epilogue. Amalasuintha’s Legacy in Early Medieval Italy

214

Notes

221

Bibliography 271 Index 287 Acknowledgments 295

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Author’s Note

I came to the idea for this book during my work on Cassiodorus’s letters for the new commentary and translation of the Variae (edited by Andrea Giardina, Giovanni Alberto Cecconi, and Ignazio Tantillo) and through the research for my recent monograph Theodahad: A Platonic King at the Collapse of Ostrogothic Italy (2014). I was surprised to find a dearth of scholarly literature on Amalasuintha. It seemed to me that this important figure would quite naturally stand at the center of a work on female power in late antiquity and the early Middle Ages. My monograph on Theodahad had just appeared when I took courage again, and I decided to devote an entire book to Amalasuintha. This book is not a companion to Theodahad. In addition to being a study of Amalasuintha’s life, it is an investigation of the idea of female power in the fifth and sixth centuries, and in particular of the experimental use of political models by a woman in power to solve the succession crisis following Theoderic’s death. The book is an effort to fill the very real need for a scholarly exploration of Amalasuintha and her political representation.

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Europe and the Mediterranean world at the beginning of Amalasuintha’s regency, late a.d. 526

The Family of Theoderic wife ? ∞ Theudimer ∞ Erelieva

1st husband ∞ Amalafrida ∞ 2nd Thrasamund

Gudeliva ∞ Teodahad Amalaberga ∞ Herminafrid

concubine ∞ Theoderic ∞ Audefleda Alaric II ∞ Theudigotha Amalusuintha ∞ Eutharic

Theodegisclus Theodenanda ∞ Ebremud Amalafridas child Rodelinda ∞ Audoin

Amalaric

Athalaric Matasuintha ∞ 1st Witiges ∞ 2nd Germanus

concubine ∞ Theoderic Gundobad

Ostrogotho ∞ Sigismund

Sigericus Suavegotta ∞ Theoderic king of the Franks Synthesized stemma of the late Amals, based on PLRE II:1330; König 1997; Francovich Onesti 2007:24–25. Names of kings of other tribes in italic.

Introduction

In 1733 Carlo Goldoni presented his first play in Milan, a tragedy with the title Amalasunta. The work was critiqued so harshly that the author, despairing, finally threw it into the fireplace, and Amalasunta turned out to be the tragedy of a tragedy.1 Popular legends about Amalasuintha’s fate in beautiful Lake Bolsena are plentiful. Still today, the fishermen claim that during the windy days of the tramontana they can hear the wailing of the Gothic queen, her desperate cries coming from the small lake island of Martana, where she is believed to have spent the last days of her life.2 The northern wind that encourages the little waves whispers this melancholy story over and over again to the people of Marta, the small village that lies just southeast of the island. Almost fifteen hundred years after her death, Amalasuintha’s last days still echo on Lake Bolsena, between the little island and the still waters that surround it. If much of this tragic, literary Amalasuintha is the stuff of legend, the woman herself was certainly real. Queen Amalasuintha was one of the most significant women of power in her day. She was the daughter of Theoderic the Great, the Gothic king and hero who defeated Odovacer and made Italy his kingdom. Her portrait is preserved not on mosaics but rather in some letters of Cassiodorus and in the histories of Procopius of Caesarea. Over the past century, the queen has become the object of scholarly interest as a political figure. More recently, her life story has attracted the attention of gender historians. But direct evidence is sparse, so she has usually been discussed in single entries in encyclopedias and occasionally in articles.3 While some scholars have attempted more comprehensive studies, no scholarly monograph has been devoted to Amalasuintha. Ginetti’s 1901 study focused on religious policy and the administration of Italy in the years 526–535 (Il governo di Amalasunta e la Chiesa di Roma). Almost a century later, Craddock’s master’s thesis, “Amalasuintha: Ostrogothic Successor a.d. 526–535” (1996), unfortunately never developed into a book. Sirago’s brief narrative book Amalasunta:

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La regina (ca. 495–535) (1998), is a work of popular nonfiction intended for a general audience. As such, it contains much excursus and speculation but very little direct analysis of the evidence. In 2003, Neria De Giovanni published a short novel focused on the dramatic vicissitudes of this “barbarian” queen, Amalasunta: Regina barbara. The nature of the evidence may explain why a comprehensive scholarly study of Amalasuintha has not been attempted before now. The material is sufficient to reconstruct a portrait of her and to explore portions of her life, but it is admittedly scanty for a full biography. The first half of her life is virtually undocumented, though occasionally a detailed, deep analysis of our sources reveals some biographical elements. We could, however, claim exactly the same thing for almost all the imperial women and queens of the ancient world, including those who have been the objects of extensive research, such as Cleopatra VII, as well as the Roman empresses, beginning with Livia and the other Julio-​­Claudian women up to the fifth-​­century Galla Placidia. Many monographs have been written about Theodora, but hers is a portrait that relies almost entirely on a single author. In terms of sources, there are no fewer for Amalasuintha than there are for many empresses and queens who have been the subject of scholarly treatment in monographs. On the contrary, especially when compared to that for other barbarian queens, our evidence for her is relatively abundant. Like Galla Placidia and Theodora, Amalasuintha was an important, powerful woman in an age of profound changes. As a bridge between the Gothic and the imperial worlds, this queen was confronted with expectations that were shaped by a variety of traditions. Her rule marks a unique experimental moment in the formation of female power in her era. An understanding of Amalasuintha is of great importance for fifth-​­and sixth-​­century politics and diplomacy between Rome and Constantinople, as well as for the idea of queenship and the power of royal women in the post-​­Roman kingdoms and the early Middle Ages. She needs to be understood in the political and cultural contexts of both the Roman imperial palace and the Gothic court. Amalasuintha is a key figure in the process of experimentation with power by women in the barbarian kingdoms, who would influence the development of queenship in early medieval Italy. As we consider Amalasuintha’s experience as a woman between cultures, I try as far as possible to avoid the use of the words “German” and “Germanic” to reference the peoples and rulers of the post-​­Roman kingdoms, because this term generalizes very different situations. For this and other reasons, scholars



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now question its use. After all, contemporary authors did not refer to the tribes of the Roman-​­barbarian kingdoms, except for a few gentes, as “Germani.” However, the categorization of Ostrogoths, Visigoths, Burgundians, Vandals, Alemans, Lombards, and Franks, as Germanic tribes is still common in modern literature, especially because “barbarian” sounds pejorative, gentilis is too technical, and “post-​­Roman” is not always applicable.4 A satisfactory alternative term that refers to all the gentes of the Migration Period (“Völkerwanderungen”) has not yet been suggested. I therefore prefer the term “post-​ ­Roman” whenever it is appropriate.

Structure, Methods, and Goals This book is divided into five chapters. The first considers the “masculine” representation of Amalasuintha in the sources, in combination with her political power. It also explores her institutional position as regent and queen by analyzing the juridical lexicon of the authors, and by challenging some of the traditional assumptions of modern scholars on the subject. Chapter 2 begins the biography of Amalasuintha: her life at the palace of Ravenna, her education in the Roman style, and her marriage, including its significance for international politics. This chapter also examines the years following the death of Theoderic, and the tensions at the palace between the Gothic aristocracy and Amalasuintha, now standing as regent for her son. Her external and internal political relationships with the empire, with the Roman Senate and the church, and also with the other kingdoms, are the subject of Chapter 3. Chapter 4 is dedicated to the co-​­regency of Amalasuintha and Theodahad; it explores the consortium regni as devised by the queen to maintain her position of power undisturbed. It also explores Amalasuintha’s diplomacy with Justinian and her secret plans, first to step down and leave the kingdom, and later to remain in power, by reconsidering the date on which Theodahad was elected king. Finally, the so-​ c­alled Amalasuintha affair, the conspiracy that ended with Theodahad’s orchestration of her murder, concludes the reconstruction of the biography. Chapter 5 contextualizes Amalasuintha between the worlds of the Roman-​ b­ arbarian kingdoms and the Byzantine Empire. Here, comparisons with post-​ R ­oman queens and with Byzantine empresses are used to examine Amalasuintha’s representation as a woman in power. Finally, the Epilogue considers the significance of Amalasuintha in her time and places her legacy in the broader context of the Frankish Merovingian world and Lombard Italy.

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Placing the surviving evidence in careful comparison with post-​­Roman and Byzantine models of female power, this book intends to build a complex portrait of this queen in the context of the events in which she was the protagonist. It also analyses the adoption of imperial models for the formation of female power in Gothic Italy, relying upon detailed examination of the sources. Gothic sources are almost entirely lacking, and we are left with the post-​­Roman perspectives of Cassiodorus, Jordanes, and Gregory of Tours, and the imperial perspective of Procopius. Some of the sources, written as they were from the Roman view, could sometimes make seem normal or unremarkable situations that to Gothic eyes would have been extraordinary and probably even unwelcome. The close readings of the sources are placed in a wider context, including frequent comparisons with other queens and empresses as found in the accounts of both Western and Eastern authors. The deep understanding of Amalasuintha’s daring political experiments reveals key parallels and contrasts between the concepts of female power in the imperial and post-​­Roman worlds, at a time before female regencies and authoritative queenships became a standard practice. This is not an effort to rewrite the history of Italy during the government of Amalasuintha, which has been well established over the past hundred and fifty years.5 Nor does the present work reexamine the administration of Italy in the years 526–535, a topic that also has inspired a large literature, which will be further increased by a new comprehensive translation and commentary of the Cassiodoran letters, Variae.6 Books 11 and 12 of this correspondence collect Cassiodorus’s orders as Praetorian prefect (late 533–537/8). Many of these letters are difficult to date precisely, and only some of them were issued during the last year of Amalasuintha’s government. While these documents are important for the study of the administration of Italy in this period, they generally do not reveal significant changes in royal policies. Books 8–10 are quite different, for they contain royal correspondence, most of which was written in the name of Athalaric but supervised by Amalasuintha. Of these documents, I have focused on the letters in her name and those that reveal her influence. Finally, this book seeks to contribute to the discussion of gender and political authority in late antiquity, in a form that is valuable to those working on ideas of gender, power, and queenship in other epochs. Amalasuintha stood between late antiquity and the early Middle Ages, between Roman and post-​­Roman cultures, and between the Western and Eastern worlds. Not only was Amalasuintha multilingual, she was also bicultural, with one foot in the Gothic world and the other in the Roman. Because of the multiple chrono-



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5

logical, geographical, and cultural intersections, the study of Amalasuintha is challenging. It requires not only a deep study of documents of different genres, different periods, and different milieus but also a parallel understanding of the perspectives of late Roman, Byzantine, and early medieval sources. A study of Amalasuintha, a woman at once famous and elusive, demands the traditional methods of late antique and early medieval historiography—​ h ­ istorical philology and textual analysis—​­combined with some of the methods of both microhistory and cultural history. And where the sources are silent, we must look carefully to the wider milieu of female power in the late fifth-​­and sixth-​­century Mediterranean and European worlds to understand the woman, her political ambitions, her struggles, and her life.

The Daughter of Theoderic the Great The story of Amalasuintha, the only one of Theoderic’s children to be born in Italy, begins almost a decade before her birth. In the year 489, her father Theoderic came to Italy to oust King Odovacer with the blessing of the Byzantine emperor Zeno, who had promised him the right to administer Italy on behalf of Constantinople if he were victorious. Before Theoderic left the East, the emperor entrusted him with the care of the Senate and the people of Rome.7 After four years of intense war and a three-​­year siege of Ravenna, in 493 Theoderic killed Odovacer and was proclaimed king of Italy by his troops on the same day.8 The Romans welcomed him as the emperor’s choice, probably encouraged by the traditional Roman honors that had been granted to him during the previous decade: Theoderic had held the most illustrious titles, including the patriciate, the title of master of the soldiers, and the consulship (484), and he had been adopted per arma by the emperor Zeno (ca. 478).9 Even if it took a few more years before Emperor Anastasius, Zeno’s successor, acknowledged his position, by 497/8 Theoderic was well established in Italy with the consent of the emperor.10 A thirty-​­year period of peace followed Theoderic’s defeat of Odovacer, during which Italy flourished.11 While his Goths continued to engage in both defensive and expansionist wars against other kingdoms, the king pursued his program of encouraging harmony between the Goths and the Romans. This program is also known as civilitas, and it included the integration of the Gothic army as the Roman exercitus into the social and political texture of Italy. While the Goths had military duties, the Romans enjoyed their freedom

6 In t ro d u c t i o n

and kept their traditional administrative offices. Prudentia Romanorum and virtus Gothorum: in this way the two peoples of the kingdom are represented in the Variae as complementing each other.12 Italy’s still-​­large population was rooted in the municipal tradition. Though the Senate of Rome had been reduced in size, it still played a significant role, and many of its members were active in the administration of the kingdom.13 As ruler over the cradle of Roman civilization, Theoderic was particularly open to the Roman world, showing a deep interest in its culture. He welcomed imperial propaganda that presented him, the Gothic king, in the manner of an emperor of the glorious Roman past. The tragedies of the final years of his long reign would ultimately compromise his Roman legacy,14 but at the time of his death Theoderic had been the most successful Gothic king ever to rule, and later he became a legend. Medieval German literature would glorify the wisdom and the military prowess of Dietrich von Bern (Theoderic of Verona, from his victory over Odovacer in the battle of Verona).15 But not even the reverence that the Goths had for Theoderic could compel them to accept his last decision, in 526, to leave the throne to his ten-​­year-​­old grandson under the guardianship of a woman. Amalasuintha was the product of a new generation. Born and raised on Italic soil, she had not grown up wandering or waiting for a permanent settlement but instead grew up holding a recognized place as the daughter of a king in a court located in a Roman palace. She had not experienced wars but rather had enjoyed the benefits of the longest period of peace that Italy had known during the previous century. Her aunt and her grandmother had been exposed to Roman culture only partially, but Amalasuintha was raised in the civilitas promoted by her father, the product of a monarchy far more Romanized than those in the other parts of the former Western Roman Empire. Educated in Roman style and immersed in Roman culture, she became deeply familiar with imperial models of government at the palace of Ravenna. Her imperial vision of the monarchy would, years later, become an important part of her unexpected government. Yet although the court was largely Romanized, it remained first and foremost the headquarters of a conservative Gothic aristocracy, which had never totally abandoned the traditional views of a monarchy in which the nobility of the king was necessarily combined with his value on the battlefield. This elite was unprepared to embrace a woman in power, even if this power was based on motherhood and had examples in the imperial tradition. As a result, Amalasuintha’s political ambitions would still meet obstruction in the palace of Ravenna.



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Amalasuintha’s regency for her son (526–534) spanned some of the most critical events of the sixth century. While she waited for Athalaric to reach majority, Amalasuintha occupied a turbulent political position at the palace of Ravenna, caught between traditional Gothic culture, which would relegate her to the political background, and the Roman world, which had precedents for female power and rule. She lived at the palace under the pressure of the most conservative Goths as part of an unusual, if not bizarre, situation that was inconvenient to the nobility. The struggle for power between the queen mother and the Gothic aristocracy created a stifling atmosphere at the court. Seeking to establish and solidify her regency in the Roman imperial style, Amalasuintha cultivated relationships with Emperor Justinian, and also with the Senate and the Roman Church (though she herself was Arian): the latter especially had been badly damaged in the last three years of Theoderic’s reign, and both now, with her support, enjoyed a period of relative freedom. Her pro-​­Roman inclinations were also reflected in her efforts to promote culture (as Cassiodorus and Procopius testify), and in the education that she wanted to give to her son. International politics, however, would ultimately force Amalasuintha to seek a new alliance to support her rule. The dramatic growth of the Frankish kingdom was unfolding, as the Merovingian kings expanded into the weak Visigothic kingdom of Amalaric in Spain. The Burgundians and Thuringians, former allies of Theoderic, also fell victim to the Franks, and by 534 most of Gaul was under Frankish control. It was perhaps the pressure of these events and the threats of the palace aristocracy that convinced Amalasuintha to “entrust” herself and Athalaric to the protection of Emperor Justinian (the sources unanimously make reference to the commendatio). By 532/3, with a careful pro-​­Roman policy, she wielded full control over military and political officials of the Gothic kingdom. She had some of her political enemies assassinated, and she appointed key figures of the Roman Senate to the most important offices. This situation was short lived, however. In 534, shortly before reaching the age of majority, Athalaric became seriously ill. Amalasuintha knew that, as an unmarried woman, she could not rule over the Goths for long. Probably it was at this point that she first began to consider leaving Ravenna for Constantinople. But when Athalaric ultimately died later that same year, the Ostrogothic kingdom urgently needed a monarch. Struggling to keep her power and to preserve Theoderic’s kingdom under the Amal royal name, Amalasuintha conceived a brave political plan to rule in her own right. She created a new

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paradigm of power, the consortium regni, that allowed her to continue to rule as queen while still presenting a public face that honored conservative Gothic tradition. She now emerged officially as a regina (a title she had carried previously), but she was no traditional Gothic queen, living in the shadow of a royal husband. Instead, in late 534 she appointed her older cousin Theodahad, the last surviving direct male heir of the royal family, to rule as her coregent—​ n ­ ot as husband and wife, but as male and female monarchs sharing power. Even more astounding, her proposal of a co-​­regency consisted of a full gender reversal in the rhetoric of power. As the “male” character of the ruling unmarried couple, Amalasuintha would make final decisions; the coregent would follow her guidance and provide her with advice. This was Amalasuintha’s condition for Theodahad to rule. Radical as this development must have seemed to the Gothic aristocracy, the co-​­regency was not without precedent in the Roman world. In fact, the idea drew from imperial models (though real husband-​­wife rulership was also exceptionally rare in the East). The biggest difference between Amalasuintha’s co-​­regency and Roman/Byzantine examples lay in her decision not to marry the new king: after all, Theodahad already had a wife. And for Amalasuintha, a marriage would jeopardize her position and relegate her to the same position as other queens of that generation, whose powers were much more limited in comparison to those of the Roman empresses. Amalasuintha’s ingenious solution must have disappointed not only the Goths but also Justinian, who had his own plans for Italy. Justinian had been planning to bring both Amalasuintha and Theodahad, the only possible Amal heirs to the throne, to Constantinople, freeing the way for him to take control over Italy as part of his plan to reconquer the western Mediterranean. So Amalasuintha’s ingenious solution to her predicament ultimately sealed her fate. Not long after his election, Theodahad, supported by Amalasuintha’s old enemies, deposed his cousin and ultimately imprisoned her in one of his many Tuscan properties, on a little island-​­fortress in Lake Bolsena. It was there, in this lonely and isolated prison, that Amalasuintha was assassinated in early May 535. Theodahad probably did not act alone. We might wonder if the imperial hand lay behind the murder. Procopius in his Secret History claimed that Theodora was involved in the conspiracy against Amalasuintha, whom she viewed as a rival. Certainly, if he had wished to, Justinian could have saved Amalasuintha. Our sources suggest that before he acted, Theodahad first came to an understanding with the emperor, who eventually recognized his position as



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king. But in carrying out this secret intrigue of the imperial couple, Theodahad had violated the protection that Justinian had officially granted to Amalasuintha a few years earlier, the commendatio. Theodahad may have thought he was carrying out the desires of the emperor and ensuring his own future as king; in fact his murder of his cousin gave Justinian a perfect pretext to invade Italy. As soon as Theodahad’s order to kill his cousin was carried out, Justinian’s legate made clear that a war with the empire was inevitable. Amalasuintha shaped an important decade in the history of Italy, the years 526–535. She was an unconventional woman who tried to combine the traditional Gothic model of power with the imperial one. A few decades later, women began claiming a stronger role in the politics of Merovingian Gaul; and in Lombard Italy, Queen Theodelinda may have considered Amalasuintha’s example as she looked for models to support her own position as a ruling mother of a rex puer. Though Amalasuintha’s experiment failed, the legacy of the Gothic queen had an impact on the vision of female royalty in early medieval Italy.

The Sources The lives and careers of the queens of the fifth and sixth centuries, even historically important figures like Clotilde, Brunhild, and Theodelinda, are not well attested in the sources. Amalasuintha is something of an exception. The sources for her life, while sparse, are abundant enough to allow comparisons both with queens from the post-​­Roman world and with Roman/Byzantine empresses. The sources are diverse, however, and their interpretation requires a multifaceted methodology. The most important source for Amalasuintha’s life at the palace and her ruling activity is the work of Procopius of Caesarea, particularly three sections of the Gothic War, a few passages from the Vandalic War, and one chapter of the Secret History. This material is complemented by some of the letters of the Roman courtier Cassiodorus, which are published in the collection of the Variae and date to the years between late 533 and 535. Gregory of Tours offers an unconventional sketch of a few episodes of Amalasuintha’s life, albeit in an account that is largely unreliable except for some details. Jordanes gives a short but interesting account of the main political events of Athalaric’s reign in both the Getica and the Romana, and Agnellus of Ravenna in his Book of Pontiffs of the Church of Ravenna refers to some of the events, probably drawing from the mid-​­sixth-​­century Chronicle of Maximianus and/or the Annals of

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Ravenna. A few more details are provided by Count Marcellinus and by the biographer of the Book of the Popes (Liber Pontificalis). But these last authors, while important for the understanding of the chronology of events and some juridical issues, do not help us place Amalasuintha in a broader historical context. The portrait of Amalasuintha rests therefore on Procopius and Cassiodorus, even if the narrative of the former does not always find support in the details provided by the latter. These two authors were both contemporaries of the queen, and they witnessed events from two opposite but complementary sides: the palace of Ravenna and the court of Justinian. The works of both Cassiodorus and Procopius have become objects of new discussions in recent European and American scholarship, based on the goals of these authors. The Cassiodoran collection has been rightly interpreted not just in the traditional way, as a product of the palatine bureaucracy, but also as an expression of the social and cultural context to which Cassiodorus belonged. The Variae have been restudied as a literary product of the genre of epistolography and as an expression of the rhetorical mannerisms of a figure active in the political life of his age, following in the footsteps of Pliny and of Symmachus the orator. These authors served as important models for Cassiodorus’s letters and panegyrics.16 Cassiodorus published the documents at the very end of his political career, around 538–540. In selecting the letters, he had precise aims, including an apologetic one regarding his long career at the palace.17 The Variae also offer portraits of the Gothic rulers, and recently one contribution has gone so far as to consider them as evidence of a program of “Roman imperial restoration” started by Theoderic (though this view is entirely based on literature produced by the Roman elite at his court).18 It is likely that the Amals of Italy used imperial models to present themselves to their Roman subjects, as Amalasuintha would also do. Cassiodorus’s collection, however, was compiled at a time when the Gothic monarchy had lost the support of most Romans. Cassiodorus may have reworked some of the documents with self-​­aggrandizing elements or adjusted them to make the collection more uniform. The Variae remain his final message, his account of his palatine experience, the recollection of memories by a politician very close to the kings, who knew many state secrets. The account by Procopius presents challenges of a different nature. His work has also recently been regarded with a more critical eye. Such scholars as Brodka and Kaldellis see in this author not only the Byzantine historian with Christian views but also the classicist in all his complexity. His plural aims, which are often concealed in cryptic passages of the narrative, are offered to



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the reader through such models as Thucydides and Plato; dialogues and letters often express his own moralizing vision. This reevaluation of Procopius is stimulating, because it leads us to consider the account of this historian of the Justinianic era from a new point of view. This perspective, however, does not discredit Procopius as a historical source, nor it should discourage us from analyzing the message that is concealed behind the narrative. In this, I concur with Greatrex’s view.19 In my recent monograph, Theodahad, I suggested a balanced way to deal with these sources in parallel when approaching Ostrogothic Italy. On the one hand, we need to separate the rhetorical component from the propaganda in the Cassiodoran letters, and highlight as much as possible the juridical elements and the political messages that these documents contain. On the other hand, Procopius’s account, whose propaganda is an expression of a different agenda, needs to be considered with the awareness of some limitations of the narrative. Dialogues and letters, which are embedded in the Histories according to the Thucydidean style of the author, need to be contextualized in the narrative, and the events can be better understood in parallel with the other sources, particularly when they find corroboration in the Cassiodoran documentation. For different reasons, and with different aims, Procopius and Cassiodorus have preserved motifs of the propaganda of the Gothic kingdom, including the portraits of the Gothic rulers. Especially where the two authors consistently and strongly substantiate each other, the information they provide can be considered as basically reliable, particularly as there is no evidence that the two knew each other’s work and yet they show consistent similarities in their approaches to the main issues of the Gothic kingdom.20 I therefore believe that these authors remain fundamental for biographical purposes. Both Cassiodorus and Procopius have transmitted a portrait of Amalasuintha that is highly positive. This contrasts with their critical view of her cousin and later coregent, Theodahad, who is depicted as a greedy landowner.21 The choices made by Cassiodorus in the compilation of the Variae should not, however, lead us to the assumption that he hated Theodahad. Although this king became the murderer of his beloved queen, Cassiodorus continued to support the Gothic cause, serving as Praetorian prefect under Theodahad and later under Witiges. This contrast of images between Amalasuintha and Theodahad is explained if we consider the probable scenario that Cassiodorus collected the Variae in Ravenna under the rule of Witiges, who, having killed Theodahad, proclaimed himself the avenger of Amalasuintha and married Amalasuintha’s daughter, Matasuintha, in order to join the Amal

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family and legitimize his position.22 In such a situation, it seems unlikely that Cassiodorus would have been free to engage in any indirect critique of the Amal kings except for Theodahad. Not surprisingly, Witiges is positively represented in the few letters in his name, which conclude book 10 of the Variae.23 Our evidence is not sufficient to untangle the complex web of relationships and intrigues between Amalasuintha and Theodahad and Justinian and Theodora. Certainly the authors do not tell the whole story of the conspiracy against the Gothic queen, the Amalasuintha affair. Cassiodorus knew the state secrets of the kingdom, but he could not—​­or rather he preferred not to—​ ­make any direct reference to them. A skilled politician, he embedded the messages of his letters within strong rhetorical propaganda. Procopius was not as well informed on the state secrets and on the details of the Amalasuintha affair, though he offered what little information he had in a highly narrative manner. When later he decided to tell a different story in his Secret History, he claimed that he had not been free to tell “the truth” in the Gothic War. This time his version seems to corroborate some ambiguous statements by Cassiodorus.24 Procopius and Cassiodorus represent different but complementary views on the Gothic monarchy. Procopius offers the historical perspective of a Byzantine official, at least outwardly supporting Justinian, while Cassiodorus is the skilled Western Roman bureaucrat, immersed in the culture of the palace of Ravenna, and probably a confidant of Amalasuintha. These two most important authors require further introduction. Flavius Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus Senator

It is not wrong to state that Cassiodorus grew up beside Amalasuintha, of whom he was the elder by a few years.25 Born around 490, he moved when very young to the court of Ravenna, where he joined his father, the Praetorian prefect, as consiliarius. His success in eulogizing Theoderic brought Cassiodorus, as soon as he reached the age of majority in 507, the appointment of quaestor of the palace until circa 511. He was consul in 514 and soon afterward became patrician. Later he again took an active role at court as master of the offices for the years 523–527; he was therefore employed at the palace at the time of Theoderic’s death. In 528 he disappeared from the political scene, and he does not reemerge in our records until 533, when Amalasuintha appointed him Praetorian prefect. This was one of the most important offices that a Roman of that time could hold. Only one year later, Cassiodorus witnessed the unfolding drama of the arrest and exile of his queen, Amalasuintha,



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ordered by the newly elected King Theodahad. Some senators, as well as other key figures of the kingdom, such as Liberius, were able to escape to the East,26 but Cassiodorus’s closeness to the court and his leading administrative position bound him to the political scene. Eventually he supported Theodahad and also his successor, Witiges, in the capacity of Praetorian prefect. After 538, he left the palatine administration, which he concluded by publishing a selection of the letters that he had written over the years in the name of the rulers. This collection, in twelve books, is also known as the Epistulae Variae. Because Cassiodorus arranged this collection at the time of his departure from the political scene, scholars have speculated variously about the criteria of composition and the purposes of this work. The letters in the name of Amalasuintha, as well as those that refer to her, are generally propagandistic and shaped as short panegyrics. The most detailed example is Variae 11.1. This is a panegyric addressed to the Roman Senate, a laus with which Cassiodorus thanked Amalasuintha for having promoted him to the Praetorian prefecture. This letter indicates that she, rather than Athalaric, was the mind behind his promotion, although the promotion letters (Variae 9.24 and 9.25) were written in King Athalaric’s name, as was customary. Published as the first document of the two final books of the collection, this letter, or “letter-​­panegyric,” an unusual document in the Variae, focuses on the praises of Amalasuintha as ruler, and Cassiodorus included it for a purpose. Perhaps this letter was originally meant to prepare the senators for a government of Amalasuintha after the death of Athalaric, who was ill at the time.27 Cassiodorus could have easily avoided publishing this piece. By placing it as the first document of the two books containing his correspondence as Praetorian prefect, however, he celebrated Amalasuintha and her governance for Athalaric, leaving to posterity a positive portrait of the queen and suggesting that at the palace it was Amalasuintha who made the important decisions for her son. Amalasuintha’s legacy as a strong female ruler in premodern Europe is based largely on this panegyric.28 In combination with Procopius’s account, this letter has strongly influenced the opinion of modern historians about the Gothic queen, in a clear contrast with the negative image transmitted by Gregory of Tours. Other letters from this collection particularly useful for a study of Amalasuintha’s political activities include Variae 10.4, which was modeled partially on the letter-​­panegyric Variae 11.1 and which was addressed one year later to the Roman Senate in the name of Theodahad. There are also other letters in Amalasuintha’s name, which are addressed respectively to Emperor Justinian

14 In t ro d u c t i o n

and to the Roman Senate to announce the election of Theodahad (Variae 10.1 and 10.3). These erudite documents concern high diplomatic matters. Two more letters were addressed by the queen to Justinian and to Theodora during the weeks or months of her co-​­regency with Theodahad (Variae 10.8 and 10.10). Procopius of Caesarea

Procopius accompanied Belisarius during his military campaign in Italy in the first years of the Gothic war (until ca. 540/2), as his consiliarius and later as his adsessor.29 After the Byzantine general took Rome in December 536, the historian came into contact with people of the senatorial elite of the old capital, and he later included in his account the vicissitudes of some of them.30 He probably collected much of his information about Amalasuintha in Rome or in Ravenna, although it is likely that during his career he was in touch with key people at the palace of Ravenna who could provide him with more solid information about the events of the Gothic court. Liberius and Maximianus may have been among Procopius’s informers.31 Possibly the historian met the senator Liberius, who was close to Amalasuintha, and who betrayed Theodahad as soon he arrested the queen. Liberius was among those senators who were sent to the East to announce Amalasuintha’s deposition, but he deserted the embassy and never went back. He embraced Justinian’s cause, and the emperor rewarded him with different appointments.32 Or perhaps the historian met with Maximianus, who was presumably the court poet of Theodahad and who was about the same age as Cassiodorus. At some point Maximianus was sent to the East with an embassy, and if he ever returned, it was probably as Justinian’s prefect of Italy a few years later. Procopius makes various references to him in his narrative.33 Another potential source is Peter the Patrician, Justinian’s ambassador, who, although not a friend of Procopius,34 was a high-​ r­ anking diplomat sent a few times to Theodahad during the imprisonment of Amalasuintha and the first years of the Gothic war. Finally, while we cannot dismiss the possibility that Procopius met Cassiodorus in Constantinople, we do not have any evidence of contact between them, either in the Gothic War or in any of the other works of the two authors. In the first chapters of the Gothic War (especially book 1, sections 2–4) Procopius provides us with a colorful portrait of Amalasuintha, particularly her personal and political vicissitudes; the historian occasionally also refers to these in the Vandalic War. Years later, in his invective against Theodora he would clarify in the Secret History (or Anecdota) “the truth”—​­or rather his own



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15

understanding of the truth—​­behind the Amalasuintha affair.35 The letters and speeches he attributes to Amalasuintha are rhetorical, following the Thucydidean model. Some historical and juridical elements contained within them, however, are confirmed by other sources. Procopius’s narrative intent does not undermine the reliability of his account. His representation of Amalasuintha’s reign is consistent with the internal problems of the Gothic kingdom, and it finds some confirmation in the Cassiodoran letters. His chronology of events, however, even if it is often detailed, is not always accurate, as we see when we compare his account of the events of the years 533–535 with the evidence of other authors, especially Jordanes and Cassiodorus. Some of the differences are due to the complexity of the “state secret” around the affair of Amalasuintha—​­the authors had different sources and different levels of access to intrigues at that high level. For Procopius, as for all these authors, modern historians have the difficult task of evaluating the historical and diplomatic context of the sources. Gregory of Tours

In addition to Cassiodorus and Procopius, we have the voice of ­Merovingian propaganda, represented by Gregory of Tours (538–594).36 This Frankish source, which postdates Amalasuintha by several decades, presents its own interpretative issues, and it merits a separate discussion. Gregory’s Ten Books of Histories (Decem Libri Historiarum, also known as History of the Franks) is based upon various classical and Christian literary models. His historical vision is both biblical and Roman: for example, Gregory considers King Chilperic Nero nostri temporis et Herodis.37 He also blends oral traditions with a biblical vision of history. The result is a kind of source very different from those produced by late antique historians. Gregory’s models for representing male and female royalty generally derived from the Old Testament. Gregory’s story of the life of Amalasuintha, especially her vicissitudes at court, strongly differs from all our other sources. Immoral, rebellious, and even the murderer of her own mother, Gregory’s Amalasuintha deserved the punishment inflicted upon her by Theodahad. Gregory may have known of Amalasuintha’s eight-​­year regency, but he does not expend a single word on this period of the queen’s life; rather, he relates an otherwise unknown (and unlikely) story of her life. In his flawed chronology, Amalasuintha lost her father when she was little and grew up with her mother, Audefleda. Her mother wished to find a royal husband for her daughter, but Amalasuintha disobeyed her and instead

16 In t ro d u c t i o n

“took her slave named Traguila (servum suum Traguilanem nomen accepit), and fled with him to a city where she hoped to defend herself.”38 Her mother’s pleas to protect her family’s honor with a suitable marriage fell on deaf ears, and Amalasuintha remained obdurate until an army came, killed Traguila, and brought her home.39 Amalasuintha’s evil nature is fantastically revealed in her plot to murder her mother by poisoning her with the wine of Communion during Arian Mass: “Now they belonged to the Arian sect, and as it is their custom that of those going to the altar the kings receive one cup and the lesser people another, she put poison in the cup from which her mother was going to receive the communion. And she drank it and died forthwith. There is no doubt that such harm is from the devil. What shall the wretched heretics answer to this charge that the enemy dwells in their holy place?”40 Gregory’s anti-​­Arian stance no doubt fueled this account; about the murder, he claims: “For us who confess the Trinity in one similar equality and omnipotence, even if we should drink a deadly draught in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, the true and incorruptible God, it would not do us any harm.”41 Gregory tells us that the Italians were “indignant” that this woman was to reign, and so they invited Theodahad to take the throne. Theodahad, in vengeance for her crimes, ordered her death: “When he learned what the harlot had been guilty of, how she had slain her mother on account of a slave whom she had taken, he gave orders that a bath be raised to a great heat, and that she be shut in the same with one maid. And when she entered the hot vapors she fell at once on the pavement, and died, and was consumed.”42 The sins Gregory ascribes to Amalasuintha are many and horrendous: she is a harlot, a murderer, and the lover of a slave. Not only does she commit the most unspeakable crime of matricide, she does so at the very altar of the church, polluting the holy wine of Communion with poison. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Gregory’s account finds no confirmation in any other early source. One century later, Pseudo-​­Fredegar, who acknowledged Gregory of Tours as one of his sources, followed the same tradition.43 The many inaccuracies that Gregory’s account contains are mixed with a few elements of historical value. Some scholars have even considered the possibility of replacing some of the names of the protagonists of this story in order to produce an account slightly closer to the historicity of the events; that is, understanding Amalasuintha and Athalaric as the characters in the story instead of Audefleda and Amalasuintha.44 Gregory’s work, however, is the product of a different milieu. It reflects the views of an author hostile to Arianism who (like Eugippius with the



In t ro d u c t i o n

17

Rugian queen Giso) was often critical ­toward queens who were not Catholic, and to women who interfered in the politics of their kingdoms.45 Gregory’s depictions of royal women show a sharp contrast between Arian and Catholic, particularly with respect to pious figures, such as Basina, Clotilde, and Radegund. The contrast also applies to good and bad widows.46 Catholic princesses and queens, some of whom spent the final part of their lives in monasteries and supporting the church, greatly contributed to the triumph of the Catholic faith and, as a consequence, to the historical success of the Merovingians, and they fare well in Gregory’s history (with the exception of some Merovingian royal women, such as Fredegund, Deoteria, Marcatrude, and Austrechild Bobila). In contrast, all Gregory’s Arian women are wicked queens, as are most of the wives of the Franks’ enemies.47 For Gregory, Arianism was the primary source of the other kingdoms’ disgrace, and defeating it was the basis for the success of the Catholic Merovingian Franks. In his work there is no evidence of any Merovingian royal woman abandoning Catholicism when marrying kings of other faiths. But his Arian queens and princesses caused the ruin of their kingdoms, both by their own actions and by the bad advice they gave their husbands and their children.48 Amalasuintha became the murderer of her mother, Clovis’s sister, whom the author also scorned for her Arianism. Other stories explaining the misfortunes of kingdoms that were eventually defeated or conquered by the Christian Merovingians were often similarly fabricated or altered, reflecting the same theme of the triumph of Catholicism over Arianism. Gregory’s History recounts the bleak fate not only of the Ostrogoths but also of the Visigoths and of the Burgundian and Thuringian kings, most of them married to Arian women. Clovis attacked the Visigothic kingdom, and at the battle of Vouillé (507) he killed Alaric II, Amalaric’s father, who was married to Theoderic’s daughter. Later, Amalaric was killed because he disrespected the Catholic faith of his wife. The Thuringian Herminafrid conquered his brother at the instigation of Amalaberga; later, he would be conquered by the Franks. The Burgundian Sigismund—​­ who converted to Catholicism between circa 500 and 49 507 —​­murdered his own child under the evil influence of his second wife.50 Unlike the other regna, which fell victim to the Frankish expansion, the Ostrogothic kingdom was barely touched by the Franks. Therefore, in Gregory’s account the Arian sinner Amalasuintha was punished by her own cousin Theodahad; the (Catholic) Italians had appealed to him for help, and Gregory interestingly omits to specify that this king was also of the Arian creed. But the Franks too play a role in this story: Gregory reports the otherwise unattested

18 In t ro d u c t i o n

news that Theodahad had to pay Wergild to the Frankish kings for murdering their cousin. We cannot exclude the possibility that Gregory tarnished the image of Amalasuintha because she was daughter of Theoderic, Arian heretic and persecutor of Catholics, about whom the author knew much more than he actually reported. While the Ten Books of Histories do not discuss Theoderic, he does appear in Gregory’s Liber in gloria martyrum. Here Gregory reports a story which he claims to have heard from Catholic believers but which in fact shows a few similarities with the account of the Book of the Popes. While the plot of this story is largely fictional, Theoderic is labeled as inprobus rex, the persecutor of the Catholic Church, and he is responsible for the martyrdom of Pope John I. His brutal death shortly after, his inflicted wounds, and his consignment to the perpetual flames of hell were God’s punishment for his misbehavior.51 We can only imagine how dark our view might be of Amalasuintha if (as we do for many other royal women of the post-​­Roman kingdoms of Europe) we had to rely entirely upon Gregory of Tours with his unflattering vocabulary: mulier, meretrix, in matrem parricida. The Chronology of the Regency and the Limitations of the Sources

While there is little direct documentation of the early life of Amalasuintha, this is fortunately not the case for her regency, for which scholars have traditionally distinguished four main phases: (1) After the death of Theoderic in August of 526, Amalasuintha, now regent for her son, initially broke with her father’s policy and attempted to rebuild relationships with the Romans through the help of Cassiodorus (526/7). (2) After the “fall of Cassiodorus” (that is how some scholars interpret Cassiodorus’s five-​­year period of unemployment at the palace) the leaders of Gothic conservatism exerted new influence, which Amalasuintha tried unsuccessfully to oppose (527–532). (3) Consequently, Amalasuintha eliminated her most prominent rivals in the Gothic aristocracy. Only then she was able to return to her original policy (532–534). (4) After the death of Athalaric in October 534, Amalasuintha attempted to secure her own throne by nominating Theodahad as coregent (534–535).52



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This comprehensive sketch depicts the main phases of Amalasuintha’s political activity at court. No source speaks to all four periods, but fortunately the periods covered by Procopius sometimes overlap with those covered by Cassiodorus, allowing us to view specific phases through the lens of more than one witness (unlike, for example, the sources for the life of Theodahad).53 It is necessary to use the account of Gregory of Tours only with great caution, and Cassiodorus and Procopius remain our central sources. Procopius’s account of Amalasuintha’s regency is primarily limited to three introductory chapters of the Gothic War,54 while Cassiodorus’s letters shed some light on the years 526– 528 and 533–535. Very little evidence speaks to the period 528–532, during which Amalasuintha was experiencing strong pressure from the Gothic aristocracy at the palace. The surviving evidence makes it difficult to further define the contours of the first two phases. We cannot determine whether, in that first year of her regency, Amalasuintha was willing or able to break with her father’s anti-​ ­Roman policy of his final years—​­especially given the fact that it was very likely Theoderic and not Amalasuintha who decided the appointments for the year 527;55 and we should not overestimate the influence of Cassiodorus on Amalasuintha’s political activity. The fact that he held the most significant offices at the palace, as well as the fact that his collection of letters survives, do not necessarily make him the primary political mind behind Amalasuintha’s decisions, nor a real protagonist at the court—​­especially considering that he was officially unemployed in the years 528–533. Cassiodorus’s evidence on Amalasuintha is far more limited than that which he offers for the other Amals. Only part of the letters reveal, with a margin of certainty, Amalasuintha’s mind and political hand; it would be hazardous to envision the Gothic queen behind all the letters in Athalaric’s name that are included in books 8 and 9 of the Variae. Only occasionally does Procopius’s narrative of the Ostrogothic kingdom in those years find direct correspondence in the Variae. In addition, Procopius’s chronology, when compared with other evidence, often generates more questions than solutions. This is especially true for the dark period between the deposition and death of Amalasuintha, about which Procopius may not have been well informed. Most of the information provided by Cassiodorus and Procopius on Amalasuintha refers to the very first phase of her regency, between late 526 and 527, and to the very last years of her life, between 532 and 535. The hypothesis that Procopius’s informer was someone close to the Gothic queen could explain not only his knowledge of Amalasuintha’s life at the palace but also his general lack of

20 In t ro d u c t i o n

information concerning later events, such as the activities of Theodahad in Ravenna and in Rome. The works of Procopius and Cassiodorus are differently structured and have different chronological limits and intentions, though they agree in their representation of Amalasuintha and in the way they portray her as a woman in power. Nonetheless, these two authors are of fundamental importance, for our understanding of the sixth century is largely founded upon their evidence. A reconstruction of the portrait of Amalasuintha therefore requires a most careful analysis of their work. A close reading of all our evidence discloses important elements about Amalasuintha’s life and self-​­presentation. These sources have often been studied or interpreted independently, but bringing them in conversation with each other opens a window onto the wider world in which they were produced. Amalasuintha’s historical significance in the Mediterranean world emerges when the results of these analyses are contextualized with other authors writing in other kingdoms and in the empire during the fifth and the sixth centuries.

Chapter 1

Mother, Regent, and Queen Amalasuintha and the Institutions of Power

In the complex and turbulent world of the sixth century, what exactly did queenship mean? The power of ruling women as it emerged in the post-​ ­ oman world had very different features from that found in the empire, R which over the centuries had experienced many influential women at the imperial palaces. We have no clear understanding of how female power was understood at the barbarian courts, nor do we have a good understanding of the terminology that described women’s positions at court. After the gentes settled in kingdoms, and after their kings, ruling over both their own people and the Romans, became an integral part of the Latin world, the term þiudans—​ o­ r whatever word originally indicated the king as the leader of his people, in the sense of the Greek βασιλεύς—​­was abandoned. The Latin titles of dominus and rex came into common use in the Roman-​­barbarian kingdoms, where the rulers bore royal titles that distinguished them from the emperor. This change may have been facilitated by the fact that the Latin word “rex” was very similar to reiks, a Celtic loan-​­word used by the Goths to indicate the “ruler” of the single groups of Gothic soldiers—​­perhaps similar in idea to the Greek ἄρχων with respect to the supreme ruler, the βασιλεύς, whose corresponding Gothic word, þiudans, could even apply to the emperor.1 Many names, including those of kings, ended in -​­rix.2 At about the same time, we begin to find the words “domina” and “regina” used to address royal women. However, the real significance of the title and status of regina in the barbarian courts of the fifth and sometimes even the early sixth century is difficult to determine on the basis of our sources. Concubinage, polygamy, remarriage, and legitimacy are just part of the question.

22

Ch a p t e r 1

Much of our knowledge of Gothic vocabulary is based on the surviving parts of the Wulfila Bible, which frustratingly is missing all the events involving queens, from which we might have learned a Gothic term for a royal woman ruler. We have to wait until the second half of the eighth century to find the term kuningin in Old German documents.3 But we know that the Gothic word qens—​­which in the other Germanic languages was spelled with minor variations—​­signified both “woman” and “legitimate wife.”4 Qens could easily apply to a royal woman such as Amalasuintha as the equivalent of the Greek γυνή, which Procopius uses when referring to her. But this term probably did not originally express the sense of the Latin domina, as intended for a female ruler. We do not know the Gothic word for regina. We do find in the Wulfila Bible the term “ragineis,” meaning “adviser” (βουλευτής), and the verb ­“raginon”—​­which is not far from the Latin rego, regens.5 And while it is unlikely that there was a connection between this word and the Latin regina, it is remarkable that the primary function that the sources unanimously recognize in the queens of this period is their role as advisers to their husbands. They are widely acknowledged as providers of consilium.6 But in the world of the tribes, queens were generally not rulers in their own right, and they did not display public political power. An understanding of Amalasuintha’s political agency is a necessary first step for constructing a biography of the queen, because it provides an important key for interpreting the sources, as well as a cornerstone for the reconstruction of her life at the court of Ravenna. Amalasuintha’s ruling activity and her political ambitions shaped the depiction of her in our sources, including the attribution of masculine characteristics that became an integral part of her image as a woman in power in the Gothic kingdom. An exploration of her political agency necessarily begins with an examination of the status quaestionis on Amalasuintha’s juridical status, and with a careful look at juridical lexicon of our primary sources, including the terminology of mater regens, domina and regina. To what extent was the daughter of Theoderic entitled to rule over Italy?

The “Strong Amal”: A Masculine Woman The personality of Amalasuintha (or Amalaswintha/Amalasuentha), the daughter of Theoderic, “ruler of the people” (*þeudō + *rika), seems to be reflected in her Gothic name: *amala-​­“Amalo” (strenuus, industrius) + *swinþō



Mo t h e r, Re ge n t , a n d Queen

23

“strong.”7 If this etymology of her name is correct, we may wonder whether the name reflected Theoderic’s wishes for his daughter, and also whether our authors were aware of this coincidence. There is no direct reference or allusion to this combination, nor are there puns on words—​­which Latin and Greek authors usually employ—​­when characterizing Amalasuintha. Nonetheless, it is remarkable how the voices of our authors are unanimous in celebrating her strong personality. When referring to her political achievements at the palace, Cassiodorus noted her determination and strong temperament, in particular firmitas animi and fortitudo animi.8 Even Gregory of Tours’s admittedly dubious description of Amalasuintha’s rebellious nature rested on an idea of a strong female character. “Masculinity” is probably the main characteristic that Procopius and Cassiodorus attribute to Amalasuintha when describing her activity as regent. In one of several anecdotes in his narrative, Procopius tells an ominous story of a progressively collapsing mosaic of Theoderic, located in the marketplace of the city of Naples. According to his account, the disintegration of this image predicted the deaths of the Amal rulers, and ultimately forecast the end of the Ostrogothic kingdom: At this time it so happened that the following event took place in Naples. There was in the marketplace an image of Theoderic, the ruler of the Goths, made of mosaic stones that were exceedingly small and tinted with nearly every colour. At one time during the life of Theoderic it happened that the head in this image broke apart, the arrangement of the stones being spontaneously disrupted, and it came to pass that Theoderic then immediately finished his life. Eight years later the stones forming the belly of the picture fell apart suddenly, and Athalaric, the grandson of Theoderic, immediately died. After the passage of a short time, the stones about the genitals fell to the ground, and Amalasuintha, the child of Theoderic, passed from the world. Now these things had already happened as described. But when the Goths began the siege of Rome, as chance would have it the part of the picture from the thighs to the tips of the feet were ruined, and so the whole image disappeared from the wall.9 In this process of deterioration, which symbolizes the progressive disintegration of the Ostrogothic kingdom, Amalasuintha’s fate is associated with the

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“male side” of her father, who is iconographically and symbolically the caput. While the disintegration of the head and body of the mosaic of Theoderic foretold, respectively, his own death and that of his grandson Athalaric, Amalasuintha’s demise was predicted by the falling to the ground of the mosaic stones “about the genitals” or the groin (αἱ περὶ τὰ αἰδοῖα ψηφῖδες).10 And it is remarkable that the name of Theodahad is not even included in this story, as though he were not a member of the family and the coregent of the queen, and as if his death had not affected Gothic power. The reader does not need to lend credibility to this anecdote to see the relationship between the “sexual” element of this image and several other references made by the same author about Amalasuintha’s masculinity. From the very beginning of his work, Procopius attributed to Amalasuintha the best Roman virtues and highlighted her masculine nature, particularly when describing the tough, decisive action she had to take in the difficult environment of the palace of Ravenna. His wording is intriguing: on those occasions when Amalasuintha shows her strength, Procopius describes her as (acting like) a man; when she shows fear or loses heart, she is a woman. Recent studies have shown that in the Gothic War Procopius makes purposeful use of the virtue of valor (ἀνδρεία) in eulogizing or in diminishing the kings.11 Of the members of the Amal family, Procopius shows us the virtue of valor recognized in Theoderic and Amalasuintha, sought after in Athalaric, and fully denied to Theodahad, who is ἄνανδρος “by nature.” When summing up her activity as regent, he writes: “Amalasuintha, as guardian of her child, administered the government, and she proved to be endowed with wisdom and regard for justice (ξυνέσεως καὶ δικαιοσύνης) in the highest degree, displaying to a great extent the masculine temperament (τῆς δὲ φύσεως ἐς ἄγαν τὸ ἀρρενωπὸν ἐνδεικνυμένη).”12 Procopius credits Amalasuintha with Platonic and canonical virtues that he had previously attributed to Theoderic (δικαιοσύνη, ξυνέσις, and ἀνδρεία)13 and even writes that “the woman (ἡ γυνή) had the strictest regard for every kind of virtue.”14 When describing the attempts of the Goths to remove Amalasuintha from her palace, Procopius considers her a female man (ἡ ἄνθρωπος), and he also specifies that she “neither became frightened at the plotting of the Goths nor did she, as a woman (οἷα γυνὴ), weakly give way.”15 Yet later, when Amalasuintha realized the ineffectiveness of her strategy and began to lose hope, Procopius refers to her as a woman (ἡ γυνή) who, “being unable to endure these things any longer,” devised the plan to leave Italy for Constantinople.16 The only exception to this masculine-​­strength/feminine-​­weakness rhetoric occurs in an episode in which Amalasuintha, the woman, called her cousin Theodahad



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to answer for his scandalous appropriation of property. When he was proven guilty, she ordered the restitution of the properties to the Tuscan landowners. A careful reading of the text, however, makes clear that Procopius’s word choice is intentional. Theodahad is referenced not by name but only as the man (ὁ ἄνθρωπος), who felt that he had been outraged by the woman (ἡ γυνή).17 Procopius purposely offers this contrast of genders to further underscore the reasons for Theodahad’s grudge against Amalasuintha—​­a grudge that would shortly afterward have disastrous consequences for the queen. In the Secret History, Procopius uses precisely the same wording when praising Amalasuintha for possessing those qualities that he believed Theodora lacked: “Theodora considered that the woman (ἡ γυνὴ) [i.e., Amalasuintha] was of noble ancestry and a queen, very impressive to look upon, and swift at devising plans to get what she wanted; also, she felt threatened by the woman’s magnificence and exceptionally manly bearing (διαφερόντως ἀρρενωπόν).”18 This time the gendered lexicon is blended in a striking combination synthesizing all the statements that Procopius had made in the Gothic War. Theodora, Procopius suggests, simply could not tolerate this mix of qualities; she “aims to destroy all masculine virtues, even when they appear in women,” writes Kaldellis.19 Both directly and indirectly, Procopius’s account incorporated rhetorical flourishes and praise common to the panegyrical genre, including the four canonical virtues (these were also employed in the mid-​­fourth-​­century Julian’s oration to Empress Eusebia).20 Cassiodorus used these same motifs in a panegyric that unfortunately survives only in fragments. Here he writes of his queen, very likely Amalasuintha (the first part of the sentence is lost): “. . . surpasses all the kingdoms, you are known to be in command of yourself (dinosceris potens tui). Now, if you are compared with your own customs (propriis moribus), then you are easily surpassed by the noble part of [your] soul (ab insigni animae parte superaris), you who by the beauty of your body (pulchritudine corporis) transcend all mortal things.”21 While Procopius offered an image of Amalasuintha as a male character whose ambitious personality eventually roused the jealousy of Theodora, Cassiodorus eulogized the queen in a similar way, with the same combination of Roman virtues and a masculine temperament, in the letters Variae 11.1 and 10.4.22 The letter-​­panegyric Variae 11.1, also discussed above, is written in Cassiodorus’s name, and Variae 10.4 contains the newly elected Theodahad’s praises of his coregent. In both cases, the eulogies of Amalasuintha mostly concern her regency for Athalaric. Cassiodorus attributed to her the most significant political virtues that could be claimed for a Roman ruler: aequitas,

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pietas, benignitas, fortitudo, animi firmitas, sapientia, prudentia, constantia. The letter-​­panegyric itself is structured on the four canonical virtues,23 the same ones that Procopius attributed to Amalasuintha, along with political virtues and wisdom in government (the same virtues he previously attributed to Theoderic). Once again, Cassiodorus’s representation is similar to Procopius’s. ­Toward the conclusion of his letter-​­panegyric, Cassiodorus recognized in Amalasuintha the entire list of virtues, especially the sapiential and the moral ones, which were rhetorically attributed to her ancestors: felicitas, patientia, mansuetudo, aequitas, forma, castitas, fides, and sapientia: The form of the declamation demands that I should compare the parade of past empresses with her recent case. But how could these feminine examples suffice for one who surpasses all the praise given to men? If the royal band of her ancestors were to look on this woman, they would soon see their glory reflected, as in a clear mirror. For Amalus was distinguished for his good fortune, Ostrogotha for his patience, Athala for mercy, Winitarius for justice, Hunimund for beauty, Thorismuth for chastity, Walamer for good faith, Theudimer for his sense of duty, her glorious father, as you have seen, for his wisdom. Assuredly, all these would here individually recognise their own qualities; but they would happily admit that these were surpassed, since one man’s glory cannot rightly equate itself with a throng of virtues. Think what their joy would be in such an heir, one who can transcend the merits of them all.24 Cassiodorus deliberately claims the superiority of Amalasuintha to the men of her family, going back to her male ancestry. This was, after all, the appropriate way to justify her exercise of royal power in the Gothic world, where tradition demanded male rulers but where Amalasuintha was ruling like a king. Her power found legitimacy in that of her ancestors.25 To an audience of Roman senators, the alternative to the comparison with the men of her family would be not the Amal queens but rather, as Cassiodorus observed, the empresses. Cassiodorus in his panegyric claims that a comparison between his domina and the empresses could not do justice to the former: “But how could these feminine examples (exempla feminea) suffice for one who surpasses all the praise given to men (virorum laus)?”26 In reality, any comparison with recent empresses or especially with Theodora would have been inappropriate and certainly politically dangerous. The letter rhetorically



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suggests that Amalasuintha’s qualities are less attributable to her Amal ancestors than to her nature. The use of the term “sexus” to signify both Amalasuintha’s motherhood and her courageous regency for Athalaric is especially important: “Behold, by God’s favour, our fortunate mistress has achieved the glory of both sexes (uterque sexus): for she has both borne us a glorious king, and has secured a spreading empire by the courage of her soul (animi fortitudine).”27 Just one year later, Cassiodorus would return to this point, writing in the name of Theodahad to celebrate Amalasuintha as the glory of her ancestors for her successful regency during her son’s minority: “She, who ruled alone with her little son . . . ​not only brought praise to her ancestors, but also dignified the human race.”28 The masculine attributes ascribed to Amalasuintha in his letters may find some explanation in the letter’s intended audience: they were both addressed to the Senate. The idea of female rulership was not entirely alien to the Senate, because unlike Gothic queens, Roman empresses could have a degree of recognized political power. But even so, at that time the senatorial audience required justification for a female rulership. Ascribing masculine qualities to the female ruler may have helped Cassiodorus present Amalasuintha’s case: after all, rulers like Galla Placidia, to whom Amalasuintha is compared in this panegyric, had gone down in history as weak and feminine.29 In her study of the letter Variae 11.1, Fauvinet-​­Ranson fairly observes: “Amalasuintha is a woman, but she reigns as a man: Cassiodorus, like Procopius, presents a uirago, a woman-​­man, without the pejorative nuance we associate with this word, since in his eyes Amalasuintha, far from being a femme manquée, is fully a woman.”30 A woman, yes; and if not an empress, then perhaps a female king. In describing her virtues, Cassiodorus emphasized the Roman model that shaped the education of the princess and influenced her personality. Indeed, when one year later Cassiodorus, writing in the name of Theodahad, celebrated Amalasuintha, he acknowledged this education together with her sapientia, iustitia, and firmitas.31 The virtues listed in the letter-​­panegyric were previously attributed to Theoderic by Cassiodorus, perhaps representing what one scholar described as “Amal ungendered qualities transferred from the father/king to his daughter/regina.”32 Theodahad announces that his kingdom would benefit from the experience of such a sapientissima domina;33 by that time Amalasuintha had gained much experience at the palace, first at the side of Theoderic, and later as regent for her son. Cassiodorus represents her as distinguished by her composure and her meditative and silent attitude

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in public, and remarkable for her determination and incorruptibility.34 Her education included not only fluency in three languages, Greek, Latin, and Gothic, but also literature, which was the primary instrument for learning the wisdom of the ancients (veterum prudentia). With her political wisdom, she follows in the footsteps of her father Theoderic (sapientia, ut iam vidistis, inclitus pater).35 On the whole, the references to “masculinity” by both Procopius and Cassiodorus are meant to invoke Amalasuintha’s strong performance in the role of regent in a kingdom where only a man was entitled to rule and where terms such as vir (man) and mulier (woman) were believed to be derived respectively from virtus (strength) and mollities (softness). Amalasuintha could be called a virago, literally an ‘heroic maid,’ because she ‘acts like a man’ (vir + agere).36 Not coincidentally, both authors acknowledge in Amalasuintha the same virtues they attributed to her father. These virtues and her ability in government made her an ideal ruler in the Roman style. While Roman Italy and the empire recognized the possibility of female power and the regency, this was not the case for a conservative Gothic leadership unfamiliar with the exercise of female power at such a level. Lacking antecedents, the best way to represent a woman in power in the post-​­Roman kingdoms of that period was probably the masculine characterization of Amalasuintha. Exceptional bravery in women could be characterized as masculine: Gregory of Tours would years later use the adverb “viriliter” to characterize two exceptional proofs of bravery by queens: that of Brunhild, who armed herself like a man to prevent a war, and her daughter Ingund, who in Spain resisted her mother-​­in-​­law’s pressure to abandon her Catholic faith for Arianism.37 But Amalasuintha’s strong nature, courage, and skill in government were never enough to compensate for the “weakness” represented by her female status. Jordanes understood Amalasuintha’s female sex as the main reason she eventually decided to join Theodahad to her rule: she “feared she might be despised by the Goths on account of the weakness of her sex (pro sexus sui fragilitate).”38 As a woman, she had no direct precedent that allowed her to assume the Ostrogothic throne in her own right. Amalasuintha recognized the need for a new institutional structure.



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Amalasuintha’s Institutional Position in Ostrogothic Italy: The Status Quaestionis In late 534, bearing the title of regina, Amalasuintha introduced the newly elected King Theodahad to Emperor Justinian and to the Roman Senate as consors regni, joining him to the throne in an unparalleled manner as an unmarried consort. But was this her first moment as queen? When did her queenship begin? Our sources, both Eastern and Western, do not offer clarity about her institutional position in the Ostrogothic kingdom, and so this simple question has attracted scholarly attention for more than a century. But the canonical answer to this question, that Amalasuintha assumed the queenship upon the death of her son, places us in a logically awkward position: we must believe that she created this new position of consort and selected the recipient herself immediately upon the death of her son, and that they forced it upon a hostile Gothic nobility who had no particular reason to accept it. But a careful examination of the problem suggests that Amalasuintha’s queenship was not a speedy and desperate measure in the aftermath of Athalaric’s death. Rather, it had its roots as early as the reign of Theoderic. Such a radical revision requires careful explanation. The hypothesis that Amalasuintha did not officially take the title of regina before the death of Athalaric is generally based on the virtual absence in the Variae of the name of Queen Amalasuintha before late 534. It has thus been generally assumed that she declared herself regina through usurpation on the day of Athalaric’s death, on 2 October 534, and that, because the co-​ ­regency with Theodahad turned out to be short lived, she was a queen for only a very limited time.39 In an article published in 1889, Pflugk-​­Harttung gave a speculative but balanced explanation of Amalasuintha’s position: “As long as Athalaric lived, she did not have any rights in this regard, because she was not queen but only queen mother; first after his death she was able by usurpation, perhaps in cooperation with palace officials and partisans, to declare herself a real queen. It is possible, of course, that in ordinary life, by virtue of her birth and position, she was called queen, and that she only gave public expression to the (actual political) situation.”40 Almost a hundred years later, Dietrich Claude reconsidered Pflugk-​­Harttung’s observations in his article on the elevations to the throne of Ostrogothic kings. This work represents the most solid contribution on the subject, and most scholars agree with its conclusions.41 Claude accepted Pflugk-​­Harttung’s assumption that, on the day of

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Theodahad’s election, Amalasuintha’s queenship was of recent origin, beginning at the earliest upon the death of Athalaric. At first glance, our sparse sources seem to support this chronology. The Variae do not include documents in the name of Amalasuintha that predate the election of Theodahad, but if she had ruled as queen prior to that election, we might expect to find more evidence in the Cassiodoran collection. Certainly Amalasuintha was regina when she raised Theodahad to the throne. Claude’s chronology contains some inconsistencies, however, and should be revisited. Claude rightly accepts Agnellus of Ravenna’s statement that Theodahad was elected king the day after Athalaric’s death, and I shall demonstrate that Agnellus is correct on this point;42 yet if Amalasuintha became regina only upon her son’s death, then we are faced with real difficulties concerning both chronology and legitimacy. For it seems extraordinary that Amalasuintha could have changed her status of regent with the institutionalized title of regina, and then, without consulting the Gothic nobility, immediately elected a new king in the space of one or two days at most, without generating a strong reaction at the palace. It is true that things had changed at the court, that she had by this time got rid of her fiercest enemies,43 and that part of the Gothic nobility close to her was heavily Romanized. But these would have been truly extraordinary actions. If we follow this chronology, we must believe that she took a royal title that had never been recognized by the Goths and then elected without consultation a king to take part in a previously unheard-​ o­ f Gothic co-​­regency, and that she did all this without seeking any formal approval from the Gothic nobility. Such actions needed a consolidated power, such as the queenship. Claude himself was forced to admit, “The question of how Amalasuintha earned her kingdom is nowhere answered. . . . ​The silence of Amalasuintha about the origin of her kingdom could be interpreted as an indication of a degree of uncertainty. Her legitimacy was probably not beyond doubt. The transition from the political leadership as regent to the kingdom does not seem to have been unproblematic.”44 And yet, if Amalasuintha declared herself queen under such conditions, the total silence of our authors about this point when referring to her novel and groundbreaking political activity is indeed strange. Procopius dedicated a few pages of the Gothic War to Amalasuintha’s regency, but he never writes that the first lady of the kingdom proclaimed herself a queen; instead, he points out that Amalasuintha invited Theodahad to the throne.45 Neither of Jordanes’s works makes any reference to it either. In the four Cassiodoran epistles in the names of Amalasuintha as regina and Theodahad as rex an-



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nouncing Theodahad’s elevation to the throne to Justinian and to the Senate, the events of Athalaric’s death and of Theodahad’s election are both mentioned,46 but there is no indication that Amalasuintha’s own status had changed. Apparently she did not even see fit to report to the emperor and to the Roman senators about her “new” position, the very one upon which her authority to elect the new king was based! The speculation that Amalasuintha’s queenship began after the death of her son relies primarily on two passages from the Cassiodoran letters announcing Theodahad’s election to Justinian. Both of these passages, however, need to be reinterpreted. The first is a sentence from the letter in the name of Theodahad to Justinian, in which the newly elected king asks the emperor to approve the election: “Therefore, receive with an affectionate mind also our beginning [of the reign] (primordia) and approve the decision of our lady sister, whom you especially prefer. For if you love me the same way, you will make me in some way equally king.”47 Commenting upon these lines, Pflugk-​­Harttung interpreted the use of the term “primordia” to imply that Amalasuintha’s dominion was something new since the death of Athalaric.48 Claude followed this interpretation, stating that Theodahad meant here that the beginning of Amalasuintha’s kingdom was “synchronous” with his own.49 But this interpretation is unsatisfactory. First of all, the reference to primordia does not signify that Amalasuintha’s reign had just started, nor does it indicate when it began. Rather, it announces the beginning of the reign of Theodahad as her coregent, and the new king is perfectly aware of the limits of his claim in front of Justinian.50 The same word is used in a similar way in the letter-​­panegyric for Amalasuintha dating from the year before, in which Cassiodorus refers to military events going back to the beginning of Amalasuintha’s regency for Athalaric (in ipsis primordiis).51 Second, and more important, primordia here refers only to Theodahad’s reign, and the new king is simply asking the emperor, through the usual royal plural, to support Amalasuintha’s decision to elect him; his hope is that an approval by the emperor would make him a king as beloved as Amalasuintha was as queen. The second passage appears in Amalasuintha’s letter to Justinian announcing Theodahad’s promotion, in which the queen asked the emperor to extend the terms of the peace that she enjoyed, “so that the peace, which is always in your thoughts and which you remember was already conferred to me in a special way, you can further extend in time.”52 Claude interpreted this passage as an indication that while Athalaric was dying, Amalasuintha had

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negotiated with Justinian for a renewal of the foedus upon her son’s death. This may find support from Procopius, who tells us that Amalasuintha consulted the physicians about her son’s health, and that by summer 534 she knew his death was imminent.53 Claude believed that she did this because she expected that it would take months to receive imperial acknowledgment of her new position as queen, though Justinian was basically in favor of confirming her position on the throne.54 But did this unrecorded foedus of the second half of 534 ­really take place? Amalasuintha acknowledged at the beginning of this same letter to Justinian that she purposely delayed informing the emperor of both Athalaric’s death and Theodahad’s promotion. This suggests that no official agreement about her position after Athalaric’s death had ever been made with Justinian.55 In addition, in the same account in which he discusses Amalasuintha’s fear for her son’s illness, Procopius claims that the queen had entered into secret negotiations with Justinian to hand over full control of Italy to the emperor and then retire to the East.56 Yet if this is true, how could Amalasuintha simultaneously negotiate with Justinian both a position that allowed her to stay in Italy and rule and an agreement that allowed her to give up her throne and retire to Constantinople? Here also, the Cassiodoran evidence should be differently interpreted. It seems at least equally plausible that the foedus was not an agreement about her ruling status but rather referred to the privileged conditions of peace that Amalasuintha at that time still enjoyed. This interpretation is supported by the context in the letter. Immediately after the sentence quoted above there is a reference to the concordia that joined the queen to the emperor.57 This peace was perhaps the one granted by Justinian to Amalasuintha a few years earlier, following the war against the Gepids. Consolino recently noted that the rare expression pacem conferre, which is used in this letter with the particular meaning of “to confer the peace,” can otherwise be found in the Variae only in the letter-​­panegyric of the year before. In that case, Cassiodorus, referring to the victory of the Goths against the Gepids, specified that Justinian, although upset by the event, eventually agreed to confer his peace on the kingdom (pacem contulit laesus).58 On this basis, it is more reasonable to explain the quotation above as Amalasuintha asking the emperor to extend the peace that had been granted to her a few years earlier.59 These two passages are the primary basis for the traditional chronology in which Amalasuintha became queen after the death of her son, and yet neither ­really offers evidence that Amalasuintha acquired royal status on the day of Athalaric’s death. We have no evidence that explains how and when she gained



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this power. What is very clear from our sources, however, is that Amalasuintha had the authority to raise Theodahad to the throne. Rather than concentrating on the one-​­day period between Athalaric’s death and Theodahad’s election and talking of a silent “usurpation” for which we have no evidence, we may better understand the royal power of Amalasuintha as a development that occurred during the reign of Theoderic. It was most likely her father who enabled her to use the royal title; this may have happened back in 515, when she married Eutharic,60 or in the last years of Theoderic’s reign, when the king was carefully preparing his succession. As the daughter of Theoderic and the mother of the acknowledged king of Italy, Amalasuintha ruled alone for her son; our sources agree that on her shoulders rested the weight of the kingdom. And it is most likely, as we shall see, that Amalasuintha called herself regina in front of her subjects, while her authority and political power grew during the eight-​­year period of her regency. An analysis of the political lexicon of our sources will help us trace the development of her status and assess her position before Athalaric’s death.

Mater Regens or Regina? Amalasuintha and the Regency Despite the wide use of the term “regina” in Roman literature, fifth-​­and early sixth-​­century authors did not often use the word to designate the wife of the king; indeed, recent statistical studies have demonstrated that the use of the term was infrequent.61 Chancery sources of the late sixth and early seventh century, such as the Epistulae Austrasicae and the correspondence of Gregory the Great, used it on the headings of documents written in the name of queens or addressed to them, but generally it is not to be found in the body of the texts. For example, Gregory the Great generally addressed the Frankish Brunhild, the Lombard Theodelinda, and the Anglo-​­Saxon Bertha as excellentia vestra or gloria vestra in the body of his letters, though all were queens.62 We also find these and other similar forms in the Epistulae Austrasicae. Cassiodorus, following the chancery style, used the title of regina with reference to queens only in the headings of letters written in the name of Amalasuintha and of Theodahad’s wife, Gudeliva. These are among the rare instances in the Variae of letters written in women’s names. And this point has great significance here, because, as we saw above, the question of when Amalasuintha assumed the title of regina has traditionally revolved around the use of the term in Cassiodorus’s letter headings: Amalasuintha appears for the first

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time as regina in the headings of the letters written in her name only after Athalaric’s death.63 Similarly, Gudeliva bears the title of regina only in the headings of the two letters of the Variae in her name, which follow Amalasuintha’s deposition.64 Except for one particular case, which I shall analyze below, in the body of his letters as well as in non-​­chancery documents, such his panegyrics,65 Cassiodorus refers to all Amal royal women, including Amalasuintha, as dominae, even those who were queens in other kingdoms. We see him use this terminology to reference Amalafrida, the former Vandal queen; Queen Gudeliva, wife of Theodahad;66 Amalasuintha, both as regent of Athalaric and coregent of Theodahad;67 and Mathasuintha, Amalasuintha’s daughter and wife of King Witiges.68 This is in keeping with other chancery sources from the fifth and sixth centuries. Cassiodorus did use the term “regina” in references to very ancient figures with whom Amalasuintha is compared; these are Queen Semiramis (a regent mother of the ninth century b.c.), whom he praised for having built the walls of Babylon, and the Queen of Sheba, who came to learn the wisdom of Solomon.69 But while these documents, certainly the second one, were produced when Amalasuintha was regina, Cassiodorus nevertheless still refers to her in them as domina. After his career at the palace was over, Cassiodorus composed the introduction to the Variae, declaring that he had often proclaimed the praises of queens and kings: dixisti . . . ​frequenter reginis ac regibus laudes.70 It is clear that Cassiodorus was referring to his orations for Amalasuintha and Matasuintha, which survive in fragments, as well as to his letter-​­panegyric Variae 11.1, and it is certainly possible that he also wrote pieces for Audefleda and Gudeliva. But when we leave the introduction and turn to the documents themselves, we find that Cassiodorus, singing the praises of the queens, uses the word “domina,” never “regina.” Certainly, any identification of domina as regina in Cassiodorus’s work must be done carefully.71 But if the title of regina for Amalasuintha is not found until late 534, this is most likely due to the lack of letters in her name preceding the loss of her son. Outside the chancery, two authors writing a few decades after the publication of the Variae attributed the title “regina” to the wives of the Merovingian kings with a certain regularity. These are Gregory of Tours in his History and Venantius Fortunatus in his panegyrics and poems. Interestingly, Gregory uses this term for the women who belonged through birth or marriage to the Merovingian dynasty, but he does not grant this title to royal women outside the Frankish world and especially the queens with an Arian creed and/or the



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wives of kings who were enemies of the Franks. (The lack of a royal title for Basina, the mother of Clovis, is perhaps due to the fact that she left her husband, the king of the Thuringians, to marry Childeric well before the Franks’ conversion to Catholicism). Gregory refers to Amalasuintha, whom he despises for her Arianism, as the filia Theudorici regis Italici.72 We could easily speculate that the lack of a royal title for Amalasuintha is due to the fact that in Gregory’s eyes she was technically not a queen. But this is not a satisfactory explanation, because in the same account the author does not use the term “regina” for her Arian mother, Audefleda, Clovis’s sister, nor does he accord it to Ostrogotho Areagni, the wife of the Catholic Burgundian King Sigismund, who for Gregory remains another filia Theudorici regis Italici. Interestingly, in Gregory’s account the second wife of Sigismund also lacks the royal title, as does Theoderic’s niece Amalaberga in the Thuringian kingdom, who was nothing more to Gregory than King Herminafrid’s uxor iniqua atque crudelis.73 Cassiodorus’s letters lack references to two other Gothic queens, Audefleda and Erelieva, respectively, Theoderic’s legitimate wife and royal mother,74 so we lose an opportunity to see how he would have titled them in his letters. However, a letter of Pope Gelasius from the year 495/6 is addressed to Hereleuva regina.75 As in the chancery tradition, the royal title appears only in the heading of the letter, while in the document Erelieva is addressed as sublimitas vestra.76 This is one of the forms that are used a century later by Gregory the Great and in the Epistulae Austrasicae to address queens, as alternatives to excellentia vestra, gloria vestra, pietas vestra, and clementia vestra. While it is theoretically possible that Pope Gelasius simply used this title as a matter of respect, it seems more likely that Erelieva had an honorary queenship, which she possessed by virtue of her son’s kingship rather than through her former position as royal concubine.77 The example of Erelieva indicates that in Gothic Italy a royal woman could be addressed as regina without being married to a king. And it is possible that the kingdom had, for short periods, two royal women bearing the title of queen—​­Audefleda, wife of Theoderic, naturally enough bore the title, but so did Erelieva, Theoderic’s mother, who had never been a regent and was not the wife of a king; rather, she was Theudimer’s concubine. After Theodahad’s election, both Amalasuintha and Gudeliva held the title: the latter became regina on the day of her husband Theodahad’s election or, at the latest, after Amalasuintha’s deposition. This may have been unusual in some of the post-​­Roman kingdoms, but there is certainly a parallel in Frankish Gaul after Clovis. His heirs’ wives were called queens even while Clotilde, his widow,

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kept the royal title and maintained some level of authority. But not until Brunhild in the late sixth century do we find a powerful queen regent in Gaul. Like her paternal grandmother, Erelieva, Amalasuintha was a widowed queen mother. But she was an unusual one, and her royal motherhood played an important role in defining her political power. In both the Getica (probably relying on Cassiodorus’s lost historical work) and the Romana, Jordanes refers to Amalasuintha solely as the mater regens.78 Justinian’s 554 Constitutio Pragmatica, which lacks royal titles for all the Amal kings,79 refers to her as Athalaric’s regia mater: this expression is a unique occurrence in Justinian’s Code, and it is also very rare in the sources; the adjective regia indicates her royal bloodline.80 Jordanes may have been familiar with the Constitutio Pragmatica, which was meant to reorganize Italy after the Gothic war. It was issued about the same time and in the same place Jordanes wrote his two historical works, and in the same milieu in which Procopius completed and published the Gothic War.81 Within a short but complex passage, Jordanes describes in the Romana the events that took place in the palace of Ravenna during the years 526–535: “But in Italy, after King Theoderic had died, by his own order Athalaric his grandson succeeded [him]; although living as a minor for eight years, he was passing the time with his mother Amalasuintha ruling (matre tamen regente). . . . ​After Athalaric died, his mother (mater sua) made Theodahad her cousin part of her kingdom (regni sui participem).”82 Through the use of the participial regens, which is found almost nowhere else in both the Getica and the Romana, Jordanes expresses the strong control that the royal mother exercised in de facto managing the government. Cassiodorus never applies this participle to Amalasuintha, but he states that the mother’s affection rules (matris regnat affectio).83 To indicate the legal guardianship of one of Theoderic’s grandchildren, Jordanes uses the juridical term “tutor” (tutela), as according to the Roman law.84 The use of regens as a substantive for “ruler regent” came into use in late medieval Latin.85 The Greek lexicon expressed the tutorship with the noun “ἐπίτροπος,” which was used to refer to those who took care of the children of the Theodosian dynasty. This word is also used by Procopius.86 Like Jordanes, Procopius describes Amalasuintha as the mother (μήτηρ) who “as guardian (ἐπίτροπος οὖσα) of her child administered the government.”87 Our sources make clear that Amalasuintha was ruling in the name of her son. But the critical point here is that the “regency” itself had never been an institutionalized position. It was not a title used in the empire, though there were numerous examples of strong female figures in the Julio-​­Claudian and Severan dynasties and also women who held



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power directly, like Pulcheria, or regent mothers, such as Justina and Galla Placidia. Nor did the position hold an institutional meaning in the post-​ R ­ oman kingdoms, where regents did not have juridical rights but ruled de facto in an array of situations so diverse that it is often difficult to distinguish between “regency,” “guardianship” and “co-​­ruling.”88 We may also wonder whether, in dealing with the Gothic aristocracy at the palace, Amalasuintha used the corresponding Gothic term for regens and ἐπίτροπος to express her position as regent. As we saw in the introduction to this chapter, the word ragineis translates as “guardian” or “tutor,” and can also be used for “adviser”; and advising was one of the main functions of queens in this period.89 Fluent in Latin, Greek, and her native tongue,90 Amalasuintha was aware of the significance of these words for the two peoples of the kingdom. But it was when her son died and her regency ended that Amalasuintha turned to her most radical experiment, the appointment of her cousin Theodahad as coregent. On what basis could the mother of a dead king create a new political structure if she were not already a queen? In fact, it is in the descriptions of this crucial moment that we find some clues about her status. As soon as Athalaric died, his mother associated Theodahad to her kingdom: participem regni sui faciens. This phrase acknowledges Amalasuintha’s royal status that she already held as regent for her son, on the basis of which she could claim the kingdom at the very moment that her son died. And in the Getica we read that it was Amalasuintha herself who made the decision to raise Theodahad to the throne.91 Cassiodorus’s letters contain the same terminology that Jordanes uses: Amalasuintha had chosen Theodahad as supporter of her regia dignitas, she had taken good care of her kingdom (propria regna), she had made him a partner in her government (consors regni sui), and Theodahad participated in her power (potestatis suae particeps).92 The Book of the Popes confirms that Amalasuintha elected her cousin while she was in possession of the royal title, as does the Eastern author Count Marcellinus when he refers to Amalasuintha as the regina creatrix of Theodahad.93 There is still more evidence that Amalasuintha was regina before the death of her son. In a Cassiodoran letter dating to the beginning of 537, King Witiges reminded Emperor Justinian about the protection that he had granted to “Queen Amalasuintha of divine memory”: divae memoriae Amalasuinthae reginae.94 This is the only time that we find in the text of the Variae the word “regina” applied to an Amal lady. But here this attribution has a specific political meaning. For Cassiodorus claimed that the former queen was entrusted to

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Justinian’s protection, referring here to a diplomatic event that took place around 532/3, which I discuss in Chapter 3. That Amalasuintha was “entrusted” to Justinian as regina is confirmed by the Book of the Popes, while Justinian never acknowledged the co-regency.95 Cassiodorus’s intentional use of the royal title for Amalasuintha in a letter to the emperor almost two years after her death seems rather to indicate that Justinian was aware that her royal title preceded Athalaric’s death. Procopius finally provides us with some insight. In the Gothic War he refers to Amalasuintha as the mother and the guardian of her child. At another point in the narrative, however, he specifies that in a time of difficulties she did not succumb to desperation but rather displayed royal stature (τὸ βασιλικὸν ἀξίωμα);96 and sometime later she raised Theodahad to royal dignity.97 In the Secret History the historian implies that Amalasuintha considered herself a queen before Athalaric’s death, and that this was known at the imperial palace.98 He writes that Theodora was jealous of Amalasuintha because of her beauty and her noble ancestry, and also because she was a “woman” (γυνή) and a “queen” (βασιλίς).99 Once again, the commonly accepted narrative that Amalasuintha won full power and royal title through usurpation on the day of Athalaric’s death seems inaccurate. Procopius’s political lexicon parallels the Latin sources (a point I return to in Chapter 5, where I discuss the representation of Amalasuintha as a Roman empress). For now it is enough to state that Amalasuintha enjoyed a position of power that was groundbreaking for a woman in the Gothic world and also among other post-​­Roman kingdoms, while it was not so unusual in the empire.

Domina Amalasuintha: A Woman in Power in the Gothic World While Amalasuintha’s position as royal regent mother was unusual in the Gothic world, her rulership over a highly Romanized territory and her dwellwhich had been the residence of the last emperors—​ ing in Ravenna—​­ ­facilitated the development of her royal status. Because the “regency” had always entailed a de facto status, not an institutionalized position, and considering the inherent difficulties for a woman to rule over the Goths, Amalasuintha needed the royal title to exercise her government over Italy and to enter into diplomacy with the empire and the other kingdoms. Queenship was the only way for Theoderic to leave to his daughter the power to rule for her son,



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and the need for a “queen” must have been strong under these circumstances. Theoderic’s authority was strong enough to make this solution acceptable to even the most reluctant Goths. Amalasuintha’s position as a woman in power was unique in the post-​ ­Roman courts of her generation, and we have to wait until the late sixth century to find cases in the West that are even partially similar (see the Epilogue). It was not remarkable, however, in the context of the history of the empire, which not long before had known two Augustae, Pulcheria and Aelia Eudocia, respectively the sister and the wife of Theodosius II. Recent cases of virgins and widows active in government on behalf of children included Pulcheria and Galla Placidia. Pulcheria proclaimed herself Augusta on 4 July 414; she was not married and exercised the function of tutor for her younger brother, Theodosius II. Galla Placidia, who is the case par excellence in the Roman West, was Augusta (by virtue of her marriage to Constantius III) when she started to rule for her son. Italy was technically under the jurisdiction of the Theodosian Code; but it is unlikely that Amalasuintha could base her authority over Athalaric and the Goths on imperial laws, like that issued in 390, which empowered a widow to be the legal guardian of her children so long as she did not remarry.100 While this law, referring to the Roman concept of tutela, had a legacy in the Bugundian and Visigothic laws, it is hard to imagine that it was applicable to royal succession at the Gothic court of ­Amalasuintha—​­and still less in later cases of regents in the post-​­Roman kingdoms. Still, with Roman models before her eyes, Amalasuintha created for herself a political role so strong that she was in a position, first after the death of her father and then after the premature loss of her son, to develop new solutions of power, including the exercise of the co-​­regency. At least in the 530s, our sources make it clear that Amalasuintha had the authority to make decisions about the politics of the kingdom, and even to negotiate with Justinian. In late 533, when Athalaric was nearing the age of majority, Cassiodorus praised Amalasuintha as the ruler of the kingdom. Her military policy, which originated from the very beginning of her son’s reign, proved her worthy of her Amal ancestry: “But under this queen (domina), all of whose kindred is royal, with God’s help our army will terrify foreign powers. By prudent and nicely calculated policy, it is neither worn down by continual fighting, nor, again, is it enervated by prolonged peace.”101 These lines caught the attention of Herwig Wolfram, who commented: “Her ancestors . . . ​make Amalasuintha the commander of the Gothic army, indeed a

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Gothic ‘queen of the army.’ Thus after the death of Athalaric in 534 his mother could step forward as queen and rule freely over the kingdom; the enormous increase of her power since 526 had given her all the means for acting so.”102 Only one year later she could devise the consortium regni, which many Goths viewed as the final outrage of an ambitious woman. Amalasuintha’s role in the kingdom is amply attested for the later period. In a praeceptum of Pope Felix IV dated August 530 (one of the years for which the Variae are silent) the pope addressed the two rulers as domini nostri regnantes.103 Cassiodorus does the same by using the expression communes domini in his letter-​­panegyric of late 533,104 and he also makes frequent references to Athalaric and Amalasuintha as domini/regnantes and principes in letters written in 533–534.105 In addition, he highlights the activity of Amalasuintha in the government and her beneficial caritas by putting it in opposition to the passive role of Athalaric: “The king is on holiday, and his mother’s affection holds rule (matris regnat affectio); thereby, she so acts in everything that we may feel the protection of a universal love (generalis caritas). He to whom all things are subject accords this lady a glorious obedience. . . . ​But we must ascribe this wonder to the characters of them both; for such is his mother’s intelligence (genius maternus), whom even a foreign prince should rightfully obey.”106 Jordanes confirms the views of the Cassiodoran letter in the Romana, where he makes a similar statement: “Although living as a minor (pueriliter) for eight years, he was passing the time (degebat) with his mother Amalasuintha ruling.”107 When, in late 534, Theodahad’s promotion was announced, both he and Amalasuintha made reference to this previous time, when she made decisions alone and carried the weight of the kingdom upon her shoulders. Amalasuintha “previously bore the burden of the state in solitary cogitation (solitaria cogitatione)” and “ruled alone (imperavit sola) with her little child.”108 The Eastern sources confirm the active role of Amalasuintha that we understand from the Western authors. Count Marcellinus refers to her as the regina creatrix of Theodahad, while the Constitutio Pragmatica confirms that Amalasuintha, like Athalaric, intervened on behalf of the Romans. In this document her name is associated with her son rather than with Theodahad.109 This is because she had ruled for many years beside Athalaric, while it is unlikely that anything significant was done on behalf of the Romans during the few short weeks of the co-​­regency, which the emperor never approved. In the thirty-​­five years that separate the settling of the Goths in Italy from Amalasuintha’s regency, much had changed at the Gothic court. Amalasuin-



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tha built her position as a female ruler of the kingdom of Italy progressively, responding to the political realities of the Gothic court. She was definitely more than a royal Gothic viduvo (widow);110 she was more than a qens (γυνή), and more than a mother (aiþei, μήτηρ) living at the court.111 She was the “royal mother” (regia mater), the “regent” (ἐπίτροπος, regens), the tutor and the counselor; she was the Gothic ragineis who, as domina regnans and most likely as regina, ruled for her son during the entire length of his reign.

Chapter 2

Amalasuintha at the Palace of Ravenna The Making of a Queen

From her youth, indeed probably from the moment of her birth, Amalasuintha had been an important part of Theoderic’s political plans. Naturally her inevitable future as the wife of a king had been clear since her childhood—​­we may also wonder whether Theoderic dreamed of joining her to the imperial family. But slowly it became apparent that the aging king would have no son, and that Amalasuintha should marry the successor to the Gothic throne. In his plan for her education, the king prepared his daughter to be the future queen of Italy. Amalasuintha’s education was the foundation of her future government and the basis of her political choices. Her marriage was determined by Theoderic’s ambition to reunify the two Gothic peoples (Ostrogoths and Visigoths) under the Amal name and the government of Ravenna. And even if the Romans would ultimately have cause to regret her marriage to the Spanish Amal Eutharic, it still served to restore good relationships between Italy and the empire: Emperor Justin had adopted Eutharic per arma, and the two were consuls for the year 519. Things seemed to be moving in the right direction. It would be Eutharic’s sudden death that threw the succession into crisis, and the final three years of Theoderic’s reign stood in stark contrast to the relative peace Italy had enjoyed for three decades. The king himself, angry and disillusioned with his Roman and imperial relationships, turned to embrace a traditional and conservative Gothic view. He was now an old man; Amalasuintha, a widow with two little children, unexpectedly became once again a central part of his plans. As he lay dying in the palace of Ravenna, Theoderic named his young grandson Athalaric as successor. Perhaps the



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king, in his last days, relived his disappointments of the past—​­including fifteen years earlier his ill-​­fated decision to entrust his other grandson Amalaric in Spain to his armiger. Maybe this explains why, rather than entrusting Athalaric to a member of the Gothic aristocracy, Theoderic took the unusual step of instituting the child’s own mother as regent—​­and likely with the title of regina. The burden of the kingdom now rested on the shoulders of Amalasuintha. While the Goths must have looked at a female regency as an unusual decision, it would have seemed less so to Theoderic, whose own experience as a hostage in Constantinople during his youth had put him in touch with powerful female figures, such as the empress Ariadne (see Chapter 5). Not by coincidence, this woman would represent a significant model for Amalasuintha as a ruling woman and an agent in the transmission of power. And perhaps Theoderic was confident that Amalasuintha was as prepared as it was possible for her to be for such a task. After all, he himself had shaped her education on the Roman model that had so deeply informed his own reign.

Born and Raised on Italic Soil Amalasuintha came into the world sometime between late 494 and 497.1 She was the last daughter of Theoderic, but the only one born and raised in Italy. Her two older stepsisters, Theudigotha and Ostrogotho Areagni, were both born in Moesia to a different mother, perhaps a concubine of Theoderic or (less likely) a wife who later died.2 It is possible that by the time Amalasuintha was born, her stepsisters had already left Italy and were married, Theudigotha to Alaric II, the king of the Visigoths, and Ostrogotho to Sigismund, the son of the king of the Burgundians.3 Amalasuintha was the only child that Theoderic had from Audefleda, sister of Clovis, the king of the Franks.4 Theoderic was almost forty years old when this marriage took place, perhaps around 493/4, during the last stage of his conquest of Italy, or at the latest in 495/6;5 in any case the event took place before Clovis had converted to Catholicism. Through his marriage to Audefleda, the Amal king tied his people to the Franks, thus securing an alliance with this powerful tribe in continental Europe against the Burgundians, whose kingdom lay between the Frankish and Gothic territories. Perhaps it was the Burgundians’ recent aggression against Italy that convinced Theoderic to give his daughter to Sigismund, son of their king Gundobad, in order to calm the situation; through the marriage he did

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achieve the release of six thousand prisoners who had been kidnapped during a raid in the north of the peninsula.6 Even if it was these violent political circumstances that created her parents’ marriage, as a child Amalasuintha was never immersed in the ongoing reality of wars between kingdoms. She was most likely born in the palace of Ravenna, the βασίλεια, which in earlier times had been the residence of most of the last Roman emperors, and which was later home to Odovacer. This palatium had been built in different stages during the fifth century by the emperors of the Theodosian dynasty, and Theoderic further extended and decorated it. He proudly had this building represented on the mosaic in his palace’s chapel, now the basilica of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo. As a member of the Amal family, Amalasuintha had Roman citizenship and the patrician title name of Flavia.7 These privileges had belonged to the family at least since 484, when Emperor Zeno appointed Theoderic consul.8 Indeed, the Amal family was slowly growing to resemble a dynasty in the late imperial style. Amalasuintha belonged to the very first generation of Goths born and raised on Italic soil, and her lifestyle was one that Gothic rulers of previous generations could never have imagined. Unlike her ancestors, she never had to endure the continuous displacements, wandering, and wars that characterized the life of the Goths before they moved to Italy. In earlier times the group led by Theoderic wandered through the Balkans and Thrace, eventually settling in the provinces of Dacia Ripensis and Moesia Inferior, where they made the city of Novae their headquarters.9 When Theoderic finally came to Italy, according to Procopius, “he was followed by the Gothic army, who placed the women and children in their wagons and as many movable goods as they were allowed to take.” The Amal women would follow the convoy except for at the siege of Ravenna, when they remained in Ticinum.10 Ennodius with lofty words describes how the king comforted his frightened mother and sister in the rear guard before the battle of Verona.11 Unlike the older women of the family, such as her grandmother Erelieva and her aunt Amalafrida, Amalasuintha never witnessed clashes between bands of warriors, hiding with women and children in the wagons of the Gothic rear guard, aware of the terrible consequences a defeat would signify.12 She never experienced such a life of peril. Some of the women of Amalasuintha’s family (like Amalafrida, Ostrogotho Areagni, and Amalaberga) encountered Roman culture only as hostages at the court of Constantinople or during Theoderic’s first decade in Ravenna. But this was not the case for Amalasuintha, whose father never had to send her as a hostage to the emperor or to other kings.13 She was the youngest child



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of the family, and perhaps the most privileged. Born and raised in the felicitas Italiae, she was protected under the umbrella of the civilitas, and unlike all her ancestors, she led a life distant from war. At the time of her youth, Theoderic was occupied with diplomacy, and his days were spent developing alliances with other gentes and promoting peace from his palace. His armies were led by his counts, who achieved important victories in the East at Sirmium and at Horreum Margi (504–505), and in the West, where they took Provence from the Burgundians (508). The peaceful atmosphere of Ravenna shaped the early life of Amalasuintha and set her apart from her female ancestors. Her lifestyle at the palace resembled that of a Roman imperial woman, perhaps especially her education. This was the will of her father, on whom Roman culture had a strong impact. The ten years Theoderic spent at the Eastern court in Constantinople strongly influenced his views on government. At the age of seven or eight, his father, Theudimer, had sent him to Leo as a hostage, where he soon distinguished himself and gained the sympathy of the emperor.14 At the palace, he benefited from a literary education provided by the best masters;15 this experience turned out to be crucial in his future kingship. Later he would be granted the most important offices of the Romans: the title of master of the soldiers, the consulship, and the patriciate. Emperor Zeno, with whom he built a strong relationship, eventually gave him his blessing to remove Odovacer and administer Italy on his behalf. Years later, Ennodius would claim that Theoderic’s early time in Constantinople, the womb of civilitas, predicted his brilliant future.16 And Theoderic would remind Emperor Anastasius how his previous experience in Constantinople had been beneficial for the government of Italy. He claimed that the time he had spent at the imperial court was formative, for there he learned how to rule over the Romans with justice, and how, by imitating the empire, he could raise his kingdom above others.17 Strengthened by his experience in Constantinople, as king of Italy Theoderic ensured that grammarians and orators in Rome received their traditional tributes, and Ennodius praised him for having promoted eloquentia and veneranda studia in an obvious contrast to the treacherous times of Odovacer.18 Theoderic’s program of civilitas included the support of Roman culture. A later source reports that the king used to say: “a poor Roman plays the Goth, a rich Goth the Roman” (Romanus miser imitatur Gothum et utilis Gothus imitatur Romanum).19 Whether this is true or not, the fact is that some in his close entourage received an education in Roman style. One of these was his nephew Theodahad, who could afford the privilege of a life far from the

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wars. Theodahad dedicated himself to philosophy and to the study of literature and the Holy Scriptures.20 And Theoderic did not deny this kind of education to the women of his household. His sister Amalaberga and some other princesses of the family, who were raised at the palace and later married to other kings, received an education in literature and manners.21 But it was Amalasuintha who spent about thirty years beside her father at the court of Ravenna, and it was she who benefited from an education in Roman style and experience in many ways reminiscent of Theoderic’s childhood in Constantinople.

An Education in the Roman Style Grammatica and rhetorica stood as the foundation of the traditional education that Theoderic encouraged in his kingdom. Around the year 510, in his pamphlet known as Paraenesis Didascalica, Ennodius celebrated these two disciplines as complementary to the virtues of modesty, chastity, and faith: verecundia, castitas, fides. Intellectuals such as Augustine and Jerome had recommended the cultivation of these virtues to elite Roman ladies, considering them fundamental for the Christian education of women.22 Ennodius’s work was intended for two of his male pupils, Ambrosius and Beatus, who asked him for advice before moving to Rome to complete their studies. Toward the end of the pamphlet, Ennodius recommended teachers for them to follow, providing a list of names: Faustus and Avienus, Festus and Symmachus, Probinus, Cethegus, Boethius, Agapitus, and Probus.23 These were the senators of old distinguished families, who were among the most powerful politicians in Rome at the time; in his efforts to stay connected to the elite and to the cultural circles of the old capital, Ennodius corresponded with many of them. Festus, Cethegus, and Symmachus held the position of head of the Roman Senate (caput senatus). Ennodius dedicated his pamphlet to Symmachus and sent a copy to him.24 The Roman aristocracy was still a vital organ for the administration of Italy and the palace of Ravenna, and Ennodius urged his students: “May the heavenly Providence join you to the obedience of all those whom I have just mentioned.”25 Ennodius recommended men who were not simply teachers of literature and oratory: they were also potential patrons who could introduce their pupils to the world of the Roman aristocracy. At the same time, they were highly esteemed at the royal palace, where some of them had or would hold impor-



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tant offices. They could open the gates to a promising political career in both Rome and Ravenna for their protégés. This was also true of Ambrosius, who became the quaestor of Athalaric in 526/7 and the vicarius of Cassiodorus, the Praetorian prefect, in 533.26 Roman aristocratic women mostly operated behind the scenes in the political world, but they were important for the cultural life of the kingdom, and some were recognized for their learning. Ennodius recommended that his students seek out the most renowned of these women and learn from them. One of them was Barbara, who hosted Beatus as well as other pupils of Ennodius in her Roman house.27 Another was the woman Stephania: Or if it pleases you to go to noble women, you will have the lady Barbara, the flower of Roman genius, who by the evidence of her face reveals the brightness of her blood and her discrimination. In her you will find the modest confidence and the confident modesty that come from good action; a speech so spiced with natural and artificial simplicity that neither does the charm of her address grow cold nor its splendor grow still in the harsh locutions of women; in whom the desire for what is right has so become second nature that even if she wanted to lie she could not commit the error. Her tongue gives the charm of chaste sweetness, nor is cloudiness of thought covered over by a veil of calm, bright speech; this is true of her heart as it is of her speech. May she pardon the one who claims for her the crown of women, which I grudge to her Silence; I should wish that imitation of that be held up as exemplar in all the parts of Italy, so that all women who do not yield to her teachings might at least be transformed by her example (velim illam omnibus Italiae partibus imitationem praeferri, ut quae non adquiescunt monitis formarentur exemplis). There is also Stephania, a most glorious light of the Catholic Church, the day of whose birth glows with a brighter light once you know her manner, much as the sun, the eye of the world, outshines a torch; and if you set aside the rays of her inborn behaviour, nothing will shine together brighter than her ancestry.28 Around the same time, Ennodius sent another letter to Barbara, whom he considered a close friend, encouraging her to leave the old capital for Ravenna to accept an appointment at the court: “I assure myself and my own desires, that the accepted appointment (dignitas) calls you, with your happiness and

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joy to the palatine office (comitatenses excubias), which may satisfy my vows. Do not, my Lady, wish that you be exempted from this work, from this burden. Let the provinces see the goods of the city of Rome, and those [women] who are educated through teachings, may be formed by examples through those good things that God conferred upon you (velim illam omnibus Italiae partibus imitationem praeferri, ut quae non adquiescunt monitis formarentur exemplis).”29 In this letter Ennodius partially repeats a concept that he also expresses in his eulogy of Barbara: an education is not just based on teaching; it finds its natural completion in examples. Barbara was an exemplum of the Roman female aristocracy. Because of her social status, her education, and her place in the cultural circles of the old capital, such a symbolic figure was certainly more than a good educator for aristocratic women. Ennodius’s letter suggests that Barbara was summoned to the palace around 510 or shortly after.30 Surely Barbara was more compatible with the Arian Gothic court than Stephania, the Roman noble lady whom Ennodius praised as “a most glorious light of the Catholic Church.” Obviously Barbara was summoned to the royal palace with a higher position than cubicularia, although she must have been intimately close to the person(s) that she was meant to care for. Assuming that she accepted the position offered to her, it is likely that she was employed to mentor elite Gothic women, and to educate them in grammar, rhetoric, and the virtues cultivated by Roman aristocratic ladies. For whom was she brought to Ravenna? We know that Amalafrida had left Ravenna in 500, while Amalaberga departed around 510–511.31 The most likely candidate is therefore Amalasuintha, who in that year lived at the palace and was also of an age not unsuitable for her to have a tutor. Like all the other imperial and royal family members, including Athalaric, Amalasuintha must have had many teachers, probably males as well as females, in her broad education. Though we do not have direct evidence of her curriculum or her tutors, her high level of education is clear from later documents. The Amal princess had been ruling beside her son for eight years when Cassiodorus in a letter-​­panegyric addressed to the Roman senators praised her intellectual qualities. His long eulogy included, but was not limited to, her knowledge of three languages, Gothic, Latin, and Greek, and of literature: For every realm most properly reveres her. To behold her inspires awe; to hear her discourse, wonder. In what tongue is not her learning proven? She is fluent in the splendour of Greek oratory; she shines in the glory of Roman eloquence; the flow of her ancestral



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speech brings her glory; she surpasses all in their own languages, and is equally wonderful in each. For if it is the part of a wise person to be well acquainted with his native tongue, how should we value the wisdom which retains and faultlessly practices so many kinds of eloquence? Hence, the different races have a great and necessary safeguard, since no one needs an interpreter when addressing the ears of our wise mistress. For the envoy suffers no delay, and the appellant no damage from the slowness of his translator, since each is heard in his own words, and is answered in the speech of his nation. To this is added, as it were a glorious diadem, the priceless knowledge of literature, through which she learns the wisdom of the ancients, and the royal dignity is constantly increased.32 Her fluency in languages was beneficial for diplomacy. Amalasuintha had no need of a translator when she received foreign dignitaries.33 Though it is not specified, she may have been able to understand the Frankish language of her mother, who, like Amalafrida in Africa, probably came to Italy accompanied by an entourage of bodyguards, attendants, and palace women.34 The passage above seems to consider Gothic as a sort of lingua franca among peoples of East Germanic stock—​­the circulation of the Wulfila Bible may also testify in this direction.35 Though Greek was no longer widely known in the West (Theodahad himself does not seem to have known Greek, despite his education in Platonic philosophy),36 it retained a prominent place in the education of elites, and it was desirable for rulers to know it. Theoderic learned Greek in Constantinople and used it in diplomatic relations with the emperors during his more than thirty years in the East, and later as king of Italy. He likely made sure that his daughter learned the language of the emperors. Cassiodorus’s claim about Amalasuintha’s knowledge of Greek oratory also fits with the queen’s strong interest in the imperial and Byzantine models that I explore in Chapter 5. Amalasuintha’s skill in languages was accompanied by composure, discretion, diplomacy, and other virtues, one of them being restraint. She was a wise ruler, capable of handling the secrets of the palace: “But, although she rejoices in such linguistic perfection, she is so silent in public business (in actu publico sic tacita est) that you would think her indolent. She unties the knots of litigation by a few words; she quietly calms heated conflicts; she acts in silence for the public good (silentiose geritur publicum bonum). You do not hear proclaimed the measures which are openly adopted; and, with wonderful restraint

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(temperamento mirabili), she transacts by stealth what she knows must be done in haste.”37 These are the same praises that Cassiodorus repeats one year later when eulogizing Amalasuintha in the name of Theodahad: Who could sufficiently explain with such piety, such authority of customs she is adorned? . . . ​She is acute in examining problems, but she is authoritative and extremely measured in her speech (ad loquendum summa moderatione gravissima). With no doubt this is a royal virtue: to think more quickly what is necessary, and more slowly, to break out in words. Indeed, one does not know how to say regrettable things, who entrusts to his own examination the things that he will later declare publicly. Hence it is that her admirable learning is expanded through the large richness of the knowledge of multiple languages of her, whose intellect is found so prepared even at a moment’s notice, that it does not seem mortal. . . . ​In a few words an immense meaning is encompassed, and with great ease is formulated what is not expressed even through a long reflection. Happy is the State that is glorified by the government of such a ruler.38 Among her many virtues, Cassiodorus acknowledges Amalasuintha’s gravitas, and also her moderatio, a quality that he also attributes to Empress Theodora.39 All these virtues were necessary for those closest to the king, as the Roman and the Gothic courtiers Cyprianus and Tuluin had been to Theoderic.40 For rulers, these qualities were not just desirable, they were indispensable; and both panegyrists and historians highlighted them. Sidonius Apollinaris attributed them to the Visigothic king Theoderic II: “Meanwhile deputations from various people are introduced, and he listens to a great deal of talk, but replies briefly, postponing business which he intends to consider, speeding that which is to be promptly settled.”41 Jordanes, abridging Cassiodorus, described King Walamer as “a good keeper of secrets, bland of speech and skilled in wiles.”42 And, to quote a closer example, in Ennodius’s praises of Theoderic we read: “Without speaking, his expression is enough alone to promise the ambassadors either a beautiful peace, if it is calm, or a war, if it is frightful. So many qualities are encompassed in you that—​­if they were distributed one to every man—​­it would be enough to make everyone perfect.”43 The language used to praise Amalasuintha as regent is the same language used to praise other acknowledged rulers, both male and female. The



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virtues of a good ruler that Amalasuintha embodied in her public persona were the ideal result of the model of female education for Roman elite women. Ennodius emphasized them in his eulogy of Barbara, when he praised her simplicity and clarity of speech.44 About sixty years later, Gregory of Tours would attribute similar qualities to Brunhild as wife of Sigibert: “virtuous and well­-­behaved, wise in her advice and pleasant in her address.”45 The Roman education and lifestyle that Theoderic promoted at his court in Ravenna strongly influenced Amalasuintha’s political activity. Fundamentally pro-​­Roman herself, Amalasuintha also placed great store in the Roman educational model and chose it for her son. Procopius tells us that she attempted to educate Athalaric as a Roman prince by having him schooled by a grammarian and surrounding him with wise elders. He suggests that the conservative Goths at the palace opposed her plans.46 That she did in fact desire a Roman education for her son seems even more likely when we consider that she gave exactly that kind of education to her daughter, Matasuintha. A fragment of a Cassiodoran panegyric from 537 celebrating Queen Matasuintha suggests her education in the Roman model: Therefore gather here, O most honorable sisters, in the chambers of the court; come here accompanied by the supreme beauty that can adorn you. First let divine chastity (castitas) train the brow, then rosy modesty (verecundia) color the cheeks, moderate temperance (temperantia) cheer up the look of the bright eyes, gentle pity (pietas) rule over the noble heart, honored wisdom (sapientia) bestow speech to the tongue (sermonem linguae), quiet modesty (modestia) compose god-​­fearing (religiosos) steps. Such a cortege of deference deserves to have she, who could be discovered the descendant of so many kings.47 The virtues that are emphasized here mirror far more than the model of education eulogized by Ennodius in his pamphlet. They recur in panegyrical literature, but they also accord with those virtues of the Christian model of education that Pelagius, Augustine, and Jerome had recommended a century earlier to the women of the Anician family.48 From Roman circles, the study of grammar and the cultivation of Christian virtues penetrated the palace of Ravenna; here they became part of the culture of those few wealthy Goths who benefited from the privilege of a Romanized education. While ruling for Athalaric, Amalasuintha not only endeavored to give her

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children a Roman education, she also guaranteed that the schools of the old capital received support. In late 533 she ensured payments to the Roman teachers, who had not been regularly remunerated. The letter is in Athalaric’s name but, as in other cases, it represents Amalasuintha’s will, and it clearly expresses her thoughts: Now recently . . . ​I came to know by discreet report from various people, that the teachers of eloquence at Rome are not receiving the constituted rewards for their labours, and that the trafficking of certain men has caused the sums assigned to the masters of the schools to be diminished. . . . ​For the school of grammar has primacy: it is the fairest foundation of learning, the glorious mother of eloquence. . . . ​ Grammar is the mistress of words, the embellisher of the human race; through the practice of the noble reading of ancient authors, she helps us, we know, by her counsels. . . . ​Therefore, fathers of the Senate, with God’s approval, I enjoin on you this duty, this authority: a succeeding professor in the school of liberal studies, whether the grammarian, the rhetorician, or the teacher of law, shall receive from those responsible, without any diminution, the income of his predecessor. . . . ​For, if I bestow my wealth on actors for the pleasure of the people, and men who are not thought so essential are meticulously paid, how much more should payment be made without delay to those through whom good morals are advanced, and the talent of eloquence is nurtured to serve my palace! 49 This letter reflects those views about education that Amalasuintha shared with Theoderic. After all, it was Theoderic who had guaranteed these subsidies, and Amalasuintha here followed in the footsteps of her father, who had regularly supported grammatici, oratores, medici, and iurisperiti.50 The enthusiastic tone with which grammatica and rhetorica are exalted is reminiscent of Ennodius’s eulogy of higher education. Amalasuintha had experienced at first hand the importance of grammar and oratory for the palace. The schools of Rome incubated the younger generation, and the most skilled youths educated in Rome and in a few other places would later be summoned to the court to take up the most important appointments in the administration and palatine bureaucracy. Roman education distinguished the kingdom of Italy from the kingdoms of the other peoples, and Theoderic made this a point upon which to claim his supremacy.51



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When in late 534 Amalasuintha raised Theodahad to the throne, she did so with another reference to Roman culture, celebrating her cousin for his Platonic virtues and for his knowledge of literature.52 This was not entirely a lie, considering Theodahad’s interest in philosophy; in Cassiodorus’s words, he was nourished at the breast of Rome.53 Such a representation was also in line with Amalasuintha’s wish to commemorate her father as a purple-​­clad philosopher in late 533: “To the master of the state, you [i.e., Cassiodorus] acted as a household judge, and a private courtier. For, when free from public business, he asked you to recount the opinions of the wise, so that he might compare his own deeds with those of antiquity. The courses of the stars, the gulfs of the sea, the marvels of springs were investigated by this shrewd enquirer, so that, by diligent scrutiny of the natural world, he might seem a kind of purple-​­clad philosopher (purpuratus philosophus).”54 This image of Theoderic reflected Amalasuintha’s ideals, and perhaps also her wishes for Athalaric; but it was Amalasuintha herself whom Cassiodorus represented as the one whose firmness of mind “surpasses even the most famous philosophers,” because “from her mouth issue words of goodwill, and promises that can be trusted.”55 The Platonic Theodahad would celebrate her as model for the philosophers: “Certainly the philosophers would ­really learn new things, if they saw [her] and if they would acknowledge how much more inferior are the contents of their books, to the things they could understand [that are] ascribed to her.”56 Returning to the question of Amalasuintha’s youth and education, we should consider the circumstances under which Barbara was summoned to the palace, probably as a mentor, around 510. This choice took place at a troubled moment for the dynasty. Audefleda was probably alive in 506/7, when Ennodius in his panegyric warmly wished that Theoderic would receive a male heir soon, a sacer parvolus who would play on his lap.57 But it seems likely that the queen died shortly afterward. There is no reference to her in the Variae (the earliest of which date to circa 507), and she probably died shortly after 508. This is speculative, because Audefleda’s death is not recorded by any of our authors, and we do not know how she died. We have only the story of Gregory of Tours, who claims that Amalasuintha killed her own mother, but we have no reason to seriously entertain his version (particularly since he claims that all this happened after the death of Theoderic!).58 But what we do know is that in 510 Theoderic was in his late fifties and still without a direct heir. It is reasonable to think that at this point the king, who after he was widowed never remarried, had given up the idea of a son, and that he changed his strategy for a successor.

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While Theoderic was searching for the right husband for his daughter, Amalasuintha was at a formative age. At this point Theoderic probably did not have a precise plan about how to regulate his succession. But Amalasuintha was now the best candidate to be the future queen of Italy and to govern over the Romans (especially considering the reservations that Theoderic had about Theodahad, which I discuss later). An education was not just desirable; it was indispensable for Theoderic’s daughter. Barbara belonged to the crème de la crème of the female aristocracy of the old capital, and given her political and cultural connections with the senatorial environment, she was the ideal figure to bring to the palace. Not only was she an exemplary instructor of grammar and of manners (as Ennodius claims), she was also the right person to prepare Amalasuintha for the female world of power, including politics and diplomacy. Amalasuintha benefited from a much higher level of education than Amalafrida and Amalaberga, whose instruction, as I discuss later, was functional to the queenship and who were trained to offer their husbands wisdom and advice.59 For Amalasuintha, Roman culture had become a necessity for her future role in the government. Indeed, after his Frankish wife died, Theoderic had to rely on her, his only still-​­unmarried daughter, in order to provide Italy with an Amal heir. Now more than ever, Amalasuintha had become her father’s biggest treasure.

Promising Unions: Amalasuintha’s Marriage and Theoderic’s Dreams By the time Amalasuintha was nearing the age of twenty, she was the only legitimate child of Theoderic living in Italy, and also the only daughter who had not yet been given in marriage. In order to guarantee succession to his throne, Theoderic could not let her leave Italy to marry another king. He needed to keep her close to him. Theoretically, he could have arranged a marriage with a scion of one of the Gothic aristocratic families in Ravenna, or perhaps with his own nephew Theodahad, who was an Amal. But for a series of dynastic and expansionistic reasons, Theoderic never embraced these options, nor did he seriously consider Theodahad.60 Rather, he searched for Amalasuintha’s husband outside his palace and even outside Italy. While evaluating the various options, he “discovered” a branch of the Amal family in Visigothic Spain. We read in Jordanes that Theoderic learned



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that Eutharic Cilliga was living in the kingdom of Amalaric. Apparently an Amal of Spain, he was the son of Veteric, the grandson of the Amal Beremud and the great-​­grandson of Thorismuth.61 No matter whether this suspicious Amal ancestry was real, or whether it was made up by Theoderic for dynastic reasons, this kinship could guarantee the continuation of the Amal dynasty in Italy, while facilitating acceptance of an external heir by the emperor and also by the Goths. The propaganda on this ancestry was strong to the point that Cassiodorus would celebrate Thorismuth and his father Hunimund as Amalasuintha’s direct ancestors in his letter-​­panegyric—​­probably drawing on his Gothic History.62 The arrangements Theoderic made for Amalasuintha’s betrothal were very unlike those he had made previously for his other daughters. Instead of sending Amalasuintha to Spain, in 515 Theoderic invited her chosen spouse to come to Italy: “[Theoderic] sent for him and gave him his daughter Amalasuintha in marriage,” writes Jordanes.63 Cassiodorus listed this event in his Chronicle,64 and he eulogized Eutharic in his lost History as an Amal descendant in possession of the qualities necessary for a military leader and a Gothic king. Jordanes relied upon this History when he wrote of these needed qualities in his Getica: “a descendant of the race of the Amals (Amalorum) . . . ​a young man strong (pollentem) in wisdom (prudentia) and valor (virtute) and health of body.”65 Cassiodorus would later use this same combination of qualities to celebrate Theodahad as the ideal ruler for both Romans and Goths: “I have had many wise men (prudentes viros), but none of such might (pollentem) in learning and piety. I love the Amal (Hamalum) . . . ​the brave man (virum fortem) . . . ​dear to the Romans for his wisdom (prudentia), revered for his valor (gentibus virtute) by the tribes.”66 According to this (Cassiodoran) representation, Amal heritage combined with prudentia et virtus was the formula for rule over the Romans and Goths. This was an important aspect of the propaganda of the kingdom, and in a letter in Theoderic’s name dating years earlier we read about the Goths: “They have always maintained a praiseworthy mean, since they have acquired the wisdom of the Romans (Romanorum prudentia), and have inherited the valor of the peoples (virtutem gentium).”67 Because of the lineage of both Amalaric and Eutharic, Theoderic’s relationship with Visigothic Spain had become stronger. Jordanes, revealing once again the perspective of Cassiodorus’s lost work, makes clear how great Theoderic’s expectations were of this marriage: “Eutharic married Amalasuintha, the daughter of Theoderic, thus uniting again the stock of the Amals which had divided long ago.”68 Theoderic was probably planning to put an end to

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the generational division of the two Gothic peoples, Ostrogoths and Visigoths. Indeed, Amalaric, the son of Theudigotha and orphan of his father Alaric II since 507, was too young to rule when in 511 he succeeded to the Visigothic throne. The political scenario behind this event is particularly complex. The battle of Vouillé (near Poitiers) in the late summer of 507 brought the death of Alaric II, and his throne was seized by his illegitimate son, Gesalic. In addition, the Visigothic kingdom lost the regions of Toulouse and Aquitaine, which became part of Clovis’s territory. One year later Theoderic took Provence from the Burgundians. The king was concerned at the increasing power of the Franks,69 and he was also worried about the support that Anastasius was giving to this Catholic tribe. In fact, in 507/8 the emperor attempted to damage the Ostrogothic kingdom by raiding the southern Italian coast with his fleet, and in 508 he granted extraordinary honors to Clovis.70 Theoderic’s reaction was resolute: he strengthened his friendship with the Thuringians, who were enemies of the Franks, by marrying his niece Amalaberga to their king, Herminafrid (510/11). In addition, in 511 he intervened in Spain, where he overthrew Gesalic in favor of his grandchild Amalaric.71 This action proved to be fundamental, and Theoderic counted this year as the beginning of his rule over Spain as tutor for Amalaric.72 Theoderic had created an opening for a reunification under the Amal crown of the two Gothic peoples, who had been divided for almost a century and a half; it is not a coincidence that in his lost History Cassiodorus counted 511 as the two-​­thousandth year of Gothic history.73 Amalasuintha’s marriage to a highly ranked member of the Gothic nobility in Spain facilitated the process for the reunification of the two Gothic peoples. Importantly, this happened in Italy and under the Amal name; and it is not a coincidence that in sections of the Getica deriving from Cassiodorus, the nobility of the Balths is secondary to that of the Amals.74 In the meantime, to facilitate his control over Spain, Theoderic had entrusted Amalaric to the guardianship of Theudis, who was his armiger. It does not seem coincidental that Theudis was sent to Spain at the same time as Eutharic came to Italy, and it is possible that among Theudis’s duties was to keep Amalaric under control.75 The examples of the Ostrogoth Theudis in Spain and the Amal Eutharic in Italy suggest that Theoderic had planned the reunification in the interest of his people, in particular of the Amal family. Had his plan worked, the result could have been the control of the entire northwestern Mediterranean world under the same ruler, with its center in Italy: Spain and



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southern Gaul, Raetia, Noricum, and the western part of Illyricum, including Dalmatia and Pannonia. A reunification of Ostrogoths and Visigoths could further develop into an expansion over the former Western Roman Empire, including the territories of the Vandals and the Burgundians, and also the area between the Rhine and the Danube.76 And the Franks as well as the empire would feel the pressure of this strong Gothic coalition. Simply said, the marriage of Eutharic and Amalasuintha offered far more than a guarantee of succession; it laid the foundation for a glorious political scenario in which the Amal family’s power would be dramatically extended. Jordanes claimed that Eutharic was young, but Cassiodorus’s remark that Eutharic was “almost equal in age” to Justin means that he was the same age as both the emperor and Theoderic (both were born in the 450s).77 I wonder, together with Wood, whether Eutharic was ­really meant to be Theoderic’s heir, or just the father of a Gothic successor.78 Perhaps Theoderic hoped at that time to live long enough to leave his realm to his yet-​­unborn grandson, as Emperor Leo, his former friend in the East, had tried unsuccessfully to do with his little grandchild Leo II (the son of his daughter Ariadne and Zeno, the emperor who would later support Theoderic). The long-​­awaited heir finally came the year after the wedding. In 516 ­Athalaric—​­(aþal + *rika) “the noble king” or “the one who had power over the nobles”—​­was born as the first child of the new royal couple, to the great joy of Theoderic. The appropriate name for the son of Amalasuintha and Eutharic would have probably been Amalaric: the “powerful Amal.” But this name had already been given, probably for strategic reasons, to Theoderic’s Visigothic grandson, born in 502 but not yet king and still under Theoderic’s tutorship.79 Shortly afterward, around 518, followed the birth of a girl, Matasuintha.80 By this point Theoderic had two more royal grandsons in Amalaric and Sigeric, the children of his two daughters Theudigotha and Ostrogotho Areagni.81 Both of them were heirs to the thrones in their countries, respectively Visigothic Spain and the Burgundian kingdom. Theoderic’s farsighted matrimonial policy was bearing fruit, insofar as his alliances had generated heirs with roots in the Amal family. And even if, paradoxically, his own kingdom was still lacking an adult descendant, things seemed finally to have taken the desired turn in Italy too. As the wife of the Amal of Spain and as the mother of Theoderic’s long-​ ­awaited Italic heir, Amalasuintha had fully stepped into her father’s succession plan as the future queen of Italy—​­and perhaps even of an Ostrogothic-​ ­Visigothic unified kingdom.

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The Collapse of Theoderic’s Best-​­Laid Plans Theoderic was striving to endear his Spanish son-​­in-​­law to both the Gothic aristocracy and the Romans, in an effort to prepare him for eventual succession or guardianship in the event that Theoderic died before Athalaric reached the age of majority. He began pushing Justin for an acknowledgment of the heir, and he succeeded in having Eutharic adopted per arma by the emperor. This was the honor that Theoderic himself had received from Zeno forty years earlier. The adoption of Eutharic satisfied a common “desire for concord”82 at the same time as the thirty-​­five-​­year religious conflict between Italy and the empire, the Acacian Schism, was coming to an end. Eutharic was also granted Roman citizenship, the title of vir clarissimus, and the name of Flavius, the royal honors of the Amal family to which he belonged.83 In 518 Justin gave his consent to the most prestigious honor of the consulship,84 and he himself stood as consul together with Eutharic, so that both their names were permanently tied in the Fasti Consulares as the Eastern and Western consuls of the year 519.85 All these were important privileges, considering that the consulship previously granted by Anastasius to King Clovis was only an honorary one. Here we encounter an interesting but obscure area that is worthy of a short digression. We know that Emperor Anastasius had granted the patrician title to Clovis as well in 508, soon after the battle of Vouillé.86 Ten years later, shortly before he died, the emperor also raised the Burgundian Sigismund to patrician rank, and this king may have held the place of master of the soldiers per Gallias in the name of the emperor.87 These were not isolated cases. Previous emperors had granted the patriciate to barbarian kings in their wish to consolidate alliances: Anthemius to the Burgundian king Chilperic II in 468, Olybrius to Gundobad in 472–474, Zeno to Theoderic; even Odovacer may have obtained the patriciate from Zeno.88 But now that Anastasius had passed away and Justin was on the throne, the Burgundian king, who felt squeezed between the two Gothic kingdoms and the Franks, was probably unhappy with the events unfolding between Italy and Spain, and Ravenna and Constantinople. An inscription from this kingdom dating to 519 does not include Eutharic’s consulship.89 “In a world where Roman title counted,” writes Wood, “one might wonder whether Eutharic’s consulship was specifically intended by Theoderic to trump Sigismund’s position as magister militum, granted by the emperor three years earlier.”90 The subsequent murder in 522



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by Sigismund of his own son, who was no less than Theoderic’s grandson, could be a symptom of this tension.91 Eutharic’s consulship was such an extraordinary event that it was celebrated in great style in both capitals of the kingdom. To honor the special occasion, Eutharic commissioned Cassiodorus to write the Chronicle. Cassiodorus did so, chronicling Roman history from the foundation of the city to Eutharic’s consulship and the royal marriage, and he dedicated this work to the new prince.92 In addition, on the same occasion he proclaimed a panegyric before the senators. Only a few fragments remain of this work, which the author called to mind years later in a letter addressed to the Roman Senate for his promotion to the Praetorian prefecture: “Furthermore, with what loyal eloquence did he proclaim the father of my clemency [Eutharic] in the very Senate-​­House of Liberty! You remember how that noble orator extolled his deeds, showing his virtues to be more wonderful than his honors. I can prove my words to the hilt.”93 In this letter of 533, Cassiodorus, writing in the name of Athalaric, praises his own accomplishments at the court. But it was Amalasuintha who had elevated him to Praetorian prefect, and Cassiodorus acknowledged this in his letter-​­panegyric of the same year.94 It is not unlikely that Amalasuintha was part of the audience that witnessed Cassiodorus’s eulogies in the Senate House. Athalaric at that time was barely three years old, and Amalasuintha may well have accompanied her husband to Rome, where she spent at least part of the year 519, on perhaps her second visit to the old ­capital—​­in 500, when she was a little child, Theoderic had sojourned in Rome for almost six months, and apparently his sister Amalafrida was also there.95 Cassiodorus saw that the Romans were expecting with great enthusiasm the arrival of Prince Eutharic for the celebrations of his consulship.96 On 1 January 519, donations of different kinds and concessions of honors followed, together with games in a magnificent style: In this year Rome saw many marvels in individual exhibitions, even Symmachus, the legate from the East, was amazed at the riches granted to Goths and Romans. He [Eutharic] gave honours to the Senate. In shows in the amphitheatres he displayed wild beasts of various sorts which the present age marveled at for their novelty. And for his spectacles, Africa in its devotion sent over the choicest of delights as well. And so, everywhere was filled with his high praise, and he was so firmly fixed in such a great love of the Roman citizens that when he returned to the sight of his glorious father at

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Ravenna, they still desired his presence. And there, with the exhibitions repeated, he showered such great gifts on Goths and Romans that he alone was able to surpass the consulship which he had celebrated at Rome.97 The Eastern legate Symmachus was not the only envoy of Justin who attended the ceremony. For another legate, Gratus, had arrived in Rome on 20 December 518, carrying to the pope some letters in the name of the emperor about the unity of the churches.98 All these events together must have given the impression that Theoderic’s golden rule over Italy had been renewed. The exotic animals, which astonished the Romans, and the delights sent from Africa were likely the presents of Theoderic’s sister Amalafrida and her husband Thrasamund to honor this event. These gifts also had a political significance for both kingdoms, considering that the relationship between Gothic Italy and Vandal Africa had recently undergone a period of turbulence (discussed in the next section). The processus consularis, in its customary form as a triumphal parade, was part of the celebrations, which included donations by the new consul entering the office: all this was exceptionally repeated in Ravenna in the presence of Theoderic.99 The whole series of auspicious events, first and foremost the addition to the Amal family of two children, including a male heir, must have signified happy days not only for Theoderic and Amalasuintha but for the whole kingdom. Her Roman education combined with her long experience at the palace at her father’s side had made of Amalasuintha a well-​­trained future queen of Italy. The learned Amal princess was now supporting her Spanish husband with advice, as her royal position required.100 From the evidence it is clear that Theoderic, through far-​­sighted, attentive diplomacy, was working to have Eutharic granted those privileges that many years earlier he himself had received in Constantinople, on the basis of which he had claimed his legitimacy to rule Italy. Eutharic was the only Goth in Italy who ever obtained the consulship; he was following in the footsteps of his father-​­in-​­law. These honors strengthened his position juridically, and he was the named heir.101 If Theoderic died before his grandson reached majority, he wanted his son-​­in-​­law to be equipped with the same claims that he himself had used to assert power over Italy: as ruler of the Gothic army and as a patrician with an imperial mandate. The legitimation of Eutharic was nearly complete, and Cassiodorus in his panegyric may have addressed the new prince as a sort of coregent of Theoderic, recommending that he follow his father-​­in-​



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­law’s advice.102 He also addressed him as dominus noster and vir gloriosus, perhaps signifying that he, like many other senators, became vir illustris and patrician soon after receiving his consulship.103 But whether he had obtained patrician rank is uncertain. Theoderic’s plan was likely that his son-​­in-​­law would take care of the kingdom of Italy for the young Athalaric, acting as the representative of the emperor as vice patrician in the West. Eutharic’s noble origins and his military qualities (he may have played a role in an expedition in Gaul)104 mirrored the ambitions of Theoderic and made him acceptable to the Ostrogothic aristocracy. Roman titles and Theoderic’s support were not enough, however, to transform this Spanish Goth into the ruler the kingdom needed. Italy was by far the most complex portion of the former Western Empire, and ruling over it involved far more than simply guaranteeing justice between Romans and Goths, and peace between Catholics and Arians. Italy was a country of cities, most of which were still populated, and it was of particular importance to the emperor. Italy also meant Rome, the old capital that hosted a thousand-​­year-​­old Senate and the church, both of which were products of a history of power struggle and internal conflict, and these were anything but peripheral in the kingdom. Since his arrival in Italy, Theoderic himself had had to face a host of issues that were particularly Roman and Italian; the Laurentian schism in 498–500 was just one of many. The lack of experience Eutharic had in ruling over such a complex world was clear from the beginning. His representation as a man embodying wisdom, his expensive games and the triumphal ceremonies for his entrance in the consulship, his granting of honours to Roman senators: all these were strategic moves devised by Theoderic to endear him to the Romans, and Cassiodorus had praised them accordingly. But this was not enough to allow Eutharic to conquer the hearts of the Romans. His image would soon be compromised in that same year, 519, or early in 520,105 when he was involved in ending a riot in Ravenna. Our only account of this episode comes from a later anonymous author, who, describing the events of the 520s, expresses a hostile view of Theoderic, representing him as a tyrant and a persecutor of the Catholics.106 The Catholics of the capital had attacked the Jewish community, accusing them of disrespecting Catholic rituals, and had burned the synagogues.107 Situations like these were not unusual in Italy, but they required a degree of experience and refined political skill.108 On this particular occasion, the angry Roman Catholics of Ravenna did not show any respect for the king, or Eutharic, or Peter, the bishop of the capital.109 Theoderic was in Verona at the time, dealing

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with threats of an external attack, probably by the Franks.110 A group of Jews came to him as a delegation to report the events in Ravenna. They met Triwila, Theoderic’s “provost of the sacred bedchamber” (praepositus sacri cubiculi), who soon brought word of the Jews’ plight to the king’s attention.111 Theoderic ordered Eutharic to intervene, proclaiming “the whole Roman population should furnish money for the rebuilding of the synagogues of Ravenna which had been burned; and that those who did not have anything to give should be whipped through the streets of the city while a herald made a proclamation of their offence.”112 Theoderic’s order was followed, and the punishments prescribed by his Edict concerning arson were duly applied.113 Though Eutharic’s actions were ordered by Theoderic, the events in Ravenna were enough to compromise his image as prince and heir to the throne in the eyes of the Romans and the clergy. Although he had been at the palace for only a brief time, Eutharic was already labelled as “an excessively rough man, and an enemy to the Catholic faith.”114 We may wonder whether a few years later, when Cassiodorus introduced Athalaric as king, his words recalled the previous misunderstandings between the Romans and his father, who was intended to be a “foreign heir”: “If a foreign heir of the kingdom had overtaken you, you could perhaps doubt whether the follower out of jealousy would not love those people whom the previous [king] had loved.”115 Of course, this statement may also apply to the other potential heirs among Theoderic’s grandchildren, such as Amalaric. The effect of these events on the image of the Amal house may have had their legacy in the representation of Amalasuintha by Gregory of Tours. His fabricated account can hardly be considered historical evidence: Amalasuintha did not disobey Theoderic when he (rather than Audefleda) arranged her marriage with a person “of equal rank with herself from a royal family.”116 It is interesting, however, that Gregory describes the daughter of Theoderic as an Arian heretic who escaped to another town with her lover, a servus named Traguila. This person should likely be identified with the above-​­mentioned Triwila, the king’s provost of the sacred bedchamber, who followed him to Verona; his position allowed him an intimacy with the royal family that could have prompted Gregory’s accusation of an affair with the king’s daughter.117 Since both Triwila, Amalasuintha’s alleged lover, and Eutharic, her husband, played the most important roles in the punishment of the Christians of Ravenna, we may wonder whether this story cemented the image of Amalasuintha as an anti-​­Catholic par excellence in the tradition of Gregory of Tours.118 Shortly after the events at Ravenna, sometime between 522 and 523, Eu-



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tharic died of causes that are unknown to us. Strangely, none of our authors thought that the event was worthy of report; Jordanes and Procopius briefly mention his death, but only in retrospect and while referring to later events. Cassiodorus in the History of the Goths, which he completed about a decade later, may even have been silent on this event, whose impact on the Amal family was bad.119 Eutharic’s death may have been a relief to many Roman Catholics, but it plunged the Gothic court into chaos. The ambitious plans Theoderic cherished for his son-​­in-​­law had collapsed, and his goal of integrating the two Gothic peoples was lost.120 The king was by now almost seventy years old, and once again without an adult heir. His thirty years of planning to ensure a successor to the throne had resulted in a widow with a five-​­year-​­old boy and a three-​­year-​­old girl. Theoderic now had to change his strategy again. He decided to rely once more, and this time in an even stronger way, on his daughter Amalasuintha. Whether or not she already held the title of regina formally, he now opened the gates of royal power to her. Over the years Amalasuintha had gained political experience and developed the capacity to rule. Living beside her father in the stimulating court environment of Ravenna, and through her seven-​­year marriage to the designated heir of the kingdom, she had silently entered the world of politics and diplomacy. Her enviable level of education and her experience at the palace had made her a bicultural figure: she was both Gothic and Roman in her way of thought and action. The combination of these elements made her, though a woman, a candidate uniquely suited to a position of power that was new to the Gothic world.

Tragedies and Tension at the Palace In the three or four years that separate the death of Eutharic from that of Theoderic, Ostrogothic Italy experienced a dramatic decline after thirty years of political and diplomatic success.121 Most of the matrimonial alliances and diplomacy which Theoderic had built since the late 480s/early 490s, and which had made his kingdom a protagonist in continental Europe and in the western Mediterranean world, were compromised within a short period. The disappearance at the moment of Eutharic’s death (ca. 522) of Theoderic’s long-​­held plans to unify the two Gothic peoples was only the beginning. In 522, Theoderic’s grandson Sigeric was assassinated by order of his own father, Sigismund, as Gregory of Tours and Marius of Avenches relate.122 The

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Catholic Burgundian king was trying to establish an alliance with Justin against the Goths and the Franks. His Amal wife, Theoderic’s daughter Ostrogotho Areagni, had died some time earlier, and he was now remarried with two children.123 According to Gregory of Tours, it was Sigismund’s new wife who encouraged him to murder his own child by claiming that Sigeric was planning to remove him and ultimately to expand his kingdom into Italy.124 Of course, Gregory’s tales are often fantastical, and it is difficult if not sometimes impossible to separate fact from fiction in his account. But if any thread of truth runs through the lines of this story, we may wonder whether Sigeric was at this point Theoderic’s backup plan for succession, and whether in 523, when the Amal king sent his army with the Goth Tuluin on an expedition against the Burgundians, one of Theoderic’s intentions was vengeance for the murder of his grandson.125 Tuluin seems to have fought against Sigismund on the side of the Franks of Chlodomer in order to protect the interest of the Gothic kingdom. However, Chlodomer’s expedition ended with its defeat in 524 at Vézeronce, where the king died. On 6 May 523 the Vandal king Thrasamund also died. His successor, Hilderic, who was none other than the son of Eudocia and grandson of Valentinian III, restored Catholicism in Africa, which until then had been persecuted. After the death in 511 of Gesalic, who had sought help from the Vandals, the increasing power of Theoderic over Visigothic Spain may have started a process of deterioration of the relationships between the Vandal and the Ostrogothic kingdoms.126 As soon as Thrasamund died, Amalafrida was no longer a guarantee of good relationships between Italy and Africa. The queen escaped to Capsa, where she tried to get help from the Moors, enemies of the Vandals who in previous years had defeated Thrasamund.127 Under the pretext that she and the Goths around her were conspiring against the new kingdom, Hilderic massacred her following of noble Goths and imprisoned the queen; she died sometime in 526.128 This horrible, unexpected news must have brought Theoderic close to panic. For strategic reasons he decided not to start a war against the Vandals, but he did order the building of a fleet.129 This may have upset both the empire and the Vandals, who were at this point on good terms with each other, though they failed to intimidate Theoderic: “The Greeks do not have any reason to argue with us, nor the Africans to despise us.”130 It was because of his initial intention to face the Vandals, or perhaps to contain the threat of the Franks, that Theoderic in 525/6 ordered his Praetorian prefect, Abundantius, to provide supplies and ships for the archers led by the saio Tata, who had been sent to reinforce the Gothic army commanded by



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Count Wiliarius.131 Only shortly afterward, at the beginning of Athalaric’s reign, Cassiodorus received a military command for the protection of the coasts.132 In Spain things were not going well either. Theoderic’s other grandson, Amalaric, was still under the guardianship of Theudis, who over the years had increased his level of power to the point that he was practically ruling himself, against Theoderic’s will.133 The dream of a reunification of the two Gothic peoples was now over, and Theoderic was progressively losing control over the Visigothic kingdom. While the situation in external politics was becoming more and more bleak, things in Italy took an even more complicated turn shortly after Eutharic’s death. Radical changes in the Mediterranean and European political landscape, together with the death of the presumptive heir to the kingdom, may have given Justin a pretext to reconsider his approval of Theoderic’s succession; supporting a new heir may have not been in Justin’s plans. We know that in 524–525 two men from two of the most illustrious families of Rome, Boethius and his father-​­in-​­law, Symmachus, were executed. These men had reached the peak of their prestige in 522, when the two sons of Boethius became consuls.134 As was traditional, the event was celebrated with circus games and triumphal parades, organized in grand style by Boethius himself, who also thanked Theoderic in the Senate House with a panegyric.135 A few months later Boethius was appointed master of the offices for the following year. Once in Ravenna, however, he found himself entangled in accusations of conspiracy against Theoderic. Members of the king’s entourage had accused Albinus of corresponding with Emperor Justin to conspire against the king, acting, they alleged, on behalf of the Senate. Barnish has intriguingly speculated that “the letter of Albinus to the east concerned the possible regency or succession of Theodahad, and the libertas Romana allegedly hoped for by Boethius involved a senatorial share in the choice of Rome’s ruler.”136 It is certain that Boethius defended Albinus and the Roman Senate, and eventually the accusation fell upon him too. Theoderic trusted the accusers, strongly relying on his entourage. Boethius was first imprisoned and then, in the following year, executed.137 While it remains unclear how much truth there was in the allegations against Albinus, this story took place at a time when waves of tragic news from the other kings were reaching Italy. The Roman senators employed at the palace were informed of the changes in the international scenario, and as the master of the offices, it was Boethius who introduced the king to the legates bearing all this news.138 The international role of the Gothic kingdom was

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weakening, and it is possible that some senators thought to take advantage of the situation, looking to the empire as the alternative. The affair of Albinus had put the whole Senate at risk of an accusation en masse; shortly before his death, Boethius claimed that the king desired “the common ruin” of the senators.139 At first, Theoderic did not regret his decision to have Boethius killed; a short time later he also ordered the execution of Symmachus, who was the head of the Senate.140 Then Theoderic compelled Pope John I to accompany some senators to Constantinople. According to the Anonymus Valesianus, the pope was sent to ask Justin to allow the Arians to profess their religion, while in the Book of the Popes we read that the king wanted the confiscated churches, including those in the East, to be restored to the Arians. When the emperor issued the law that deprived the mostly Gothic Arians of their religious freedom, he may have been motivated in part by a desire for retaliation for the affair of Albinus and Boethius. There were still many Gothic Arians who were living in the East, and Theoderic was concerned for their rights. The pope’s mission failed on this particular issue, however, and as soon as he returned, he and the other members of the embassy were put in prison. John I died a short time later.141 This series of events largely compromised the strong relationship that had stood between Theoderic, the Roman Senate, and the church for thirty years. Cassiodorus had replaced Boethius as the master of the offices, and some of the letters of the Variae that he wrote during the years of his appointment, 523–526, shed a little light on these critical period at the palace of Ravenna. Prestigious appointments that were traditionally held by members of the Roman Senate were now granted instead to Boethius’s enemies; these were the people Theoderic kept closer in those years. Among the men whose careers especially benefited were two pairs of brothers, Opilio and Cyprianus, and Decoratus and Honoratus. They were appointed to key offices, such as quaestor of the palace and count of the Sacred Largesses, and Theoderic praised them for their merits and honored their friendship, which he held very dear.142 When promoting Honoratus to quaestor in late 524, Theoderic, addressing the Roman senators, memorialized Decoratus, the candidate’s brother who had preceded him in the office but had recently died. Among the deeds Theoderic recalled was Decoratus’s participation in a famous trial where he defended a patrician whose name is purposely not specified: was this perhaps Albinus or Boethius?143 Great eulogies were also made for the promotion of Cyprianus to the



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office of count of the Sacred Largesses that same year.144 On this occasion the king referenced the great trust he had in this collaborator, with whom he used to ride horses and share private conversations.145 In addition, Cyprianus had participated in several military operations, was able to speak Gothic, and had provided his sons with a military education and knowledge of the Gothic language.146 Courtiers like these molded themselves to the expectations of their rulers. An enormous social and cultural gap separated them from the members of the senatorial elite, such as Albinus, Boethius, and Symmachus. In fact, Cyprianus and his friends are the exact same courtiers whom Boethius blamed in the apologia of the Consolatio as improbi and flagitiosi, while accusing the king of having them rewarded for their crimes rather than punishing them.147 The growing relationships of Theoderic with these courtiers during the years 523–526 show that the king’s trust in the Roman Senate had reached its lowest point, and that only a few Roman families were now close to the court. Theoderic’s distrust of the Senate and the Roman Church created immense internal problems inside the Gothic kingdom at the same time as the king’s external political relationships were crumbling and tensions with the empire increasing. Adding to this chaos were the extremely limited possibilities of finding an Amal adult male who could rule over the Goths in Italy. Theoderic did not consider handing his throne to Amalaric, his grandson who was the heir apparent to the Visigothic throne, and who by now was of age to rule. It had been Eutharic who, through his son Athalaric, was meant to reunify the Gothic people. Theoderic also had never even considered his adult nephew, the greedy Theodahad, as a potential tutor for Athalaric, much less as an heir and successor. During these difficult, turbulent years, Amalasuintha was living in the palace at Ravenna. She was at the palace when embassy after embassy arrived, bringing bad news and a growing sense of isolation from the other kingdoms; she was a witness to Theoderic’s break with the senatorial class and the Roman clergy, and to the executions the king ordered. She must have experienced all the stress these situations provoked, and she must have been closely watching her father’s politics of succession.

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Protecting the Heir On his deathbed, Theoderic designated as heir to his throne his grandson Athalaric, who was at that time barely ten years old, if not even younger.148 In a way he was repeating the procedure followed in 474 by his own father, Theudimer, who, when his death was imminent, had called together his Goths to announce the succession of his son.149 At this time the Ostrogoths seem to have followed the principle of transmission of royal power to the oldest direct legitimate male descendant. But this did not preclude a possible claim by Theodahad, the son of Amalafrida and at that time the only adult male of the family. Although his father’s identity remains a mystery, his direct descent from Theudimer made him a good candidate. However, Theoderic had managed to keep him as far as possible from his palace and from his army. As in the other kingdoms, patrilineal descent was desirable but not indispensable. Examples from the Vandal, Burgundian, Visigothic and Frankish kingdoms show the ways in which fifth-​­and sixth-​­century kings were experimenting with new political solutions in matters of succession. There were no established rules on this matter, and in each state things were handled differently.150 Pagan polygamy or polygyny, children from concubines, multiple sons: all these factors complicated legitimacy and succession, and very often there was more than one heir on the throne. This had happened, for example, in Gaul in 511 with the four descendants of Clovis, and recently in 524 at the death of Chlodomer. In the Frankish realm the succession was uneasy between brothers and their many children, and the kingdom was divided among heirs.151 In the Burgundian kingdom we know that Sigismund held the title of rex starting around 505, during the lifetime of his father Gundobad, and the Burgundians may have originally followed agnatic seniority.152 The Vandals, beginning with Geiseric, regularly used agnatic seniority. According to Procopius, this king on his deathbed hoped that the Hasdings, his family, would maintain their rule over the Vandals, and he gave specific directions. This is considered by Victor of Vita also as his constitutio or “testament”:153 “The royal power among them should always fall to that one who was the first in the years among all the male offspring descended from Geiseric himself.”154 Jordanes also tells us about Geiseric’s last will, and though his version is less reliable—​­suggesting as it does a pacific view of the Vandal court—​­it offers a portrait of the Vandal idea of right succession: “Before his death he summoned the band of his sons and ordained that there should be



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no strife among them because of desire for the kingdom, but that each should reign in his own rank and order as he survived the others; that is, the next younger should succeed his elder brother, and he in turn should be followed by his junior. By giving heed to this command they ruled their kingdom in happiness for the space of many years and were not disgraced by civil war, as is usual among other nations; one after the other receiving the kingdom and ruling the people in peace.”155 Despite Jordanes’s words, in matters of succession the Vandal kingdom had a history of violence going back at least a century. In 428 Geiseric had arranged to have the wife and two children of his half brother (Gunderic) murdered after his death, probably in order to avoid a regency of the children and their mother, and thus their future claims to the throne.156 This bloody legacy was transmitted to his descendants, despite Geiseric’s clear instructions for the succession (discussed above). The eldest of his three sons, Huneric, took power and eliminated his brother Theoderic, together with his children.157 Huneric badly mutilated his first wife, the daughter of the Visigothic king Theoderic, and sent her back to Gaul under the suspicion that she was conspiring against him.158 The reasons for such a monstrous act may have been political: later he married Eudocia, Valentinian III’s daughter, who bore him Hilderic, and this probably facilitated the legitimation of his rule over Africa. Later, in 523, as we have seen, Amalafrida was accused of conspiring against Hilderic and imprisoned; she was not given the chance to return to Italy or stay as queen mother (in a Cassiodoran letter addressed to the Vandal king, the Gothic rulers complained: “you did not tolerate that she, whom you had as former queen, lived as a private person [.] . . . ​[S]he should have been sent back to us with honor. . . . ​[S]he should have been regarded as a mother, she who transmitted the kingdom to you.”).159 Neither her close kinship with Theoderic nor the fact that she had no children from Thrasamund to claim the Vandal throne could save her life. It is obvious that in this grim reality queens often paid the ultimate price: of the five royal women of the Vandal kingdom whose fates we know, three were murdered, another was sent back to her country mutilated, and one was able to escape from the kingdom years later.160 Gaul too had recently experienced similar tragedies. Queen Clotilde had intervened on behalf of her sons with Theoderic about the division of the kingdom. She also made efforts to protect her grandchildren, but these proved futile in face of the jealousy of her sons. When in 524 King Chlodomer died, she could not save her grandsons from their uncles, Chlothar and Childebert, who had them murdered. The third grandson would have been killed as well,

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had viri fortes (likely the aristocrats closest to Chlodomer) not intervened and helped him retire to a monastery.161 Last but not least, the Roman Empire itself had a rich history of usurpations, including recent examples in the East with which Theoderic was familiar, like Basiliscus and Zeno. In Ravenna, Theoderic wanted to prevent any risk of a coup d’état and to protect his grandson and daughter’s lives from situations of violence like these, which had taken the lives, in his family, of Amalafrida in Africa as well as Sigeric in the Burgundian kingdom. His desire for his crown to become dynastic was not unusual in the larger context of the post-​­Roman kingdoms. Italy, however, had the opposite problem from the other kingdoms. In Spain, Africa, and Gaul, too many potential heirs led to fratricide and sometimes to war, but in Italy there was simply no appropriate heir of an age to rule. Athalaric was far too young to govern over the Goths and the Romans, and Theoderic needed to build a general consent around his grandson and ensure that his family would be protected. Knowing very well that the acceptance of his heir rested with the Gothic aristocracy, and that things would go badly without the support of the nobility,162 he tried to stabilize the succession by winning to his cause the aristocratic Goths, his comites (probably similar to the viri fortes close to Chlodomer in Gaul), as Jordanes states in abridging Cassiodorus: “When he had reached old age and knew that he should soon depart this life, he called together the Gothic counts and chieftains of his people (Gothos comites gentisque suae primates) and appointed Athalaric as king. He was a boy scarcely ten years old, the son of his daughter Amalasuintha, and he had lost his father Eutharic. As though uttering his last will and testament Theoderic adjured and commanded them (in mandatis ac si testamentali voce denuntians) to honor their king.”163 Jordanes’s account is confirmed by the Cassiodoran letters, in which we read that on his deathbed Theoderic asked the Goths who were closest to him for an official oath to recognize his grandson as his legitimate successor, and that the Romans were also asked to support this choice. The whole thing happened very quickly. Gothic nobles (proceres) followed this last order (even if we have doubts about the enthusiasm that Cassiodorus claims), and little Athalaric was raised to the throne of Italy.164 Theoderic, the greatest hero of Gothic history, passed away on Sunday, 30 August 526, after a fifty-​­two-​­year reign.165 The counts whom Theoderic hoped would support his grandchild were his old friends, and they were also commanders of the Gothic army in



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important cities and in the provinces of the kingdom; people like Tuluin, Osuin, and Sigismer, who had distinguished themselves on the battlefield, or at the palace, or in the administration of the provinces.166 In addition there was the vir illustris Wiliarius, who from 523 to 527 held the office of count of the patrimony (comitiva patrimonii). This was an isolated case in Ostrogothic Italy, as this position was normally entrusted to Romans.167 It is reasonable to assume, however, that as he lay dying, the king’s strongest hopes were placed in Amalasuintha, who by now was thirty. She was Theoderic’s only daughter still alive, and the widow of the man who had been designated heir to the throne. Of the entire Amal family, she was the only one left who had an education and deep experience at the palace, and the time to exercise the experience in politics and diplomacy that she had gained over the years on the side of her father had arrived. Amalasuintha inherited a monumental task. She was entrusted with the guardianship of her son, the rex puer. She was to provide him with maternal love and educate him to be the king of Goths and Romans, all the while keeping the situation at the court under control. Her role as tutor compelled her to take care of the affairs of the kingdom in Athalaric’s name, and to manage foreign diplomacy. Theoderic gave specific directions about his daughter’s position in his will in order to maintain stability in the kingdom. His solution would have been unimaginable among the other tribes, including in the Frankish kingdom of the heirs of Clovis, when Queen Clotilde was still alive. But the Gothic court had been influenced by the recent past of Italy and of the empire. Galla Placidia’s regency for Valentinian III in Ravenna could have served as a model for the transmission of power, but perhaps the most likely exemplar would have been Ariadne with her child Leo II at the court of Constantinople, where Theoderic had spent part of his life.168 A functioning regent, and the sole representative of the Amal family for the remaining years of the king’s minority, Amalasuintha was by now regina in her actions, and probably also in her title.169

A Widow and a Rex Puer: The Beginning of the Regency Immediate action was necessary after Theoderic’s death to develop support for his unusual succession plan, which left his widowed daughter and her minor son now poised to take control of the Ostrogothic kingdom. As we have seen, Theoderic’s last order to the Goths directed them to respect their king, the Senate and the people of Rome, and first and foremost the emperor. The

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Gothic counts heeded these wishes, as Jordanes wrote: “[The Goths] keeping this order fully in all matters as long as Athalaric and his mother lived, [scil. Athalaric and Amalasuintha] ruled in peace for almost eight years.”170 That Jordanes’s short account probably relied here upon Cassiodorus’s History seems confirmed by the Cassiodoran collection. Book 8 of the Variae begins with a list of letters announcing the election and requiring an oath of fidelity to the provisions of Theoderic’s last will. The addressees are the emperor, the Roman Senate, and the people of Rome, but also the Romans in Italy and Dalmatia, the Goths in Italy, the patrician Liberius in Gaul, and the provincials in Gaul.171 The letter to the Roman Senate was delivered by an embassy led by the Gothic count Sigismer, an illustris who, through an oath of loyalty, reassured the senators about the preservation of their old privileges by the new monarchy.172 At the same time, a request for prayers for the safety of the kingdom and the harmony of the provincials was forwarded to the bishop Victorinus.173 Cassiodorus carefully introduced the new king to the senators; in a letter in Athalaric’s name a few years later referring to himself he wrote: “His unaided arguments delighted all men; and, by investing purple praises with his hearer, he made you welcome my rule. He who softens and appeases the heights of royal power by his orations commends his race, for another of your number will be supposed a man of similar character, from whom like services may be requested.”174 But oaths of loyalty and reassurances of privilege were not enough to establish the new rule. The new monarchy of the rex puer needed validation on many different levels. First, the new king needed the acknowledgment of the emperor to endorse his rule. Athalaric’s reign was officially announced to Justin,175 but unlike the letters communicating the event to the people of the kingdom, the letter to the emperor does not refer to Theoderic’s death. Was the emperor already aware of the events occurring in the kingdom? Was the letter sent to the East with some reasonable delay, once things at the palace were settled? The main goal of the rex puer was now to obtain friendship and peace from Justin, and possibly adoption per arma. He based his request for the recognition of his rule on the juridical position of his deceased father: But, as it is the glory of your piety to cherish those whose fathers you loved[,] . . . ​[y]ou exalted my grandfather [Theoderic] in your city to the Consul’s ivory chair; in Italy you distinguished my father [Eutharic] with the Consul’s robe of office. And, through desire for concord, he was adopted as your son by arms (factus est per arma



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filius), although he was almost your equal in age. The name of son, which you bestowed on my elders, you will grant more fittingly to a lad. Your love should now take up a father’s role; for, by the laws of nature, the offspring of your son cannot be held an alien to you. And therefore, I seek peace not as a stranger, but as close kindred, since you gave me a grandson’s favour when you bestowed on my father the joy of adoption.176 Eutharic’s death a few years earlier had reopened the succession question. The events of the years 524–​­526 had compromised any chance for a dialogue between Theoderic and Justin about an acknowledgment in Constantinople of any new heir of the Ostrogothic kingdom. Now Athalaric appealed to the emperor, asking for his blessing. Following directions probably given by Amalasuintha, Cassiodorus implored Justin in the name of the child king to leave aside old grudges and to forget what had happened in the recent past: “Let hatreds be shut up with men entombed (odia cum sepultis). May anger perish with the violent (ira . . . ​cum protervis); affection should not die with those held dear, but you should treat with the greater goodwill one who cannot be blamed for his kingdom’s quarrels.”177 The “hatred” and the “anger” of recent years had shaken the relationships between empire and kingdom. The unspecified disagreements referenced in the letter may have been connected with the affair of Albinus, who had been accused of corresponding secretly with Justin and therefore causing the executions of Boethius and later Symmachus, and also the vicissitudes of Pope John I, who had failed to convince the emperor to be tolerant of Arianism.178 Cryptic words such as sepulti and protervi may have indicated both the executioner and the victims, although it is unlikely that Amalasuintha would have described her father as a violent man, a protervus. The recent past was such a delicate matter that it was difficult for Cassiodorus to make any specific references at all. It was well known in the East that Theoderic had left the kingdom in distress. No matter which imperial example inspired Theoderic to leave Athalaric’s tutorship to his daughter, Amalasuintha needed support. Nowhere in the Empire or in late antique Italy, and even less in the other kingdoms, could a woman hold ruling power as commander in chief. From a juridical point of view, the Italic kingdom needed a patrician who could rule over Italy as master of the soldiers and as the representative of the emperor. Like Galla Placidia a century before her, Amalasuintha as a woman could not hold this position.179 Athalaric was too young to lead the army, and the supreme command

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of the exercitus Gothorum was vacant. In an unusual development, Tuluin, a Goth who was a proven military leader and the husband of an Amal woman, was appointed patrician-​­in-​­waiting: patricius praesentalis.180 This was originally a late Roman office, which had become progressively barbarized. Theoderic himself had received this title and rank from the emperor many years earlier; he had marched to Italy as patricius praesentalis but abolished this office in 493, when he was proclaimed king of Italy by his troops, or at the latest in 497, after being recognized as king by the emperor.181 The vice patriciate in the West was practically restored, and Tuluin was most likely the first Gothic member of the Senate after Theoderic and Eutharic. With Tuluin’s appointment, this patriciate became detached from the Gothic kingship. Tuluin’s promotion, as stated in the Cassiodoran letter announcing it to the Roman senators, had been devised in everybody’s interest.182 This was probably one of Theoderic’s last decisions, and although his solution followed the late Roman imperial trend, it seems likely that he did not consult the emperor, who in normal circumstances conferred the title of patrician upon kings and military leaders.183 Tuluin had become over the years a most intimate friend of Theoderic. From the Cassiodoran letters we understand that he belonged to a noble family, that he was particularly close to the palace, in which he had served since his youth, and that he had a brilliant military past. The esteem of Theoderic for him had increased after his return in 504/5 from the war against Sirmium.184 Subsequently he was sent to Gaul twice, in 508 as dux, and again in 523/4, this time to protect the interests of the Gothic kingdom in the war between Burgundians and Franks.185 For all these reasons, he had over the years gained the full trust of the king, who had married him to a woman of the Amal family.186 The wedding, which may have taken place after Eutharic’s death, was meant to ensure more stability at the palace of Ravenna once Theoderic had died, and to consolidate the power of the Amal family by strengthening Athalaric’s position in this time of uncertainty. Theoderic had kept Tuluin close, and he may have trained him in diplomacy and government. As his adviser, Tuluin discussed with the king the promotion of Roman senators to the most important appointments or titles.187 This had probably been one of the privileges of Eutharic (he had been granted honors in the Senate House in 519) when Theoderic was preparing him for eventual rulership.188 Theoderic’s expectations that Tuluin would not abuse his power or take advantage of the weakness of the kingdom were high. In his appointment letter in Athalaric’s name, Cassiodorus referenced the example of Gensimund, a celebrity of the past who had been



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adopted “in arms” (per arma) and had become part of the Amal family. Despite his powerful position, Gensimund had never accepted the position of king but had rather taken care to preserve with devotion the royal title of the legitimate heirs, who were at that time children.189 Through his decision to give royal rank to Amalasuintha, and through his support of Tuluin, Theoderic had prepared his succession in the years between 522/3 and 526. Theoderic, however, had to create a situation in which a highly ranked Goth, even a trusted one like Tuluin, was not granted so much power that he could ultimately usurp the crown from the Amal family line. After all, this was not the first time Theoderic had provided a grandson with a tutor, and in the past the solution had ended very badly for the Amal family. As we have seen, in 511 in Spain Amalaric had been entrusted with the guardianship of Theudis, Theoderic’s armiger.190 But Theudis, rather than acting as tutor for Amalaric191 and limiting his activity to the command of the army, had over the years practically become the ruler of the Visigoths. Procopius reports that he married a wealthy woman and that from his estate “he raised about two thousand soldiers and surrounded himself with a force of spearmen.” The historian also tells us, “While in name [Theudis] ruled the Goths with Theoderic’s permission, he was in fact an out-​­and-​­out usurper.”192 Theoderic was technically in charge of the tutorship of his young grandson (tutelam gerens),193 and he may have planned to remove Theudis from power. But at this point things were not easy to change.194 Theudis, already de facto ruler of Spain before Theoderic died, probably supported Amalaric’s elevation to the throne in 526, and, going against the wishes of Theoderic, may even have been acting behind the scenes to support him in the years after Eutharic’s death.195 Theoderic had to accept the situation, but he was determined not to repeat this mistake in his own planned succession. Perhaps learning from this experience in Spain, Theoderic made sure that the vice patrician and master of the soldiers who would be appointed after his death would not also be Athalaric’s tutor. In this way Tuluin’s power was not unlimited. The rex puer remained under the care of his mother Amalasuintha who, as mater regens, was much more than a tutor. Such a solution prevented the concentration of power in the hands of the patrician and the master of the soldiers, and it reduced the risk of unpleasant situations such as those that occurred during the fifth century under principes pueri, as well as the very recent situation in Spain. The date of Theoderic’s death, 30 August, happened also to be the very day when the appointments for the following year were generally announced.

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Given the complexities, it seems very likely that before his death the king indicated the candidates to be appointed to the most significant offices for the year 527, the fifth indiction, in order to best create a situation where Athalaric’s position could succeed. That some of the Romans promoted in 527 were choices well suited to Amalasuintha’s wishes may signify that she had a voice in appointing Romans to administrative offices, or that Theoderic had selected them to help her. The scholar Arator was given the position of count of the private purse (comes rerum privatarum),196 apparently becoming a sort of consiliarius of Tuluin. In his letter of promotion, Arator’s erudition is represented as a necessary complement to Tuluin’s martial prowess (according to the formula virtus Gothorum and prudentia Romanorum): “I judge necessary business to be perfect and completed if, even as I have provided for the military section of the state (armatae rei publicae parti providimus) by selecting the magnificent Patrician [Tuluin], so I take thought to associate with him a man of the highest skill in letters.”197 Arator’s role at the palace is also specified in the conclusive statement of the letter, in the admonishment of the ruler: “You must realize my opinion of your merits, when you see yourself linked to the counsels of one who handles the secrets of my empire (qui nostri inperii tractat arcanum). . . . ​You see that great affairs are entrusted to you: whatever you do affects the public. For he who has the opportunity to sin against all men wins great glory if he is incapable of transgression.”198 Beside Arator, who seems to have been count of domestics when he was promoted to count of the private purse, there was also Ambrosius, former count of the private purse, who became quaestor of the palace, replacing (probably) Honoratus, who was removed for having offended the court.199 Interestingly, both Ambrosius and Arator were former pupils of Ennodius. But while Ambrosius was connected to Roman circles, Arator instead had studied in Milan and then been brought to the palace.200 Theoderic’s appointments for the year 527 provided Amalasuintha and Athalaric with the strong support they needed. But one year later, the successors had to start making choices. At this point the leaders of the Gothic aristocracy at the palace, the counts who had just recognized Athalaric as king, started to exercise their influence. For the sixth indiction, September 527–­August 528, Fidelis replaced Ambrosius as quaestor of the palace, while Avienus, the son of Faustus (former leader of the pro-​­Gothic faction of the Senate), became Praetorian prefect and replaced Abundantius, who had been close to Theoderic in the last years of his reign.201 In addition, as in the years 524–526, Roman courtiers who had been enemies of Boethius were promoted



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to the most prestigious appointments. Cyprianus was raised to the rank of patrician and promoted to master of the offices. His brother Opilio was promoted to count of the Sacred Largesses,202 and on this occasion he was eulogized for having faithfully supported the new king in the difficult beginning of his reign, when disturbances broke out in Liguria.203 This situation clearly recalls the previous promotion of Honoratus, who a few years earlier had succeeded his brother Decoratus as quaestor.204 Opilio’s letter of appointment is in large part based on the activity of his brother Cyprianus, who had preceded him in the office and who is praised again on this occasion. As in the eulogy of Decoratus, the cryptic and ambiguous expressions in the letter of appointment for Opilio probably hide allusions to what happened at the palace a few years before. Here we read the term “delator,” which is not to be found elsewhere in the Variae, but which Boethius had widely used in the Consolatio against courtiers like Cyprianus, Decoratus, Opilio, and also Basilius, who was bound to Opilio by familial ties. Opilio’s brother, Cyprianus, is remembered as “a man of most authority, or proved integrity, one who under such a prince [i.e., Theoderic] obeyed without fault.”205 In the name of the child king, Cassiodorus, who at that time was still the master of the offices,206 eulogized the faithfulness of these people to Theoderic, and he cleared them from Boethius’s main accusations: avaritia, cupiditas, perfidia.207 The relationships between these Romans at the court, and their ties with the senatorial families, were certainly far more complex than we can determine from the prosopographic evidence. What we can state is that the employment at the court of some of the most ferocious enemies of Boethius indicates the maintenance by the Gothic aristocracy of the direction taken by Theoderic in the last years of his reign. No matter how many precautions Theoderic had adopted to guarantee a smooth succession of the Amal family, Amalasuintha had inherited a poisonous situation at the palace of Ravenna, and she had to face what Amory calls the “individual reactions to ideology” of the palace.208 The hatred against Amalasuintha soon rose to such a level that she would not have been likely to survive those difficult years without the shield of royal status, and later the protection of the emperor.209

Chapter 3

A Regent with Imperial Ambitions

Theoderic’s careful plans did not protect Amalasuintha from the intolerance of the most conservative Goths at the palace, those with whom Theoderic had surrounded himself during the final years of his reign, as he fell into near-​­total distrust of the Senate, the church, and the empire, as well as the other kingdoms. These courtiers were not content with much of the policy of the civilitas, and they had limited tolerance for a Romanized monarchy, which made it difficult for Amalasuintha to exercise her functions as regent. The memory of their Theoderic, conqueror of Odovacer and creator of the prosperous kingdom of Italy, was not enough to make many Goths tolerate rule by his daughter. Still accustomed to the traditional figure of the Gothic qens, they did not accept that a woman could exercise such a degree of power and make decisions for them—​­and this qens had never even been the wife of a king. Amalasuintha was certainly a new kind of ruler, and unlike her father she never lost her admiration for the Romans. On the contrary, she encouraged the program of civilitas, and she was sympathetic to the victims of Theoderic’s final years; soon she would help their families to recover. Rebuilding relationships with the Roman elite, both senatorial and ecclesiastical, was an urgent necessity for the new queen, together with reestablishing a strong relationship with the empire and facing the expectations of the Gothic aristocracy. All these difficult, sometimes contradictory tasks were pressing and essential, and Amalasuintha inherited them as a woman in a Gothic court, which offered no precedents upon which she could build her authority. This is the context in which she began ruling for her little son. As a regent, Amalasuintha had to maintain, and sometimes construct, a delicate balance of diplomatic relationships that were occasionally extremely volatile, especially as Ostrogothic Italy became increasingly of interest to



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Justinian’s expansionistic plans. Amalasuintha used all the tools at her disposal to maintain her kingdom’s strength in the face of the empire, the Senate, and the Catholic Church.

Friend of the Emperor: Amalasuintha “Entrusted” to Justinian King Athalaric inherited a relationship between Italy and the empire that had been badly damaged during the last years of Theoderic’s reign. From the very beginning, the child king begged Justin to forget the past and start afresh. In a Cassiodoran letter to Justin, he asked the emperor for his friendship: “Accord me your friendship (amicitiam) on those agreements, those terms which your glorious predecessors are known to have had with the lord my grandfather, of divine memory.”1 With this request, Athalaric aimed to revive the strong relationship Italy and the empire had enjoyed in better times. He sought pax and amicitia from Justin as a natural extension of the old agreements between kingdom and empire. The early friendship between Theoderic and Zeno served as a foundation for rebuilding the relationship between Ravenna and Constantinople.2 Theoderic had become “friend” (amicus, φίλος) of the emperor at least a decade before he moved to Italy.3 And the king clearly understood the value of this friendship. At the end of his life, according to Jordanes (who was probably drawing here from Cassiodorus’s lost Gothic History), Theoderic commanded his counts “to honor their king, to love the Senate and Roman People and to make sure of the peace and goodwill (habere propitium) of the Emperor of the East, as next after God.”4 As his successor, Athalaric also sought affectus, which would affirm the imperial approval of his position, stabilizing the peace.5 This affection, Athalaric proclaimed, would create a bond that would not only support Athalaric’s reign but also ultimately help the emperor keep his influence in Italy: “To me, it matters more than my lordship to have the goodwill (habere propitium) of so great a ruler. May, then, the first days of my reign deserve the help of an aged prince; let my boyhood procure the guardianship of your favour (pueritia tuitionem gratiae consequatur); and I who am sustained by such a protection (tali protectione) will not be wholly bereft of kin. Let my realm be tied to you by the bonds of gratitude (gratiae). You will reign more effectively in a region where you sway all things by love.”6 Given Athalaric’s youth, it is clear that behind the requests to the emperor in his name were Amalasuintha and the royal advisers. Unfortunately,

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we do not know the reaction of Justin to this request of late 526, because shortly after, on 1 August 527, just eleven months after Theoderic’s death, the emperor died, and Justinian succeeded to the imperial throne.7 He was Justin’s nephew and had been his closest adviser, if not a sort of coregent. Though Justinian appeared to be following in the diplomatic footsteps of his uncle, Amalasuintha nevertheless prudently took steps to renew the friendship with the empire. How and when this renewal was achieved is difficult to say with certainty. By 533/4 a formal relationship was articulated in the commendatio in which Amalasuintha entrusted her kingdom to Justinian as a protector. But our sources do not tell us, at least not directly, what the relationship was like between kingdom and empire in the period from Athalaric’s assumption of the throne to the commendatio, and it is a significant period—​­perhaps as much as six or seven years. Did the commendatio arise organically, the fruit of a friendship begun early on with Justin? Or was it a reconfirmation of the relationship between kingdom and empire after a period of difficulty? The question is important for understanding both the chronology and the political climate of Amalasuintha’s regency for her son. The guardianship and friendship originally sought from Justin in the name of Athalaric in late 526 (tuitio, protectio, affectus, amicitia, as in Variae 8.1) had likely different features from the protection of Justinian that was obtained in the early 530s (commendatio). The solidified amicitia/φιλία with Justinian (the socialis princeps of Variae 11.1,11) followed the formula of the rex sociusque et amicus, which is still attested in fifth-​­and sixth-​­century sources for the barbarian kings.8 But it was the formalization of this friendship and protection, which occurred in the entrustment or commendatio9 created between Athalaric/Amalasuintha and Emperor Justinian, that marked a very important moment in the diplomatic history of the Ostrogothic kingdom and its relationship with the empire during the regency of Amalasuintha. We learn of this event primarily from Jordanes, and from a few lines in the Cassiodoran letters, but partially also from Procopius. The commendatio was a centrally important moment in Amalasuintha’s regency, clearly showing that by the 530s she was directly making political decisions for the kingdom and engaging with Justinian as regina. Jordanes reports that Athalaric was close to the age of manhood when he entrusted himself and his mother to the emperor: “When Athalaric was approaching the age of manhood, he entrusted (commendavit) to the Emperor of the East both his own youth and his mother’s widowhood. But in a short



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time the ill-​­fated boy was carried off by an untimely death and departed from earthly affairs.”10 According to Jordanes’s account, the request for commendatio took place after the two Gothic rulers were pressured, under threat of attack, to give back to the Franks some territories of Gaul they had previously occupied. This information is likely mistaken, even though Jordanes makes the same statement in the Romana—​­he or his source may have meant here the territories given by Amalasuintha to the Burgundians, which the Franks took shortly afterward with the invasion of the kingdom in 532.11 Jordanes suggests that the commendatio took place when Athalaric was no longer a puer, perhaps sometime in the years 532/4, shortly before his death. He describes him as adulescens, technically indicating an age of least fifteen years.12 The Getica’s version may have been influenced by Cassiodorus’s account in the Gothic History, in which the role of royal women was presumably secondary to that of the Gothic viri fortes, and which celebrated the Amal dynasty up to Athalaric.13 It seems most likely that Jordanes attributed to Athalaric a diplomatic operation that was in practice achieved by the king’s royal mother, who was the impetus behind the “entrustment” to the emperor. In the Gothic War, Procopius’s Amalasuintha addresses the emperor, claiming to be assisting “an orphan child who does not in the least understand what is going on.”14 This attitude is also in line with the chancery documentation of the Variae, in which letters in Athalaric’s name often express Amalasuintha’s policy. In the Getica, the emperor with whom the Gothic king sought friendship is unnamed, but in the Romana we read instead that Amalasuintha “had entrusted (commendaverat) herself and her son to the prince Justinian.”15 Procopius tells us that Amalasuintha, for the safety of the kingdom, cultivated friendship (φιλία) with the emperor in both her and her son’s names. In the Vandalic War he confirms the version of the Romana over the Getica, though he does not indicate a chronology for the development of the relationship between Amalasuintha and Justinian: “For when Theoderic died and the kingdom came to his grandson Athalaric, who had already lost his father, Amalasuintha was fearful both for her child and the kingdom, and cultivated the friendship of Justinian very carefully; she obeyed his commands in all matters and at that time promised to provide a market for his army, and did so.”16 Did Justinian’s reign represent a new start for both sides in term of diplomatic relationships? And was the commendatio a continuation of the original request for support made at the beginning of Athalaric’s reign, or was it an entirely new situation? We cannot be sure of the early chronology of

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Athalaric’s request for friendship, and so it is possible that Justin originally granted his friendship to the Gothic kingdom, which Justinian reconfirmed following his uncle’s will. It is also possible that Justin never granted his friendship to the kingdom, and that rather it was first given by Justinian. What seems most likely, considering all available evidence, is that agreements originally made with Justin were compromised by a diplomatic incident that for a short time brought tension between kingdom and empire. This was the war of the Goths against the Gepids on the Danube River, which happened in the first years of Justinian’s reign.17 In favor of this possibility is Cassiodorus’s reference to Justinian’s friendship with the kingdom in his letter-​­panegyric of late 533. Here, despite the diplomatic incident generated by the Gothic incursions on the Danube during the attack against the Gepids, Justinian is referred to as “allied prince” (socialis princeps). “For his opinion of our lands may be understood from the fact that, despite his injury, he granted us a peace (pacem contulit) which he refused to the prayers of others. Then, too, he has honoured us with many embassies, although we seldom approached him; and that outstanding power has bowed down the awe-​­inspiring glory of the East that it might elevate the lords of Italy.”18 The letter does not directly refer to the commendatio, and Amalasuintha is interestingly praised as the one “whom even a foreign prince should rightfully obey.”19 More than Jordanes, Procopius is consistent about Amalasuintha’s active political role. Perhaps, as a native of the Byzantine Empire, he found the idea of a woman in power more natural. Justinian may have had his own reasons for granting the commendatio in the early 530s. It facilitated the Byzantine invasion of Africa through Gothic Sicily; behind Justinian’s offering of protection may well have been the intention to start the war against the Vandals. In the Vandalic War, Procopius makes it clear that during the war of Justinian against Africa, Amalasuintha gave direct orders about the Gothic occupation of the Sicilian town of Lilybaeum, former stronghold of the Vandals, and that the Goths followed her instructions.20 And he includes a (fictive) letter addressed in the name of Belisarius to the Goths, in which the Byzantine general asked them to respect the established friendship between the kingdom and the emperor, and therefore to consult Justinian before taking any action. The emperor was the only one who could arbitrate the situation in a lawful and just manner (νόμιμά τε εἶναι καὶ δίκαια).21 Procopius, in his customary Thucydidean style, highlights the contrast between “hostility” and “friendship,” the φιλία on which understanding between kingdom and empire was based:



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Reflect that while it is the nature of friendship to overlook many faults, hostility does not brook even the smallest misdeeds but searches the past for every offence and does not permit its enemy to grow rich on what does not in the least belong to him. Moreover, it fights to avenge the wrongs that it claims have been done to ancestors and, if it fails in the struggle, it suffers no loss of its own possessions, yet if it succeeds it teaches the vanquished to accede. See to it, then, that you neither do us further harm nor suffer harm yourself, nor make the great emperor an enemy to the Gothic nation, when it is your prayer that he be propitious ­toward you. For be well assured that, if you lay claim to this fortress, war will confront you immediately, not for Lilybaeum alone but for all the possessions you claim as yours, though not one of them belongs to you.22 In another letter to Justinian in the Gothic War, Amalasuintha, who was bound by friendship to Justinian, reminded him of her offer of Sicily as a base for the Byzantine fleet, and as a market for supplying soldiers and horses: Recall that when you were making war upon the Vandals, not only did we not hinder you but quite eagerly even gave you free passage against the enemy, a market for your indispensable supplies, and a multitude of horses that more than anything enabled you to defeat the enemy. Yet we do not justly call someone a friend and ally (ξύμμαχος καὶ φίλος) merely for offering an alliance to his neighbours: he actually has to assist the other in war in every way that he has need. Consider that at that time your fleet had no other place at which to put in from the sea except Sicily, and that without the supplies brought there it could not go on to Libya.23 The letter is fictive, but like other ancient authors who rewrote documents or speeches in their own style, Procopius may have drawn from authentic material. On this friendship, Justinian based his request for support in his war against the Vandals. And this also better explains Amalasuintha’s later request to the same emperor for the “extension” of the “special peace” that she enjoyed, in order to have Theodahad’s nomination accepted by the emperor. Indeed, this is the request that I previously discussed, referring to the peace established by Amalasuintha in the early 530s as regent for Athalaric.24

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It is interesting that a few years later, as soon as Theodahad had Amalasuintha killed, in his plea to Justinian for peace he would try to “entrust himself (se commendat) with pure affection” to the emperor.25 And at the beginning of 537, Witiges would ask Justinian for peace by reminding him that he had been the agent of Justinian’s revenge against Theodahad, and that he had protected Matasuintha: “For if vengeance on King Theodahad is sought, I deserve your love. If you have before your eyes the entrustment (commendatio) of Queen Amalasuintha of divine memory, you should think on her daughter [Matasuintha], whom the efforts of all of you should have brought to the throne, so that every race might appreciate the return of favour you rendered to such a daughter.”26 Here the newly elected king based his appeal on the commendatio granted to queen Amalasuintha. This confirms that Amalasuintha obtained the emperor’s protection and that she enjoyed it as regina. Similarly, in the Book of the Popes we read that Justinian’s wrath against Theodahad was roused by the murder of Amalasuintha, who was regina sibi commendata.27 The commendatio and protection granted to Amalasuintha would become an important motif of Justinian’s propaganda for moving ahead with war against Italy after her assassination.

Amalasuintha and the Roman Senate During the trials against Albinus and Boethius, the Senate seemed split between senators who held to their pro-​­Gothic views and senators who had eventually abandoned the cause out of fear of the king’s revenge. Boethius complained that he had been abandoned by a Senate that he had struggled to protect.28 Theoderic’s change of heart was not, however, echoed in his daughter. Amalasuintha’s Roman lifestyle and her education at the palace of Ravenna had shaped her personality and worldview, and had solidified her pro-​­Roman perspective. Her position as a woman in power and as regent for her son was not welcomed in the Gothic world, but there was ample precedent for it in the Roman world, which had experienced ruling women over the last century. Roman senators placed hope in her as their champion against the conservative Gothic counts, who had sworn to the dying Theoderic their loyalty to Athalaric’s reign. Amalasuintha supported the Romans, both the Senate and the population, from the very beginning, in a way that was similar to that of her father during the best years of the kingdom. At the court, she probably trusted the



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Romans more than the Goths, and she worked to restore the relationship between the Senate and the Amal throne. Both Procopius and Cassiodorus testify to her efforts in this direction. Amalasuintha enacted policies designed to appease the Romans, which can be found in the letters written in the name of her son. An example is the previously discussed order of late 533 to reintroduce a regular payment for the teachers of the schools of the old capital. This was one of the privileges still in place that had been granted by Theoderic to the Romans.29 It is possible that the policy Amalasuintha adopted of conferring benefits became more efficient in the early 530s, after she gained better control of the situation at the palace and as she increased her autonomy in making decisions. From the very beginning, Amalasuintha followed her father’s final admonishment, to honor the Senate.30 The letter in Athalaric’s name introducing the new king to the senators confirms with publica auctoritas the traditional privileges of the Senate. In another letter benefits are granted to Roman citizens, which certainly included the privileges confirmed by Theoderic in the year 500 on the occasion of his visit to Rome.31 That Amalasuintha’s hand was guiding the little Athalaric is obvious. Procopius in his narrative refers to the generosity of both Theoderic and Amalasuintha ­toward the Romans (τὰς Θευδερίχου τε καὶ Ἀμαλασούνθης εὐεργεσίας).32 The Constitutio Pragmatica states that all benefits granted by both Athalaric and Amalasuintha “to the Romans or under the request of the Senate, will be preserved without violation.”33 When in late 533, in his letter-​­panegyric, Cassiodorus thanked the Amal lady for her many merits, he described her as a benefactor and protector of the senators: “You know how many blessings, with her heavenly kindness, she has bestowed on our order (quanta bona nostro ordini . . . ​largita est): there can be no doubt, where the Senate bears witness. She has restored the afflicted to a better state (afflictos statu meliore restituit); and she has exalted with honours the uninjured (illaesos sublimavit honoribus) of whom she is the general protector, and bestowed goods on each of them (et singillatim bona tribuit, quos sub universali munimine custodivit).”34 Procopius also testifies to the granting of protection and goods to the senators, and he is clear about Amalasuintha’s attitude t­ oward the Romans: “As long as she stood at the head of the state she inflicted no bodily punishment upon any Roman or imposed a fine.”35 But who were the “afflicted” and “uninjured” of the Cassiodoran letter? This probably refers to the senators who had been damaged in the recent past. During the empire, restitutions of properties and appointments to magistracies constituted the most significant signs of rehabilitation; an important

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precedent is found in Theodosius’s kind treatment of the children of Nicomachus Flavianus senior.36 Among the senators supported by Amalasuintha were the members of the papal embassy that had been sent to Constantinople, whom Theoderic had arrested upon their return in 526. These were Flavius Theodorus, consul in 505 and patrician in circa 509 (Theoderic had promoted him to the Praetorian prefecture in the year 500 during his stay in Rome), and Flavius Inportunus, consul in 509 and patrician in 509–511. Members of the powerful Decian family, these men were the children of men like Caecina Decius Maximus Basilius junior and also the brothers of Albinus, who had originally been accused in the Boethius affair. In addition there was Flavius Agapitus, patrician and consul in 517—​­the other Patrician Agapitus had died in Thessalonica while returning from Constantinople.37 It seems likely, given her general pro-​­Roman policies, that Amalasuintha freed them from prison. The families of Symmachus and Boethius had been the most badly damaged. The restoration of the afflicted “to a better state” probably implied the restitution of properties and maybe, when there had been a damnatio memoriae against the family, of senatorial status.38 This is also confirmed by Procopius when he describes the benefits that Amalasuintha bestowed upon the Roman senators: “Furthermore, she did not yield to the Goths in their mad desire to wrong them, but she even restored to the children of Symmachus and Boethius their fathers’ estates.”39 The historian means here Rusticiana, the daughter of Symmachus and wife of Boethius, and her two children Boethius junior and Symmachus junior, who had been consuls in 522.40 Procopius himself must have met Rusticiana during his stay in Rome, and he also refers to this patrician lady in some parts of his narrative.41 The diptych of Monza representing the poet and the Muse (which, a recent hypothesis suggests, commemorates Boethius) may indicate that less than ten years after the execution of the philosopher, around 532/3, the taboo in senatorial circles surrounding this figure was lifted and Boethius’s reputation restored.42 On top of this, we know that in 533/4 a royal intervention freed some Romans from custody, who had been accused of encouraging sedition in the old capital, and whose arrest had provoked sadness and tension. At the same time, people who had been arrested for unjust reasons were encouraged to appeal to the courts.43 Procopius also specifies that Amalasuintha tried to protect the Romans from other kinds of abuses by the Goths. Especially frequent were property invasions, one of the most unpleasant realities of the post-​­Roman World.44 An Edict dated 533/4 prescribed severe punishments for this crime.45 Her reassertion of authority over the kingdom allowed Amalasuintha to take better care



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of these chronic problems, in which her own cousin Theodahad was involved; in fact, Amalasuintha had previously intervened against him.46 When, in 534, Tuscan landowners denounced Theodahad in front of Amalasuintha for misappropriating their lands as well as the royal estates, she was in a position to force him to restore what he had illegitimately taken.47 This was probably the last time that the queen was able to protect the Romans. During her regency, not only did Amalasuintha improve the relationships with the aristocracy of Rome, she also strongly relied upon the support of those senators who were, or who had previously been, employed at the palace or in charge of the administration of the provinces. A papal letter suggests the composition of her Roman entourage. In the year 534, John II was dealing with urgent negotiations with Justinian (discussed in the next section) when he received a complaint by some viri inlustres et magnifici who wanted to be better acquainted with the developments of his exchange of letters with the emperor.48 This is not surprising, considering that the Senate maintained a level of power in religious matters: religious issues between Rome and Constantinople were of importance for the entire kingdom and for the court, so any resolution required the consent of clergymen as well as the Senate and people of Rome.49 The senators and high dignitaries addressed in John II’s letter of clarification were for the most part the product of palatine bureaucracy in Ravenna rather than the offspring of illustrious long-​­established Roman families: Avienus, Cassiodorus Senator, Liberius, Severinus, Fidelis, Avitus, Opilio, Silverius, Clementinus, and Ampelius. This list of names is extremely interesting, for various reasons. While we do not have information for Silverius and Clementinus, or for Avitus (who was perhaps the same high-​­ranking Roman addressee of several of Ennodius’s letters),50 none of the other names is new to us. These men had been and still were important figures in the kingdom, and Amalasuintha’s relationship with the Senate rested largely upon them. Indeed, many of these men appear in the Cassiodoran Variae as people who received letters or who were referenced in them during the last years of Theoderic and the regency of Amalasuintha: Variae 5.14–15 and 9.9 (Severinus), Variae 5.35 and 5.39 (Ampelius), Variae 8.16–17 (Opilio), Variae 8.18–19 (Fidelis), Variae 8.20 (Avienus), Variae 9.24–25 (Cassiodorus Senator), and Variae 11.1,16 (Liberius). Avienus was the former Praetorian prefect of 527/8 (and maybe a few more years), and perhaps he was now the head of the Senate; this could explain the position of his name as the first of the senatorial list.51 Cassiodorus had been the Praetorian prefect of Amalasuintha since late 533, and Liberius, the patrician-​­in-​­waiting since circa

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532, was likely still in charge of Gaul;52 Severinus should probably be identified with the vir illustris who was sent to Savia by Theoderic in 525/6 to reassess the tribute of this province, and who one year later was appointed by Athalaric (Amalasuintha) as governor of Dalmatia;53 Fidelis was quaestor of the palace in 527/8;54 Opilio was count of the Sacred Largesses in 527/8 and had entered the Senate thanks to Athalaric (Amalasuintha);55 Ampelius had been in charge of administering matters in Spain on behalf of Theoderic in 523/6.56 Of these senators, Liberius and Opilio signed the Acts of the Council of Orange of 529 during Amalasuintha’s regency, and sometime later they were sent by Theodahad to lead the embassy announcing Amalasuintha’s arrest to Justinian.57 This also indicates that these persons were representing the Senate at the court, and that they must have been based at the palace of Ravenna, from where Theodahad sent the embassy. Two of these senators, Liberius in 535 and Fidelis sometime later, sided with Justinian, for whom they would operate as Praetorian prefects of Italy and in the affairs of the West.58 Missing from the list above is the name of Arator, the count of domestics at the end of Theoderic’s reign and the count of the private purse in 526; as we have previously seen, he was probably chosen by Theoderic or Amalasuintha to balance the power of Tuluin.59 But Arator had in the meantime abandoned political life to enter the church. The name of Maximus, the Anician senator, is also missing: he got closer to court only the following year, after the arrest or the death of Amalasuintha, when Theodahad married him to an Amal princess and appointed him to a palatine office. Maximus, who belonged to a patrician family, may not have been in Ravenna during the years of Amalasuintha.60 These were the persons of the Roman elite close to the court; they generally do not belong to the old patrician families settled in Rome, whom Amalasuintha also favored. They may have become, over the years, Amalasuintha’s shield. The queen’s policy ­toward the Romans was successful, and it generated a period of stability in relationships between Ravenna and Rome. Relationships of the court with Roman Senate were necessarily intertwined with those with the Roman Church.

Amalasuintha and the Roman Church Government over Italy required constant, direct contact with the Roman Church; together with the Senate, it represented the most significant source of power. But like her parents, Amalasuintha was Arian. Her mother, Aude-



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fleda, sister of Clovis, married Theoderic before Clovis’s conversion. We read in Gregory of Tours that two of her sisters, Albofledis and Lantechildis, converted to Catholicism together with Clovis and received baptism sometime after 496.61 We do not know whether, like her sister Lantechildis, Audefleda was previously Arian, or whether she embraced the Arianism of the Goths only as wife of Theoderic. Gregory of Tours believed she was Arian, and he described her as living sub Arriana secta together with her daughter Amalasuintha; but unfortunately on this point we have only Gregory’s questionable account. We do know that Theoderic’s revered mother, Erelieva, was Catholic and that she was baptized.62 Even if it is unclear when she converted, or whether she was raised Catholic, there is some evidence that she corresponded with Pope Gelasius in the years 495–496 about matters like helping and feeding the poor and maintaining the old privileges of the Church of Saint Peter.63 We may wonder whether Theoderic’s religious tolerance was also the product of his mother’s advice; we know that in the year 500, just a few years after Gelasius’s letter, before entering Rome, the Gothic king “went to the [tomb of ] the Blessed Peter as a most devoted man, as if he were a Catholic.”64 Erelieva turned out to be a key figure in the dialogue between Roman Catholics and Gothic Arians in the Italy ruled by her son. When she died, Amalasuintha was still young. The faith of her grandmother, with whom she spent her childhood, and the education she received from Roman teachers, such as, presumably, Barbara, made Amalasuintha tolerant and open to Catholicism. We may even wonder, in addition, whether the religion of her maternal aunt and uncle, Clotilde and Clovis, was intriguing to her. But despite these peripheral examples inside her family, Amalasuintha kept the Arian creed of her father and of the Goths, and the man she later married was an Arian Goth who was uninterested in the Catholic world and not particularly tolerant of the disputes of the church.65 Gregory of Tours’s hateful characterization of her, and his accusations against her of heinous crimes like matricide, are clear indications of her Arianism.66 This is the faith to which she adhered as a regent for her son, in an Italy where Arianism was an expression of Gothic identity and power.67 Though Arian himself, Theoderic had generally been on good terms with the Catholics. But things, as we have seen, had taken a complicated turn ­toward the end of his reign, when he was unsuccessful in dealing with Justin about his anti-​­Arian law in the East. The report from the Anonymus Valesianus that the king died soon after he ordered the Arians to occupy the Catholic

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churches cannot be accepted as fact, but the story does reveal that the tensions between the Roman Church and the king had been inflamed to the point that Theoderic’s reputation was compromised.68 This was only one of the many troubles that Amalasuintha inherited from her father. She quickly adopted a milder religious policy that broke from that of Theoderic’s last years. As with the Roman Senate, Amalasuintha was successful in improving the relationships of the court with the Catholic Church. Following in the footsteps of Galla Placidia, Amalasuintha encouraged a building program that went far beyond the royal palace: it included the construction of Catholic churches.69 Early in her reign, in Rome, Pope Felix IV received the space within the Forum Pacis of the Bibliotheca Pacis, in which he built a church dedicated to Saints Cosmas and Damianus in front of the Via Sacra.70 This place, in which doctors—​­one of the privileged categories still entitled to public payments under Theoderic71—​­used to practice, was in this way consecrated to the two martyrs medici. These men, the inscription on the apse of the church reminds us, are the bearers of good health to the people: populo spes certa salutis venit.72 The construction of a church in the heart of ancient Rome, and in particular in the area of the Forum, was an important event in a city of strong traditions, where Christian building activity had traditionally taken place in peripheral areas. But this was only a small part of a much more ambitious program. Following Theoderic’s death, in Ravenna and Classe construction began on some churches, and others were brought to completion, like the Orthodox Santa Maria Maggiore and San Vitale; some years later Sant’Apollinare in Classe was begun. It is possible that Amalasuintha’s encouragement of this building activity contributed to the uneasiness of her Gothic enemies at the palace.73 In addition to churches, Agnellus shares the intriguing news that Amalasuintha had a house built: “And, as some say, she ordered a house to be built on her own legal property, where now the monasterium of Saint Peter which is called Orfanotrophium is built.”74 It is possible, as some scholars have suggested, that the construction to which this source refers was an orphanage, although this type of building apparently had no precedent in Ostrogothic Italy. Was this an expression of Amalasuintha’s sensitivity ­toward the care of orphans? Was this feeling possibly related to the experience of her two children, who had lost their father at a young age?75 Cassiodorus as Praetorian prefect took up this cause when in late 533, in one of the first letters collected in book 11, he encouraged the bishops of the kingdom to keep providing for orphans and widows, though within limits: “To orphans and widows provide



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solace against the savage attacks, as is pleasing to God, however in such a way that, while you search to help the needy, you do not lay aside the laws as result of an excessive piety.”76 After all, Athalaric and Amalasuintha belonged to these same categories.77 Amalasuintha’s regency also saw events that would become of great importance to the history of the Roman Church. The title of Papa to indicate the office of the “bishop of Rome” came into regular use.78 The practice by which the popes took a new name on their election day was also introduced. Dionysius Exiguus, a friend of Cassiodorus, developed in Rome the chronology of the Christian era ab incarnatione Christi, which is still in use.79 In 529 Benedict of Nursia founded the monastery of Montecassino.80 Despite the conflicts and clashes between the church and the Senate that remained an ongoing reality in Rome, on the whole the Catholic Church with its proGothic popes was made more solid by Amalasuintha’s government.81 Amalasuintha’s reign overlapped three pontificates, those of Felix IV, Bonifacius II, and John II. Felix IV ascended the papal throne after the death in prison of John I, on 12 July 526, after an unusually long vacancy of fifty-​ ­eight days, a period that violated the common practice of electing a new pope within three days. In addition, the election was made on a Monday rather than a Sunday; this is an anomaly, and no other example exists in all of late antiquity.82 But then, this was an unusual election by any measure, following the disastrous affair of Boethius, and shaped by the will of an Arian king: the earlier version of the Book of the Popes states that this election was done cum quiete and by order of Theoderic.83 The king died a month and a half later. Sometime later, in the name of Athalaric, Amalasuintha addressed the Senate concerning the election, presenting it as the right choice and necessary for the good of the factions in the Roman Church.84 Concluding the letter, she stated: “I have thought it proper to send letters of greeting to your assembly. For it gives me great joy to converse with the chief men of my realm. And I am very sure that this too will give you much pleasure: your knowledge that obedience to his [i.e., Theoderic’s] command has gratified me likewise.”85 It was under the pontificate of Felix IV that Amalasuintha allowed clergymen the right to resort to ecclesiastical courts first, with the option to return to the traditional courts of law, the fora saecularia, if they were not satisfied.86 The question of the episcopalis audientia and of ecclesiastical courts of law for clergymen was an older one, which Galla Placidia also confronted as tutor for Valentinian III.87 A century later, the pro-​­Gothic Pope Felix IV maintained

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good relations with the government in Ravenna, and he tried ­toward the end of his life to nominate a successor in order to prevent disorder and wasting of the church’s money. With his pontificate at an end, the first redaction of the Book of the Popes appeared—​­as the Epitomes Cononiana and Feliciana testify—​ i­n which the list of the popes was finally codified.88 Pope Felix IV saw in the rich cleric Bonifacius II another pro-​­Goth who had Germanic origins on his father’s side,89 a candidate for the papal chair who could perhaps meet the expectations of Ravenna. He supported his election by choosing him as his successor. On 22 September 530, just one day after his death, Bonifacius II was elected pope, supported by a minority of the people of Rome, of the clergy, and of the Senate. His short pontificate was turbulent and compromised by a schism, because another faction supported Dioscorus of Alexandria, a Greek pro-​­Byzantine deacon and former friend of Pope Symmachus. Dioscorus had played a role beside Hormisdas during the reconciliation between the Churches of Rome and Constantinople in 519. The schism ended only with Dioscorus’s death on 14 October 530.90 In 531, Bonifacius tried to appoint the deacon Vigilius as his successor. His strategy met resistance among the clergy, however, and when he died in October 532 it took two months and fifteen days before his successor could be elected.91 This long vacancy was marked by competition between the candidates to bribe the electors, both laymen and clergymen. Athalaric’s order (presumably designed by Amalasuintha) to Bonifacius II concerning simony did not stop this blatant bribery. In a letter of the king to Pope John II, Bonifacius’s successor, we learn that the Gothic rulers had already tried to intervene to stop the selling of bishoprics: Now, a law-​­officer [defensor] of the Roman Church has recently come to me with the lamentable allegation that, when a bishop was being sought for the Apostolic See, certain men exploited the needs of the times by nefarious scheming, and so burdened the wealth of the poor with extorted promises that—​­merely to mention it is ­impious—​­even the sacred vessels were openly put on sale to the public. The savagery of committing this act measures the glory of eradicating it by recourse to piety. And therefore, your holiness must know that I have decreed in this regulation—​­which I also wish to extend to all patriarchs and metropolitan churches—​­that, from the time of the holy Pope Boniface [II], when the fathers of the Senate, mindful of their nobility, passed a measure for the



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prohibition of such fees, if any man, whether in his own person or through another, is shown to have promised anything to procure a bishopric, that accursed contract is to have no force.92 If the disputed election were brought to the attention of the court, a fine of three thousand solidi to be distributed to the poor would be imposed.93 In addition, in order to avoid a future repeat of the problem, King Athalaric ordered the urban prefect to issue a decree of the Senate, the text of which was to be engraved on a marble table and displayed in front of the atrium of the Church of Saint Peter, with copies posted in public places and assemblies for a thirty-​­day period. This is the last known Senatus Consultum, although the Senatorial sigla SC (= Senatus consulto) on a series of bronze coins minted in Rome in 536 in the name of King Theodahad indicates that this was not the last deliberation the Senate ever made.94 The recipient of the king’s letter condemning simony, John II, became pope on 2 January 533. His name was originally Mercurius, a pagan name he changed by introducing the tradition that the pope would change his name on the day of his election.95 His decision to take a name in honor of John I, the martyr pope under Theoderic, would have been an awkward one for Amalasuintha. But Justinian was on good terms with this pope, who made significant steps to ingratiate himself with the empire. John II accepted the imperial doctrine that Christ as human and crucified remained one of the Trinity, and also the “Theupaschite” formula (which Pope Hormisdas had condemned in 520) that in the Eucharist the bread became the body of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Finally, he confirmed his adherence to the councils of Nicaea, Constantinople, Ephesus, and Chalcedon.96 Justinian’s letter to the pope, which included his statement of faith, is dated 6 June 533, but John II was slow to give his answer, which was released on 25 March 534. The end result pleased Justinian, who had both documents published together in his Code of law, which was issued only a few months later, in November 534.97 It was probably at that time that the emperor sent a gift of silver and gold to the Church of Saint Peter. This is reported in the Book of the Popes, from which it appears that under previous popes no donations by the emperor were made.98 The Book of the Popes also reports the embassy of the two imperial bishops, Demetrius of Philippi and Hypatius of Ephesus. This embassy, whose political implications are reported by Procopius, was sent in late spring of 533, probably to seek the ratification of the Theupaschite formula.99 Justinian made overtures t­oward the church, and he sought to improve

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his relationship with John II by recognizing the supreme authority of the papal chair. This continued after the deposition of Amalasuintha, as a Novel dated to 13 April 535 testifies.100 From his side, the pope supported many of the emperor’s views. John II had the consent of part of the Roman population, but at the palace of Ravenna the court started to view his exchange of messages with Constantinople with suspicion. This is clear from the letter of 534 addressed by the pope to inlustres et magnifici viri in which he aimed to justify his professio fidei to Justinian, a document that I partially discussed in the previous section. It has been noted that the pope “does not omit a statement about the consubstantiality of the Trinity, although he does not define this as anti-​­Arian. Nevertheless, Justinian was already promulgating anti-​­Arian legislation in Africa and Constantinople, and the pope could not have missed the implications.”101 But Justinian had only begun to turn his full attention to the West. By 534, when he was completing his African war, the emperor was likely planning how to move forward with his conquest by extending his power over Italy. As it happened, events at the palace of Ravenna moved even faster than Justinian’s plans. Indeed, by the time Pope John II died, on 8 May 535, Amalasuintha had been deposed and placed under arrest for some time. If she was still alive, she was now on a little island in Lake Bolsena. And she was surely no longer alive on 13 May, the day of Agapitus’s election. This election took place one month after the emperor’s reconfirmation of papal supremacy. But Justinian now had a real pretext to abandon religious diplomacy and to start a war against Italy without diminishing the consent of the Roman population to his cause. Now he could approach the question of Italy in a different way, and he no longer needed to work ­ toward improving relations with the Roman Church. Just a month later, in June 535, on the death of the Patriarch Epiphanius, Theodora would not hesitate to appoint the Monophysite Anthimus as patriarch of Constantinople, thus rousing the wrath of Pope Agapitus and generating a new conflict between the two churches.102 But now Justinian was starting his war against the Gothic kingdom by sending his army to Dalmatia, and Belisarius with the fleet to Sicily. The imperial couple could afford to abandon their efforts to please the Roman Church.



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Amalasuintha’s Ambition: The Education of Athalaric In Gregory of Tours’s dubious tale, Amalasuintha’s servant Traguila (whose name curiously derives from the Gothic word for “loyal”) was also her lover; she planned to marry but defied her mother by choosing someone who was not of royal stock.103 Gregory’s Traguila, as we have seen, can possibly be identified with Triwila, Theoderic’s provost of the sacred bedchamber, who must have been well known to Amalasuintha by virtue of his position. But as we have already seen, there is no reason to credit much of Gregory’s gossipy story, and Triwila was certainly not a servant. And even if we wanted to believe it, and therefore to consider Triwila a potential husband for Amalasuintha, this court figure was hardly a possible candidate for the Gothic throne. Still, we have to wonder: did remarriage figure in Amalasuintha’s immediate plans? According to Procopius, the Goths thought it did. In his account of the events following Theoderic’s death, Procopius states that the Goths accused Amalasuintha of undermining her son by giving him a bad education, setting the stage for her to remarry later and rule over Italy.104 In the Secret History the historian maliciously reports that Theodora was so jealous of Amalasuintha’s beauty and refined qualities that she did not trust her own husband.105 To Lamma, the portrait of Amalasuintha that emerges here reveals “the personal and psychological aspect . . . ​of a woman who must fight against all kinds of temptations, and perhaps also against those of her own character, full of ambitions and, at the same time, of dark fears.”106 Yet to imagine that Theodora, empress of Byzantium in her own right, feared Amalasuintha for her beauty seems bizarre indeed. In the Gothic War, Procopius describes Amalasuintha’s ambitions for her son’s education. The historian juxtaposes Amalasuintha’s farsighted purposes with an anti-​­Gothic description of her aristocracy, whose blind mentality would prove fatal to both her and her son: “Amalasuintha wanted her son to resemble the rulers of the Romans in his way of life and was already compelling him to attend a grammarian (ἐς γραμματιστοῦ). She chose three among the old men of the Goths whom she knew to be prudent and be fair above all the others, and instructed them to live with Athalaric. But the Goths were not pleased with this. Because of their desire to wrong their subjects, they wished to be ruled by him in a more barbarian fashion (βαρβαρικώτερον).”107 Interestingly, as I discuss later, Procopius blamed Valentinian III’s loss of Africa on his Roman education, which he considered a mistake by Galla Placidia.108 But

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this time he considered such an education as reflective of Amalasuintha’s good intentions as tutor. Even so, Procopius tells us that when one day Athalaric came in tears to the Goths after being beaten by his mother, the episode generated a strong reaction by the Gothic aristocrats, who together came to Amalasuintha to complain that she was not giving the king a proper education.109 They took the occasion to accuse Amalasuintha of trying to get rid of her son—​­even hoping that he died—​­in order to remarry.110 They requested that she have the teachers dismissed because the literature that he was studying was “far removed from manliness (γράμματά τε γὰρ παρὰ πολὺ κεχωρίσθαι ἀνδρίας), and the teaching of old men results for the most part in a cowardly and submissive spirit. Therefore, a man who is to show daring in any work and be great in renown ought to be freed from the fear that teachers inspire and to take his training in arms.”111 It is interesting here to remember that manliness is the main quality that Procopius acknowledges in Amalasuintha.112 To support their view, Procopius writes, the Goths adduced the example of Theoderic, who had never allowed his Goths to have their children sent to a grammarian (ἐς γραμματιστοῦ), because such an education would damage their military training. Procopius then goes even further, having the Goths claim that Theoderic himself had never heard much of letters (περὶ γραμμάτων οὐδὲ ὅσον ἀκοὴν ἔχων).113 Finally the Goths request that Amalasuintha release the tutors and leave Athalaric with Gothic boys of his age, “who will mature in age with him and thus give him and incite him to virtue according the custom of barbarians (βάρβαρον νόμον).”114 This is one of the occasions on which the historian denigrates the Goths at court, and it is notable that in these lines he deliberately refers to them as barbarians (βάρβαροι). He also uses this term to indicate those Goths who soon began to devise plans to remove Amalasuintha from the palace.115 Interestingly, Procopius uses similar wording and motifs when describing the barbarian customs of the Huns, who were “absolutely unacquainted with writing (γραμμάτων παντάπασιν) and unskilled in it up to now; neither do they have any teacher of grammar (γραμματιστήν) nor do their children toil over their letters at all as they grow up (τά γραμμάτα πόνῳ συναύξεται αὐτοῖς τὰ παιδία)”; in addition, they deliver messages “by word of mouth in the barbarian fashion (βαρβαρικώτερον).”116 Procopius connected Amalasuintha’s wish to educate Athalaric in grammar to her personal ambition to make her son resemble a Roman ruler,117 and in his account he probably wanted to contrast Roman and Gothic education.



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The Goths understood her choice of a Roman education for her son as essentially constituting a plot against him, designed to make him weak. Appealing to Theoderic, they accused her of purposely debilitating the king to make him cowardly and submissive. But the historian claims also that the Goths’ wishes for a different education were in reality tied to “their desire to wrong their [Roman] subjects” by exerting control over the young king. In this way, he highlights once again Amalasuintha’s will to protect the Romans from the Goths. He had stated this shortly before in the narrative: “She did not yield to the Goths in their mad desire to wrong them [i.e., the Romans].”118 This story by Procopius may not be directly confirmed in other sources, but his message is: a Cassiodoran letter in the name of Athalaric reveals Amalasuintha’s ambition to bring to the palace educated Romans who would serve in the administration. This letter is an order to pay the teachers of Rome. Grammatica and rhetorica, which were fundamental for the education of those to be employed at the palace, were unknown among the barbarians. These disciplines distinguished the Gothic realm from the other kingdoms: “The barbarian kings (barbari reges) do not use her [i.e., grammatica]; as is well known, she remains unique to lawful rulers (legales dominos). For the tribes (gentes) possess arms (arma) and the rest; rhetoric is found in sole obedience to the lords of the Romans.”119 In the name of Athalaric, Amalasuintha states: “I have judged it abominable that anything should be stolen from the teachers of youth”; and she concludes that “as they recognise my concern for their revenues, so they should know that I require their more zealous attention to the education of young men (provectus adulescentium).”120 That Theoderic’s priority for the Goths was military education is obvious. Education in grammar and rhetoric was not a concern for most of the Goths, especially those not belonging to the aristocracy or immersed in palace culture.121 But this is not necessarily true of those of the elite who lived around the palace, including the Amals. The Variae are silent on this subject, but the education of many Gothic and post-​­Roman leaders is testified in other sources.122 It is not in the details of Procopius’s story but in the larger message behind it that we find a glimpse into the political milieu of the palace of Ravenna in those years. Of course, literacy in those years was growing in the courts of the other kingdoms, especially in the education of the elites. But Amalasuintha’s encouragement of an education in the old capital in a way that would benefit the palace bureaucracy firmly placed her court in the footsteps of the Roman tradition. Like her own regency, the administration of the palace followed an imperial direction. In the challenging situation of the palace of

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Ravenna, Amalasuintha felt the need to embrace imperial models. We might find a potential comparison to Amalasuintha’s deep concern for her son’s education in the Byzantine empress Pulcheria. The historian Sozomen admired the religious devotion of this fifteen-​­year-​­old girl, who, a few years after her father’s death, became the regent for her younger brother Theodosius II (himself only thirteen): She was able to write and to converse with perfect accuracy in the Greek and Latin languages. She caused all affairs to be transacted in the name of her brother, and devoted great attention to bringing him up as a prince in the best possible way and with such information as was suitable to his years. She had him taught by the most skilled men, in horsemanship, and the practice of arms, and in letters. But he was systematically taught by his sister to be orderly and princely in his manners; she showed him how to gather up his robes, and how to take a seat, and how to walk; she trained him to restrain laughter, to assume a mild or a formidable aspect as the occasion might require, and to inquire with urbanity into the cases of those who came before him with petitions.123 This description contains some similarities with that of Amalasuintha in the works of Procopius and Cassiodorus. While religious devotion may have not been Amalasuintha’s priority, an education in grammar, good manners and behavior, and also fluency in both languages of the empire were central points of Amalasuintha’s education for Athalaric, reflecting her imperial ambitions and her desire to educate her son in a manner similar to a Roman prince. It is likely that she also saw to it that he was educated in the necessary components of riding and training in arms, just as Theodosius II was. But according to Procopius, Amalasuintha was eventually forced to accept the will of the Goths by allowing Athalaric to spend time with young boys of his age, with what would soon turn out to have disastrous consequences. Despite the historian’s narrative goals, his account may contain much truth about the Goths’ expectations of Athalaric as a future warrior king. Bronze coins minted in Rome in these years represent the young king as a Gothic warrior, standing, wearing a helmet, and holding spear and shield.124 We do not know any of the names of the Goths who were educating King Athalaric in those years. But we do know that the Gothic aristocracy in the palace was powerful and exerted fierce pressure on the monarchy. The future



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king Witiges, probably after his return from the expedition in the East on the Danube, was appointed sword-​­bearer at court (spatharius), and was taken into the king’s confidence. It may be not a coincidence that Witiges received the same appointment at the court that Theudis had held many years earlier, before Theoderic entrusted to him the guardianship of his young grandson Amalaric.125 Witiges’s hand in Athalaric’s diplomatic affairs reflects his growing influence, as we read in a fragment of a Cassiodoran panegyric: “As soon as . . . ​you returned to Ravenna you obtained nonetheless the dignity of spatharius, so that the office of the arms would testify to the engagement in war. Ennobling that position with your moderation and experience, being the king too young to govern, you often discussed necessary matters with the legates; and, commendably, you had made sure reverence was attributed to you, who with the care of an elder served the young prince.”126 Was this soldier, who did not have noble origins, actually involved in the king’s education, serving in some respects as his mentor and as one of his educators in arms? Or he was just representing Gothic conservatism at the palace? Witiges was probably not Amalasuintha’s fiercest enemy. He was not one of her victims, and there is no indication that he posed a danger to her at that time. It is striking, however, that a few years later, after the murder of the queen, he would become the armiger and later the dux of Theodahad, who engineered her death.127 This leads us to hypothesize that he was among those Goths who encouraged the new king to get rid of his cousin. Cassiodorus’s praises of Amalasuintha reveal clues about the controversies surrounding the education of her son. She had a strong influence over Athalaric, and, though his young age prevented him from taking an active role in government, the king had developed his own character: O blessed fortune of the age! The king is on holiday, and his mother’s affection holds rule; thereby, she so acts in everything that we may feel the protection of a universal love. He to whom all things are subject accords this lady a glorious obedience. With wonderful restraint and harmony, he now begins to command his own character before he can rule the people. This is truly the hardest kind of rule, for a young man to bear sway over his own senses. It is the rarest of blessings when a king triumphs in character, and reaches in the prime of life what grey-​­haired restraint can hardly attain. Let us rejoice, fathers of the Senate, and give thanks to the majesty of heaven with prayerful devotion; for, as time moves on, no act of

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clemency will be difficult for our king, who has learned as a boy to be the servant of piety. But we must ascribe this wonder to the characters of them both; for such is his mother’s intelligence, whom even a foreign prince should rightfully obey.128 These praises should be considered in parallel with Procopius’s account of the many controversies that Amalasuintha was facing. Procopius’s representation of Athalaric as insubordinate and rebellious, when considered in parallel with the awkwardly small space that Cassiodorus devotes to the king’s virtues, leaves us with a certain, probably deliberate, ambiguity about the rex puer. And it is interesting to note that the theme of juvenile insubordination appears again in Gregory of Tours’s account, in which, however, it is Amalasuintha who is disrespectful to her mother.129 Educating her son in the style of the Roman emperors would facilitate her regency, because it would help her justify at the court her rule in the style of a Galla Placidia or of a Pulcheria or of other later empresses. But it is difficult to say how effective that education was, or whether it was perceived as successful. No matter how carefully she designed a Romanized plan of education for Athalaric, Amalasuintha remained frustrated in her ambitions: her enemies at the palace, and then the death of her son, would ultimately destroy them. The imperial ambitions of Amalasuintha are further reflected in her magnificent palace. Like Placidia before her, she continued to develop the royal dwelling by further embellishing what had been built under Theoderic.130 It was probably she (rather than her daughter Matasuintha)131 that Cassiodorus celebrated as Semiramis in one of his panegyrics for her adornment of the palace of Ravenna, with a story that has precedents in panegyrical literature: You have built also, O Lady, a palace which would make you famous clearly also to those who do not know you, because then from such a huge dwelling can be deduced the magnitude of the resident. The coating of the marbles shines the same colour as the gems, the gold scattered about shines on the columns . . . ​mosaic works decorate with stone the rounded vaults; and all is adorned with metallic colors, wherever waxen paintings are discerned. One remembers that Queen Semiramis had the circular walls of Babylon built with bitumen mixed with sulfur. . . . ​It is said that the house of Cyrus the king of the Persians was built with stones bound together with gold, in Susa. . . .132



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This description of the royal palace shows obvious similarities in motifs and wording with a Cassiodoran letter that references the examples of both Cyrus and Semiramis.133 We also know that a few years later Amalasuintha and Theodahad wrote to Justinian asking him to have some commissioned marbles and other materials sent to them.134 Unfortunately, the two letters on this subject do not specify the proposed use of these marbles; perhaps they were intended for capitals and columns, decorating the palace of Ravenna in a new project of restoration or building activity, perhaps in conjunction with Theodahad and Gudeliva’s move to Ravenna (the Variae lack similar documents for the age of Theoderic).135 The trade in marble from the East was still flourishing in this period. And some years later the archbishop of Ravenna, Maximianus, would travel to Constantinople to buy marble to decorate the Basilica of Sant’Andrea.136 Amalasuintha’s dreams vanished in the reality of the Gothic court. The meaning of Athalaric’s name, the “noble king” or the “powerful over the nobles,”137 did not turn out to be an omen for his future kingship. Cassiodorus, Jordanes, and Procopius agree that Amalasuintha had to carry on her shoulders the burden of the kingdom, and that she fully ruled for her son, who maintained a passive position during the years of his adolescence.138 In the letter-​­panegyric quoted above, Cassiodorus speculated about the virtues of the adulescens king as the promising Amal offspring who had learned from his mother how to control himself.139 But in this oration Athalaric does not receive the same level of attention as Amalasuintha, who is celebrated as the ruling one. Cassiodorus purposely avoids elaborating on the king’s virtues, and he concludes his oration by appealing to a saying of the fourth-​­century orator Symmachus: “Perhaps you request separate treatment for the good qualities of the king; but he who praises the parent extols the child abundantly. Then, you should recall the remarkable words of the eloquent Symmachus: ‘Expecting cheerfully his growth in virtue, I put off praising his beginnings.’ ”140 Procopius, on the other hand, gave a colorful description of the debauched life that Athalaric led at the palace of Ravenna: ignoring the directions given by his mother, Athalaric excelled only in misconduct, in drunkenness and intercourse with women; and Amalasuintha had lost confidence in his loyalty.141 Perhaps the historian of Caesarea was mocking the king by attributing him what may have been shameful misconduct for a Goth (especially if we want to credit a later document, the Compilatio Ovetensis of the year 883, de proprietatibus gentium, which attributed to the Goths sobrietas and forcia).142

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If Amalasuintha meant to train her son as an enlightened and temperate ruler, she appears to have failed. Her ambitions for Athalaric vanished, as well as the many expectations that the Goths had for this king.

Politics, Diplomacy, and Military Achievements: The Earthquake Between Kingdoms The problems Amalasuintha faced at the palace were only a small portion of her difficulties. From the beginning of her regency, the queen was plunged into a series of troubles, both domestic and foreign.143 First came economic turmoil in the south of the kingdom. Amalasuintha very quickly had to intervene in the name of her young son to help the province of Sicily with financial assistance from the royal patrimony. Here a tax relief was necessary for the Romans, who felt both the famine and the fiscal pressure of supplying grain for Italy. The Goth Gildila, who was the Count of Syracuse, had not followed the royal order that instructed him to stop his officials from making illegitimate profits by grossly inflating food prices.144 The abuses were not only perpetrated by the Goths; Amalasuintha also had to fight the speculators, who were making profits by buying products cheaply and then raising the prices on the market so high as to be beyond the reach of all but the most wealthy.145 The general scarcity of food also reached Rome, where Cassiodorus had to intervene against shameless speculations perpetrated by the officers in charge of the grain distributions for the old capital. In a letter addressed to his deputy we read: “Indeed, if all citizens need to be helped, however those of Rome deserve something more. The city, which is decorated with eminent senators and blessed with such a noble people, must resound with the praises of our princes, praises that people of foreign nations can wonder that they have heard. For, rightly the common joy lifts itself up, [this joy] on account of which it is known that lords are victorious.”146 These were the main problems that a Praetorian prefect had to deal with; indeed, most of the Cassiodoran letters published in books 11 and 12 of the Variae address the phenomenon of corruption, which was widespread inside the bureaucracy. During the decade of her power, Amalasuintha would try in vain to revitalize commerce and encourage urban life, particularly in the provinces of southern Italy, where cities were becoming depopulated as owners and curiales left the towns and retreated to the countryside.147 But even in the countryside things were difficult. The provinces of Lucania and Bruttii were unable to pay



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their annual tribute in pork, and the court ordered a tax relief.148 Things would only grow worse in 533 and 534, during which period Belisarius was using Sicily as a military base in the war against the Vandals. Further internal and external troubles marred the beginning of the reign. We have evidence of turbulence in Liguria. A letter in Athalaric’s name to Opilio remembered the uncertainty of those years: We also remember with what devotion you served in the earliest stages of our kingdom (nobis in primordiis regni nostri devotione servieris), when the service of the faithful people is especially needed. In fact, when after the death of our grandfather of divine memory the anxiety of the people shook the (general) consent, and because the heir of such a reign was still uncertain, the hearts of the subjects were filled with apprehension, you, as successful carrier, announced our auspices to the Ligurians, and they, encouraged by the speaking of your wisdom, exchanged the grief about the beginning of our government for happiness, the grief which they had harbored concerning the death (of Theoderic). The renewal of the king was achieved without any confusion, and your solicitude insured that nobody offended us.149 Other parts of the kingdom were probably also affected. Cassiodorus himself took a military command, a ducatum, perhaps to face the threats from the empire and from the Vandals of Hilderic, and as an administrator he tried to prevent damage to the provinces and to avoid the depletion of the treasury: [He] aided the first days of my reign with arms, as well as letters (primordia regni nostri et armis iuvit et litteris). For, while the royal mind was obsessed by defense of the coasts, he was suddenly expelled from his literary sanctuary, equaled his ancestors, and fearlessly took up a general’s command. In this, since the enemy did not appear, he triumphed by his outstanding character. For he fed the Goths assigned to him at his own expense, so that he neither injured the provincials, nor loaded my treasury with the burden of expense. His arms brought no loss to the land-​­owners. No wonder that he was the truest guardian of the province, for he who protects without damage rightly earns the name of defender. But soon, when the season checked the movement of ships, and the fear of war was

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dissolved, he employed his talent instead as a champion of the laws, healing, without loss to the litigants, wounds which, it was well known, were formerly inflicted for bribes.150 Both documents refer to the beginning of Athalaric’s reign (primordia regni)—​ a­ nd significantly Opilio and Cassiodorus were two of the most noteworthy senators close to Amalasuintha during her regency.151 It is likely that chaos traveled through the provinces together with the news of Theoderic’s death. In addition, the neighboring states as well as the empire tried to take advantage of Italy, which was also weakened by the succession crisis at the palace. These were truly dangerous years, which required a strong but delicate hand at the helm. Acting on behalf of her son, Amalasuintha necessarily took a leading role in foreign politics and diplomacy. Most of Cassiodorus’s letter-​­panegyric eulogizes Amalasuintha’s foreign policy involving the empire and the other kingdoms. From this point of view, the central part of Variae 11.1 can be considered a good synthesis of Amalasuintha’s external politics, and it indicates that she exerted some degree of influence over decisions about the military interventions of the Goths. This document, however, was produced in what would turn out to be the last year of Amalasuintha’s regency. By that time her power over the kingdom had greatly increased, and her leading role was indisputable. As a ruler, Amalasuintha was confronted with war almost immediately. Cassiodorus praises her with these words: “At the very outset of the reign, when a new regime always attracts danger, she made the Danube a Roman river against the will of the eastern prince (contra Orientis principis votum). The sufferings of the invaders are well known: in my judgement, they should be passed over, lest the spirit of an allied prince (socialis principis) should bear a loser’s shame.”152 Cassiodorus also refers to this episode as happening at the very outset of the reign (in ipsis primordiis), even though it may fit with a date around 530, when the Ostrogoths were successful against the Gepids.153 The latter, with the support of the Heruls and with the tacit consent of the emperor, had tried to take Pannonia Secunda (Sirmiensis) and Sirmium, the town they had lost during the reign of Theoderic in 504. This situation provided Justinian with an opportunity to test the regency of Amalasuintha in those difficult times, and the Goths knew that the emperor was behind this attack, even if he was not directly involved.154 Procopius refers to the hostile treatment by the Goths of the Roman city of Gratiana, in Illyricum, during the war against the Gepids. The Goths achieved an important victory, and



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they pushed their enemies back to the province of Moesia Prima. In addition, they made an incursion into this territory and plundered the city of Gratiana.155 Amalasuintha eventually recalled the troops to avoid offending Justinian, who at that time was too busy on the Persian front to deal with the Gothic intervention on the Danube. It is difficult to determine how much of an active role Amalasuintha had in this military operation. Cassiodorus’s careful handling of this episode in his letter-​­panegyric may be explained by the strong relationship Amalasuintha and Justinian enjoyed at that time. The queen was clearly pleased by the achievement of Witiges, probably one of the leaders. As soon as he came back to Ravenna, he was promoted to sword-​­bearer and became closer to Athalaric, whom he assisted by also performing diplomatic duties.156 We also know that Witiges at some point went with a mission to Constantinople, where he had the chance to meet Justinian and the nobility.157 Amalasuintha exercised a level of influence in granting administrative offices to the Romans and in controlling the diplomacy of Ostrogothic Italy, but military appointments were likely decided by the Gothic nobility. The manus armata of the kingdom was led by warriors of the Gothic aristocracy, such as the patrician-​­in-​­waiting Tuluin, whose influence at the palace must have been very strong.158 The diplomatic incident on the Danube ultimately ended well, and Justinian eventually granted his peace to the kingdom. In praising Amalasuintha Cassiodorus states: “For his opinion of our lands may be understood from the fact that, despite his injury, he granted us a peace which he refused to the prayers of others. Then, too, he has honoured us with many embassies, although we seldom approached him; and that outstanding power has bowed down the awe-​­inspiring glory of the East that it might elevate the lords of Italy.”159 Even if it is possible that Amalasuintha did not attempt to excuse the incident at the time, she would later be required to provide the emperor with an explanation.160 While the relationship between the empire and the Ostrogothic kingdom took a better turn in the early 530s, relations with the Franks were troubled as usual, and they represented a great challenge for the kingdom. Amalasuintha’s half-​­Frankish origins did nothing to solidify the relationship of the Gothic kingdom with this people. On the one hand, we read in Jordanes that Clovis, in arranging his sister’s marriage with Theoderic, hoped “that by this alliance a league would be formed and that they would be associated with the race of the Goths”; his sons had the same hope. On the other hand, in the same passage the author states that as long as Theoderic lived, the Goths were strong

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enough to keep the Franks under control, even if they were involved in continuous fighting for the defense of the Gallic territories: “But that union was of no avail for peace and harmony, for they fought fiercely with each other again and again for the lands of the Goths; but never did the Goths yield to the Franks while Theoderic lived.”161 After Theoderic’s death, the situation became more complicated. Considering the customary passive role of queens at the Merovingian court at that time (Clotilde’s influence on her own children possibly stands as an exception),162 the Franks may not have taken Amalasuintha’s diplomatic activity seriously; her position surely seemed strange, and Gregory of Tours does not even bother to discuss her political role.163 Jordanes in the Getica reports the curious news that the Franks tried to take advantage of Athalaric’s youth and that the young king had to concede to them some territories that had earlier been seized by his grandfather and (interestingly) also by his father: “But as the Franks put no confidence in the rule of a child and furthermore held him in contempt, and were also plotting war, he gave back to them those parts of Gaul which his father and grandfather had seized.”164 In the Romana Jordanes states that, under the rule of his mother, Athalaric “returned Gaul, which he had kept for a long time, to the Franks, who were demanding it back.”165 This information is most likely mistaken, and no other source confirms this return of territories to the Franks, which in fact first took place in late 536 under the rulership of Witiges.166 The event Jordanes refers to may be the return of portions of the Burgundian kingdoms, as referenced by Cassiodorus in the letter-​­panegyric, and the invasion of the kingdom by the Franks in 532. This does not exclude the possibility that, like Justinian on the Danube, the Franks may have tried to challenge the kingdom of little Athalaric. Jordanes’s alarming statements clearly contrast with Cassiodorus’s eulogies of Amalasuintha in late 533, which claim that she had been able to contain the threats of the Franks: Again, there are the Franks, of great power from so many victories over barbarians: how vast was the expedition that dismayed them! When attacked, they feared to join battle with our troops, although they constantly carry war to other tribes in sudden assault. But, though this proud nation declined the conflict, they could not avoid the death of their own king. For their Theoderic [son of Clovis], who had long gloried in a mighty name, was conquered by sickness, rather than battle, and died to the triumph of our princes. This, I believe, was ordained by God, lest war with our kindred should defile us, or a



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justly mobilised army should not enjoy some vengeance. Hail to you, army of the Goths, of happiest fortune! You have slain a royal enemy without costing us the death of the meanest soldier.167 The Burgundians, in contrast, surrendered themselves to the Gothic supremacy, hoping to keep part of their territory through diplomacy rather than lose it all through military intervention. Diplomacy with the Burgundians had deteriorated in 522, when Sigismund killed his son Sigeric. This had proven to be a terrible blow to Theoderic, the grandfather.168 Sigismund was killed shortly afterward by the Franks, who invaded the Burgundian kingdom and captured and later killed him; his brother Gundomar became king in 524.169 Ten years after Sigeric’s tragic death, in circa 530/1, Amalasuintha decided to improve relations between the two kingdoms, and she gave the Burgundians the territories between the Durance and Isere rivers. She also sent some troops to aid them. Cassiodorus praised Amalasuintha for her clever diplomacy in solving the Burgundian problem without war: Indeed, the Burgundian also, to regain his own, has become a loyal subject; he has surrendered himself wholly, to recover a small territory. In fact, he has chosen to obey us uninjured, rather than to resist with his land diminished; when he laid down his arms, then he defended his realm more securely. For what he lost in battle, he has regained by petition. Blessed are you, mistress, rich in praise; one from whom God’s favour removes all need for war, since you either subdue the enemies of the state by heavenly fortune, or join them to your sway by spontaneous generosity.170 Cassiodorus was probably referring to Amalasuintha’s concession of territories to the Burgundians, although he inappropriately presents it as a subjection of this people. In reality, by supporting this kingdom Amalasuintha was trying to protect Ostrogothic Italy from the threat of the Franks. From a diplomatic point of view, the operation was successful, and Amalasuintha gained the support of the Burgundians. Nevertheless, this strategy was risky, and it did not save the Burgundian kingdom, which by this time had become a buffer state. In 532 Childebert and Chlothar attacked Gundomar, crossing the limits of the Visigothic kingdom in Aquitania. By 534, shortly before Athalaric’s death, the Burgundian kingdom was split between the winners, the three Merovingian kings;171 now Frankish lands bordered the Ostrogothic kingdom.

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Even though Amalasuintha still controlled Provence, the situation was perilous, and the concerns that compelled her to provide help to the Burgundians were well justified. In fact, in 531 the kingdom of Thuringia had succumbed to the attacks of the Franks, and it was eventually incorporated into the Merovingian territories. In 532 King Herminafrid was assassinated, while sometime later Amalaberga with her two children returned to her brother Theodahad in Italy, at a time when Amalasuintha was probably still in power.172 Things were no better with Spain. Since Theoderic’s death, his grandson Amalaric had been ruling as king over the Visigothic kingdom, no longer under Theudis’s authority.173 As a consequence, he had stopped paying the tributes to Ostrogothic Italy that had been previously established by Theoderic, which probably included grain supplies. Indeed, we know from the Variae that in 526 Theoderic had sent his people to stop abuses in the transportation of grain, to try to regulate the amount of the tributes, and finally to protect his royal patrimony.174 After his death, however, things had changed, and Athalaric, who was Amalaric’s younger cousin, also had to return to his older cousin in Spain the treasure of the Visigothic Balths that, many years earlier, the Goths had brought to Ravenna from the Gallic city of Carcaso (Carcassonne), in 508.175 This was the treasure that Alaric had taken in Rome in 410 during his famous sack of the city. It included the treasure of Solomon. Part of this treasure was originally given to Galla Placidia when she married Athaulf in 414, but it was probably kept in Gaul after the Visigoths sent the empress back to Italy.176 As a result, Italy lost again, and this time forever, this most valuable treasure, a piece of the old glory of Rome, which remained in Visigothic hands. To make things more complicated for the Italic kingdom, the ambitious Amalaric had married a Frankish princess, Clotilde II, hoping to consolidate the relationship between the two peoples. But the queen was a Catholic, and, according to the accounts of both Procopius and Gregory of Tours, she refused to convert despite the pressure of her husband. Increasingly threatened by Amalaric, Clotilde II managed to persuade her brother Childebert to intervene for her cause, and in 531 she encouraged him to attack the territories of the kingdom located in southern Gaul. Amalaric’s defeat at Narbo was followed by his murder on the way to Barcelona,177 and the king’s former tutor Theudis succeeded him on the Visigothic throne. This, in around 533, restored to the Frankish kings some of the territories of Aquitania Prima, which had been lost since the death of Clovis.178 The Visigoths were more and more isolated in Spain. Except for Ostrogothic Provence and Visigothic Septimania,



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Gaul was entirely under Frankish control; the Franks had become neighbors of the Ostrogoths. Amalasuintha was forced to accept this painful change of scenario. Theoderic’s ambitious plan for a fusion of the two Gothic peoples, which had been the stratagem behind Amalasuintha’s marriage, was by this point a distant memory. The situation with the kingdom of the Vandals was entirely different, but not necessarily better. Cassiodorus ignored it completely in his eulogy of Amalasuintha. Relationships between Goths and Vandals had deteriorated since the murder of Amalafrida under Hilderic, her husband’s successor. Perhaps more than the situations with the other kingdoms, the problem of the Vandals had the potential to be a diplomatic nightmare. Courting a better relationship with Byzantium, Hilderic had ceased the persecutions against the Catholics, whom he protected instead, and he managed to improve relations between the Vandal kingdom and the empire. This renewed relationship stayed Theoderic’s hand after the imprisonment of Amalafrida.179 Procopius reports that among the reasons why Theoderic did not take revenge for his sister’s imprisonment was the good relationship of the Vandal king with Justinian (who at that time was not yet emperor but was already practically ruling): “However, no revenge came from Theoderic, for he considered himself unable to gather a great fleet and campaign against Libya, and Hilderic was a close friend and ally of Justinian, who had not yet come to the throne but was governing its affairs with full power, for his uncle Justin, who was emperor, was very old and not altogether experienced in matters of state. Hilderic and Justinian sent large gifts of money to each other.”180 By 527, however, the winds of change were blowing. Perhaps emboldened by the cooling relationship between Justinian and the Vandals, and seeking to soothe the tensions with the northern African kingdom, Amalasuintha in the name of her son addressed Hilderic with harsh words for his barbarous actions, asking for an official apology for the murder of her aunt, and hoping for an accurate investigation of the event, the gravity of which could permanently compromise any future alliance: Who does not know that Amalafrida of divine memory, the illustrious splendor of our stock, with you found a violent death, and that you did not tolerate that she, whom once you had as a queen, lived as a private person? If, in the face of the sacred duties of the kinship, she seemed troublesome, she should have been sent back to us with honor, she whom you had sought with great supplication. It is a

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kind of parricide that you took part in the nefarious enterprise to kill this woman, whose marriage with the king had connected her to you. Deprived of her spouse, what evil did she deserve? Even if the succession were due to someone else, whenever could a woman have been found in this position? On the contrary, she should have been regarded as a mother, she who transmitted the kingdom to you. Indeed it would have been also an addition to your nobility, if you had kept the purple dignity of the Amal blood in the stock of the Hasdings. Our Goths understand that this was made rather for their own opprobrium. Indeed, he who caused the death of the queen of another tribe seemed to entirely despise the virtue of her kin, because no one dares to attempt something that he believes will be avenged. Therefore, moved by a moral reason, through our legates X and Y we first seek justice from your words, waiting (to hear) what kind of excuse can be offered in such cases. . . . ​It remains that her natural death may be feigned. We do not say the impossible, we do not ask for new things: tell this to X and Y, through whom what happened should be clarified. Let there be an absolute proof of the entire matter to them, without war, without slaughter: whether it should placate us, or whether it should reveal you to be guilty. And if you think all this should be scorned, and you do not bring yourself to give a reasonable response, we will consider ourselves unbound from the current peace agreement, because we are no longer held to the bond of the damaged treaty.181 We know little of international politics between Italy and the Vandals from 527 to 533, and it seems that, despite this major incident, commercial activities between the two kingdoms remained in good shape. Amalasuintha’s efforts to quell the tensions may have been successful. But things in Africa took a major turn on 19 May 530, when Gelimer overthrew Hilderic’s kingdom by usurpation. Justinian used this event as a pretext to declare war on the Vandals.182 A Byzantine author reports that Justinian turned away Gelimer’s gifts and refused to recognize him, and that he also asked Athalaric to do the same.183 A heavy silver basin with carved inscription “Geilamir rex Vandalorum et Alanorum,” which was found in northeast Italy (an area where the Goths kept their last strongholds, remaining even after the end of the war) may suggest a different story and reveal ambiguity by the Gothic court in face of a possible diplomatic gift.184 But no matter how Amalasuintha felt about the deposition



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of Hilderic, Amalafrida’s assassin, when Justinian started his war against the Vandal kingdom, she supported him. This time it was the Ostrogothic kingdom, not the Vandal kingdom, that was in good standing with the emperor: the two Gothic rulers were in fact under Justinian’s protection (commendatio). Amalasuintha, who was managing diplomacy in the name of her son, supported the emperor in his conquest of Africa by providing the Byzantines with logistical support for the army and by allowing Belisarius to use Sicily for his military operation against the Vandals. This is what we read in the Gothic War, but similar information is related in the Vandalic War.185 Cassiodorus’s letter-​­panegyric of late 533 does not include any reference to these events, but this is not particularly surprising: Belisarius sailed for Sicily around summer 533, and Cassiodorus wrote his letter when the war was at an initial stage. Probably at that point the cooperation of Amalasuintha with the emperor was also in its most incipient stages. Amalasuintha tried all possible means to keep the international situation under control and to protect the Ostrogothic kingdom from the provocations of the Franks. But by the early 530s, the last Amal royal descendants in the foreign kingdoms, remnants of Theoderic’s policy of alliances, had disappeared. Despite her good intentions, the diplomatic efforts of Amalasuintha would fail. The Franks were growing at an alarming pace, swallowing the other kingdoms of continental Europe, such as Thuringia and, very soon, Burgundy. They represented a big threat to the Ostrogothic kingdom. The necessity of consolidating an alliance with the empire became an overarching priority for Amalasuintha. Under heavy pressures at the court, and with Athalaric nearing the age to rule, she eventually decided to entrust herself and her son to Justinian. Was the queen’s fear solely provoked by the degenerating international political situation, or was it also due to distrust of her son and his inability to rule, to which Procopius refers?186 The renewed relationship with the empire, however, did not mean that Amalasuintha was ready to acquiesce to all Justinian’s plans. It did not prevent the Goths from occupying the fortress of Lilybaeum in Sicily, and later from opposing a Byzantine occupation of this place. According to Procopius, Amalasuintha was directly involved in these events, exchanging letters with Belisarius and later with Justinian arguing about the Gothic rights of the town, a worthless “lone rock.”187 Indeed, Lilybaeum, which had belonged to the Vandal kingdom since 500, was originally part of the dowry of Amalafrida.188 According to the same author, however, Amalasuintha also had to respond to other events that had upset the emperor: the above-​­mentioned

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episode of the city of Gratiana, and also Italy’s acceptance of ten Huns who had escaped from the imperial army. These deserters had taken refuge in Campania, and Uliaris, the Count of Naples, had received them “not at all against the will of Amalasuintha.”189 We suspect that the military operations of the first years were probably encouraged by the Gothic army, while Amalasuintha played a diplomatic role. Becker-​­Piriou rightly notes: “It is precisely because she is a woman and not a man that she must act discreetly, leaving as much as possible her son in the foreground.”190 Yet this blend of diplomatic activity with Gothic actions of war may well have been her intentional tactic to reach strategic objectives while keeping the relationship with the empire in good shape. In the end, western Sicily remained in Gothic hands. The help provided by Amalasuintha to Justinian did not prevent the emperor from setting his sights on Italy. On the contrary, it seems to have encouraged it. Justinian settled his conflict with the Persian Empire and, with support from Amalasuintha, carried out his conquest of the Vandal kingdom of Africa. But it was clear to the Goths that Justinian’s campaign was not at an end; it was the beginning of a larger project of conquest that would soon have serious consequences for Italy. Amalasuintha’s diplomacy may have given Gothic Italy protection from the growing fear of the Franks in the north, but other tensions loomed on the horizon from the south as Justinian successfully invaded Africa. With the Vandals subdued, the emperor began to turn his dangerous, acquisitive gaze to the affairs of Italy, perhaps now beginning to think more carefully about his plans for a reconquest of the West.

The Turning Point at the Palace: A Roman Patrician-​­in-​­Waiting By the early 530s, Amalasuintha had made progress in consolidating her control over the kingdom, and she had placed her reign under the protection of Justinian.191 Interestingly, it was at this very time that she made significant replacements at the palace, including key administrative figures. These were probably the last important choices she would make before her son reached his majority. In the conspiratorial and dangerous atmosphere at the court, she would ultimately have to take extraordinary measures to preserve her own life. According to Procopius, a conspiracy was developing against Amalasuintha among some of the Gothic nobility. She attempted to protect herself by sending three of her worst enemies on a mission to the “limits of Italy.” The historian reports that these men were sent “not together . . . ​but as apart as



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possible from one another. The pretext was that they were being sent to guard the land against enemy attacks.”192 Procopius also specifies that the three men were sent on “a long journey,” though Ravenna is not excessively far from the boundary of Italy.193 If we credit this account, then we must assume that the three men were sent to the borders of the kingdom: maybe they were sent to Illyricum, or perhaps to Pannonia Sirmiensis, where the military operations of the Goths against Gepids and Heruls had never ceased, or to the city of Arles in Provence. If so, then the episode probably took place either in combination with Amalasuintha’s intensive border control or in connection with the assistance she gave to the Burgundian kingdom in around 532, discussed in the previous section. But these measures were ultimately unsuccessful, as Procopius tells us: “Nevertheless, these men continued to prepare their plot against Amalasuintha through the help of friends and relations, who were still in communication with them, even travelling a long journey for the purpose.”194 Amalasuintha, realizing that her plan to eliminate her enemies was not working, began to contemplate more drastic measures. Ultimately she decided that the best and safest course of action would be to leave Italy altogether for Constantinople. According to Procopius, she had already consulted Justinian about this possibility and received his consent; Justinian ordered the preparation of a luxury residence to welcome the Amal lady in Epidamnus (Dyrrhachium). This place was the closest significant harbor city south of the Ostrogothic border in Illyricum. Here Amalasuintha would have time to think and to make her decision on whether and when to move to Constantinople.195 It is difficult to imagine Amalasuintha abandoning the court and staying in Justinian’s territory while making such a decision. If she left Italy, her returning to court would be next to impossible. But apparently, in spite of Procopius’s account, she was not quite ready to abandon her kingdom; even in this uncertain scenario, Amalasuintha continued to plan, following her own strategy, and trying to root out conspiracies that were forming against her, endeavoring to protect both the kingdom and herself. She had been unable to rid herself of known conspirators by sending them to the margins of the kingdom; now she sought assassins. Procopius tells us that she asked men close to her to assassinate the three influential Goths who were still conspiring against her. But she also planned for the possibility that the assassination attempts would fail. While she waited for the assassins’ plot to unfold, she sent to Dyrrhachium a ship filled with her treasury, four hundred centenaria in gold (forty thousand gold pounds)—​­ an enormous amount, about 2,880,000

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solidi. But she ordered the crew not to unload the treasure from the ship. If this secret operation against her enemies were successful, then she would recall the ship; otherwise, she would leave immediately.196 This time the plan worked, and Amalasuintha chose to stay in Italy: “But a little later, when the murders had been accomplished as she wished, Amalasuintha summoned the ship back and, remaining at Ravenna, strengthened her rule and made it as secure as possible.”197 Should we entirely dismiss this story? Procopius’s account seems at first glance outlandish, but such a plan was not without parallels. Certainly more than a century earlier Galla Placidia and her son, Valentinian III, had escaped to Constantinople when they felt threatened.198 And some forty years after Amalasuintha’s attempt, in 572, the Lombard queen Rosamund would ask the prefect of Italy, Longinus, for permission to move to Ravenna, after having her husband, Alboin, murdered. She was attempting to escape her situation at the palace of Verona, which was highly insecure because the murder had cost her the support of the aristocracy. Delighted by the news, Longinus—​­who was apparently behind the conspiracy against ­Alboin—​­promptly sent a ship to take her and the Lombard treasure to his city.199 Unfortunately, Procopius’s account of the events of these years is not satisfying, and our Western sources are also very limited. Cassiodorus’s silence for the years 528–532/3 makes the understanding of this period difficult. However, a few elements from the letters of book 9 of the Variae show that Amalasuintha’s internal politics had taken a new direction, and that changes occurred at the palace. For example, we read of the restoration of the payments for the teachers of Rome and of the appointment of Cassiodorus to the Praetorian prefecture.200 The appointment of Paulinus, a member of the Decian family, to the consulship for the year 534 may be less surprising, considering that the two Western consuls of the years 527 and 529, Mavortius and Decius, also belonged to the same family, and that Decius was Paulinus’s brother.201 Scholars generally suspect that Amalasuintha reasserted her position at the court around 532/3, when she was able to move against her enemies, and that among the people she got rid of was the patrician-​­in-​­waiting Tuluin. It is probably not a coincidence that now we lose track of him, as well as of such former counts as Osuin and Sigismer, upon whom Theoderic had strongly relied and who were indeed key figures at the beginning of Athalaric’s reign.202 Tuluin’s disappearance from the political scene allowed Amalasuintha to strengthen her control over the kingdom, to the point that she had the authority to raise Liberius to the supreme patriciate.



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In his letter-​­panegyric, Cassiodorus states that his own promotion to Praetorian prefect had been troubled: “For you know what wishes fought against me: neither gold, nor powerful pleas could prevail. All things were tried, that the glorious constancy of our wise queen might be tested.”203 It is possible that attempts to bribe Amalasuintha were made by Gothic aristocrats trying to pressure Roman candidates with pro-​­Gothic views, such as the former prefect Avienus, the son of Faustus. More interesting is that in this same document Cassiodorus also attributes to Amalasuintha the merit of having promoted Liberius to the highest rank of patrician-​­in-​­waiting, which was an additional honor to his older appointment as prefect of Gaul: Already the benefits I proclaim have increased (Ea quae asserimus iam creverunt). For consider the Patrician Liberius, also Prefect of Gaul, a man of military experience, charming for his courtesy, distinguished by his merits, good to look on, but made still more handsome by his scars. He has obtained the reward of his labours, so that he does not lose the Prefecture he wielded so well, but, as a great man, is adorned by a twofold honour. One honour only does not suffice for his reward, but the pair proclaim his deserts. For he also receives the office of Patrician-​­in-​­Waiting (accepit enim et praesentaneam dignitatem), lest one who has deserved well of the state should be thought unwelcome through his long absence. O wonderful kindness of our lords, which has so far exalted the aforementioned man that, after conferring high office, it also sees fit to extend his patrimony. This has been as gratefully received by the public as if all men thought themselves enriched, in fact, by the gift made to him; for whatever is bestowed on one worthy man is felt unquestionably to be conferred on many.204 In the panegyric, this quotation immediately follows the praises of Amalasuintha’s support of the Roman Senate, and the expression at the beginning, “Already the benefits I proclaim have increased,” makes Liberius’s promotion the most recent benefit granted to the senators. Considering that the panegyric was Cassiodorus’s thanks for having been raised to the Praetorian prefecture, an unusual amount of space is here dedicated to Liberius’s promotion. These events must have been close in time, and I disagree with those scholars who place Liberius’s promotion at the same time as Tuluin’s. Some scholars think that Tuluin and Liberius held the patrician appointment contemporaneously,

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being respectively in charge of Italy and of Gaul.205 I believe that Liberius replaced Tuluin, and that his promotion was considered as significant as Amalasuintha’s other achievements listed in this panegyric. From the letter it seems that Liberius was already active in the new office at the time of Cassiodorus’s promotion. Exactly when this happened we do not know, because the Variae, which lack material for the years 528–533, do not include the appointment letter for Liberius to this most prestigious office.206 The relationship between Amalasuintha and Tuluin may have been uneasy, but it is also true that at this point the Italic kingdom needed the leadership of a Roman diplomat rather than that of a Gothic warrior. The appointment of Liberius probably as the replacement of Tuluin must have been a fatal blow against the military power of the Gothic elite, and it demonstrates once more Amalasuintha’s strong influence over her son in conferring the supreme power. But who was the new patrician-​­in-​­waiting? Liberius was an extremely complex figure. He had previously supported Odovacer but had been appreciated by Theoderic for his faithfulness and been raised to the patriciate in the year 500.207 More than a military leader, he was an administrator, and he had been successful in accommodating the Gothic soldiers in Italy by moderating the tensions between them and the Roman landowners.208 Following the conquest of Provence by Theoderic, in 510 he had been appointed Praetorian prefect in Gaul; he was still in charge when in late 526 he received a letter from Athalaric asking for his loyalty to the new kingdom,209 and also in 529, when he signed the Acts of the Council of Orange. The increasing power of the Franks, which, as we have seen, was generating immense change in Western Europe and which had reached an alarming point for the Gothic kingdom, made Liberius the ideal candidate to fill the position of patrician of the kingdom. Procopius considered him an honorable man who showed the highest regard for the truth.210 Cassiodorus praised him as “a man of military experience, charming for his courtesy, distinguished by his merits, good to look on, but made still more handsome by his scars,” and his words find some confirmation in the Life of Caesarius of Arles, whose author claims to have heard this information from Liberius himself.211 Justinian would later entrust him with military commands.212 Liberius was the product of a senatorial aristocracy to which, as we have seen, Tuluin had only been admitted because of his exceptional status of patrician-​­in-​­waiting.213 Liberius and Tuluin did not have much in common, except perhaps for their military pasts. Tuluin had distinguished himself in Sirmium against the Bulgars and later in the conquest of Provence for his courage. He had become particularly



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dear to Theoderic, and Cassiodorus described the wounds that testified to his valor.214 Certainly, both Liberius and Tuluin were familiar with the situation in the Gallic province. Because of his leading position in the senatorial elite, Liberius was the right figure to consolidate relations with the empire at a time when Amalasuintha had recently entrusted herself and her son to Justinian, and he may have helped with the diplomacy of those difficult years. As prefect of the Gallic territories he must have been engaged in the complicated diplomacy with Burgundians, Visigoths, and Franks. Things were not black and white, however. In fact, when the events in Campania and Lilybaeum discussed above took place, it was probably not just the Counts of Naples and of Syracuse who were responsible for actions against the empire.215 These episodes likely happened at a time when Liberius was patrician-​­in-​­waiting, and Amalasuintha, who was working to resolve these diplomatic incidents from her palace, was likely the mind behind the events. Despite the fact that by this point he held the most important military position in Italy, Liberius was hardly considered by the Goths as their leader. Under these circumstances, Amalasuintha had a stronger influence on the decisions of the Gothic commanders. And even if we have evidence that Gothic groups later, during the difficult years of the Gothic war, would serve Roman commanders, and even proposed that Belisarius rule over the West (βασιλέα τῆς ἑσπερίας),216 such a situation in 532/3 must have further raised against her the hatred of the conservative Gothic aristocrats, who previously had counted on Tuluin as their commander. We may wonder whether Amalasuintha needed Justinian’s consent for this promotion, and whether her commendatio was connected to this major change in the kingdom. Indeed, the choice of Liberius must have been mostly welcomed by the emperor. Justinian may have been confident enough to address his (first?) law to the Senates of both Constantinople and Rome on 1 June 534.217 It is remarkable that this was the first time after a long period that Italy had a patrician representative whose origins were not barbarian. By giving the most important military title to a Roman diplomat, Amalasuintha had literally decapitated Gothic power at the palace and over the army; the supreme commander of the exercitus Gothorum was no longer even a Goth. This is even more significant if we want to believe Procopius’s account that, after having got rid of her enemies, Amalasuintha was still thinking about leaving Ravenna for the East and handing power over the kingdom to Justinian.218 While such a plan would be impossible with Tuluin as patrician, Liberius

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could facilitate this operation: he could serve as a mediator in an eventual transition of power, and perhaps even accommodate the Goths’ demands in case of a peaceful agreement. Importantly, Liberius had experience in matters of land and taxation of the two peoples of the kingdom. And it may not be a coincidence that in those very months Amalasuintha began her energetic intervention against land misappropriations.219 When considered in the larger context of the empire of the late fourth and fifth centuries, promotions to strategic positions of people like Liberius and Cassiodorus appear to be examples of conflicts between the palace elites, who found in situations like this the opportunity to enhance their political roles and establish powerful positions.220 The exact nature of the relationships between Roman and Gothic elites at Athalaric’s court cannot be fully defined. But it is clear that by late 533, while Justinian was reconquering Africa, Amalasuintha had the opportunity to hand the emperor a kingdom that was technically led by a Roman patrician and skilled administrator with pro-​­imperial views, and that was officially still ruled by an ill teenager. Or was Amalasuintha manipulating the situation in Italy in order to stay in control? The fact that the Cassiodoran letters announcing the co-​­regency with Theodahad sometime in November 534 recognize the queen as the primary power leads us to speculate that she still had the kingdom under control. We shall explore all these questions in more detail. For now we can fairly state that by 533 Amalasuintha had reached the summit of her power, and that she had far surpassed any expectations of power that a Gothic woman or a post-​­Roman queen of that age could ever have had.

A Dying Son, a Corrupt Cousin: The Fracturing of the Amal Family Neither domestic nor foreign difficulties had prevented Amalasuintha from consolidating her dominating position at the court or from developing her relationship with Justinian; on the contrary, as we have seen, all these challenges actually accelerated the process. But her position at the court remained dangerous indeed. Perhaps looking ahead to a time when her enemies would not be easily eliminated, the queen, according to Procopius, was in secret negotiations with Justinian, ready if necessary to abandon Italy for the East in order to save her own life. In the second half of 533, however, everything changed. “At this point



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Athalaric, having plunged into a drunken party that had no limits, was seized with a wasting disease,”221 Procopius writes. Rumors that Athalaric was ill began to circulate in the kingdom. In two letters dating to late 533, the Praetorian prefect Cassiodorus asked Pope John II and the bishops to pray for the health of the two rulers (regnantes) and for the safety and prosperity of the kingdom. Though they do not specifically mention Athalaric’s illness, this kind of request is unusual in the Variae.222 By 534 Athalaric was desperately ill, and Amalasuintha began to reconsider her plans to leave Italy. And she began to think again about the succession. Her position was made more difficult by additional complications inside the royal family. Among the other issues demanding her attention, Amalasuintha had to face Tuscan landowners who came to her accusing her cousin Theodahad of invading their properties, as well as taking advantage of the royal household. Referring to the events following the return to Constantinople of Justinian’s embassy to Amalasuintha,223 Procopius writes: “While these things were transpiring, Theodahad was denounced before Amalasuintha by many Tuscans, who stated that he had done violence to all the people there and had without cause seized their estates, taking not only all private estates but especially those belonging to the royal household, which the Romans call patrimonium. For this reason the woman called Theodahad to an investigation and when, confronted by his denouncers, he was proved guilty without any question, she compelled him to pay back everything he had wrongfully seized and then dismissed him.”224 Theodahad, this land-​­confiscating, scandalous relative, was the nephew of Theoderic, the son of Amalafrida. He was born probably almost a decade before Amalasuintha, in a time when the Goths were still settled in Moesia. Part of his youth was spent in Italy with his uncle in the palace of Ravenna, where he received an education in literature and philosophy. But he never underwent the usual martial training of the Goths, and Theoderic himself purposely avoided preparing Theodahad for the throne. Perhaps he disliked and distrusted him. The identity of his father, which remains a mystery, may have given Theoderic reason for discomfort: his name is strangely not reported by any author, and even after Theodahad came to the throne, no eulogies of a glorious paternal lineage appear in our sources.225 After Amalafrida was remarried to King Thrasamund in the year 500, Theodahad probably remained at the palace of Ravenna for a few more years before leaving to take up residence in his own properties, which were mostly located in southern Tuscia.226 As a grown man, he lived in the shadow of the Amal family, enjoying all the benefits of royal protection (regia tuitio) as well as

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Roman citizenship: he had the title of vir illustris, and he was also referred to as praecelsus atque amplissimus vir.227 He may also have carried the title name of Flavius; this is not used in the Variae, but it is found in an inscription about his daughter.228 Alone in his own territories and free from any direct supervision of his royal cousin, Theodahad, greedy and dissatisfied, was expanding his properties continuously and with violent methods. Procopius tells us that he considered it a disgrace to have a neighbor.229 Land misappropriations were a plague in Ostrogothic Italy, and many years earlier Theoderic had tried to moderate this phenomenon in his Edict.230 Through his letters Cassiodorus tells us fragments of the early history of Theodahad: Theoderic had been forced to intervene against him more than once to solve cases of misappropriations made by his men. But while Theoderic was firm in his decisions, he treated his nephew mildly. He never applied to him the punishments prescribed in his Edict.231 This leniency was not rewarded, and for his part Theodahad does not appear to have been an admirer of his uncle.232 Following Theoderic’s death, Theodahad took further advantage of the weaknesses of the kingdom. This was surely a real difficulty for Amalasuintha, just as it had been for Theoderic. Since taking on the regency for her son, Amalasuintha had tried to improve her relationship with her cousin, seeking to gain his friendship by returning some properties that had previously belonged to his mother. Here again Cassiodorus is our informer. A letter in Athalaric’s name, but reflecting Amalasuintha’s views, addressed to the count of the patrimony in 527, states of Theodahad: “For God forbid that we deny to a relative that which we are accustomed to entrust to the subjects: when he who is joined to us by blood merits more, nor can he be robbed of his own wish, who serves under a beloved judge.”233 The tenor of expression in the letter reflects the desire of the rulers to alleviate tensions with Theodahad, “whose faith and sincerity we take for granted,” and describes their motivation for the gift of the returned properties, “so that the grace of the present gift may make more agreeable him, who is bound to us by such great charity.”234 The letter praises his obedience, modesty, and prudence: “For what can we deny to such a man, who could even obtain better things on account of his obedience, even if he were not proven to be a relative? He is a man whom no exaltation of his nobility inflates; humble with modesty, always uniform in prudence. This he deserves from us, you understand, when it glorifies us that we acknowledge him as a relative.”235 The use of similar wording about Theodahad in a letter addressed to the Romans years later reinforces the impression that behind little Athalaric’s words was the mind of Amalasuintha.236 But even



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this act of generosity did not prevent Theodahad from taking advantage of his neighbors. In spite of her efforts to be on good terms with her cousin, the queen had to face the same reality as her father, and had to take action. As Procopius tells us, “Now Amalasuintha was exerting herself to curb this desire of his, and consequently he was always aggrieved with her and resentful.”237 While Amalasuintha was dealing with the conspiracy against her person at the palace and with complicated international diplomacy, Theodahad silently increased his properties by creating his little realm inside the larger kingdom. Years later Gregory of Tours would refer to him as rex Tusciae.238 His men had never stopped trespassing and appropriating properties, including those of the royal household (patrimonium). From this erupted the scandal of the year 534, when Tuscan landowners—​­ mainly Roman aristocrats, who probably sought help from influential senators at the court like Liberius—​ c­ ame in person before Amalasuintha to complain.239 Interestingly, very shortly before the accusation was made, Amalasuintha had supported the issuance of an edict in the name of Athalaric that not only reaffirmed the validity of all previous edicts on the subject of land confiscation but also prescribed severe punishments for this crime.240 This new Edict addressed various issues, including adultery, bigamy, fraud, magic, and protection of the poor. But land misappropriation received by far the most attention, probably because it was such an old and persistent problem: “For a long time, the complaints of various persons have sounded in my ears with frequent whisperings (quod diversorum querellae nostris auribus crebris susurrationibus insonarunt) that certain men have despised civil order (civilitate despecta), and have chosen to live with the savagery of beasts (beluina saevitia), since, returning to primitive rusticity (ad agreste principium), they have formed a feral hatred for human law.”241 Not just the content but also the wording here are interesting, evoking Roman imperial law and tradition: I now rightly judge that these men must be repressed; thus I will harass the crimes that are hostile to good morals at the same time that, by the divine power, I am resisting the enemies of the state. . . . ​By the severity of the laws and my own anger, I condemn that chief poison of the human race, the seizure of property (noxiam pervasionem), under which civil order (civilitas) can be neither claimed nor maintained. I decree that the law of the divine Valentinian, long seriously neglected, shall rouse itself against those who despise legal process, and, in person or by their servants, dare

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to expel the owner and violently occupy estates in town or country (qui praedia urbana vel rustica despecto iuris ordine per se suosque praesumpserint expulso possessore violenter intrare). Nor do I intend any of its severity to be abated by abhorrent relaxation. . . .242 By reintroducing a Sanctio of Valentinian III in order to punish those who abusively occupied other people’s properties, Amalasuintha indirectly appealed to the time of Galla Placidia, who was for her an important example of a regent mother.243 But this time there would be neither tolerance nor mitigation in penalty, even for the most powerful people: But, if anyone is carried away to such madness that, in a spirit of tyranny, he fails to obey the public law (iuri publico), and, in his outstanding power, despises the small numbers of the [governor’s] staff concerned, he will be brought to my ears and marked out by a report from the governor; an execution by saiones will be granted; and he who has refused to obey the judge will feel the vengeance of the royal might. And, because even high princes must live under the common law (iuris communione), if anyone, omitting legal process, shall presume, or has presumed to post up titles of ownership in the public name, he is to be liable to the owner to the extent proclaimed by the aforementioned decree. For he who has dared to burden the majesty of the royal name with the evil weight of illicit seizure is also and rightly smitten by the punishment for sacrilege.244 This Edict also prescribed that the defeated party in court had to pay the expenses of the case.245 Procopius’s account of the Theodahad affair finds support not only in the fact that the sanctions against him match with those prescribed in the above-​ ­quoted Edict of Athalaric but also in a letter of Theodahad dated a few months afterward, to late 534, in which he reminded the senators that Amalasuintha had recently intervened against him: “I experienced her justice first. . . . ​As you know, she ordained that I should plead my cases against private persons according to the common law (iure communi). . . . ​She did not hesitate to subject her own relation to the course of public justice (iure publico). . . .”246 Amalasuintha must have appealed to the above-​­quoted Edict, which had been issued sometime at the end of 533 or the beginning of 534. Now Theodahad had to



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face the prescribed legal consequences for his actions, as Amalasuintha applied the punishments prescribed by the law. This time he was subjected to the public law: the peculiar use in both documents of ius commune/publicum (both these expressions are very rare in the Variae) represents a connection between the two documents, that is, Athalaric’s Edict and Theodahad’s letter to the Roman Senate. Another connection between them lies in references in the Edict to complaints about land confiscations: “The complaints of various persons have sounded in my ears with frequent whisperings (nostris auribus crebris susurrationibus insonarunt).”247 This reference finds a parallel in the statement by Theodahad, one year later, that a “whispering” made by the senators about matters they could not openly discuss had originally been dangerous for him, but that later it turned into an unexpectedly good fate: “Now let the hopes of all be unlocked without fear, so that everyone knows that from that same place where I was once put in danger, now from there I am honored. For—​­without my knowledge—​­you dared whisper what you could not openly say (praesumpsistis enim me inconscio susurrare quod palam non poteratis assumere). How much I owe you, this can be understood from the fact that by divine will, you hastened this to come to pass for me, that which my soul never dared to seek.”248 This is very likely a reference to the scandal of the land misappropriations that were brought to the attention of Amalasuintha.249 But there was yet another layer of complexity. Procopius’s account tells us that in the same year, 534, during the months of Athalaric’s illness, Theodahad had made secret agreements with Justinian’s legates to sell his Tuscan properties to the emperor and to retire to Constantinople.250 Had the deal been successful, neither the dispossessed landowners nor the royal house would have had a chance to claim back from the emperor the properties stolen by Theodahad, whose shameless expansion of his properties may also have been done in order to make this offer to the emperor as attractive as possible. And when we consider the timing of this affair—​­from the publication of the new Edict, to the accusations made against Theodahad by the Tuscan ­landowners—​ i­t seems possible that in the middle of 534 Amalasuintha learned of her cousin’s secret plans, which could prove extremely damaging to Italy, and ordered an investigation against him. The injunction by Amalasuintha to Theodahad to restore what had been wrongfully seized inevitably increased the hostility between the cousins. But this hostility and discord with her cousin took on new significance in the

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troubled situation in which Amalasuintha now found herself, as she searched for a way to keep the kingdom under control. By this point she knew with certainty that her son was close to death, and that she would soon need to reinvent her political position, for how could she rule over the Goths without a king by her side? And most likely it was now that she decided to make Theodahad an offer he could not refuse: the entire kingdom. Procopius suggests this chronology when, soon after describing Theodahad’s property scandal, he writes: “At about this same time Athalaric, having wasted away by the disease, came to his end. . . . ​As for Amalasuintha, it was fated that she would end badly, she took no account of the nature of Theodahad and of what she had recently done to him, and supposed that she would suffer no harm at his hands if she now did the man a great favour. She accordingly summoned him (μεταπεμψαμένη τοίνυν αὐτὸν) and, when he came, set out to win him over, saying that she had known for some time that her son was expected to die soon (ὅτι δὴ ὀλίγῳ ὕστερον τελευτήσειε). She had heard the opinion of all the physicians, who were in agreement, and had herself perceived that the body of Athalaric continued to waste away.”251 Jordanes confirms the basis of Procopius’s account: “So having given the matter much thought (secum deliberans), for the sake of kinship she established on the throne her cousin Theodahad, who had been called from Tuscany, where he led a retired life at home.”252 Even if the two authors differ in the matter of Amalasuintha’s planning, they provide similar information. Jordanes states that Amalasuintha feared being despised by the Goths because of the weakness of her sex,253 while Procopius attributes her fear to the recent efforts to eliminate her most influential enemies in the Gothic nobility; this act had made her position at the palace more vulnerable: “She thought that if Athalaric also was removed from among men, her life would not be safe thereafter, since she had clashed with the most notable Goths”; the enemies “were both numerous and men of high standing.”254 Under these conditions, it is unlikely that any major decision made by Amalasuintha at that point would have received the unanimous consent of the Gothic nobility. Facing the imminent death of her son, the queen, now more alone than ever, needed to act as fast as possible. But in spite of the enormous obstacles before her, the fact that she was able to nominate Athalaric’s successor is indicative of her increased level of power. At the palace of Ravenna, imperial ambitions and Gothic conservatism clashed around the figure of Amalasuintha. Justinian obviously knew of the develop-



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ments at the Gothic court, and while he was engaged in the wars against the Persians, he supported with his tacit consent most of Amalasuintha’s politics. She was leading her personal war against her enemies at the palace, and the emperor was supporting her secret plans, carefully watching the events from a distance and in silence, and waiting for the right time to intervene.

Chapter 4

Balancing Gothic Tradition with Roman Ideals

During the period of her regency, from 526 to 534, Amalasuintha played an unusual and powerful role unlike that of any other queen of the post-​­Roman kingdoms. As we have seen, while as queen mother she held regia dignitas, her potestas developed over the years. By the early 530s she had increased her power at the palace and finally entrusted herself, her son, and the kingdom to Justinian. But her son’s health was failing, his death imminent; and soon she faced a new crisis. Though she ruled as a queen, her right to govern was founded in her regency for her son. The consortium regni that Amalasuintha built with her cousin Theodahad was not, as scholarship has traditionally assumed, the beginning of her queenship. Rather it was a solution to the primary question: how could she, as an unmarried woman, maintain power over the kingdom? Theodahad—​­ corrupt, dishonest, greedy man that he was—​­became the instrument for the legitimation of her status. A careful analysis of the Cassiodoran evidence allows us to revise Procopius’s chronology to show the developments that led to the co-​­regency. But this solution, strategically convenient though it was from a political and diplomatic point of view, did not protect Amalasuintha from opposition that had been building over the years at the palace, and that had become even stronger following her elimination of some of the Gothic aristocrats. Her enemies’ hatred fueled the old animosity of Theodahad, who—​­despite his promotion—​­still harbored hostility ­toward his cousin. Amalasuintha’s fate was sealed. The Gothic aristocracy finally found a way to get rid of her, but this act doomed the Amal family and ultimately destroyed the Gothic monarchy: it gave Justinian the opportunity that he was waiting for to declare his war against Ostrogothic Italy.



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To Abandon the Kingdom or Stay in Power? A Web of Lies If Amalasuintha had stepped down from the throne when her son reached the which was almost certainly expected—​­ she would have age of majority—​­ maintained her title of regina but lost her power as regent. Perhaps a more pressing concern was that the Goths might judge Athalaric incapable of ruling, perhaps because of his wild private life (if Procopius is to be believed), or his constant reliance on his mother (as some of the Cassiodoran letters seem to indicate); then they could depose him in order to elect another king, most likely not an Amal. The events of later years suggest that this fear was well grounded. But in the end the situation never arose, because Athalaric never reached his majority. Shortly before his eighteenth birthday, on 2 October 534, he died, probably from diabetes or as a consequence of debauchery.1 The little information we have about Amalasuintha’s actions during this turbulent period need to be understood in the context of the palace and the international scenario. According to Procopius, while Athalaric was lying ill, Amalasuintha was locked in a diplomatic struggle with Justinian through his imperial legate, Alexander, for the possession of the fortress of Lilybaeum in Sicily, which she wanted left to the Gothic kingdom together with the rest of the Vandal part of the island. But at the same time the queen had not entirely abandoned the idea of leaving Italy and retiring to Constantinople.2 When Athalaric became seriously ill, Amalasuintha panicked at the thought that her life was no longer safe, and for this reason was ready to cede power over the kingdom to Justinian.3 As we saw in the previous chapter, the queen may have considered this offer before when her palace enemies threatened to become overwhelming, even going so far as to dispatch a ship filled with gold, with orders to stand by in the event that she decided to leave for Constantinople. Procopius states that Justinian had never been informed that Amalasuintha had a change of heart and summoned her ship to return from Dyrrhachium to Ravenna, so he charged Alexander with inquiring into her delay in leaving Italy.4 At this point the historian suspends his discussion of Amalasuintha’s plans in order to introduce Theodahad and narrate the events that over the years had generated the bad blood between the two cousins. The sequence of actions in the narrative Procopius gives becomes unclear as he describes a series of events that he declares happened “at the same time”: it is difficult to fit all these occurrences into such a small window of time. The palace intrigues, the secret diplomacy, and the intentions and actions of the

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main characters cannot be properly understood on the basis of Procopius, whose chronology is not very precise. But, with these difficulties acknowledged, we can try to articulate the chronology he offers us. The imperial legate Alexander met Amalasuintha in Ravenna and announced the end of the African war. He discussed diplomatic issues with her but also spoke with her about the new plan to leave Italy for the East. In Ravenna, as he prepared to return to Justinian’s court, Alexander was joined by the two bishops, Demetrius of Philippi and Hypatius of Ephesus, who had previously traveled to Rome to discuss religious matters with the pope.5 The bishops’ mission was of minimal interest to Procopius, who found the religious issues little more than a distraction: “As for the points in dispute, although I know them well, I will by no means mention them, for I consider it a sort of insane stupidity to investigate the nature of God, asking what sort it is. For man cannot, I think, accurately understand even human affairs, much less those pertaining the nature of God.”6 But during their mission, these bishops had met with Theodahad. We may wonder whether the bishops had tried to discuss the religious issues of the kingdom with him, and therefore also whether the secret discussions included plans for an eventual succession in case Athalaric should die.7 Theodahad by this time was considering his own plan to sell Justinian his Tuscan properties and then retire to Constantinople. Procopius tells us little of this meeting, but he does inform us that even though both Amalasuintha and Theodahad had made essentially the same secret arrangements with Justinian to flee Italy for Constantinople, neither Amalasuintha nor Theodahad was aware of the other’s plan. It was in the company of these same bishops, who had recently had these discussions with Theodahad, that Alexander left Ravenna in summer 534, carrying Amalasuintha’s letter to Justinian concerning the question of Lilybaeum. Procopius gives a detailed description of the letter’s content, which involved a resume of the political situation that Procopius had previously discussed.8 The three men made the return trip to Constantinople together. What did Justinian hope to achieve with this double game? Theodahad was the only adult male of the Amal family, certainly the only direct descendant of Theudimer, and at this point the only Amal male who was a possible candidate for the throne. But when Amalasuintha called him to answer for his land misappropriation, he had already decided to sell his Tuscany to the emperor and to retire to Constantinople.9 Had Theodahad accepted Justinian’s offer, the lack of an Amal heir would have fully delegitimized the Goths and



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their claim to rule over Italy on behalf of the emperor according to the agreement of the year 488. This would offer Justinian a juridical pretext to claim Italy for the empire and even to start a war, just as he had done the year before with Gelimer in Africa. For Justinian, if we believe Procopius, the situation was working out very well indeed. He believed he had found a way to diplomatically remove Amalasuintha from the Gothic kingdom by offering her retirement to Constantinople. And because he was ready to do the exact same thing with Theodahad by agreeing to buy his Tuscan properties, it seems reasonable to suspect that his intention was to remove the last of the Amal royal family from Italy, presumably to facilitate his ultimate goal of seizing control there also as soon as the African war was over. Procopius tells us that as soon as he heard the messages of the returning legates, Justinian sent his ambassador Peter to Italy. Peter was a skilled and persuasive orator, and he was officially sent to clarify the question of Lilybaeum.10 He carried with him two separate sets of secret instructions, both of which dealt with the relocation to Constantinople; one was for Amalasuintha, the other for Theodahad. The legate was on his way to Ravenna when he crossed paths with the embassy sent by Amalasuintha to announce Athalaric’s death and Theodahad’s election—​­the two events, as Cassiodorus’s letters confirm, were communicated together—​­and then, shortly afterward, Peter met another embassy, this one sent by Theodahad to announce Amalasuintha’s deposition.11 The chronology provided by the historian is difficult to explain when compared to the Western sources. As I shall demonstrate later, our other authors suggest a revised chronology that will shed more light on the politics of Ravenna’s court, and also on Justinian’s intentions, which Procopius was not in a position to disclose.12 Over the past century Procopius’s account of this secret diplomacy has generated much speculation. In a short article published in 1925, Baynes attempted to provide an exact chronology for the embassy of Alexander, Demetrius, and Hypatius, and he also gave a perceptive explanation of what may have happened in Ravenna in summer 534, when Alexander was joined by the two bishops, who had met with Theodahad and knew his secret plans: Episcopal tongues may well have been set wagging and Amalasuntha may have learned the secret of Theodahad. She could outbid the offer of Tuscany by throwing the whole of Italy into the scale. Procopius says that she did. . . . ​Amalasuintha, with her son’s death imminent, a woman and alone, was in a desperate position and she

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knew it; she could not afford the luxury of scruples. There follows the condemnation of Theodahad and the order to restore his ill-​ ­gotten lands. Theodahad should have less wherewithal to bribe Justinian. The weeks passed; Athalaric was sinking; she could not await Justinian’s reply. Necessity makes strange bed-​­fellows; one traitor had need of another. Did she use her knowledge to bend Theodahad to her will? Did she feel herself secure in the possession of the secret which she alone shared with the king of her creation? It is tempting to think that the price at which she sold her silence was Theodahad’s oath that he would be king in name alone.13 We need to contextualize these observations within the historical framework. If, as in Procopius’s account, the intervention of Amalasuintha on behalf of the Tuscan landowners took place in the very brief space of time between Alexander’s return to Constantinople and Athalaric’s death, and if this was part of the queen’s plan to clear Theodahad’s reputation, this means that Amalasuintha had planned for the succession to the throne when her son was still alive. Unfortunately, neither Procopius nor Cassiodorus helps us establish how far Amalasuintha’s plan to raise Theodahad predated Athalaric’s death. Did Amalasuintha make her decision after Alexander left Ravenna for Constantinople? Or was the queen lying to the imperial legate about her intentions to hand over the kingdom to Justinian and to retire to Constantinople? After all, if she had resolved to cede the throne to the emperor, it would make little sense to fight for the Gothic possession of western Sicily. It is still possible that she did this to hide her true intentions from the Goths. But it seems more likely that, because the emperor was strongly pressuring her, Amalasuintha was lying about her intentions while searching for a solution to maintain her power. Certainly keeping the Byzantine army out of Sicily would make it easier to protect the kingdom from invasion. Indeed, one year later Belisarius had to invade the island by sea. Scholars have long wondered about Amalasuintha’s intentions at this moment. Schwartz believed that her plan was to leave Italy, but that Amalasuintha felt forced to nominate a successor for her own safety: “The plan to flee to Constantinople was impracticable as long as the expected envoy of Justinian had not arrived. There was no time to lose; as soon as the young king was no longer alive, danger threatened. That is why the election of Theodahad took place already on the day after Athalaric’s death.”14 On the opposite side, Frankforter has speculated that “if Amalasuntha had been planning to leave



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Italy, as Procopius says, there was no reason for her to have risked a showdown with Theodahad.”15 While we shall never know whether Amalasuintha was seriously considering leaving Italy to retire to the East, or whether she was playing a double game in order to gain time, we can attempt to reconcile the sources. We can speculate that, despite the possible secret agreements with Justinian, Amalasuintha’s real plan was to remain in Italy, leaving for the East only if things did not work out. In 534 she was aware that her son would die soon, and she may have thought to replace him with Theodahad, the only adult male of the Amal family in Italy. The trials against Theodahad had begun, and he may originally have been in the dark about Amalasuintha’s intentions to raise him to the throne. In this scenario, we have two main possibilities: (1) Amalasuintha put Theodahad on trial in order to facilitate his rise to the throne, considering that at this point Athalaric’s death was imminent; and (2) the queen intended to sabotage Theodahad’s plan to retire to the East—​­which, in Baynes’s view, she found out about from the imperial bishops in Ravenna—​­while shortly afterward she decided to offer him the throne. We do not have an answer for these questions; for a hint, we are left only with the tantalizing words of Procopius in the Secret History, where in describing the many qualities of Amalasuintha that upset Theodora, he commented that the Gothic queen was “swift at devising plans to get what she wanted.”16 The details of Procopius’s account of Amalasuintha’s two different attempts to leave Italy for Constantinople do not need to be trusted entirely. But the fact that this plan also appears in the Secret History as part of the narrative leading to Amalasuintha’s assassination may suggest an original project of this kind. An understanding of the relationship between Amalasuintha and Athalaric during the final years of the king’s life would provide a valuable key to answer this question, but our sources do not offer us this possibility. Was the king close to his mother or was he rather, as Procopius insists, a rebellious son? Cassiodorus seems to support e silentio the second hypothesis in his brief words about Athalaric in the epistle Variae 11.1, which mainly celebrates the mother of the king. In this case, the position of Amalasuintha would be compromised once her son had reached the age of majority, when he could claim to rule alone. Her insecurity in Italy as this time approached may have provided the impetus for her plans to leave the kingdom for Constantinople. Once Athalaric’s illness became terminal, however, the only way for her to remain safe in Italy was to fully retain her rule. Had she been an imperial woman, this could have been done through a marriage, perhaps mirroring the

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examples of Pulcheria and Ariadne before her. But in the Gothic kingdom such a solution, assuming that it was possible, would make the queen subject to her husband and would diminish her status and political influence, with authority entirely entrusted to her spouse. Amalasuintha could never become the Ariadne or the Theodora of Italy. It is impossible to determine why Amalasuintha eventually opted to remain in Italy and to corule with someone like Theodahad, with whom she had been on bad terms for a long time. Was it because of personal ambition, or did the reason lie in a distrust of Justinian and Theodora, which would have made leaving Italy for Constantinople a fearful prospect? Perhaps it is easier to think that the Gothic queen did not want her father’s political construction to crumble. Indeed, at a time when both Justinian and the Franks were greedily expanding over most of the former Western Empire, Amalasuintha’s abandonment of Italy would have dealt a fatal blow to the Ostrogothic kingdom. Our sources suggest that, when she made her decision to remain in Italy, she did it with the intention to rule, or more accurately, to keep ruling, in the style of a Roman empress rather than in the subordinate position of a Gothic queen. Through the creation of the consortium regni, Amalasuintha made clear that she would not be the woman behind the throne, the traditional Gothic queen advising a ruling King Theodahad, but would rather have it the other way around, in a very deliberate gender reversal. Athalaric’s death immediately after Justinian’s conquest of Africa had given the emperor an ideal opportunity to dismantle the Gothic kingdom. But, as we shall see, Amalasuintha’s determined action complicated, rather than facilitated, Justinian’s plans.

Amalasuintha’s Iustitia: The Price for Theodahad’s Throne Why, given the precarious nature of her position, did Amalasuintha choose this particular moment to proceed against her cousin, the one man whose partnership could legitimate her reign if Athalaric died? The interval of time between the scandal around the land misappropriations by Theodahad and his promotion to the throne appears to have been remarkably brief, but it is difficult to determine whether and to what extent the two events were actually related. According to the chronology provided by Procopius, the intervention of Amalasuintha in support of the Tuscan landowners took place shortly before Athalaric’s death, which happened “at about this same time” (ὑπὸ τὸν



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χρὸνον τοῦτον). The statement by Theodahad in his letter that Amalasuintha raised him to the throne only “shortly after” (paulo post) having put him to the trial of public justice, confirms this chronology, and it indicates that the two events were very close in time.17 It is certainly possible that for Amalasuintha these accusations of the Tuscan landowners against Theodahad provided an opportunity to deal with the scandal in a public forum, and to thus begin the difficult process of clearing the tarnished image of her cousin in preparation for his imminent rise to the throne.18 Our sources support this interpretation. Procopius states that Amalasuintha wanted to redeem Theodahad from his bad reputation in view of his elevation to the throne (quoted below). Cassiodorus confirms this view: writing in the name of Theodahad, he refers to the senators’ dangerous insinuations, or whisperings, which ultimately turned out to benefit him. And he also praises Amalasuintha’s justice, acknowledging that she subjected him to the course of public justice before raising him to the throne. These comments were all allusions to the recent scandal involving his person, and his election took place only after he was subjected to the public law (quoted below). For Amalasuintha to promote her cousin to the kingship, she needed to clear his image. We read in Procopius that, before raising Theodahad to king, the Gothic queen had been struggling in perplexities until, eventually, she decided to offer him the throne under specific conditions: As for Amalasuintha . . . ​[she] supposed that she would suffer no harm at his [i.e., Theodahad’s] hands if she now did the man a great favour. . . . ​As she saw that both the Goths and Italians had an unfavorable opinion of Theodahad, to whom the family of Theoderic was now reduced, she was now willing to clear him of this evil name so that it would not stand in his way if he were called to the throne. But at the same time, she explained, the question of justice (τὸ δίκαιον) troubled her, namely that those who claimed to have been wronged by him would have no one to whom they could report anything that happened to them, as they would now have their enemy as their lord. For this reason, she invited him to the throne after his name was cleared in this way; still, it was necessary that he be bound by the most solemn oaths that while the name of the office was bestowed upon Theodahad, she herself should in fact hold power no less than before.19

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According to this account, Amalasuintha had searched for a successor, while at the same time she had also tried to protect herself from the possibility that her cousin would seek revenge for his prosecution. His prior bad acts gave her a justification for retaining power, and so she could reach an agreement with him that ensured that her power would not be diminished. The Cassiodoran evidence of the two letters addressed by Amalasuintha and by Theodahad to the Roman Senate complements Procopius’s account, providing the voice of royal propaganda. Announcing his election, Theodahad eulogizes Amalasuintha’s morality and her respect for justice, from which he claims that he himself has recently benefited: But among the gifts that the Divinity has bestowed with upon me, together with the regal dignity, that which flatters even more our mind is that the wisest lady chose us, on the balance of a great debate. I experienced her justice first so that I could first reach the grace of her promotion. For, as you know (ut scitis), she ordained that I should plead my cases (causas) against private persons according to the common law (iure communi). . . . ​She did not hesitate to subject her own relation to the course of public justice (iuri publico subduere), even him whom, a little after, she would raise above the laws themselves.20 We understand from these lines that Amalasuintha had forced Theodahad to plead his cases (therefore more than one) against private persons according to the public law, and also that the senators knew about these scandals. The “individuals” (privati) here need to be understood as the landowners. Hodgkin did not doubt that this passage was “an allusion to the punishment which, as we learn from Procopius, Amalasuintha inflicted on her cousin for his various acts of injustice ­towards his Tuscan neighbours.”21 Claude highlighted the same connection: “The information by Procopius, that Amalasuintha was concerned to promote Theodahad to king, because the people damaged by him would have in him their enemy and supreme judge, is confirmed through the letter in which Theodahad communicated his elevation to the Senate.”22 Cassiodorus used this episode of justice with a strategic intent: Consolino rightly points out that here the author transformed a recent bad page of Theodahad’s life into an example of royal justice by Amalasuintha, which culminated in his receiving the royal title.23 It is significant that the Cassiodoran letters that introduce Theodahad to



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the reign revolve around the delicate issue of “justice,” which is expressed through a variety of terms. Amalasuintha underscores Theodahad’s capacity to be a good ruler by emphasizing his education in the Holy Scriptures: “Your prince is also learned in ecclesiastical letters. They constantly remind us of what benefits mankind: to judge justly (iudicare recte), to know the good, to venerate the divine, to think on the coming judgment (futura cogitare iudicia). For he who believes that he must stand trial for his verdicts will inevitably follow the path of justice (sequatur iustitiae vestigium). I may be acquainted with the reading that whets the intellect; but divine reading strives ever to make a man devout.”24 With confident words the queen reassures the senators that the new king would act according to her idea of justice: “I have appointed as my fellow prince a man who will execute the good deeds that spring from my justice (de nostra aequitate bona faciat).”25 This evidence further confirms Procopius’s statements cited above. The desire of Amalasuintha to expedite justice for Theodahad (τὸ δίκαιον) was based on her plan to accelerate the time for his promotion.26 The Cassiodoran letter in the name of Amalasuintha does not have an apologetic tone, but the queen still feels the need to justify her choice to the senators, whose interests, as we have seen, she had always guarded. She declares that she has no bad intentions, and at the same time she reassures them that a co-​­regency guarantees the good character and mildness of the rulers: “Rejoice, fathers of the Senate, and commend my deed in your prayers to the powers above. I who have chosen to order all things with another’s counsel, have willed nothing blameworthy. In fact, a shared rule is a guarantee of good character, since the ruler who has a partner in power is rightly credited with a mild disposition.”27 She even goes so far as to present Theodahad as generous, when she reassures them, with words that seem almost ironic, that rulers have no need for other people’s properties: I will move on to that most lavish sobriety he showed in private life: it won him so much wealth through his gifts, such a store of things through his banquets that, when his former efforts are considered, there seems nothing new in his kingship. He has been most ready in hospitality, most pitiful in charity: thus, while he spent so much of his own, his estates increased by heavenly recompense. All the world should wish for such a man as I have chosen, one who orders his property by the light of reason, and does not desire another’s. For princes are not driven to extortion when they are used to administering and restraining their private affairs.28

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It is especially important to note that Procopius and Cassiodorus agree on another central element. According to Procopius, the queen’s plan to clean up her cousin’s image before raising him to the throne was tied to some conditions in particular: “While the name of the office was bestowed upon Theodahad, she herself should in fact hold power no less than before.”29 Procopius makes a clear distinction between Amalasuintha conferring upon her cousin the title of the office (τὸ τῆς ἀρχῆς ὄνομα) and the power that she would maintain (τὸ κράτος). This distinction also appears in the above-​­referenced letter of Theodahad to the senators: “She thoroughly searched the conscience of him to whom she was about the hand over the control over the kingdom, that on one hand she could be recognized as sovereign Lady of all (illa domina cognosceretur esse cunctorum), and on the other, that she might deign to bring me, having been tested, to the kingdom (et me probatum perducere dignaretur ad regnum).”30 The tone and the psychology of the Cassiodoran letters clearly confirm Procopius’s account, and the evidence suggests that Amalasuintha claimed a leading position in the co-​­regency. She wanted certainties about Theodahad’s future behaviour, and she also made him agree that her power would not be diminished. This was, after all, the nature of the consortium regni. On the whole, there are strong similarities in the motifs used by Cassiodorus and Procopius, and the two authors fully agree on the rationale for the election. They also agree on the way the new arrangement was presented publicly. Indeed, Theodahad’s letter to the senators (Variae 10.4,4–5) references the two main elements of Procopius’s narrative (Bellum Gothicum 1.4,5– 6). First, in the letter, Amalasuintha made sure that Theodahad pleaded his causes before a court of law; this was related to cleaning his image of its bad reputation (Procopius), and it became part of the royal propaganda of justice (Cassiodorus). Second, Amalasuintha tried to understand Theodahad’s intentions, seeking reassurance that she would keep the same level of power as before. Both our authors present this as a guarantee of justice in government, which was Amalasuintha’s main concern after Theodahad’s image was redeemed. But was this kind of public scrubbing of Theodahad’s reputation enough to win the approval of Amalasuintha’s subjects? We know only the official side of the story: Amalasuintha justified her high level of power as a necessity, and she guaranteed that Theodahad would not misbehave and that she would help him rule.31 With the co-​­regency, the queen had found a way to stay on the throne, and she had broken with the tradition of Gothic power. Cassiodorus surely understood her intentions, but he does not share them with us; rather,



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he hides his knowledge of the events behind a thick rhetoric that only the people very close to the palace could decrypt. For him, the recent actions by Amalasuintha against her cousin became a means to justify Theodahad’s unexpected elevation to the throne. Procopius did not know Amalasuintha’s plans well (or if he did, his knowledge was indirect). He offers the reader a narrative filled with strategies and intrigues, but also with imperfections. He was too far removed to know the secrets of the Gothic court, and his objective in discussing the events is mainly to justify Justinian’s intervention in Italy by blaming Theodahad’s ingratitude to Amalasuintha.

Reinventing Herself: Gender Reversal in the Co-​­Regency When it became certain that Athalaric was about to die, Amalasuintha, running short of options, decided to preserve the rule of the family of Theoderic: she remained in power as queen, and she gave the throne to Theodahad. Once again, the reality she had to face contrasts with the later allegation of Gregory of Tours, who claimed that she disgraced her “noble family” by not taking as a spouse “one of equal rank with herself from a royal family.”32 Theoderic had never trusted Theodahad. He had never considered him as a successor or as guardian for Athalaric. This was probably because of his bad reputation as a greedy landowner and because he could have damaged Athalaric’s position as successor. But Theodahad, who was also inexperienced in war and politics, was the closest (if not the only) living male of the Amal family,33 and the situation at the court required immediate action. Despite the fact that the tensions between the cousins were high, time was of the essence. Already during the final weeks of Athalaric’s life, Amalasuintha had worked to redeem her cousin’s image in order to pave the way for his elevation to the throne. As soon as Athalaric died, she hastened to promote Theodahad to the kingship. But the position she offered him was not a traditional Gothic kingship. It was a place beside (if not below) her own. Theodahad would be made the one to share her kingdom, the consors regni. Consortium regni is the formula that introduced the rulers’ joint government in the Cassiodoran letters. This form of transmission of power had become frequent during the empire, especially in late antiquity, when the Augusti frequently associated co-​­emperors to the throne, generally as Caesares. Cassiodorus and Jordanes follow the imperial and late antique tradition by using such expressions such as consors regni, particeps regni, and socius regni.34 But

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this formula applied to emperors, and imperial women did not generally decide associations in power, especially when they did not marry the new ruler. Nonetheless, during the fifth century the Theodosian empresses had begun acting as consortes imperii, participating in power (κοινωνία τῆς βασιλεῖας). They did this no matter whether they held the title of Augusta as the emperors’ wives, or whether they ruled on behalf of their children (Galla Placidia) or younger brothers (Pulcheria).35 By the sixth century this practice was more frequent, as the cases of Ariadne and Theodora show. Later Sophia, Justin II’s wife, would be referred to as consors regni/imperii by Corippus and be represented on bronze coins enthroned beside her husband.36 Like “regency,” however, this expression was not an institutionalized title. It rather indicated a de facto status, and in this context it highlights the power of the ruling woman beside her husband. Even if Cassiodorus probably uses here the term “consors” as an allusive pun, this word in this context does not imply a marriage, as some scholars (as well as authors of popular literature) have understood it to do37 without tak­ malasuintha-​ ing into consideration that Theodahad was already married. The A ­Theodahad association was without precedent in the various kingdoms, and it sounds like “the foundation of a diarchy.”38 A careful look at the way that our authors represent the formula of power indicates that Amalasuintha was searching for a dynastic solution that did not substantially alter the position she had held during the last years of Athalaric’s reign. The queen made Theodahad her socius, and she allowed him to share her kingdom, over which she had ruled as tutor for Athalaric and which she now fully possessed, although she could not govern alone. This was, as we saw in the previous section, one of the conditions for his elevation to the throne; Amalasuintha herself makes this point clear in her letter addressed to the Roman Senate: “With God’s favour, I have chosen as partner in my realm (consortem regni nostri) the most fortunate Theodahad. Thus I, who previously bore the burden of the state in solitary cogitation, may now pursue the good of all with united counsels, so that we who are two in our processes of thought may seem one person in our conclusions (nunc utilitates omnium iunctis consiliis exequamur, quatenus in tractatibus duo, in sententiis unus esse videamur).”39 Theodahad confirms this principle on the same occasion: “I announce happily . . . ​that the powerful lady, glorious throughout the whole world, made me the partner of her reign (consortem me regni sui) with great affection, so that she did not miss the faithful support, and I was suitably given the ancestral power.”40 In the letters addressed to Justinian to announce the event, the



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language is more vague, and Theodahad is Amalasuintha’s supporter. The queen declares: “I brought up to the throne a man who is tied to me with brotherly closeness, who can sustain the royal office together with me through the strength of our common judgment, so that he might shine with the purple ornament of his ancestors and my mind might be lifted by the comfort of his wisdom.”41 Theodahad claims: “It is most certain that I in no way deviate from the opinion of her, who shines with a light of wisdom so great that she preserves her reign with admirable disposition . . . ​therefore she made me an associate of her business (curarum suarum socium).”42 Theodahad’s “participation” in Amalasuintha’s reign is the main message of the Cassiodoran letters addressed to the Romans by the coregents, and it is also expressed by Jordanes in the Romana.43 The newly elected king is the maturus frater who compensates for the loss of the primaevus filius in a juxtaposition that is based on age.44 (Procopius too highlights this contrast when, after describing the kingdom of little Athalaric, he introduces Theodahad as “a man of mature age.”)45 The flaunted brotherhood in the Cassiodoran letters is rhetorical and is meant to present the two rulers “as an ungendered couple formed by a sister and a brother.”46 All of our sources appear to stress the Amal parentage and the idea of the association to the throne. But this leads us to question whether the Gothic kingdom needed an Amal, and also why Amalasuintha, who was by now a regina without an heir, did not remarry. It seems clear that if Amalasuintha wanted to continue ruling over the Goths, marrying a Roman senator or a member of the imperial family was not an option.47 But real danger also lay behind a decision to marry a noble Goth outside the Amal line: signaling the end of Amal sovereignty could open the door for Justinian to refuse to approve the position of the new king, and to declare him a usurper—​­just as he had done with Gelimer in Africa the year before. And that very recent example must have weighed heavily on Amalasuintha’s mind. Theodahad’s Amal lineage, however, facilitated his recognition as a successor by both the Goths and the emperor.48 We may wonder at this point why Amalasuintha and Theodahad did not marry. A political marriage would seem to be the simplest solution; after all, royal widows often remarried.49 Even assuming that a marriage between first cousins (which was discouraged by the Theodosian law) could be tolerated in the Gothic world, could Theodahad, for the sake of the kingdom, not simply repudiate his wife Gudeliva and marry Amalasuintha? This is exactly what Witiges would do two years later, when he left his wife to join Matasuintha in

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marriage.50 We cannot dismiss that such an option may have been originally posed at the negotiation table. This solution, however, must have sounded inconvenient to both the cousins. Such a decision would also conflict with the morality of the Christian religion, according to which marriage was a commitment for life. As ruler of Goths and Romans, Theoderic had strongly supported this view, and Amalasuintha had recently intervened on this point in the Edict in Athalaric’s name.51 Religion was also an important component in the education of both Amalasuintha and Theodahad and in their propaganda as Arian rulers. When introducing the event to the Roman senators, the queen specifies that God, the auctor castitatis et misericordiae, had provided her with her cousin to fill the gap left by her son’s death.52 Castitas is one of the principal virtues in a Christian education, and authors such as Augustine and Jerome recommended that Roman elite women cultivate it. Ennodius had recommended that his pupils cultivate this virtue, which Cassiodorus would later also attribute to Amalasuintha’s daughter.53 Clearly, Amalasuintha’s castitas, which Cassiodorus attributed to her together with fides in the letter-​ ­panegyric of the year before, is also an indication of her status as a widow, which is celebrated according to the Christian model.54 Of course, the queen’s chastity had nothing to do with the virginity of Pulcheria, who had entirely dedicated herself to God to the point that her devotion became the central point of her political and religious propaganda even after she married Emperor Marcian.55 More important for Amalasuintha, a marriage would put the queen in a subordinate condition of power with respect to her husband. By not choosing a husband and by making Theodahad a consors only as a political partner, Amalasuintha pursued a new experimental solution that did not diminish her power. From this point of view, castitas for Amalasuintha was a political solution. As an unmarried mother, she was able to rule on behalf of her son, like Galla Placidia, and now she remained in power as partner of her cousin. She attributed recent events in her life to God’s will and justified (and sanctified) her choice to remain an unmarried widow.56 It is remarkable that Gregory of Tours defames Amalasuintha for her refusal to find a royal husband, and he combines this accusation with allegations about her lack of castitas in his fabricated account, in which he accuses her of insubordination to her mother and of having a sexual affair with her servant after Theoderic’s death.57 As a widow, Amalasuintha could easily keep a degree of freedom, and therefore she could share the royal power with her cousin the king. Her Amal heritage together with Justinian’s protection facilitated her delicate diplomatic



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operation. Through the association of Theodahad to the throne as consors regni, Amalasuintha was able to keep the level of power that she had before, at least since the early 530s. Cassiodorus had recently claimed that she had ruled alone in the name of Athalaric, and that she had carried the weight of government; now he reiterated these points in his eulogy of Amalasuintha in Theodahad’s name.58 This can be considered in parallel to the queen’s words to Justinian about Theodahad, quoted above, which presented him as one who could sustain the royal office together with her. In the Cassiodoran letters announcing his election, Theodahad is represented not as the leading figure but rather as a subordinate to his cousin. In the epistles addressed to Justinian quoted above, Amalasuintha justifies Theodahad’s association to the throne on the basis of his wisdom (prudentia) and capacity to provide her with consilium and solacium.59 This lexicon is not coincidental, and, as we shall see, these qualities were required of the wives of kings.60 Cassiodorus had attributed them to the Gothic queens Amalafrida and Amalaberga in the letters addressed in Theoderic’s name to their husbands the kings. The two Amal ladies were respectively the mother and the sister of Theodahad, and they had been represented in letters dating to about twenty-​­five years earlier as wise women who were capable of providing the Vandal Thrasamund and the Thuringian Herminafrid with advice.61 By purposely using these same virtues as keywords, Cassiodorus represents Theodahad as the “female” character of the royal couple. “Theodahad would act as Amalasuntha’s consors regni: he would fulfill the same functions his mother had filled with regard to her royal Vandal husband, yet in a completely inverted gender position,” observes La Rocca.62 And while Amalasuintha eulogized Theodahad’s prudentia in her letter to the Roman Senate,63 Theodahad announced to the senators that he would follow Amalasuintha and benefit from her experience as his teacher in government.64 Theodahad’s prudentia was basically his education in philosophy, in particular Neo-​­Platonism, and his knowledge of Latin literature and of the Holy Scriptures, which Amalasuintha praised in her letter to the senators. Amalasuintha’s praises of Theodahad are centered upon his platonic virtues, according to the triple division in moralis, civilis, and dispensativa.65 Such a representation finds support in Procopius, according to whom Theodahad was “versed in the Latin literature and the teachings of Plato.”66 Theodahad used a philosophical and religious repertoire in his letter to the senators, which follows the same rhetorical strategy as the one in Amalasuintha’s name.67 The king attributed Solomonic wisdom to his royal partner by evoking the Queen of Sheba: “In the

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Book of Kings we read that the Queen of the South came to learn the wisdom of Solomon.”68 However, rather than from the book of Kings, the claimed source, this episode is here based upon the Gospel of Matthew.69 According to the gospel, the Queen of Sheba came to learn Solomon’s wisdom, while in the Old Testament she came rather to challenge it.70 The event, as here proposed, further highlights the gender reversal inherent in this relationship: it is the philosopher Theodahad who learns from the queen.71 Nevertheless, in the complex rhetorical world of these documents, we may wonder whether the reference to the book of Kings contained a veiled allusion to Amalasuintha, the “queen” who had gone to Theodahad, the “philosopher,” to challenge his wisdom. While Cassiodorus had compared his queen to Galla Placidia in the letter-​ ­panegyric, a biblical example was now better suited for an epistle in Theodahad’s name, even though the addressee was the same, the Roman Senate. The Queen of Sheba represents one of the most significant examples of a regina from the Holy Scriptures, a case of a wise woman in power (another was Esther, whom the bishop Germanus of Paris would encourage Queen Brunhild to imitate in a letter dating to 575).72 This was an excellent example to express the power of female royalty by a Goth whose models did not exist in the past of his people but rather could be found in the Bible. The Wulfila Bible had brought this repertoire of examples to the Gothic world.73 Interestingly, a comparison with the Queen of Sheba can also be found in the metrical epitaph from Lyon for Caretena, Gundobad’s (rather than Chilperic II’s) wife and likely queen of the Burgundians, who died in 506.74 Almost a century earlier, in 414, the wedding of Galla Placidia with Athaulf had been interpreted through the prophecy of Daniel: “The queen of the south married the king of the north.”75 Cassiodorus makes use of Platonic maxims on good government to praise Queen Amalasuintha in the name of Theodahad the philosopher,76 and at the same time he represents the newly elected king as dependent on his cousin and willing to learn from her, for even “philosophers” (like him) could learn from her preternatural intellect, her discretion and diplomacy: “For when I obey such wisdom, I support all the virtues. Indeed, under such a counsellor, we do not fear the weight of the crown; since if something were unknown for its novelty, under her instruction it would become most certain to us (Nam cum tantae prudentiae pareo, cunctis virtutibus obsecundo. Sub tali siquidem monitore regni pondere non gravamur, dum si quid sit pro novitate incognitum, fiet nobis eius instructione certissimum). For the general good it is not a shame to admit the truth. Acknowledge, O leading citizens, that in this most wise Lady there is everything that could please us most. Indeed, we



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either improve our understanding by asking her questions, or we make progress by imitating her.”77 The psychology and the language of the Cassiodoran letters express a form of co-​­regency in which Theodahad is represented as subordinate to Amalasuintha in a clear reversal of normal gender roles between queenship and kingship. That this was the direction originally given to the co-​­regency can be deduced not only from the Cassiodoran propaganda of the justice and from Procopius’s account in Variae 10.4,4 and Bellum Gothicum 1.4,8, already discussed above. This idea of subordination is also reinforced by Cassiodorus’s choice to publish in book 10 of the Variae the letters of Amalasuintha before those of Theodahad. Procopius’s representations of Amalasuintha the regent mother as the male character (ἡ ἄνθρωπος) “by nature” and of Theodahad as inexperienced in warfare and unmanly (ἄνανδρος) “by nature”78 also lead us in this direction. Amalasuintha built her propaganda on those elements of Theodahad’s figure that were suitable to her queenship: first and foremost, his Amal lineage was key to justifying the election of Theodahad to Justinian, and also to Goths and Romans; second, his disinterest in warfare made him an unusual king for the Gothic aristocracy and also unlikely to become a charismatic military leader, capable of overshadowing the queen (after all, he had spent at least twenty-​­five years far from the palace); third, his Romanized education reflected the ideals of the queen, who had in vain hoped for such an educational model for her son; fourth, Theodahad had gained over the years such a bad reputation that only the strong presence of Amalasuintha beside him could have made him tolerable to the Romans. Qualities that would have kept him far from the throne in virtually every other context made him ideal for the co-​­regency. In Gothic Italy, such a figure provided a solution for a woman in power to preserve her authority, inverting the gender relationship in an experimental solution that highlighted her “masculine” attributes with the foil of his “femininity.” For Amalasuintha, Theodahad’s weaknesses, combined with his unusual character, were instrumental for maintaining a high level of power over the kingdom and pursuing her imperial ambitions. With Theodahad at her side, the queen could rule over a people that did not recognize her authority as a woman in power, much less her insolence in choosing the king directly. At the same time, Theodahad allowed her to maintain the reign founded by Theoderic under the name of the Amal family. The Italic kingdom now probably had two reginae, one of them politically active, Amalasuintha, the other one,

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Gudeliva, Theodahad’s wife, a queen only in name. But this new situation had little in common with that of the years of Theoderic, when for a short period Erelieva and Audefleda likely both held the royal title.79

Amalasuintha’s Urgency: The Day of Theodahad’s Election To comprehend the nature of Amalasuintha’s plans as she faced the impending death of her son, it becomes increasingly important to understand exactly when the queen installed her cousin to the throne as her coregent. What was the specific moment of Theodahad’s election, and when was this election announced? While our previous analysis of the sources suggests that Theodahad was summoned to the court in the last days of Athalaric’s life, I believe that he was raised to the throne the day after the king died but that, for a series of reasons, the election was announced to Justinian a few weeks later. As we attempt to unravel this chronology, we find conflicting and sometimes contradictory material in our sources. Procopius does not help us determine the chronology of events. He reports only that as soon as Theodahad swore his promises Amalasuintha established him on the throne and sent envoys to Byzantium to inform the emperor.80 Agnellus of Ravenna is the only author who provides us with specific dates: “Athalaric died in Ravenna on October 2, and on the following day (et alia die) Theodahad was raised [to the throne].”81 While historians unanimously accept the first of these dates, many are troubled by the second one, because the sparse evidence provided by the other authors makes it difficult to reconstruct the events of October through December 534. The illustrious Ernst Stein suggested a fully literary interpretation of the expression “et alia die,” which, on the basis of a statement by Cassiodorus in Variae 10.1,1 (quoted below), he believed should be understood as “and on another day” rather than as “and on the next day.”82 A careful look at Agnellus’s work, however, shows that there is no way to support Stein’s philological interpretation. Agnellus frequently uses the expression “alia die” and similar ones with the sole meaning of “on the next day.” In addition, he uses a variety of expressions to indicate “a few days later,” for those events for which he did not know the exact date.83 It seems more likely that Agnellus’s source was specific about the day of the election: scholars agree that the author drew his information from the Annals of Ravenna, if not from the Chronicle of Maximianus, bishop of Ravenna. Both of these chronological works gave detailed accounts of events in late antique Ravenna.84



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It is hard to believe that Agnellus’s source was right for Athalaric’s death but wrong for Theodahad’s election, especially considering that the two events are reported in the same sentence. Curiously, no scholar has ever questioned the date of Athalaric’s death, which would challenge an important part of the chronology of Ostrogothic Italy. In any case, unless we entirely dismiss the chronology provided by Agnellus, we have reason to believe that the two events took place in Ravenna and at about the same time. This is also the impression that we gain from Paul the Deacon, who reports the election as taking place soon after Athalaric’s funeral.85 The analysis of the other sources helps us clarify the historical context. Cassiodorus uses an ambiguous wording in the exordium of Amalasuintha’s letter to Justinian, where Athalaric’s death and Theodahad’s election are announced together but, as it seems, both with a certain delay: For this reason I have up to now hesitated (adeo . . . ​distulimus hactenus) to announce to you the death of my son of glorious memory, lest I should injure the mind of one who loved [him] through the sadness of the messengers. But now (sed nunc), through the help of God, who is accustomed to change bad events into prosperous ones, I rather have chosen to bring these things to your notice (illa magis elegimus in vestram deferre notitiam), about which you can participate with us in a shared joy. I have promoted (perduximus) to the sceptre a man who is joined to me by a fraternal tie. . . .86 At first glance it seems that Theodahad was raised to the throne sometime after Athalaric’s death; Stein bases his emendation of Agnellus’s chronology on this passage. But a close consideration of these lines tells us a different story, which shows Amalasuintha’s deliberate ambiguity. In the first part the verb distulimus (“I have hesitated”) clearly indicates a delay in communicating Athalaric’s death. In the final part, however, the verb perduximus (“I have promoted”) does not imply that Theodahad’s election had just taken place, and it does not imply a gap of time between the two events. Rather Amalasuintha had now decided (elegimus) to communicate both Athalaric’s death and Theodahad’s election with a delay but on the same occasion. This, as we have seen, is also confirmed by Procopius. Therefore this passage does not contradict Agnellus’s chronology. Rather it betrays that Amalasuintha needed time to bring some stability to this complex diplomatic situation, which entirely lacked clear precedents, and therefore there was a lapse of time before it was

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communicated to the emperor with the hope of his approval. After all, eight years earlier, the election of Athalaric may have also been communicated to the emperor with some delay (indeed, the letter Variae 8.1 lacks any reference to Theoderic’s death and Athalaric’s nomination), despite the fact that the succession was laid down by Theoderic shortly before he died and accepted without resistance by the Gothic aristocracy.87 While she took some time before she informed the emperor of the changes that had occurred in her reign, Amalasuintha had acted fast in raising her cousin to the throne. The news of Athalaric’s death reached Rome before Constantinople. The Roman senators, of course, whose presence at the palace was strong, knew the events in detail. Amalasuintha had supported them over the years, and she trusted in the judgment of the members of the senatorial elite by whom she was surrounded.88 Romans may have provided her with advice in those most difficult days. Interestingly, in the letter addressed to the Roman Senate, Amalasuintha avoids making reference to both the date of Athalaric’s death and that of Theodahad’s election: Following the lamentable death of my son of divine memory (post flebilem filii nostri divae recordationis occasum), love of the common good overcame the soul of his devoted mother, so that she considered not her reasons for grief, but rather your profit. I looked to a ruler’s cares as a source of strength and comfort. But that unique author of chastity and pity [God], who was about to deprive me of a youthful son (qui nobis primaevum subtracturus erat filium), preserved (reservavit) for me the love of an adult brother. With God’s favour, I have chosen (elegimus) as partner in my realm the most fortunate Theodahad.89 Athalaric’s death here is referenced rather than announced, and Theodahad’s election is officialized. Once again, however, the letter is purposely not specific about the chronology of the events at the palace, and Cassiodorus’s wording is ambiguous. He seems to suggest that Amalasuintha had soon searched for a replacement for her son: the same God who was about to deprive her of her son preserved for her the affection of a mature cousin, Theodahad. Cassiodorus here deliberately uses the future periphrastic, which it is also found in the letter in Theodahad’s name, concerning the investigation made of his activities in order to facilitate his elevation to the throne.90 The passage that follows immediately, describing Amalasuintha carrying the burden of the



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kingdom on her shoulders, does not mean that a lapse of time had passed between Athalaric’s death and Theodahad’s election but, as we have seen, refers to Amalasuintha’s loneliness during her regency for Athalaric, which loneliness Cassiodorus already noted in late 533.91 Finally, in his letter to the Senate, Theodahad rhetorically refers to his election as being necessarily expedited by recent events: “Therefore, it must be accepted as accomplished with great favour what seemed to be disclosed with the speed that was necessary (velociter quam oportebat).”92 At this point we can affirm that the Cassiodoran evidence does not conflict with the dates provided by Agnellus. Cassiodorus testifies that the election was announced to Justinian with a certain delay, but he does not deny that Amalasuintha appointed Theodahad to the throne the day after Athalaric died. Athalaric’s death was not unexpected. And it was clear that a lengthy interregnum would further complicate Amalasuintha’s claim to the throne in the eyes of the Gothic aristocracy. The queen had to act fast, and on 3 or 4 October she raised to the throne her hated Amal cousin Theodahad, who had spent most of his life on his own estates, far from the palace. Given the speed with which it was achieved and the complexity of the political situation, Theodahad’s election probably looked like a coup d’état. The situation had no real precedent among the Germanic tribes. Amalasuintha, for a model of power, must have looked not to Gothic traditions but rather to Roman ones. Although the historical circumstances are very different, the Roman past offered models of direct female power, at least two of which should be considered possible exemplars for Amalasuintha. First is Pulcheria, who helped and cared for her younger brother Theodosius II. In 414, at the age of fifteen, she became regent and proclaimed herself Empress Augusta. When many years later her brother, the emperor, unexpectedly died, she quickly married Marcian, whom she crowned as emperor (450).93 The second and closest case is that of Ariadne, who was widowed after Zeno’s death on 9 April 491. The empress chose Anastasius just two days after the death of her husband, and the empire lacked a direct heir to the throne. In the Book of Ceremonies (Liber de Caerimoniis) Constantine Porphyrogenitus, who relied on the lost work of Peter the Patrician, reports that Zeno had just died and was still unburied when a meeting between archontes, senators, and the patriarch of Constantinople took place at the palace, probably in the presence of Ariadne. On 11 April 491, Anastasius was crowned emperor with general consent, and the crowd welcomed him with jubilation in the Hippodrome. Unlike her mother Verina, Ariadne carefully followed the protocol, which included various ceremonies

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and public acclamations, and a few weeks later, on 20 May, her wedding with Anastasius took place.94 Finally, Justin was proclaimed emperor on 10 July 518, following Anastasius’s death on the night of 9 July.95 Amalasuintha shares with these historical precedents her actions as a woman in the transmission of power and in appointing a successor to the throne. Even if the situation in Ravenna in 534 was different from that of Constantinople in 491—​­and even though Amalasuintha did not marry the man she nominated—​­the need to avoid a power vacuum and to preserve the name of her family represented a strong parallel to her Roman predecessors. Much of what happened in those difficult days took place in the secret chambers of the palace and in an atmosphere of general suspicion. Procopius reports that Amalasuintha, having called Theodahad to the court, “set out to win him over (τιθασσεύουσα).”96 In the Getica, Jordanes tells us that she established Theodahad on the throne after “having given the matter much thought” (secum deliberans).97 Before making her final decision, Amalasuintha may have consulted the Romans at the court; however, she probably did not rely on the Goths for their consent to the election.98 Athalaric had been elected with the consent of both Goths and Romans, and Witiges years later was elected by the Goths, but on this occasion Cassiodorus does not include in the Variae any document addressed to the Goths.99 Did Cassiodorus want to indicate that Amalasuintha and only she had decided to raise Theodahad to the throne? A later letter in the name of Witiges would refer to the shameless decision as made “in privy chambers . . . ​among the subtle debates of sycophants.”100 Amalasuintha’s words to the senators that she “opened the [doors of her] palace” to her Amal kin are telling of the dynamic of this event.101 Theodahad’s election was performed without public acts, and no protocol was followed.102 Unlike in the empire, in which a tradition had solidified over the centuries, public acts and protocols did not exist in the various kingdoms at this stage, and successions were often performed according to circumstances rather than to established written rules.103 Despite the fact that the inhabitants of Italy and of the provinces must have been officially informed of the events, Cassiodorus’s choice to omit any documentation of this sort—​­which contrasts with the dossiers of letters to announce Athalaric’s election—​­may not be coincidental. The silence of the palace of Ravenna was officially broken only after a few weeks, when Amalasuintha and Theodahad announced the election through the usual channels. According to Procopius, as soon as the queen raised her cousin to the throne, “sending some Goths as envoys to Byzantium, she made



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this known to the Emperor Justinian.”104 It is very likely that the embassy included Romans. The envoys were also the bearers of the letters Variae 10.1 and 10.2. In her letter to Justinian, Amalasuintha mentions that she chose a special person to deliver the letter, someone that the emperor particularly liked.105 Echoing Athalaric’s request years earlier to Emperor Justin, King Theodahad now asked Justinian to approve his position by granting gratia and affectus,106 reminding him of the pax and amicitia that had shaped the relationship between kingdom and empire for some generations: “For therefore she made me an associate of her business, so that I would also wish to show reverence to those, whom she caused to be at peace with her, judging with her customary wisdom, that she should choose the friendship of those who have nothing similar in the whole world. Nor is this favour (dilectio) a novelty: for if you recall the deeds of your predecessors, you recognize that there is a certain law of custom, that the Amals always had friendship with that Empire (nam si decessorum vestrorum facta recolatis, agnoscitis quandam esse consuetudinis legem cum illo imperio amicitiam Hamalos semper habuisse). Which friendship, the older it is, the more secure it is.”107 We find, then, that the chronology of announcements to Rome and to Constantinople differed in a deliberate way. Whereas, as we have seen, the event was simply confirmed to the Roman senators through the letters Variae 10.3 and 10.4, a formal embassy was sent to Justinian and Theodora, to notify them of the changes in Ravenna. Amalasuintha had acted very quickly at the palace, but she had purposely slowed down the diplomatic machine. However, Justinian and Theodora likely knew about the developments at the palace of Ravenna through their informers, who were spread all over the Italic kingdom. Rumors fly—​­or at least they travel faster than the written word, and in any case faster than embassies. The news reached Constantinople.

The Short Co-​­Regency It still remains unclear whether, when making him king, Queen Amalasuintha had the power to confer upon Theodahad the titles of patrician and master of the soldiers before receiving formal approval by the emperor. The previous promotions of Tuluin and Liberius to patrician-​­in-​­waiting may have been tolerated rather than approved by Justin and Justinian.108 Theoretically, because Theodahad was an adult, his reign did not need to be represented by a patrician-​­in-​­waiting. The new king hopes in the emperor’s acknowledgment of

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Amalasuintha’s decision, perhaps in his commendatio: “For if you love me the same way, you will make me in some way equally king.”109 Interestingly, Liberius is the same person that Theodahad would put at the head of an embassy when announcing, sometime later, Amalasuintha’s arrest to Justinian. Constantine Porphyrogenitus, who in his Book of Ceremonies relies here on the lost work of Peter the Patrician (Περὶ πολιτικῆς καταστάσεως), refers to Liberius as patrician (in-​­waiting?) and prefect of Gaul.110 Liberius, however, may have still been holding the patriciatus praesentalis while Theodahad was waiting for an acknowledgment by Justinian; or, alternatively, Theodahad may have taken the patriciate himself after Liberius defected to Justinian.111 The following year, according to Procopius, Theodahad would give up his right to promote people to the patrician or the senatorial rank without the approval of Justinian, which suggests that at first the king felt entitled to such operations.112 The juridical position of Theodahad as coregent remains uncertain, and unfortunately none of our authors gives a detailed account of the period of the consortium regni. Both Jordanes and Procopius confirm that the co-​­regency did not last for long, though Procopius’s account is more specific: “Theodahad . . . ​swore to all the conditions that Amalasuintha wanted, but swore with treacherous intent, remembering all that she had previously done to him. . . . ​ When Theodahad received the supreme power, he began to act in all ways contrary to the hopes she had and the promises he made. After winning over the relatives of the Goths who had been slain by her—​­they were both numerous and men of high standing among the Goths—​­he suddenly put to death some of Amalasuintha’s men and imprisoned her, all before the envoys had even reached Byzantium.”113 In Procopius’s story about the progressive collapse of Theoderic’s mosaic in Naples, Amalasuintha’s rule ended after “the passage of a short time” (χρόνου τε τριβέντος ὀλίγου),114 which is the same expression that Jordanes uses (post aliquantum tempus, and non post multum).115 Despite its length, however, Procopius’s account is not very accurate, and it rings false on a few points. According to the historian, Theodahad had acted contrary to Amalasuintha’s expectations, and had very soon gained the favor of her enemies; he had also put to death some of Amalasuintha’s connections, and had eventually imprisoned her. All this, however, happened before the legates who were sent to announce his election reached Constantinople. Even assuming, as we have, that Amalasuintha’s embassy was sent to Constantinople after a delay, and even considering that the embassy was sent in late fall—​­a difficult time for navigation that may have added further delay to the mission—​­Procopius’s chronology still remains unlikely. Theodahad’s mis­behavior cannot have begun



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before Amalasuintha’s embassy announcing his election left Ravenna. It must postdate the letters sent by the royal couple to Justinian and to the Roman Senate to communicate the event. Procopius’s account likely mirrors the official imperial propaganda that denied any knowledge of the events of the palace of Ravenna, while looking for justification to begin a war against the Ostrogothic kingdom. But the letters of Cassiodorus’s Variae tell a different story of the co-​­regency. The first ten letters of book 10 belong to this period, and they can be tentatively dated between late October and December 534. A careful consideration of these letters, in the context of all available evidence, suggests a more complete chronology. Variae 10.1 and 10.2 were sent by the coregents to Justinian to announce Theodahad’s appointment to the throne. Since, as I showed in the previous section, this mission was delayed, the letters must postdate Athalaric’s death at least by a few weeks, and should probably be placed in the second half of October or, at the latest, the beginning of November 534. Variae 10.3 and 10.4 communicated Theodahad’s election to the senators, who knew of Athalaric’s death. Although theoretically these documents could predate Variae 10.1 and 10.2, it is unlikely that an official announcement of the election was made to the Romans before it was made to Justinian. Therefore, they should be dated about the same time as those sent to the emperor. In Variae 10.5, Theodahad addressed the question of the misappropriation of land. In keeping with his promise to Amalasuintha (as narrated by Procopius) and the rulers’ propaganda about Theodahad’s behavior (as Cassiodorus relates), the king ordered one of his agents to act according to justice. This document must date to the beginning of the co-​­regency, soon after the election was officialized.116 Variae 10.6 and 10.7, both in Theodahad’s name, concern the promotion of Patricius to the quaestorship. The second letter begins with a reference to the king’s election as a happy event recently announced to the Senate.117 These documents were also written between late October and early November, following the officialization of Theodahad’s election. This means that the appointment of the new quaestor for the thirteenth indiction (1 September 534 to 31 August 535) was briefly delayed.118 The relations between the two coregents were at that time still in good shape. Variae 10.8 and 10.9 are addressed to Justinian by, respectively, Amalasuintha and Theodahad. The coregents are inquiring about marbles and other materials that a certain Calogenitus had been sent to purchase in Constantinople.

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Calogenitus had died in the meantime, however, and the two rulers, still waiting for the materials from the East, were inquiring about the matter. By this point, the embassy to announce Theodahad’s election had surely reached Justinian to inform him officially about the co-​­regency, but he had not responded. The Gothic rulers were anxiously awaiting his acknowledgment of their first embassy; in making these inquiries about matters of relatively little importance, it seems that they were trying to urge Justinian to send them some kind of response, which would necessarily have to address the first embassy. Amalasuintha’s strong words in a letter about a relatively unimportant matter are striking: “So that we know that we are truly beloved by your piety, we whose wishes you cause to be fulfilled.”119 Was this another reference (in the form of a royal plural) to the special friendship that she had with Justinian, or were these words referring to both Amalasuintha and Theodahad? In Variae 10.10, Amalasuintha wrote to Theodora on the theme of concordia, saying that she was waiting to hear good news about her health from the embassy sent to the emperor. This embassy may have been the same one that brought the letters Variae 10.1 and 10.2 to Constantinople, but it seems more likely to have been the embassy bearing Variae 10.8 and 10.9.120 At this point (unless we hypothesize that Cassiodorus’s letters Variae 10.8–10 were sent together with Variae 10.1–2, which is unlikely)121 we must assume that the co-​­regency had lasted for more than a few weeks, probably for about two months. The Cassiodoran evidence disproves the chronology provided by Procopius. For no matter whether Amalasuintha announced Theodahad’s election a few weeks after 3 October or even later, Justinian waited some time before sending his legate Peter to Italy. The emperor, in other words, took his time to acknowledge the embassy and to release his answer. We may wonder whether Cassiodorus, by including in his collection the letters Variae 10.8–10 (which are of little importance in book 10 of the Variae), wanted to indicate that Amalasuintha and Theodahad had corresponded with the imperial couple in the time between Theodahad’s election and Amalasuintha’s deposition. Indeed, it is likely that the ambassadorial letters Variae 10.1– 2, and perhaps also Variae 10.8–10, reached the emperor before Peter was sent to Italy, while Justinian was delaying his answer to the queen about her decision to move forward with the co-​­regency. The suspicion that arises from the Variae can find confirmation in Procopius’s account. The historian states that “immediately” after Justinian heard the messages of Alexander and the bishops about the intentions of Theodahad and Amalasuintha to leave Italy (and at this time Athalaric was possibly still



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alive), the emperor dispatched Peter to Italy (Πέτρον ές τὴν Ἰταλίαν εὐθὺς ἔστελλεν).122 It has been rightly pointed out, however, that here “Procopius’s use of the imperfect ἔστελλεν rather than ἔστειλεν disproves the view that Peter started his journey immediately upon Alexander’s return.”123 In fact, Athalaric had already died before the imperial legate was dispatched from Constantinople. And two months after her decision to elevate Theodahad to the throne, Amalasuintha was still waiting for approval from the East for Theodahad’s election, and also for an acknowledgment of her status as coregent. Athalaric’s death had once again put her right to rule into question. The whole period of the co-​­regency turned into a game of strategical delays. While waiting for an answer, the two Gothic rulers did not have the opportunity to nominate a candidate for the Western Consulship for the year 535. Athalaric’s terminal illness, and his death probably initially deferred any nomination in the kingdom, while Justinian’s delay in approving the changes at the Gothic court made any request vain. The year 535 opened in Italy with an ominous uncertainty. Interestingly, in most of the Western sources the year 535 is dated as post-​­consulatum Paulini, while in the East it is usually dated as Belisarius vir clarissimus (solus).124 Though it would be a few months more before the emperor began his war against Italy, by late 534 the diplomatic situation between Italy and the empire was deeply and irrevocably compromised. Justinian’s approval was not Amalasuintha’s only concern. At the other end of the Mediterranean, in Constantinople, Theodora sat on the throne beside the emperor, as his wife. This empress, who was five or six years younger than Amalasuintha, strongly influenced her husband’s politics, and she had become the most powerful woman of the age.125 In developing her own style as a female ruler over the years, Theodora had surpassed her predecessors, including the Theodosian and the Byzantine empresses. Apparently, she had exerted some influence on legislation, especially pertaining to laws issued to protect women and improve their status, but also in matters of administration.126 A few times Procopius mentions Justinian’s rule (βασιλεία) together with Theodora, or he refers to them as “the emperors” or as “the imperial couple.”127 His representation of Theodora in the Secret History as the personification of evil is obviously a grotesque exaggeration, but it is interesting that many of the accusations are related to her involvement in Justinian’s government: “She insisted on presiding over every branch of the state and on always having her way. She appointed both magistrates and priests,” we read.128 She also demanded to be addressed to as “Mistress” or “Your Majesty” (δέσποινα),

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while the officials were considered “slaves.”129 In addition, claiming that her husband fully relied on her, she corresponded for political purposes with both male and female rulers of other realms, including the Persian and the Gothic kingdoms. This is not just Procopius’s claim in the Secret History. Various historical accounts and also letters in Theodora’s name shed light on her active role in politics and diplomacy. This involvement often had the silent consent of Justinian, and in some cases she even exerted influence on court ceremonial and imperial protocol.130 As we shall see, she would also exchange letters with both Theodahad and Gudeliva soon after the Amalasuintha affair, in which she apparently played an important part.131 In her perseverance in promoting Monophysitism, for example, she corresponded with Roman popes, on whom she exerted great pressure, and even made threats.132 In the Constitutio Pragmatica, which Justinian issued some years after her death, there is evidence of her having taken an active role in the affairs of Italy, and in a Novel on provincial administration the emperor referred to her as particeps consilii (just like Amalasuintha did with Theodahad).133 Not only as regent but also as consors regni, Amalasuintha corresponded with Theodora, with whom she aimed to be on good terms. In her only letter to the empress preserved in the Cassiodoran collection, which the Gothic queen sent as she anxiously awaited imperial approval of the co-​­regency, she addressed Theodora by asking about her health. She also refers to the concordia, perhaps alluding not only to her relationship with the empress, but also to the harmony she shared with Theodahad: Since it is characteristic of our way of life to seek those things that are considered to pertain to the glory of pious princes, it is appropriate to venerate you in written words—​­you who all agree are continually enhanced in your virtues. Harmony exists not only between those who are in each other’s presence; indeed, those joined together in the charity of the spirit have an even greater respect for each other (Concordia non est sola praesentium: quin immo illi se melius respiciunt, qui animi caritate se coniungunt). For this reason, rendering to the Augusta the affection of a reverent greeting, I hope that when our legates return—​­those whom we have sent to the most clement and glorious prince—​­you will make us rejoice in your safety. Your propitious circumstances are as welcome to us as our own. It is essential to make your safety our heartfelt concern. It is well known that we hope for this unceasingly.134



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Theodora was at this point the most powerful woman in the Mediterranean, but it is unlikely that she represented a model for Amalasuintha. In the eyes of the Gothic queen, the Byzantine empress was no Galla Placidia or Ariadne.135 Unlike these empresses, Theodora had never been a real regent, nor had she played a role in the transmission of power. Amalasuintha’s claims to power were based largely upon her August lineage. But Theodora came from a very low social status; her marriage with Justinian had been made possible only by an ad hoc law of Justin.136 The scandals revolving around her early life and rise to power did not make her a good exemplar for Amalasuintha. However diligently Amalasuintha sought to develop a political model that would support continued Amal rule, and however appealing Roman and Byzantine models were for this purpose, it does not seem that her efforts were admired or appreciated in Byzantium itself.

Betrayed, Deposed, and Murdered: Amalasuintha’s End The Romans may have been open to the new solution of power adopted by Amalasuintha, especially as it facilitated the continued rule of a pro-​­Roman monarch, which served as a check on Gothic power. But the many Gothic aristocrats who had always disliked her and resented her adoption of imperial models as regent for Athalaric must have looked at the co-​­regency as the action of an ambitious and power-​­hungry woman. The queen had essentially usurped the power of the Gothic aristocracy. She had her Gothic enemies assassinated, she had nominated a Roman pro-​­imperial patrician-​­in-​­waiting, and now, even worse, acting more or less alone, she herself had chosen the new king. She elevated to the throne a man with no skill in war while still maintaining her status as an unmarried queen. She created a co-​­regency with propaganda that represented the king as subordinate to her. To the Goths, the consortium regni must have seemed absurd. It made Amalasuintha the coruler of Theodahad, the *mitþþiudans inside a mitþþiudanon, a συμβασιλεύειν (co-​­kingship).137 Assuming that these terms were still in use among the Goths, they applied to warrior leaders but certainly not to women. The whole scenario had no precedent among the other tribes, and Amalasuintha’s solution for power must have been insulting to both the Gothic aristocracy and the army, who had kept their traditional views. How long would the Goths accept this situation? Complicating matters even further was the undeniable fact that Theodahad

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was unprepared to be a monarch. Rhetorically or not, when announcing his election to the senators he declared that he had been unaware of Amalasuintha’s plans to bring him to the throne, that everything had happened quickly, and that he had never aspired to the royal honor: “By divine will, you hastened this to come to pass for me, that which my soul never dared to seek. All this is more unusual to me than it is unknown to you.”138 Having spent most of his life far from the court, he was disconnected from the international political world, as Jordanes specifies (Getica 306: privatam vitam degens in laribus propriis). In one of the fictitious letters included by Procopius in his narrative, Theodahad sometime later wished to leave the burden of the reign to go back to his life as a landowner. He found the honors of royalty unpleasant, “because of its tendency to satiety,” and he also disliked living as a king, “because lack of familiarity with such a life throws one into confusion.”139 Amalasuintha’s choice ultimately pleased no one. Despite the queen’s efforts to have Theodahad acknowledged by Justinian, the consortium regni spoiled the emperor’s plans for Italy. In the kingdom, a general skepticism surrounded the new ruler. Both Goths and Romans distrusted Theodahad: the Goths because of his lack of military experience, and perhaps also on principle, because they had not been consulted about his election, and the Romans because of his infamous history of land misappropriation. And, of course, it may well have worked the other way: Gothic elites also held land and may have been damaged by Theodahad, and many Romans may have hoped for a king who was also an experienced commander. But even if Theodahad was an unsuitable candidate for the throne, he remained the only immediate alternative to the woman who had placed him in power. And it was probably for this reason that the Goths eventually decided to strike a deal with him against their much-​­hatred queen. Procopius states that Theodahad soon gained the support of Amalasuintha’s old enemies, that he put to death some of the queen’s connections, and that he eventually ordered her arrest.140 We may wonder whether in this action he had in mind the vicissitudes of his mother, who had succumbed to a similar fate in the Vandal kingdom about twelve years before, in an affair that ultimately benefited not just her murderer and successor but also Justinian. Justinian’s acknowledgment of the co-​­regency, which Amalasuintha was anxiously awaiting, never arrived. For in the meantime Theodahad would have her arrested and later confined in one of his properties, a small island in Lake Bolsena, where she would spend her final days. Procopius reports in the Gothic War that the emperor made an attempt in a letter to prevent Theoda-



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had from killing her; but this halfhearted effort, if in fact it was made at all, was in vain.141 Procopius’s chronology in the Gothic War is problematic: according to his detailed account, Justinian sent his legate Peter to Italy fully unaware of Athalaric’s death and the other events that had occurred in the Gothic kingdom.142 We also read that Peter was on his way to Ravenna when he encountered first the embassy of Amalasuintha announcing Theodahad’s election, and shortly after the embassy of Theodahad communicating Amalasuintha’s imprisonment; at this point the imperial legate decided to wait in Aulona (Vlorë) for further instructions from Justinian, to whom he must have sent an informer. We do not know exactly how long Peter waited.143 Unlike Procopius, the Western authors are very concise, but they are helpful in emending the chronology of the Byzantine historian. Procopius records that Theodahad had Amalasuintha taken into custody (ἐν φυλακῇ ἔσχεν), and we understand from his account that she was on the island when the king sent his embassy to Justinian.144 Jordanes writes that Amalasuintha was deposed by order of Theodahad, who acted heedless of their kinship and had her removed from the palace in Ravenna “after a period of time” following his election as king.145 Agnellus instead specifies 30 April as the day when the deposed queen was sent by Theodahad’s order to an island in Lake Bolsena. Once again, his source appears to be the best informed. Despite its brevity, Agnellus’s news is articulated in two different segments: “And [Theodahad] deposed Queen Amalasuintha from the kingdom; and Theodahad sent her into exile in Vulsenis (the island in Lake Bolsena) the day before the Kalends of May (i.e., 30 April).”146 On the very day of Amalasuintha’s arrest, Gudeliva took over the royal place as only queen, though in the more traditionally Gothic sense; for, though she was in possession of the title of regina as the wife of the king, she never enjoyed the same power as Amalasuintha. At the same time, it is most likely that she took possession of her rival’s royal dresses, jewelry, and ornaments.147 In most if not all of the other kingdoms and the empire, a deposed ruler would have been quickly executed, or at best would retire to a monastery. Clotilde, in the year 511, retired to a monastery, as Balthild would also do in the seventh century.148 But this was not what happened to Amalasuintha. There were no Arian monasteries, and in any case, she still enjoyed Justinian’s protection. Theodahad was afraid. In the Gothic War, soon after he reports Amalasuintha’s arrest, Procopius relates that she was kept under guard on the island in Lake Bolsena while Theodahad sent his embassy to Justinian to communicate the event. Apparently, the king forced Amalasuintha to write a letter

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to the emperor in which she declared that she was well treated: “Fearing that he had thereby given offense to the emperor, as actually proved to be the case, he sent some men of the Roman senate, Liberius and Opilio and certain others, directing them to excuse his conduct to the emperor with all their power and assure him that Amalasuintha had suffered no harm at his hands, even though she had previously perpetrated irreparable outrages upon him. He himself wrote in this sense to the emperor and also compelled Amalasuintha, against her will, to write the same thing.”149 High-​­risk diplomatic situations like these required the participation in any legation of most trusted leading political figures, such as the patrician Liberius. For example, forty years earlier, Theoderic had sent Festus, the head of the Senate, to the East to Zeno and later to Anastasius, to announce his imminent victory against Odovacer and to confirm his possession of the throne of Italy.150 But Procopius’s chronology is contradicted by Jordanes, according to whom, as we have seen, Amalasuintha was sent to the island after a period of time and died there after just a very few days of exile (paucissimi dies).151 And if we fully accept Procopius’s sequence of events, then it becomes difficult to explain why Theodahad had his cousin removed from the palace when, according to the same author, he was already worried that he had offended Justinian, and for this reason had sent an embassy of Roman senators to justify what had happened in the kingdom. Procopius states that this embassy was sent soon after that which announced Theodahad’s promotion—​­it seems unlikely that in such a short space of time Theodahad was able to get Amalasuintha’s written statement from the remote island about her good treatment as a prisoner, when he was managing diplomacy from Ravenna and she was far from the palace. In fact, Procopius reports that the emperor answered her by letter.152 But as we saw earlier, the leaders of Theodahad’s senatorial embassy to Justinian, Liberius and Opilio, were politically active in Ravenna153—​­which means that the embassy was sent from the royal palace rather than from Rome; it was Liberius who would inform Justinian about what had happened at the court.154 And finally, if Amalasuintha was sent into exile on 30 April (as Agnellus states), we have to assume that the co-​­regency lasted for almost six months. This is unlikely, and it is hard to believe that Justinian delayed by half a year his acknowledgment of the Gothic embassy sent by Amalasuintha to announce Athalaric’s death and Theodahad’s election. It would be even more absurd to think that Amalasuintha’s embassy was still on its way to Constantinople! In my recent book on Theodahad, I hypothesized that sometime after Theodahad began ruling, Amalasuintha was deposed and probably first kept



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in custody at the palace while the king was dealing with Justinian through diplomacy. This seems to find confirmation in Agnellus, who, as we have seen, provides two separate pieces of information on Amalasuintha: her deposition, first, and her exile, later. This evidence further matches with Jordanes’s report of a short exile of a few days.155 Amalasuintha was held in “private custody” before her murder—​­just as her aunt Amalafrida, Theodahad’s mother, had been in Africa.156 Theodahad, perhaps wanting to prevent Justinian’s legate from meeting directly with Amalasuintha, had his cousin removed and sent to the island shortly before Peter reached Ravenna with Justinian’s messages. After Theodahad met with Peter, the king must have felt comfortable enough to eliminate Amalasuintha, and he gave her old enemies his blessing to take their revenge and commit the murder. Procopius writes that the killers who reached the island were keen to get rid of Amalasuintha as soon as possible: “For the relatives of the Goths who had been slain by her came to Theodahad and declared that neither his life nor theirs would be secure unless Amalasuintha was put out of the way as quickly as possible. He gave in to them, and they immediately went to the island and killed Amalasuintha.”157 All our authors agree on the fact that the island in Lake Bolsena was Amalasuintha’s last prison and also the place of the murder.158 This is probably the same fortress that Theodahad’s court poet, likely Maximianus, had celebrated in one or maybe two of his poems as an expression of Theodahad’s creativity in building: The weapons yield to the place: the cliffs defend, rather than the soldiers. Ridges fortified, towers which rise above the construction, threatening waves, the coasts cut from all the sides from the peak, and the ruins looming on the path, from which you progress uncertain: all this promises a safe life, after so many dangers. The dwelling stands leaning on the wall, shortcuts shorten the path to whoever climbs; being at rest, from the top the sentry guards, he still enjoys his quiet bed. But to have fortified the place is not enough. It is a pleasure to watch the fortress from a distance, which, with its attractive appearance, invites [you] inside the walls.159 In this poem Theodahad was celebrated as a philosopher aiming to restore the peace and transforming wild places into safe fortresses for those seeking refuge. But this idyllic fortress was also a perfect, unassailable prison, and the image becomes disturbing when we consider that the poem was probably

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written at a time close to the assassination of Amalasuintha.160 Procopius describes the island with less exuberance: “There is a certain lake in Tuscany called Bolsena, within which rises an island, extremely small (βραχεῖα κομιδῆ) but with a strong fortress (φρούριον ἐχυρὸν) on it. There Theodahad confined Amalasuintha and kept her under guard.”161 The small size of the island is contrasted with the strength of the fortress built on it. The fortress Procopius references could be the same place celebrated by the poet of Theodahad in another poem: “Now a new fortress protects the men; although horrible wars are all around, you will be safe, protected by this peak (septus)”; the word “septus” seems to evoke the pyrgokastellon, the structure in which a tower was surrounded by an external wall also called septus or phraktai.162 Here, Theodahad’s poet claims that his ruler took a place from wild nature and transformed it into a fortress.163 The place, which most scholars believe to be the island of Martana, was considered impenetrable, and our sources relate that Theodahad kept a large part of his treasure there.164 Whether or not Theodahad’s poet was celebrating in the lines above the same fortress as described by Procopius, the place was difficult to reach (see Figure 1). Sirago speculated that even among some Goths Amalasuintha still enjoyed enough support to be dangerous: “Theodahad perhaps at first thought that it was enough to isolate her; then, on second thoughts, he must have convinced himself that she was a constant danger for his tranquility.

Figure 1. The little island of Martana in Lake Bolsena, supposedly the place where Amalasuintha spent her last days in prison. Photo by Dr. Maria Irene Fedeli.



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Amalasuintha still enjoyed a strong influence among the Goths, many of whom were powerful enough to be able to organize a coup, reach the island in Lake Bolsena, release her, and provoke a civil war.”165 Needless to say, to have Amalasuintha killed at the palace would have made Theodahad even more unpopular than he already was. It is probable that, at first, most of the courtiers at the palace of Ravenna did not know where Amalasuintha had been sent. Theodahad would likely have kept the name of the location secret. This isolated place, far from everyone’s sight, provided secrecy and concealment for the assassins. Perhaps the king hoped that by having his cousin executed by her old enemies he could wash his hands of the affair in the eyes of his subjects, the Romans in particular, whom he needed now more than ever to handle diplomacy with the empire. Most scholars assume that Amalasuintha was killed on 30 April. As we have seen, this is the date that Agnellus reports she was sent into exile (in exilium) on the island in Lake Bolsena.166 We do not need to force our evidence, however, and it is more likely that Agnellus’s source, which concentrates on Ravenna, knew the date of Amalasuintha’s departure from the palace rather than the very day that she was secretly assassinated in that far-​­off location. After all, except for Theodahad and his closest advisers, who would know exactly when the murder was perpetrated? Once again, Agnellus’s statement may find support in Jordanes, according to whom Amalasuintha was assassinated just a few days after being exiled to the island.167 I therefore believe that the deposed queen was murdered not on 30 April but sometime in the first half of May. On the island in Lake Bolsena, a place of leisure transformed into a rocky, impenetrable prison, the only noise is that of the little waves on windy days. Here Amalasuintha spent the last days of her life in silent loneliness. Jordanes reports that the deposed queen was killed by strangulation while she was taking a bath in the balneum of the fortress on the island.168 Gregory of Tours knows this tradition—​­although he does not specify the place of the murder—​ ­but this time also, not surprisingly, he gives this story a moral interpretation by portraying the event as a punishment for her religious impiety and for her crimes: “He [i.e., Theodahad] gave orders that a bath be raised to a great heat, and that she be shut in the same with one maid. And when she entered the hot vapors she fell at once on the pavement, and died, and was consumed.”169 The only person to die in a similar way in Gregory’s Ten Books of Histories is none other than Fausta, Constantine’s treacherous wife, who was proditor regni sui.170 According to Jordanes, Amalasuintha’s killers were the satellites of

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Theodahad,171 and Procopius seems to confirm this information by claiming that the assassins were the queen’s old enemies, those who had become intimate with Theodahad shortly after he became king.172 Steps carved in the rock, still visible, are believed to belong to the bath complex where the brutal murder was committed.173 She was about forty years old when she died. There is no mention in any source of where—​­or whether—​­her body was buried.

The Reward for Her Life: Procopius, Cassiodorus, and the Affair of Amalasuintha The assassination of Amalasuintha is, and will probably remain, shrouded in mystery. Nevertheless, a few final points about the role of the imperial court in this story should be considered, based upon the ambiguous language used by both our main authors, Procopius and Cassiodorus. Jordanes, writing in Constantinople to celebrate Justinian, was not in a position to tell the whole truth, even if he—​­like many others—​­probably knew some of it. In the Gothic War, Procopius is vague about the exact time of the death of Amalasuintha. At first glance, Procopius’s narrative seems to suggest that Peter, who was also carrying a letter of support by Justinian for Amalasuintha, arrived too late to save the deposed queen. The historian also clearly denies any involvement of the imperial legate in Amalasuintha’s murder, by stating that she was killed by the Goths, her enemies.174 A careful reading, however, reveals that when Peter reached Ravenna, Amalasuintha was probably still alive: “When Peter arrived (ξυνέβη) in Italy, it so happened that Amalasuintha was removed from among men (ἐξ ἀνθρώπων ἀφανισθῆναι).”175 The ambiguity here generated by the Procopius’s use of the verbs “ξυνέβη” and “ἀφανισθῆναι” (here, a pluperfect would suit better than the aorist) was noticed a century ago by the German scholar Wolfgang Pudor, who concluded that in the Gothic War the historian of Caesarea did not conceal the truth, but did deliberately fail to specify Peter’s real task, his “Nebenaufgabe.”176 Unfortunately, Pudor’s short but valuable observations did not receive due attention; nonetheless, Procopius’s odd use of tense here also caught the notice of Bury, who in his magnum opus a few years later gave this interpretation: “He [i.e., Procopius] was treading on delicate ground, and he was afraid to force on the reader’s attention the fact that Peter was some time (about four months) in Italy and was unable (or unwilling) to save the queen’s life.”177 Kaldellis has recently acknowledged: “This was as close as Procopios could come to saying that Peter



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was implicated in her murder, which is what he claims in the Secret History.”178 Indeed, in this work we read that Peter convinced Theodahad to get rid of Amalasuintha, and that behind his action lay the jealousy of Theodora: When Amalasuintha had decided to take her leave of the Goths and change the direction of her life altogether, and was thinking of moving to Byzantium—​­as I stated in an earlier book—​­Theodora considered that the woman was of noble ancestry and a queen, very impressive to look upon, and swift at devising plans to get what she wanted; also, she felt threatened by the woman’s magnificence and exceptionally manly bearing, and had little trust in her husband’s fickleness. No, her jealously [sic] of the woman was no small thing, and so she schemed to bring her within her grasp and kill her. She persuaded her husband to send Peter alone as his ambassador to Italy. When the emperor dispatched him, he gave him the directives that I described in the relevant section of my narrative, though it was impossible for me there, because of fear of the empress, to reveal the truth about what happened. She gave him this one directive only, namely that he remove that woman from this world as soon as possible, and she filled the man with heady hopes of the huge rewards he would receive if he carried out her instructions. When he arrived in Italy—​­for the nature of man is such that we rush to commit unjust murders if we hope for some high office or large sums of money—​­he persuaded Theodahad (by what arguments I do not know) to kill Amalasuintha. . . . ​That, then, was how the business with Amalasuintha ended.179 This quotation has generated a large amount of speculation on the antagonism between Theodora and Amalasuintha, and it has inspired both scholars and novelists. It has been fairly observed that this eulogistic portrait of an ideal queen represents the antithesis of Theodora. Procopius highlights the qualities of Amalasuintha to remind the reader implicitly of the defects of the empress.180 Some scholars accept the bulk of this story; others treat it with skepticism, seeing in it Procopius’s desire to damage Theodora’s posthumous image.181 Garland, for example, states: “That Theodora’s motive for such intervention in Amalasuintha’s death was jealousy is absurd. We can only guess at other reasons for possible intrigue on her part, although the fact that Justinian may have been looking for a pretext for war could have induced the

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couple to encourage Theodahad to actions which would bring this about, and Theodora may here have been acting as a conduit for unofficial hints from the imperial couple relating to Amalasuintha’s death.”182 Frankforter instead speculates on the Procopian account: “Theodora convinced Justinian’s ambassador, Peter, to make a deal with Theodahad that would induce him to destroy Amalasuintha. Procopius insists that he does not know what kind of argument could have been used to persuade Theodahad, but the only argument that would have been effective would have been a promise that Justinian would not intervene on Amalasuintha’s behalf and that he would eventually recognize Theodahad as king of Italy.”183 I am of the opinion that one of the main “arguments” used by Peter to convince Theodahad to have Amalasuintha killed was the formal approval of his position as king of Italy. This would have been most welcome news, as the Amal court had not yet had any confirmation of Byzantine approval; Justinian had so far avoided giving his consent by delaying his answer to Amalasuintha’s embassy of request. This would also match with the chronology that I established in the previous section: Amalasuintha was deported from the palace to the island on 30 April, and she was executed in the first half of May, shortly after Theodahad met with Peter. The Cassiodoran evidence supports this interpretation.184 In a letter of mid-​­535, Theodahad expressed his gratitude to Justinian for having welcomed his election: “I am grateful to God . . . ​that you have declared that my advancement is most welcome to your clemency. It is clear that you can love the one whom you rejoice has arrived at the peak of the kingdom. Thus it is proper for him to be welcomed, who was confident that he would be raised up by you.”185 Theodahad’s position, which he thanks Justinian for approving, is clearly not the co-​­regency. So it is unlikely that the response that prompted Theodahad’s letter of gratitude was an answer to Amalasuintha’s previous embassy to the emperor. The emperor’s approval of the new king most likely followed the deposition of Amalasuintha, and in fact this letter was accompanied by a message from Gudeliva to Theodora, Variae 10.21, clearly indicating that Amalasuintha had been replaced. It is also relevant that in the same letter Theodahad implored Justinian to avoid an unnecessary conflict between the two regna, suggesting that the declaration of war by Peter immediately followed the acknowledgment of Theodahad’s kingship.186 Probably Theodahad had agreed with the treacherous Justinian and Theodora to exchange the life of Amalasuintha for his royal title. After all, unlike Gelimer in Africa and Witiges and Totila in Italy—​­ all kings with whom Justinian fought—​ ­Theodahad was never considered a usurper in Constantinople; rather, he was



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regarded as a king. Years later in the Constitutio Pragmatica, the emperor considered Theodahad at the same level as Athalaric and Amalasuintha when acknowledging the benefits granted to the Romans by the three Amal successors of Theoderic.187 In the Cassiodoran letters addressed in the names of Theodahad and Gudeliva to Theodora in these months, we find statements that are intentionally vague and that, considered on the whole, support the involvement of Theodora and Peter in the Amalasuintha affair as claimed by Procopius in the Secret History, as quoted above. It is significant in this regard that Theodahad corresponded with Theodora separately and through oral messages, and especially that the empress had made him promises about supporting “his cause.” Theodahad writes to Theodora: “I have received your piety’s letters with the gratitude always due to things we long for, and have gained, with most reverent joy, your verbal message (colloquia oris vestri), more exalted than any gift. . . . ​Previously, indeed, I relied on the justice of my cause (de causarum nostrarum aequitate), but now I have more happiness in your promise (amplius de vestra promissione laetamur). . . . ​Now fulfill your promises, that you may cause the man to whom you gave a sure hope to hold his own (Nunc implete promissa, ut rem tenere faciatis, cui spem certissimam contulistis).”188 This letter, bearing the same date as the one to Justinian, and produced on the same occasion, could easily refer to the two important stages of the Amalasuintha affair as related by Procopius: first, her imprisonment, which was done by Theodahad’s order according to the justice of his cause, and which was made without any knowledge or intervention by the emperors; and second, Theodora’s promises of support, communicated orally by Peter, in exchange for Amalasuintha’s assassination. Therefore, if in the letter above Theodahad exhorts the empress to keep her promises (“now fulfill your promises” and “[cause] the man to whom you gave a sure hope to hold his own”), in Procopius’s secret account we read that Peter “persuaded Theodahad (by what arguments I do not know) to kill Amalasuintha.” In addition, in the same letter sent by Theodahad to Theodora, Peter is eulogized as a wise choice of the empress: “It also adds to my joy that your serenity has dispatched such a man [i.e., Peter] as so much glory should send, and your service should retain. For inevitably, she in whom it is constantly observed chooses a man of good character, since a mind formed by worthy precepts is clearly purified.”189 Particularly intriguing is Theodahad’s reference in this same document to his recent (unspecified) order about “a person,” an order that had pleased the empress: “For, in the case of that person too, about whom a delicate hint has reached me, know that I have ordered

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what I believed would agree with your intention. For it is my desire that you should command no less in my realm than in your Empire, through the medium of your influence.”190 Do these cryptic words refer to the fate of Amalasuintha on the island in Lake Bolsena? On the same occasion Gudeliva, who was by now the only regina, also wrote to Theodora: “For, although there should be no discord between the Roman realms, nonetheless, an affair has arisen of a kind which should make me still dearer to your justice.”191 Probably just a few months later, the king again wrote to Theodora, again praising Peter and cryptically referring to unnamed past events: “When we received your legate Peter, one most eloquent and, this being even more honourable than the office itself, one most devoted to your obedient service, the desired documents of August grace shone, and from him we learned that what has occurred in this republic is acceptable to you. You have proven to love all that pertains to justice, because thanks to Divine Providence, all suspicions dispelled, desirable harmony can endure. Now may firm promise and desired concord unite the kingdoms.”192 The letters to the Romans are also telling of the tensions that were generated by the events of the preceding few months. They refer to suspicions held by both the Senate and the people of Rome.193 In one of these letters the king enjoined the senators: “Remove the suspicions which are always foreign to your ordo.”194 Sometime later in another letter he wrote: “Here we cannot stand that they are worried, those, to whom we were considered to be bitterly hostile. Thus the prince must conquer the grave suspicion: so he had to offer his care for he wanted to do no harm.”195 Procopius confirms this line when he reports that the senatorial embassy, which Theodahad had sent to the East to announce the arrest of Amalasuintha, revealed to the emperor the ongoing conspiracy orchestrated by the king against the queen. Except for Opilio, who kept faith to his king, all the senators of the legacy, first and foremost Liberius, betrayed Theodahad and never returned to Ravenna.196 The Byzantine historian also states that Amalasuintha’s assassination was “an act that grieved all the Italians extremely and the other Goths. For the woman had the strictest regard for every kind of virtue.”197 But by that time it was too late, and Theodahad understood that there was no way to repair their fatal mistake, on account of which Justinian claimed to be offended. Our evidence fits the historical context well. As I discussed earlier, in the early 530s, Justinian had granted Amalasuintha his protection. But the imperial protection had major implications—​­first and foremost, it gave Justinian an opening to reconquer Africa. In fact, in 533 Amalasuintha had provided



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assistance to him by offering Sicily as a base for his campaign. And while in previous years the good understanding between the Vandal Hilderic and Justinian had put pressure on the Ostrogothic kingdom, the conquest of Africa inevitably unbalanced the situation of Italy, which was now trapped between the empire and the Catholic Franks. At this point, Justinian’s problem was to find a solid diplomatic reason to nullify the commendatio and to generate a solid pretext for a war against Italy. Justinian’s strategy was somewhat similar to that which he used in Africa against the Vandals: there, Gelimer’s removal of Hilderic, who was an ally of the emperor, had given him the pretext to start his war. While Justinian declared Gelimer a usurper, however, he acknowledged Theodahad as king. This further indicates the complexity of diplomacy in Italy. But the heart of the matter was probably quite simple: Amalasuintha was a big obstacle in the way of Justinian’s reconquest. Over the years she had gained the full support of the Romans, including the Senate, to the point that her deposition soon made Theodahad even more unpopular than before. The emperor and his wife did not want to be blamed for Amalasuintha’s assassination, especially considering that the queen was entrusted to Justinian and that she had striven to improve her relationship with Theodora. Cassiodorus may have purposely included the letter Variae 10.10 (which I discussed in the section entitled “The Short Co-​­Regency”) in his collection as evidence of the fact that Amalasuintha had aimed to be the friend of the empress. But the only way to start a legitimate war against the Ostrogothic kingdom was to eliminate Amalasuintha from the inside, by acting in the palace of Ravenna. Justinian knew about Theodahad’s hatred for Amalasuintha; perhaps he knew this from his bishops, who had previously met Theodahad to discuss his plans to retire in Constantinople. And so he charged Peter, the skilled orator, to use the old and efficient weapon of rhetoric to fulfill his plan. Procopius, in spite of his dislike of the man, credited Peter with being a man good at persuasion.198 Like those Goths who urged Theodahad to depose Amalasuintha, the skilled orator Peter used the tensions between the cousins to further Justinian’s plans and to convince the Gothic king to take the final step and have Amalasuintha murdered. Theodahad felt confident enough to carry the plot through and order her death. This “stupid folly” (Procopius)199 provided Justinian with the pretext he wanted to conquer Italy. Theodora, as we understand from both Procopius and Cassiodorus, definitely played a role in this plot. Whether this was due to jealousy or ambition, or both, she was indulging Justinian’s imperialistic aim, and her final objective was the same as that of

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her husband: the claim over Italy, as the second step after Africa, as part of his great reconquest and rebuilding of the Mediterranean empire.200

War Without Truce: The Consequence of the Assassination As we have seen, in the Gothic War Procopius remained ambiguous about whether Amalasuintha was alive when Peter came to Ravenna. But he is clear about what immediately followed the assassination of the queen. As soon as the shameful act was perpetrated, Peter communicated to Theodahad that a war without truce (ἄσπονδος πόλεμος) was at this point inevitable: “Peter protested openly to Theodahad and the other Goths that this terrible deed they had committed would lead to a truceless war between them and the emperor.”201 This happened around mid-​­May, and a month later Justinian sent his fleet to invade Sicily. (Whether his delayed response was calculated to support a start to the war in late spring is impossible to say, though we should not dismiss the possibility.) In his portrait of a spineless king, Procopius adds that Theodahad kept trying to make the responsibility fall upon Amalasuintha’s old enemies rather than upon himself: “But Theodahad was stupid enough to hold the killers of Amalasuintha in honor and favor while he was trying to persuade Peter and the emperor that this unholy deed had not been committed by the Goths with his approval, but utterly against his will.”202 The only thing we can say in his defense is that nothing he did would have changed the result. After all, Gelimer kept Justinian’s protégé Hilderic alive (though imprisoned) during the war with the empire, but that did not stop the invasion; he killed him only after Belisarius reached Carthage, in September 533.203 The Western authors unanimously provide a juridical explanation for the war, by specifying that Theodahad’s offense against Justinian derived from the fact that Amalasuintha was under the emperor’s commendatio.204 This was the protection that had been granted to Amalasuintha a few years earlier, the very privilege to which, as we have seen, the Gothic queen had appealed when asking Justinian to give his consent to her choice of Theodahad. Considering that Justinian’s intentional passivity had led to Amalasuintha’s murder, the use now of the commendatio as a pretext for starting a war against the king—​­who had gratified Justinian’s and Theodora’s wishes by having Amalasuintha ­murdered—​­is striking in its cynicism even in the vicious world of sixth-​ ­century politics. Sometime later Cassiodorus, writing to Justinian in the name of the Roman Senate in defense of Theodahad, implored the emperor in these



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words: “Greatest of victors, control the impulses of your anger (iracundiae). It is more important that your heart be won by a unanimous request than by an offense driven by one of ill will (cuiuslibet ingratitudinis offensione).”205 Theodahad’s victory over his cousin was short and painful. As testified in the Variae, within a few weeks of Amalasuintha’s assassination, his relationship with the Roman Senate further deteriorated. In reality, as we have seen, these connections had been badly compromised since the deposition of the queen, when Liberius and the other senators betrayed Theodahad and remained in Constantinople.206 Shortly afterward, the Gothic king had to intervene to calm the suspicions of the Senate and of the Roman population, and eventually had to send his army to the old capital.207 The international diplomacy that Amalasuintha had tried to build over the years crumbled within a few weeks. As soon as the news of her assassination reached the ears of Justinian, the emperor began to prepare for war. First he invaded Gothic Dalmatia and then he sent Belisarius back to Sicily, but this time to take the island from the Goths: Meanwhile it happened that Belisarius had distinguished himself by the defeat of Gelimer and the Vandals. The emperor, upon learning of the fate of Amalasuintha, immediately went to war. . . . ​He sent Mundo, the general of Illyria, to Dalmatia, which was subject to the Goths, with an order to make an attempt on Salona. Mundo was a barbarian by birth, but extremely loyal to the cause of the emperor and an able warrior. Then he sent Belisarius by ship with four thousand soldiers from the regular units and foederati, and about three thousand more Isaurians. . . . ​The emperor instructed Belisarius to give out that his destination was Carthage, but as soon as they arrived at Sicily they were to disembark there as if compelled for some reason to do so, and make an attempt on the island.208 Gregory of Tours, who showed no enmity ­toward Theodahad, relates in his narrative that the king felt compelled to pay a Wergild for his act. Amalasuintha’s half-​­Frankish blood and her kinship with Clovis became an opportunity for profit for the Frankish kings—​­this despite the hard time that the Franks had given Amalasuintha and their other neighboring kingdoms:209 And when the kings Childebert and Chlothar, her cousins, as well as Theodobert, learned this, namely, that she had been put to death

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in so shameful a manner, they sent an embassy to Theodahad, blaming him for her death, and saying: “If you do not make an arrangement with us for what you have done, we will take your kingdom from you, and condemn you to a like punishment.” Then he was afraid, and sent to them fifty thousand gold pieces. And Childebert, being envious of king Chlothar, and deceitful, joined with Theodobert his nephew, and they divided the gold between them, and refused to give any of it to king Chlothar. But he made an attack upon the treasures of Chlodomer, and took much more from them than that of which they had defrauded him.210 That Theodahad may have been afraid of the Frankish kings is hardly surprising, and the king at this point was also scared of the emperor. Both Procopius and, to a lesser extent, Cassiodorus, refer to fearfulness in describing Theodahad. Both the historical account and the bureaucratic letters show a king scared of Justinian’s vengeance from the very beginning: first after having deposed Amalasuintha and shortly afterward following the assassination of the queen.211 No matter whether Gregory’s story has a basis of truth or not, the fact is that the Franks took advantage of the situation of war between Justinian and the Gothic kingdom. First they made an alliance with Justinian against the Goths in 535, and soon afterward with Theodahad himself! The alliance was finalized by Witiges, who ceded Provence to the Franks, and who also gave them control over the Alemans (presumably in Raetia and perhaps in Noricum), as well as a substantial amount of gold.212 With Belisarius’s invasion of Sicily, the economic situation in Italy had grown much worse than it was even in Amalasuintha’s last years, which had also been difficult.213 Theodahad’s diplomacy, and perhaps even an attempt to give up his throne, did not prevent the inevitable.214 Not long after, the Goths replaced him with a warrior leader without noble origins, Witiges. This man who, as we have seen, was spatharius of Athalaric, was raised to the kingship on the battlefield by the army, according to their old tradition. This time the principle of the succession was not followed, and the Goths chose and acclaimed their king on the battlefield by general consent.215 In December 536, Theodahad succumbed to a fate similar to that of his cousin: on his desperate flight back to Ravenna after hearing of Witiges’s election, he was overtaken and murdered by his Goths, those same men who had hated Amalasuintha before him. The Amal rule over Italy was at an end, and the reaction of the Goths was so strong that it would take Justinian seventeen more years to



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defeat them. The Gothic war would prove far longer than the Vandalic, and it slowed down Justinian’s reconquest. Most of the western territories were never recovered by the empire. The terrible fate (sors) of betrayal and murder turned out to be the primary element that Theodahad ultimately shared with Amalasuintha, his consors (literally, sharing the same sors) in the kingdom. Neither had a tomb; perhaps neither had a burial at all. The only good memory of Theodahad rests in an inscription in which his daughter, Theodenanda, mourns him as pater of [rara] bonitas.216 No stone survives to honor the woman who made him the king of Italy. Only a metal plate put up by the citizens of Marta in 1994 on the little island of Martana, once Amalasuintha’s solitary prison, commemorates the fifteen hundred years since the birth of the mother, the regent, and ultimately the queen, who had envisioned a model of female royalty for which her world was not ready.

Chapter 5

Amalasuintha A Meeting Point Between Kingdoms and Empire

Amalasuintha failed in her attempt to establish the legitimacy of female rulership. Her tragic story opens a window into the ongoing development of female power in the post-​­ Roman world, from which we can observe the emergence of new models and new roles for ruling women that would have a long history in the Christian West. Indeed, Amalasuintha emerges in this book as one of the most intriguing and complex figures of the Mediterranean and European world between late antiquity and the early Middle Ages. She is distinct from the barbarian queens of the fifth-​­and sixth-​­century Western kingdoms, and she represents a rare, if not unique, case of a royal woman of her generation who held extended responsibilities in government, and who directly wielded great political power. Her Gothic and Frankish backgrounds were blended with her education in the Roman style. This background, combined with her experiences growing up in the palace at Ravenna, shaped her vision of sovereignty. Amalasuintha emerged as a Gothic ruler who represented herself as an Augusta and who embodied the features of both Gothic/post-​­Roman queen and Roman/Byzantine empress. Indeed, her political powers are more evocative of Theodosian and Byzantine empresses, such as Galla Placidia, Verina, Ariadne, and Theodora, than of the queens of her period. We may look at her figure as a failed revival of the Western Roman empress, or perhaps, following a suggestion of Cassiodorus himself, we might regard her as an improved version of Galla Placidia. While in Gregory of Tours’s narrative Amalasuintha embodies all the features of the “bad Arian” court woman the author despised so much, the more realistic portrayals of her by Cassiodorus and Procopius



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share more features in common with Byzantine empresses than with post-​ R ­ oman queens of her generation. But which models of female power were available to her? What kind of queenship did the other kingdoms of her generation experience? Examples of Frankish, Vandal, Burgundian, Thuringian, and Visigothic women in power were certainly well known at the palace of Ravenna; after all, many of the queens of these kingdoms were Amal themselves, and their marriages with the various kings had been arranged by Theoderic. The Ostrogothic king was aware of the slowly changing status of women in the courts of his allies and his enemies. The more intriguing question is how Amalasuintha used imperial models to develop her image as regent. She looked to the example of Galla Placidia, her fifth-​­century “predecessor” and regent mother in Ravenna, but perhaps even more she turned to recent Byzantine empresses to find models she could follow. The consular diptych of Orestes (530), which is the only certain visual representation of Amalasuintha with Athalaric, bears witness to the influence at the court of imperial models, especially the figure of Ariadne, who is similarly represented on diptychs beside her second husband, Anastasius. The comparison between the two rulers is more complex than the artistic evidence suggests. Ariadne represented an important recent example of a woman who served as an agent in the transmission of power, and therefore was clearly a strong potential model for Amalasuintha to express her dimension of regent and queen. Amalasuintha was the domina who, behind the scenes, ruled over Gothic Italy and tried to nurture relationships with Justinian’s empire.

Amalasuintha and Post-​­Roman Queenship Female royalty during the Migration Period and the development of queenship in the barbarian kingdoms present unique mysteries. Herwig Wolfram successfully sketched the features of the Germanic/barbarian kingship among the gentes and its development up to the sixth century.1 But this is not possible for queenship. The surviving evidence does not allow us to define the contours of a barbarian or Germanic queen—​­assuming that a defined model of queen or of queenship existed before the Migration Period. The early reference by Tacitus to a woman exercising the sovereignty of the tribe of the Sitones cannot be contextualized in the broader picture of late antiquity.2 We have very little information for the Tervingian princess Gaatha, who in the

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later Acta of Wereka and Batwins is called “queen of people of the Goths” (ἡ βασιλίσσα τοῦ ἔθνους τῶν Γότθων). According to this source, between 383 and 392 she ceded her power to her son Arimir so she could bring the relics of twenty-​­six martyrs to the empire; however, while the story of the relics is confirmed by the fifth-​­century historian Sozomen, Gaahta’s queenship is not.3 According to the fifth-​­century historian Priscus, in the lands of the Hun king Bleda, there was “ruling over the village a woman, one of Bleda’s wives.”4 In the seventh-​­century Origo Gentis Langobardorum, we read about Gambara (probably a mythical figure), a regent mother ruling over the Lombards and leading her people to victory. But this document is the product of a specific milieu, which I discuss in the Epilogue.5 These early examples bear limited relevance (if any at all) to the later kingdoms. Post-​­Roman queenship is the fruit of the development of female power following the formation of the kingdoms. Queens figure prominently in the works of Roman elites, who were employed at the courts in various positions (like Cassiodorus in Italy) or who otherwise were connected with them (like Venantius Fortunatus and Gregory of Tours in Gaul). Cassiodorus provides us with good material for the Amal queens. Gregory of Tours, as we have seen, is not very reliable when he tells stories about queens of earlier times, particularly those not belonging to the Merovingian world.6 But his work offers clues about the development of Frankish queenship during the sixth century. Venantius Fortunatus celebrated in his poems some of the Frankish queens and princesses, in particular Brunhild, Fredegund, and Theodechilde. Pope Gregory the Great exchanged letters with Brunhild, Bertha, and Theodelinda. Our sources are meager on the whole, but they suggest that at least until the second half of the sixth century the authority of royal wives was limited. Amalasuintha’s experiment can best be understood in the context of the models and strategies of female power that were adopted in the various post-​ ­Roman kingdoms and, in parallel, the models characteristic of the empire. These models were known at the Ravenna palace, and it is not an overstatement to say that they were both employed and altered by Amalasuintha as she shaped her queenship. Queens as Instruments of Diplomacy

During the fifth and sixth centuries, royal and imperial women often played a role as instruments of diplomacy. Becker-​­Piriou has clearly shown that women started exercising an active although often informal role in their kingdoms,



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and also in relationships between states: “diplomatie officielle et influences officieuses.”7 In very critical moments, this process could also involve imperial women who, as hostages, had the function of “moyens” in diplomacy, and who were occasionally married to barbarian kings to compensate for the military weakness of the empire.8 The most significant cases are those of Galla Placidia and her granddaughter Eudocia in the Western Empire. In 414, just a few years after Alaric’s sack of Rome, Galla Placidia was married to Athaulf. Orosius claims that with persuasion (persuasu) and advice (consilio), she helped him govern well and refrain from war with the Empire.9 Shortly after 455, Eudocia, the sixteen-​­year-​­old daughter of Valentinian III, became the wife of Geiseric’s son, Huneric.10 We can add to these names the example of Alypia, Anthemius’s daughter, who in the year 467 married the emperor-​­maker Ricimer.11 During subsequent generations, especially after the gentes settled into kingdoms, these strategies became ordinary. The use of matrimonial alliances and the role of royal women in diplomatic activities further increased between the late fifth and early sixth centuries.12 Theoderic made wide use of political marriages: he arranged alliances between the women of his family and the kings of other peoples, and around the year 493 he himself married Clovis’s sister, Audefleda.13 Around the time of Theoderic’s conquest of Italy, or perhaps a little before, Ostrogotho Areagni and Theudigotha, his two daughters from an early marriage or from a concubine, married the Burgundian Sigismund and the Visigoth Alaric II. In 500, Amalafrida, Theoderic’s sister, married the Vandal Thrasamund, and about a decade later Amalaberga was wed to the Thuringian Herminafrid.14 Theoderic’s ambitious goal was both to consolidate the position of Italy with international relationships and to ensure royal Amal lineages in other kingdoms. The marriage of Amalasuintha was part of this policy. Her wedding to Eutharic, in 515, was meant to strengthen the relationships between Ostrogoths and Visigoths, and ultimately to reunify the two branches of the Gothic people.15 Not all these operations were successful, and the fact that our sources are mostly silent on Audefleda, Theoderic’s Frankish wife, may be explained by the troubled relationships between Goths and Franks.16 The dowries royal women brought to their marriages were meant to strengthen the relationships between kingdoms. The dowry of Amalafrida, Theoderic’s sister,17 included one thousand noble Goths for personal protection, five thousand warriors, and the Sicilian town of Lilybaeum with its surroundings, in order to strengthen the relationship with the Vandals, which at

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this point transformed into a territorial alliance. The Vandals ceased to attack Sicily and even stopped asking for their customary annual tribute, as Ennodius celebrated in his panegyric.18 Similarly, a few years earlier, the Burgundians ended their raids in northern Italy after the wedding of Theoderic’s daughter with Gundobad’s son.19 Pauline Stafford fairly observes: “In the personal bonds which held together hegemonies, marriage was a major instrument; it was also one of the great points at which treasure was exchanged in Early Medieval Europe. Queens and princesses at marriage were not only accompanied by and exchanged with treasure, but were treasure in themselves, given but also, like the enemy’s other treasures, sometimes forcibly taken.”20 Queens as Good and Bad Advisers: Panegyrical Representations?

The legitimate wives of kings not only bore children to ensure the survival of the royal family, they were also functional in consolidating alliances between the tribes, and occasionally with the empire. Cassiodorus praises the masculine Amalasuintha for benefiting the kingdom as both mother and regent: “Rejoice, Goths and Romans alike: this marvel is worthy of all men’s praise. Behold, by God’s favour, our fortunate mistress has achieved the glory of both sexes (uterque sexus): for she has both borne us a glorious king (gloriosum regem nobis edidit), and has secured a spreading empire by the courage of her soul (animi fortitudine).”21 Nevertheless, the political involvement of royal women was generally limited to the level of advising their husbands, especially when this could facilitate diplomacy with the kings of their countries of origin, to whom they were related by blood. Theoderic’s sister, Amalafrida, is a good example of this tendency. When her husband Thrasamund wanted to offer aid to Theoderic’s rival the Visigothic king Gesalic (507–511), Theoderic reproached him for not discussing the question with his wife, Amalafrida, who would have kept him from making a political mistake: “If you had discussed this with my sister, then this would not have happened to you; because she would neither have allowed her brother to be damaged, nor would she have let her husband end up in such a situation.”22 After Thrasamund’s death, the widowed queen engaged in diplomatic activities with the Moors before being captured.23 Another interesting reference concerning the Vandal kingdom comes from Victor of Vita, who recognized the wife of the Vandal Theoderic as a clever woman (uxor astuta) who had the power to lead her husband and son astray with her wicked advice (consiliis acrioribus). Fearing this, Huneric had her executed.24



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In the late fifth century, Giso in the Rugian kingdom and Caretena in the Burgundian kingdom were advisers to their royal husbands, just like later Clotilde II in Visigothic Spain.25 Gregory of Tours in his History provides us with still more examples, the most significant of them being Clotilde in the Frankish kingdom. She was probably Caretena’s daughter and had Burgundian origins. She played a significant role not only in negotiating for her three sons with Theoderic concerning the division of the kingdom but also later in guaranteeing peace between the brothers. Gregory tells us that she encouraged her children to take part in the expedition against the Burgundians in 523–524 in order to avenge the murder of her parents: “Let me not repent, dearest sons, that I have nursed you lovingly; be angry, I beg you, at the insult to me, and avenge with a wise zeal the death of my father and mother.”26 According to the same author, however, after the death of her son Chlodomer in 524 Clotilde was prevented by her two sons from supporting her favorite grandchild for the throne (favente regina). The two oldest sons of Chlodomer were soon killed, and the only real choice that Chlothar and Childebert left to their mother the queen was to have Chlodomer’s older child killed or tonsured.27 Not surprisingly, for Gregory the most important achievement of this regina was that she persuaded her husband to convert to Catholicism.28 To the princesses of the family of Theoderic, Cassiodorus attributes wisdom and the capacity to offer advice, the combination of prudentia et consilium. The Amal ladies were trained to be wise counselors. This is what we read about Amalafrida and Amalaberga in the letters in Theoderic’s name addressed to their spouses, the Vandal Thrasamund and the Thuringian Herminafrid.29 In a letter dating 511 and addressed to her husband, Amalafrida is described as the “singular ornament of the Amal race” and as “a woman even to you in wisdom (prudentiae), who is not only to be revered in the kingdom, but also who can be remarkable in offering advice (consilio).”30 Similar qualities were also attributed to Amalaberga, Theoderic’s niece: she possessed the Amal nobility, she was a distinguished woman (tanta femina) and excellent in feminine dignity (feminea dignitate). Theoderic addressed her spouse, Herminafrid, congratulating him for the alliance with the Gothic kingdom and announcing that the virtues of his Amal wife would bring glory also to his reign: In my desire to add you to my kinship, I unite you, by God’s favour, to the beloved pledge of my niece. Thus may you, who are descended from a royal stock, shine forth still more widely in the splendour of the Amal blood. I send you the glory of a court and

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home, the increase of a kindred, a loyal and comforting counsellor (solacia fidelis consilii), a most sweet and charming wife. With you, she will lawfully play a ruler’s part (et dominatum vobiscum iure compleat), and she will discipline your nation with a better way of life. Fortunate Thuringia will possess what Italy has reared, a woman learned in letters, schooled in moral character (litteris doctam, moribus eruditam), glorious not only for her lineage (genere), but equally for her feminine dignity (feminea dignitate). So, your country will be famous for her character (istius moribus), no less than for its victories.31 Like Gregory of Tours years later, Cassiodorus recognizes queens as both advisers of their husbands and as instruments of diplomacy. Here, however, we observe an interesting trend in our authors. Cassiodorus follows the panegyrical tradition—​­which was rooted in imperial literature32—​­when he eulogizes the Amal princesses as both wise and capable of providing their husbands with advice. Gregory acknowledges the faculty of consilium in the mothers and wives of kings,33 and he still recognizes their role in “advising”; but (like Eugippius with Queen Giso) he blames them for exercising it badly, and he often represents the women as having a bad influence on their husbands, even causing the final misfortunes of their kingdoms.34 Therefore, in the Ten Books of Histories we find Amalaberga represented as an influential adviser of Herminafrid; but she was a bad one, jealous and cruel. She convinced her husband to conquer the kingdom of his coruling brother Baderic, by setting only half of the dining table and comparing it with the kingdom that her husband shared with his brother.35 Similarly, the second wife of Sigismund (uxoris iniquae consilium utens) convinced her husband to commit parricide; the king would blame her for instigating the horrible crime (per consilium . . . ​parricida saevissimus).36 Gregory’s words of condemnation are unequivocal, even though Sigismund had converted to Catholicism and his wife may have not even been Arian. As I have already discussed, Gregory’s views are an expression of his aversion to Arianism and paganism, and therefore to all the enemies of the Catholic Franks.37 He acknowledges “wisdom” in various Frankish queens but not the Arian royal women, whom he does not even define as reginae. Gregory constructs his portraits of kings and queens by using the Old Testament as the model for both good and bad rulers. As in the Scriptures, women could be bad advisers when exercising their power, and they could convince men to betray their religion—​­to commit murder (Jezebel), fatal sins



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(Eve), and heinous crimes (Herodias and Salome). Gregory’s account of Audefleda, in which after Theoderic’s death she set an army in motion to kill Amalasuintha’s lover and take her daughter back home, is a chronological absurdity without any historical foundation. But even in this bizarre account Gregory highlights the queen’s role as an adviser, emphasizing her efforts to counsel her grown daughter Amalasuintha to marry the right man, a king: “When this girl was grown, because of her fickle temper she refused the counsel of her mother (relicto matris consilio), who was looking out for a king’s son for her.”38 Amalasuintha may have appeared to Gregory like a Jezebel. She was a murderer, she ruled for her son for many years (even though the author does not specify this), and her brutal death was well deserved.39 Gregory’s ideal queen is Clotilde. Her advice to Clovis resulted in his conversion to Catholicism, and for Gregory this was the beginning of Merovingian glory. He represents her with the characteristics of the queen model widely used in panegyrical literature: elegans, sapiens, and de regio genere.40 He also gives a vivid and admiring portrait of Brunhild, the Visigothic Arian princess who became the wife of the Frankish king Sigibert of Austrasia and who converted to Catholicism.41 Gregory synthesizes in her the best qualities of a ruling woman, including wisdom and advice: “She was a maiden beautiful in her person, lovely to look at, virtuous and well­behaved, wise in her advice (prudens consilio) and pleasant in her address (colloquio).”42 Venantius Fortunatus, who was tied to Gregory of Tours by friendship and later also by literary patronage, eulogizes this queen with similar qualities.43 And when he praises Fredegund, Chilperic’s wife, he offers a catalog of the virtues desirable in a queen, which contains many similarities to Cassiodorus’s portrait of Amalaberga, quoted above: Yet may your good fortune remain and increase, and may it be granted that you enjoy your spreading dominion with your rightful consort, whose manners (moribus) adorn your kingdom and who shares the prince’s rule on high (principis et culmen participata regit). Wise in counsel (provida consiliis), shrewd (sollers), circumspect (cauta), useful around your palace (utilis aulae), strong in her nature (ingenio pollens), of pleasing generosity, splendid Fredegund excels in all virtues. The glorious light of day shines forth from her countenance (serena ab ore), and she carries the oppressive weight of the cares of state (regia magna nimis curarum pondera portans), supporting you with her goodness and helping you by her service. With her

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governing equally with you, your palace grows, and by her help your house gains greater honour. . . . ​She shines resplendent through her own merits, a glory to a king, and, made a queen, a crowning glory for her own husband. In due course may she honour you with the fruit of her womb, so that a grandson will be born to give you a new life as a grandfather.44 Fortunatus’s representation of Fredegund strongly contrasts with Gregory of Tours’s negative image of this queen, who is labeled in the Ten Books of Histories as inimica Dei atque hominum.45 Generally speaking, when praising or denigrating Brunhild and Fredegund for different reasons, Gregory and Fortunatus use a repertoire of virtues and vices with roots in the classical and biblical traditions. In the poem quoted above, Fortunatus praises Fredegund for carrying the burden of royalty and for participating in the rule as a supporter of her husband.46 His panegyric for this queen differs from that written for Brunhild, whom he eulogizes foremost for her beauty and capacity for bearing children.47 Fortunatus’s panegyrical representation includes the full catalog of attributes desirable in a Merovingian queen of the late sixth century. This perspective is reminiscent of Cassiodorus, who, working in an earlier time and context, had celebrated Amalaberga and Amalafrida, and later Amalasuintha and Matasuintha, in a similar way. He used the same stock of metaphors, giving a considerable weight to beauty and education, and to wisdom and the ability to offer sound advice.48 While on the one hand these authors are the heirs of a panegyrical tradition that had become established over the centuries, on the other hand it is noteworthy that Venantius Fortunatus had his origins in the Ostrogothic kingdom; for he had studied in Ravenna at the time of the Byzantine reconquest49 and may have known Cassiodorus’s panegyrical works. As an author very close to the Merovingian court, he was well trained in the rules of the traditional panegyric, which he properly adapted to the expectations of the rulers. He brought to the Frankish kingdom what he had learned in Ravenna: the finest education in a traditional Roman style. In all our authors, prudentia et consilium are complemented by beauty, virtue, and an education in good manners. When discussing the qualities of an ideal wife, Isidore of Seville, who slightly postdates Gregory of Tours and Venantius Fortunatus, appeals to old classical models: “Furthermore, in choosing a wife, four qualities drive a man to love: beauty, her family line, wealth, and customs (pulchritudo, genus, divitiae, mores). It is better, however,



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if she is sought for her manners more than for her beauty. But now, those women are sought after, who are either recommended by their wealth or their appearance (forma), but not those who are recommended by the correctness of their manners (probitas morum).”50 To summarize, authors praise and criticize royal women on the basis of education in virtues, their wisdom, their capacity as sound advisers to their husbands, and especially their ability to produce male heirs to the throne. The representation of the queens according to traditional models is not attributable entirely to the survival of the panegyrical tradition, but it sheds light on the development of female royalty in the two centuries following the settling of the gentes into post-​­Roman kingdoms. The status of royal women developed with the formation of the “kingdoms of the empire.” When the kings started to be representative of both gentes and Romans, the institution of kingship evolved because of the interaction of barbarian groups with the Romans and with the empire; this has been demonstrated in the cases of Odovacer and Theoderic in Italy, Clovis in Gaul, some other kings in continental Europe, and later Leovigild in Spain.51 In this process of transformation, the position of royal women inevitably changed from the previous tribal status to a more Romanized one. Roman elites strongly contributed to this process, which was accelerated especially in Italy; here the memory of the Western Roman Empire and the strong attachment of the elite to the imperial models favored this process. Therefore, the persistence of traditional eulogies in the royal panegyrical literature, in combination with the use of biblical models, reflects the expectations for the wife of a king in a time when barbarian courts had become comfortably settled in palaces and represented both the gentes and the Romani. Queens as Mothers and New Helenas

Important examples of ruling women such as the Merovingian queen Brunhild postdate the end of the Gothic kingdom. Nevertheless, the political status of royal motherhood had its own development over the early sixth century, largely built upon imperial models. In his panegyric, Ennodius, describing Theoderic’s comforting of his mother and sister shortly before the decisive battle of Verona against Odovacer, refers to Erelieva as sancta mater.52 We know from another source that she was Catholic and was baptized with the name of Eusebia, which was the Greek equivalent of the Latin term “pia.”53 Two letters to Theoderic’s mother, Erelieva, from Pope Gelasius in the

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years 495–496, which concern the support of the Roman Church in an economic matter, testify to her Catholic faith and to her strong influence upon the king.54 In one of them we read: “I hastened to send Peter, the defender of the Church, who could implore through my letters my son, the most excellent king, for the victuals of the poor. While he was coming, I did not cease to hail your sublimity, praying fervently that for the increase of your health and of your prosperity, you might deign to help the causes of the people who are in need.”55 Erelieva likely mirrored the prototype of Helena, who in the fifth and early sixth centuries was still the indisputable model of the Christian empress and of “female matronage” for the rulers, and an illustrious example of Christian charity. This is largely documented in the East,56 but there is also evidence for it in the West. Galla Placidia, a significant model for Amalasuintha, considered Helena as an exemplar. Helena was both Catholic and mother of the emperor. She received the title of Augusta from her son Constantine.57 The association of Erelieva with the model of Helena can be based on some persuasive elements: her Catholic faith and also the ambition of her son, Flavius Theoderic, to glorify his family and to connect his image with that of Flavius Constantine by building his kingdom as what Wolfram terms a “dritte Flavische Dynastie.”58 Flavius was the family name used by Constantine and all his successor emperors, and it was part of Helena’s name as well. We may wonder whether Erelieva also had the title name of Flavia, which Theoderic held and which designated the members of the Amal family.59 In those same years that Erelieva was helping Pope Gelasius, Clotilde may have been considered a new Helena as she successfully converted her husband, Clovis, to Catholicism. This event had enormous consequences for the history of Europe, and it transformed Clovis into a new Constantine. More than half a century later, the bishop of Trier, Nicetius, would address the Lombard queen Chlothsing, the Frankish daughter of Chlothar and Ingund, asking her help in converting her husband Alboin to Catholicism. He employed the example of her grandmother Clotilde’s intervention with Clovis, who, after he decided to listen to his wife and converted, successfully defeated the heretical kings Alaric II and Sigismund: “You have heard how your grandmother, the woman Clotilde of good memory, came to France, and how she led lord Clovis to the Catholic faith . . . ​and he promised that he would baptize himself without hesitation; you have heard how many things he, after he was baptized, achieved against the heretics kings Alaric (II) and Gundobad. You are not unaware of how many boons he or his children in their time possessed.”60



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Clotilde is not directly likened to Helena in the Ten Books of Histories, but Gregory of Tours does compare Clovis to Constantine.61 Catholicism distinguished Clovis from all other kings, who were Arians if not polytheistic. Gregory also writes of Ingund (the daughter of Sigibert and Brunhild) in Visigothic Spain, who successfully persuaded her husband Hermenegild to convert.62 In his Liber in gloria martyrum he compared Queen Radegund, the Thuringian princess and later Frankish queen (ca. 520–587), to Helena. Radegund was not a royal mother, for she had born no child to her husband Chlothar; however, she had bought pieces of the true cross. The comparison is also found in the Life of Radegund, written by the nun Baudovinia not long after: “Just as the blessed Helena . . . ​did in her eastern homeland, the blessed Radegund did in Gaul.”63 This work dates to approximately the same period when Gregory the Great addressing the Anglo-​­Saxon queen Bertha in 601, compared her with Helena because of her intercession with her husband Æthelberht, the king of Kent, on behalf of the Christian faith. Here we have another example of a queen in the role of adviser to the king, and we further see how an education in literature was instrumental to her role: And we blessed Omnipotent God, who graciously condescended to preserve for your kindness (mercedi vestrae) the conversion of the people of the Angles. For, as through Helena of unforgettable memory, the mother of the most pious Emperor Constantine, He set on fire the hearts of the Romans for the Christian faith, so we believe that through your glory (gloriae vestrae), He works his mercy among the people of the Angles. And indeed for a long time you, being truly a Christian, should have been inclining the feelings of your husband, our glorious son, by the goodness of your wisdom (prudentiae vestrae bono) to follow, for the salvation of his kingdom and of his soul, the faith which you profess; so that both for him, and for the conversion of the whole nation through him, worthy recompense might be born for you in the heavenly joys. For, after . . . ​ your glory has been fortified with the right faith and instructed in literature (et recta fide gloria vestra munita et litteris docta est), this should be neither slow nor difficult for you.64 The influence in religious matters of royal women in Anglo-​­Saxon England, such as Bertha’s on Æthelberht, is a later development of this phenomenon, which was widespread in the Merovingian world.

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While the evidence clearly demonstrates the influence of barbarian women in religious matters and in conversion, examples of women ruling on behalf of their children that are comparable to Amalasuintha’s regency are lacking until the last decade of the sixth century. Then we find Queen Brunhild, who, after the death of her son Childebert II, exercised an unusual degree of power as regent for her grandchildren in the Merovingian kingdom, in late 595/early 596.65 In Lombard Italy we find Queen Theodelinda; after the death of her husband, Authari, she conferred royalty upon Agilulf, who became her second husband. She corresponded with Pope Gregory the Great, who asked her help to establish and maintain peace with King Agilulf.66 But Amalasuintha preceded these two examples by almost seventy years. Theodelinda’s story took place in a period in which the position of women in power in Western Europe had developed: queens gained much more authority as agnatic descendancy progressively became established. In addition, as the former wife of kings, both Brunhild and Theodelinda were legitimate queens. Last but not least, the power of these queens was strongly controlled by the aristocracy. Brunhild’s power was not unlimited. Soon after the death of her husband, Sigibert, in 575, her five-​­year-​­old son, Childebert II, was rescued and made king only by the intervention of Duke Gundovaldus. The duke did not allow Brunhild to exert any influence over her son; rather, he soon exiled her.67 Gregory of Tours also narrates a previous vain effort to intervene, in which Brunhild, trying to prevent war, armed herself like a man on behalf of the Duke of Champaigne: But queen Brunhild heard of it, and grieving at the unjust attacks on her loyal supporter she armed herself like a man (praecingens se viriliter) and rushed into the midst of the opposing forces and cried: “Do not, O warriors, do not do this evil; do not attack the innocent; do not for one man engage in a battle which will destroy the welfare of the district.” Ursio answered her: “Leave us, woman (mulier); let it suffice for you to have ruled under your husband; but now your son rules and his kingdom will be maintained not by your support but by ours. Leave us or our horses’ hooves will trample you to the earth.”68 Fredegund, and especially Brunhild as widowed queen, played an important political role in the late sixth century. The Epistulae Austrasicae and the letters



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of Gregory the Great indicate that Brunhild corresponded with the pope, and also with Emperor Maurice, his wife and his mother-​­in-​­law.69 As advisers and counselors, barbarian queens were progressively gaining political dimension at the courts. Roman elites probably found in the royal women a way to influence the religious and social policies of the kings. The queens’ education in virtues and literacy was instrumental to this purpose: it was an important part of the Romanization of the barbarian courts and was fundamental for the evolution of the queenship. No matter how much elite people flattered royal women by using the traditional panegyrical motifs, however, in the early sixth century queens such as Amalafrida and Amalaberga did not have active political roles in their kingdoms.70 Except for Amalasuintha, the Amal women that Cassiodorus eulogizes were no different from the other barbarian women of that generation. They may have had a greater level of influence in advising their husbands, and certainly they played a role in diplomacy, as they promoted good relationships with their kingdoms of origin. Amalafrida may have attempted something out of the ordinary: Procopius relates that after Thrasamund’s death she was arrested and her Goths massacred under the accusation of “revolutionary designs” against the kingdom. This story finds support in Victor of Tunnuna, and Cassiodorus’s letter to King Hilderic inquiring about the queen’s death may also reference such a claim: “For, even if such a business had arisen from such a person, she should have been denounced to us, so that she, who had involved herself in such horrible acts, would have been punished by our judgment.”71 But even if this royal widow attempted a diplomatic alliance to preserve her power in Africa, perhaps hoping for support from her brother in Italy, as a widow Amalafrida would never have been allowed to rule. And not without irony, Cassiodorus reminds the Vandal king of this point: “Even if the succession were due to someone else, whenever could a woman (femina) have been found in this position?”72 Vandal queens never enjoyed this kind of power. The same can be said of Burgundian queens, Thuringian queens, the Visigothic queens in Toulouse, and the early Lombard queens.73 No matter how open the new kings were to the Roman world, and regardless of their level of acculturation,74 royal women gave their advice behind the scenes, in the secret chambers of the courts, while on a public level their role in government remained passive. Despite the limited data that we have on queenship in the fifth and the first half of the sixth century, it is reasonable

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to assume that the position of royal women started to develop over the decades after the kings with their courts settled in Roman capitals and palaces. When royal dynasties became established, they could play a role in the transmission of power to keep their family lines on the thrones.75 The queens of the fifth and early sixth centuries offer no real parallel to Amalasuintha: not when she ruled as widowed regent for Athalaric, and certainly not later, when she shared the throne as coregent with Theodahad. Amalasuintha stands alone in the panorama of the post-​­Roman kingdoms of her generation.

Amalasuintha and the Imperial Models To rule over Italy, Rome, the Roman Senate, the Roman Catholic Church, and all the ancient towns, buildings, and palaces without feeling the echo of the Roman past would have been unimaginable for any barbarian, even less for one who was born at the court of Ravenna and received a fully Romanized education. The post-​­Roman kingdoms had no female figures comparable to Amalasuintha. But the empire did: the world of the Theodosian and Byzantine empresses had examples of ruling women as both mothers and agents in transmission of power. Upon figures like Galla Placidia in the West and Ariadne in the East Amalasuintha most likely modeled her royal image. She consciously imitated imperial examples as she consolidated her power, becoming a regent more similar to the late Roman empresses than to the post-​­Roman queens of her generation. In this way, she represents a prototype of early medieval female power and queenship. The previous chapters have fully considered Cassiodorus’s representation of Amalasuintha in his letters, which depict her as a ruling woman in the late Roman imperial style. A close consideration of Procopius’s political lexicon, which also finds parallels in the Latin sources, will reveal Amalasuintha’s self-​ ­presentation as an empress in the Eastern style. In the Secret History, Procopius refers to Amalasuintha as βασιλίς.76 But this term does not simply apply to Amalasuintha’s queenship. The word was regularly used in the East as an alternative to Augusta. Near the end of the fourth century, the historian Ammianus Marcellinus, who had Greek origins, used the word “regina” as a Latinized form for βασιλίς when referring to empresses like Constantina and Eusebia.77 Later, Olympiodorus used it to indicate Galla Placidia as the wife of King Athaulf,78 and Procopius makes use of it in the Secret History when



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referring to Empress Theodora. It is noteworthy that Procopius does not make frequent use of the words βασιλεύς for Gothic kings and βασιλεία for the Gothic kingdom.79 In his works these terms generally apply, respectively, to the emperors and to the empire. He makes clear instead from the very beginning that Theoderic was a ῥῆξ (rex) who aimed to follow the Roman imperial models of the past, and later that Amalasuintha aimed to educate Athalaric as a Roman emperor.80 Nonetheless, in his narrative of the Gothic War, Amalasuintha is represented as active in government, with extended powers that grew over the years. Athalaric “was reared (τρεφόμενος) under the care of Amalasuintha,” who, “as guardian (ἐπίτροπος οὖσα) of her child, administered the government (τὴν ἀρχὴν διῳκεῖτο) with a high degree of wisdom and justice, displaying a masculine temperament (τὸ ἀρρενωπὸν ἐνδεικνυμένη).”81 In this capacity “she stood at the head of the state (τῆς πολιτείας προὔστη).”82 Similarly, in the Vandalic War we read that she was watching over both her child and the kingdom (δειμαίνουσα . . . ​περί τε τῷ παιδί καὶ τῇ βασιλείᾳ),83 and that she made agreements with Justinian on behalf of her son: “as had been decided between the emperor Justinian and Amalasuintha, the mother of Athalaric, who was at that time a boy being raised (τρεφόμενους) by the care of Amalasuintha, and held sway over both the Goths and the Italians (τὸ Γότθων τε καὶ Ἰταλιωτῶν κράτος).”84 In the Gothic War we also read that she wished to educate Athalaric in a Roman style, and that some Goths at the palace accused her of doing this “to do away with the boy as quickly as possible in order to marry a second husband and, with him, rule over the Goths and Italians (Γότθων τε καὶ Ἰταλιωτῶν ξὺν αὐτῷ ἄρχοι).”85 As soon as she realized that a conspiracy was forming against her, Amalasuintha “neither became frightened at the plotting of the Goths nor did she, womanlike, weakly give way” but reacted “still displaying royal stature (τὸ βασιλικὸν ἀξίωμα ἐνδεικνυμένη).”86 After she regained control over the situation at the palace, she “strengthened her rule (τὴν ἀρχὴν ἐκρατύνατο) as securely as possible.”87 When she was planning to leave Ravenna for the East, she “wanted to hand the power of the Goths and Italians (τὸ Γότθων τε καὶ Ἰταλιωτῶν κράτος) over to the emperor Justinian, in order to save herself.”88 Finally, when promoting Theodahad to the throne, Amalasuintha made him swear that “she herself should in fact hold power no less than before (τὸ κράτος οὐκ ἔλασσον ἢ πρότερον ἔχοι),” and eventually she placed him on the throne (ἐπὶ τῆς ἀρχῆς κατεστήσατο).89 On the whole, Procopius uses the term “ἡ ἀρχή,” “the rule,” also to express the sovereignty of the other kings.90 The expression “the power of the

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Goths and Italians” (τὸ Γότθων τε καὶ Ἰταλιωτῶν κράτος) is also applied to Theoderic’s reign following his victory against Odovacer.91 The verb “displaying” (ἐνδεικνυμένη) is used both in association with “the masculine temperament” (τὸ ἀρρενωπὸν as opposed to “womanlike, weakly”) and with “the royal dignity” (τὸ βασιλικὸν ἀξίωμα),92 in the representation of Amalasuintha as male ruler. Procopius, like Cassiodorus, chose terminology to describe Amalasuintha that was parallel to that used by late antique authors to describe Roman empresses (Amalasuintha was likely inspired by their models, as she represented herself as a woman in the imperial style). Two particularly interesting examples of his terminology demonstrate this point. The first is the expression “βασιλικὸν ἀξίωμα,” equivalent to the Latin regia/regalis dignitas. Procopius uses this expression only twice, and only in the Vandalic War, to report the elevation to Augustus of the Roman usurper Attalus Priscus (409) and to describe the African rebel Guntharis (546). In the Persian War the similar form βασιλέως ἀξίωμα is applied twice to rulers.93 We may wonder whether the historian used this expression to describe the royal status of Amalasuintha because of her juridically complex position (though admittedly her power was very different from that of Attalus Priscus and Guntharis). And, more interestingly, this expression is to be found in the Variae only with reference to Amalasuintha and Theodahad. The first occurrence is in the praises of Amalasuintha and her education in literature in the letter-​­panegyric of late 533, which precedes Athalaric’s death: “the priceless knowledge of literature, through which she learns the wisdom of the ancients, and the royal dignity (regalis dignitas) is constantly increased.”94 The other circumstance is Amalasuintha’s reference to her power in communicating to Justinian the appointment of Theodahad: “I brought up to the throne (perduximus ad sceptra) a man who is tied to me with brotherly closeness, who can sustain the royal office (regiam dignitatem) together with me through the strength of our common judgment.”95 On the same occasion, when addressing the Roman Senate, the queen refers to Theodahad as “a man distinguished with the fame of our family: one who, sprung of Amal stock, will display royal dignity (regalem dignitatem) in his actions.”96 Procopius uses similar wording to indicate Theodahad’s elevation by Amalasuintha (ἐς τὴν βασιλείαν παρακαλεῖν, also τὸ τῆς ἀρχῆς ὄνομα and ἐπὶ τῆς ἀρχῆς κατεστήσατο).97 Paul the Deacon would later use this expression for Theodelinda’s royal power, which was reconfirmed by the aristocracy after she was widowed.98 The second example of Procopius’s terminology that we should consider



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here is the word “δέσποινα,” which is attributed to Amalasuintha in the Gothic War in a speech addressed to her by the Goths at the palace.99 Scholars generally, and with good reason, translate this term as “queen.” The word has an important value in Procopius’s work, where it seldom appears outside references to Theodora.100 In a section of the Secret History the historian highlights the special value of this word at Justinian’s court: “In the past those who spoke with the emperor called him ‘emperor’ (βασιλέα) and his wife ‘empress’ (τὴν γυναῖκα βασιλίδα). . . . ​But if anyone spoke to either of them and referred to the ‘emperor’ or ‘empress’ (βασιλέως ἢ βασιλίδος) rather than calling them ‘Master’ or ‘Mistress’ (δεσπότην . . . ​καὶ δέσποιναν) . . . ​he would be regarded as ignorant and vulgar of tongue, and was thrown out.”101 It could perhaps be possible that Procopius was here mocking Amalasuintha through the mouths of the Gothic aristocracy. But the word “δέσποινα” is the Greek equivalent of the Latin domina, which, as I demonstrated in Chapter 1, Cassiodorus used as an alternative for regina in the Variae as well as in his panegyrics.102 A letter in the name of Gudeliva addresses the Augusta Theodora as domina.103 On the whole, we can fairly state that Procopius and Cassiodorus characterized Amalasuintha and her governmental position with a lexicon that parallels the one used by late antique authors to express the power of the Roman empresses. These empresses participated in both ἀρχή and βασιλεία, as Kenneth Holum has highlighted in particular for the Theodosian empresses, beginning with Flaccilla. Gregory of Nyssa had celebrated this empress, the wife of Theodosius, in the Oratio funebris in Flaccillam Imperatricem as “partner in the basileía [imperial dominion]” and “functioning with him in the same archê [office].”104 Years before, Julian had celebrated Eusebia, Constantius II’s wife, for her wisdom (σωφροσύνη), which exerted a positive influence on her husband;105 Ammianus blamed Constantina for fueling the rage of her husband, Constantius Gallus.106 The case of Justina is also interesting in this regard. As wife first of the usurper Magnentius and later of Emperor Valentinian, this woman exercised varying degrees of political influence over the years; later, her widowhood did not prevent her from influencing her young son, Valentinian II, with her pro-​­Arian views. To the Catholic leaders like Ambrosius (later Rufinus and Augustine) who tried to limit her influence, she was a Jezebel (similarly, Empress Aelia Eudoxia was shortly later compared to Jezebel and Herodias by the author of the Funerary Speech for John Chrysostom). It is quite possible that this earlier evidence (which is not considered in Nelson’s famous study of queens as Jezebels) is behind some of the later representations of the Merovingian queens.107 Aelia Eudoxia, Arcadius’s wife, and Pulcheria are two

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significant examples of the progressive increase during the fifth century of a participation in power by imperial women. Pulcheria ruled beside her young brother Theodosius II. Galla Placidia in the West and such Eastern empresses as Verina and especially Ariadne (as represented by Procopius of Gaza and by Priscian in their panegyrics to Anastasius)108 had strong influence on their husbands. Theodora and later Sophia are even more remarkable examples.109 Possession of ἀρχή and participation in βασιλεία are important components in the representation of Amalasuintha as tutor for Athalaric and later as coregent of Theodahad.110 The examples of two Roman empresses in particular are fundamentally important for understanding the representational image of Amalasuintha in an imperial style: Galla Placidia and Ariadne.

Amalasuintha and Galla Placidia: Motherhood and Power It would be inconceivable that the memory of the last important empress of the Roman West did not echo in Ravenna during the regency of Amalasuintha. The Gothic regent was struggling with problems similar to those Galla had faced, in that same palace in Ravenna where, exactly a century earlier, Galla had ruled for her son. Valentinian III built the part of the palace called in Laurio or ad Laureta, from where Odovacer also ruled.111 It was here that Galla carried on diplomacy, while she also struggled with intrigues at the palace.112 Was Galla an example of admiratio and imitatio for Amalasuintha, or rather one of competition? Cassiodorus claimed that his domina surpassed all the female examples represented by the Augustae.113 For an audience made of Roman senators, the example from the Western past represented by Galla Placidia was ideal for establishing a direct comparison. In fact, this comparison between Amalasuintha and Galla Placidia is suggested by Cassiodorus himself, and it operates on many levels: Has revered antiquity achieved the like? There is Placidia, with a famous reputation in the world: we have learnt that she was glorious for her descent from various emperors, and cared for her imperial son. But we know that the empire she slackly ruled for him was shamefully diminished. Eventually, she purchased a daughter-​­in-​­law by the loss of Illyricum: rulers were united, but the provinces lamentably divided. Moreover, she weakened the soldiery by too much peace. Protected by his mother, he endured what he could scarcely



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have suffered if abandoned. But under this queen, all whose kindred is royal, with God’s help our army will terrify foreign powers. By prudent and nicely calculated policy, it is neither worn down by continual fighting, nor, again, is it enervated by prolonged peace (longa pace mollitur).114 Following Cassiodorus’s footsteps, modern scholars have not hesitated to enlarge this comparison. Amalasuintha shared much with Galla Placidia. As Cassiodorus states, Galla Placidia not only “cared for her imperial son” but was “of famous reputation” and “glorious for her descent from various emperors” (aliquorum principum prosapia gloriosam). Her dynastic roots ran deep in the Constantinian and Theodosian family. Similarly, Amalasuintha had a royal kindred (quae tot reges habuit quot parentes), and, in another letter written for the same occasion, Cassiodorus indicates that the Amals of Italy claimed noble origins and a long family tree of no fewer than seventeen generations.115 Like other people of her family, including her father and her husband, Amalasuintha also must have held the title name of Flavia. Both women had Visigothic ties: Galla Placidia was the widow of the Visigothic king Athaulf, while Amalasuintha was the widow of the Visigothic Amal Eutharic. Cassiodorus knew of these important kinships, and Jordanes confirms this impression in the Getica, in which he relies upon the History of the Goths.116 Both women operated as regents for their sons: Galla for her six-​ ­year-​­old Valentinian III (from 425 to 437) and Amalasuintha for her ten-​­year-​ ­old Athalaric (from 526 to 533). The words of the ecclesiastical historian Socrates about Galla Placidia117 resemble the representation of Amalasuintha offered by Procopius, Cassiodorus, and Jordanes. Constantius of Lyon in the Life of Saint Germanus of Auxerre expresses the regency with royal rather than imperial terms: “For Queen (regina) Placidia was ruling (regebat) the empire of the Romans with her son Valentinianus, [who was] at this time a youth.”118 Gregory the Great and Paul the Deacon would use similar words to describe queen Brunhild’s activity as ruler for her grandchildren.119 Both women sought similar educations for their sons, and this is an important part of the multifaceted comparison between them. Cassiodorus praises the overwhelmingly protective attitude of Galla ­toward her son: “Protected by his mother, he endured what he could scarcely have suffered if abandoned.”120 His statement finds an interesting contrast in Procopius’s Vandalic War, where the author criticizes Valentinian III for the loss of Africa and blames Galla Placidia for inadequately educating her son: “But Placidia, his

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mother, had raised this emperor and educated him (ἐξέθρεψέ τε καὶ ἐξεπαίδευσε) in an effeminate manner (θηλυνομήν παιδείαν), and because of this he was filled with evil from childhood. . . . ​He failed to recover for the Empire anything that it had lost before, and he lost Libya in addition and was himself killed.”121 Unlike Cassiodorus, Procopius does not compare Amalasuintha with Galla Placidia, but interestingly he uses the theme of education to praise the first and blame the second. While Galla was responsible for her son’s “effeminate” education, Amalasuintha, who “wanted her son to resemble the rulers of the Romans in his way of life,” 122 ultimately had to accept the will of the Goths, who accused her of giving Athalaric an education that was inappropriate for a king because it was not barbarian. Her ultimate acquiescence to their demands would have devastating consequences for the king, perhaps even leading to his death.123 In Procopius’s view the result was the same: an effeminate education was as bad as a barbarian one, and had similarly devastating effects on the government. Both Cassiodorus and Procopius held Galla Placidia directly or indirectly responsible for the loss of Illyricum and Africa,124 even if Procopius did not have the propagandistic need to compare Amalasuintha with Galla. Probably Cassiodorus did not mention the loss of Africa because this event did not enhance his comparison with Amalasuintha. His words “empire shamefully diminished” (imperium indecenter imminutum), however, were enough to remind the senatorial audience of the catastrophic loss of Mauritania and Numidia, taken by the Vandals at the time of Galla’s regency. While in the year 423 Placidia left Italy and escaped with Valentinian III to Theodosius II in Constantinople, hoping to protect her son from Honorius, Amalasuintha, on the contrary, sought the friendship, guardianship, and protection of Justinian (amicitia, tuitio, protectio), and eventually entrusted herself and her son to him (commendatio). According to Procopius, she planned to escape alone to Justinian only after she realized that her life at the palace was not safe and she lost trust in her son.125 From their palatium, both Galla and Amalasuintha had to deal with the complicated diplomacy of their times, and both struggled with the difficulties of administering Italy without the support of a spouse. Because their children were minors and because these women were not in a position to rule alone, they had to rely on patricians and masters of the soldiers, and they operated in situations that carried serious risk for their lives. Therefore, if on the one hand Galla was under pressure from the Roman general Aetius, on the other, the conservative Gothic aristocrats tried to control Amalasuintha. She took a great step ­toward autonomy when she appointed the Roman Liberius to the



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supreme office of patriciate-​­in-​­waiting; this office was previously held by the Goth Tuluin.126 But while Galla could rely on some level of support from the East, Amalasuintha had to work hard in protecting Italy from the compromised situation of the Western kingdoms, particularly because the system of international alliances established by her father had already collapsed.127 Ultimately she was compelled to ask Justinian for his protection. Unlike Athalaric, Valentinian III had been betrothed since his childhood, since 424, to Licinia Eudoxia, the daughter of his cousin Theodosius II. In that same year the Eastern emperor sent Galla and her child back to Italy to replace the usurper Joannes. When years later, in 437, Valentinian III finally married Eudoxia, Galla Placidia gave part of the diocese of Illyricum to the Eastern Empire, including those territories which would later be controlled by the Goths. That this gift was tied to matrimonial policy was well known in the sixth century. Jordanes referred to it in the Romana128 but purposely omitted it in the Getica, where he probably followed the perspective of Cassiodorus; indeed, this very episode became a pretext for celebrating the kingdom of Amalasuintha over the empire of Galla Placidia. Cassiodorus sharpened the contrast between the two regents by purposely failing to mention that Galla’s loss of that part of Illyricum was in reality small. The real damage had happened in 432, when Aetius gave Pannonia Secunda to the Huns, with the exception of Sirmium, in order to obtain the alliance of this people against the same Galla Placidia!129 Galla eventually ceded Sirmium to the empire, while in 504 Theoderic regained both this city and Pannonia Secunda (Sirmiensis).130 Around 528– 530 the Goths of Amalasuintha achieved another important victory there, to which Cassiodorus also refers in his eulogies of her. Cassiodorus reinforces his comparison by stating that a century earlier the Roman army was weaker and inactive, while now, in his time, under Amalasuintha, the Goths were engaged in wars and not debilitated by a prolonged peace.131 In this way he attributed to the two first ladies of Italy decisions that were probably made under the influence of their patricians and masters of the soldiers. Cassiodorus celebrates Amalasuintha’s international policy, particularly with respect to her diplomacy with the Burgundians and with the empire.132 The queen aimed to avoid confrontations with other barbarian kings as much as possible, and eventually, as we have seen, she sought Justinian’s protection through the commendatio. Unlike Galla Placidia, however, Amalasuintha had to deal not with massive barbarian invasions and continuous changes in the geography of the empire but with fully established post-​­Roman kingdoms.

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These were by now more or less acknowledged and perhaps tolerated by Byzantium, even if they kept expanding to each other’s detriment. Finally, despite their different faiths, Amalasuintha and Galla Placidia shared some elements of religious policy. The building programs promoted by the two regent mothers were not limited to decorating the palace of Ravenna; they also included churches.133 The two rulers played an important role in the process of entrusting ecclesiastical trials to the clergy rather than to the ordinary courts of law, as a letter in Athalaric’s name dating to circa 527 and addressed to the Roman clergy testifies. The clergy could appeal to the pope first, and in the unlikely case they were not satisfied, they could still turn to the fora saecularia.134 As tutor for Valentinian III, Galla Placidia too had to deal with the question of the ecclesiastical courts of law for the clergy. Some of these striking similarities were noted by Cassiodorus deliberately and with rhetorical intent, but they were not simply propaganda developed to support the image of Amalasuintha: they are also confirmed by other evidence, particularly in Procopius. It is very likely that in the palace of Ravenna in the sixth century the times of Galla and Valentinian III were frequently revived in conversation.

Amalasuintha on the Diptych of Orestes: Ariadne and Female Agency in the Transmission of Power A little portrait in ivory is the only certain representation of Amalasuintha. Other contemporary surviving marble portraits of women have not been definitively identified. Some scholars identify in them the face of Amalasuintha, though most see the portraits of Empress Ariadne (for an example see Figure  2).135 But on the consular diptych of Rufius Gennadius Probus Orestes, which without question dates to the year 530, we find Amalasuintha represented beside her teenage son.136 The two portraits occupy the medallions on the top of the diptych, with Amalasuintha on the right and Athalaric in the place of honor on the left (see Figure 3).137 We may wonder whether a century earlier Galla and her son were also represented together on consular diptychs—​ ­but this kind of representation seems to lack precedent in older ivories. The iconography of this ivory has been the object of much speculation. Following the interpretation of Delbrück, Wolfram remarked upon the Gothic character of the portrait: “Amalasuintha herself appeared with the ‘Phrygian’ cap of the type worn by the queens of the Bosporans. The origins of the

Figure 2. Marble portrait believed by scholars to represent either Empress Ariadne or Queen Amalasuintha. German Archaeological Institute, Neg. D-DAI-ROM. 1 4707.

Figure 3. Consular diptych of Orestes, a.d. 530, with representations of Athalaric and Amalasuintha in the medallions on the top. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.



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Ostrogoths had left traces not only in the tribal memoria but also in their insignia.”138 This interpretation differs from that of scholars, such as Bury, who saw in the image the Amal lady represented like a Roman empress of that time: although she wears no diadem, her earrings and the pendants that adorn her headdress (πρεπενδούλια) resemble those of a Byzantine empress.139 The absence of a diadem on Amalasuintha’s portrait is not surprising, considering that Theoderic himself does not seem to have worn it; in the medallion of Morro D’Alba the king is bareheaded, as is Athalaric in the diptych.140 Amory mixes both Wolfram’s and Bury’s views, recognizing a Roman style in the dresses of the two rulers, but with influences from the Gothic world. In his view, Athalaric is dressed in a plain tunic like a Roman soldier, while Amalasuintha’s cap, rather than Phrygian, resembles the caps of the male Gothic rulers (such as Theodahad and Totila). This cap, as well as the presence of Amalasuintha on the diptych, is an indication of her regency. Nonetheless, the scholar admits: “Her earrings and jewelry resemble those of Theodora in San Vitale. Culture could spread from the frontiers, and Amalasuintha’s style of cap was perhaps Phrygian in origin—​­but there is no evidence that she, or Justinian, thought of such caps as Phrygian.”141 McClanan, who has dedicated an important work to the representation of early Byzantine empresses, concurs with Amory, commenting that Amalasuintha as represented on the diptych of Orestes “literally as well as symbolically reinscribes the Gothic Queen over the typology of a Byzantine empress.”142 Can this iconography be understood as one manifestation of the general tendency of the Ostrogothic monarchs to embrace imperial models? An analysis of our evidence leads in this direction. Amalasuintha is represented on the diptych wearing the dress and all the ornaments of official events, including earrings, collars, and necklaces made of pearls. These were the royal dresses and jewelry that were transmitted within the family from queen to queen through the generations. This practice of transmitting royal robes and jewelry is noted by Gregory of Tours. He relates that the royal dress of Theudigotha, Theoderic’s daughter and the wife of Sigismund, was worn by the king’s second wife after her death, upsetting the king’s son Sigeric and bringing him in conflict with his father.143 Cassiodorus provides an idealized description of the jewelry of the Amal queen in his panegyric pronounced on the day of Matasuintha’s wedding with King Witiges at the beginning of 537, comparing the beauty of the queen to her ornaments: Grow dull now, all emeralds; grow pallid, O rubies; fade away, you sapphires; darken, you pearls. Here you do not swallow up the real

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wealth with raging greed. She robs you of your value, who is made pleasing adorned [only] by herself. . . . ​She, who, among countless pearls and purple precious for the noble dark shade (which arouses reverence), who is brighter for her serene appearance, she wins her ornament of gems when she is in public. Behold your radiant throne (sedes), such that India, for all her wealth, would marvel at, bejeweled Persia celebrate, and noble Spain gape at in astonishment. Here we wonder at pink winged virgos with shining feathers, just as it is suitable for the dignified Victories to be. Indeed, even milk-​ c­ olored crowns of pearls are surrounded by beautiful circles of gold rings bent! So it seems to be placed in your work, what only happiness deserves as reward. Sapphires vibrant with dark radiance are seen to flicker in black hues compounded with clear lights; emeralds play against them in tremulous green; rubies make cold flames issue forth; Spanish gems pour out blood-​­red hues. And your arrangement [of jewelry] alone makes up enough diadems, that [would adorn] all the queens of the world.144 Cassiodorus’s description of the queen’s royal dress is far more detailed than Ennodius’s references to Theoderic’s ornaments.145 His description of the royal throne is likewise detailed. “Throne” is the likely meaning of the word “sedes”;146 and if this interpretation is right, then we should picture Matasuintha seated on the throne, perhaps the same one which before held the Augusta Galla Placidia and more recently her mother, Queen Amalasuintha. Corippus’s description of the sedes Augusta, the imperial throne in Constantinople, reinforces our impression; his reference to hanging winged Victories is striking when compared to that of the Cassiodoran panegyric.147 Cassiodorus’s description of the ornament and the chair of the queen may also find an iconographic parallel in the reverses of some solidi of Aelia Eudocia (Theodosius II’s wife) in the East and of Licinia Eudoxia (Valentinian III’s wife) in the West, where the empresses are represented enthroned. Later, Sophia would be the first empress to be represented on the obverse of bronze coins (folles in particular) as enthroned, sitting beside her husband, Justin II. But the best parallel is found in the ivories of Ariadne, in particular the Vienna one. Here the empress is represented sitting on the canopied throne, wearing necklaces of precious stones and draped in strings of pearls, hanging from her crown and adorning her garments (see Figure 4).148 Once again these examples date between the mid-​­fifth and the early sixth centuries.

Figure 4. Ivory panel representing an enthroned Byzantine empress, most likely Ariadne. KHM-Museumsverband.

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Venantius Fortunatus may have been inspired by one of these panegyrical pieces, perhaps the Cassiodoran one—​­this was certainly available in Ravenna, where the poet was educated—​­when years later he described Brunhild on the day of her wedding with Sigibert. The beauty of the queen surpassed the precious stones that she wore for the event, according to a common panegyrical metaphor.149 Apart from the literary genre, Cassiodorus’s representation makes us wonder whether these were the ornaments that originally belonged to Amalasuintha, that were later taken by force from Gudeliva, and that were eventually restored to Matasuintha by her new husband, the avenger of her mother. This and other parts of the royal treasury were eventually brought to Constantinople in 540 together with Matasuintha and Witiges, who were deported there by the order of Belisarius after the capture of Ravenna.150 The history of this jewelry is not directly documented, but it is clear that the imperial jewelry continued to circulate at the barbarian courts. Imperial and senatorial jewelry was most likely part of the Gothic royal treasure, which came in large part from plunder and from dowries in the royal-​­imperial marriages. We know that at her wedding with Honorius in February 398, Maria, the daughter of the half-​­Vandal Stilicho, was wearing the old Roman imperial jewelry.151 Galla Placidia likely took this jewelry with her to Rome, where, however, she was taken prisoner in 410 by Alaric. When in 414 she married Athaulf in Narbo, she was presented with plates piled with gold and precious stones, which had been taken during the sack of Rome.152 One imagines that the larger part of the imperial treasure remained in Visigothic hands. Amalasuintha may have come into possession of some of her ornaments after the Visigothic treasury of Carcaso, which included part of what Alaric had taken in Rome, was brought to Ravenna (in 508). And even if this treasury was eventually restored to the Visigoths, it would not be surprising if some of the jewelry was kept at the Ostrogothic court. Of course, Amalasuintha must have received jewelry also from her Frankish mother, who likely brought her own jewelry to Italy when she married Theoderic. The management of royal treasure is better documented for the Merovingian queens.153 The description by Cassiodorus of the queen’s dress and of her sedes decorated with precious colored stones, combined with pearls mounted in golden rings, finds strong parallels in the imperial iconography, including portraits on coins of Theodosian and post-​­Theodosian empresses, the Ariadne ivories, Theodora in the mosaic of San Vitale in Ravenna, and the imperial princess Anicia Juliana in the early sixth-​­century manuscript Vienna Dioscurides.154 Apart from these, the diptych of Orestes finds solid parallels in the typology



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of surviving exemplars from the reign of Anastasius, in which the emperor is similarly represented beside his wife, Ariadne, and some scholars rightly believe that Orestes’s ivory was modeled on the imperial ones. The consular diptych of Clementinus dating to 513 shows the strongest similarities (see Figure 5), and McClanan suggests that Amalasuintha’s image was based on Ariadne’s: “Thus the image of Amalasuntha was crafted out of an image of Ariadne, with the face left largely untouched in this identity transformation. . . . ​The Gothic leaders participated in the appointment of the new consuls for the western half of the Byzantine Empire, so Athalaric and Amalasuntha easily occluded the images of Anastasius and Ariadne on the consular diptychs.”155 Yet it is likely that lost exemplars of other years showed similar representations, and these images would have been known at the palace of Ravenna, where these ivories circulated. Literary evidence strongly supports this theory. The diptychs of Areobindus and of Anastasius (the consuls of the years 506 and 517, respectively), on which the imperial couple is represented in medallions, reproduce scenes of amphitheater games that perfectly match with the description provided by Cassiodorus in his letter announcing the gladiatorial games for the consulship of Maximus in the year 523.156 We do not know whether Amalasuintha and Athalaric were represented on other consular ivories. This is possible, considering that other Western consuls were appointed during the regency; the fact that three of them were Decians speaks to the good relationship of the Gothic queen with this family. The two consuls of the year 530, Lampadius and Orestes, were both Western, and their consulships were reiterated for the years 531–533, “Post consulatum Lampadii et Orestis (II, III ).” No other Western Consuls were appointed until 534.157 The similarities between these diptychs go beyond typology. There are several reasons to believe that behind the artistic similarities lay more than stylistic choices: the shadow of Ariadne lay behind Amalasuintha’s self-​ ­representation, her royalty and her propaganda. The surviving ivories never represent Ariadne beside Zeno: her face appears beside the image of Anastasius, her second husband, whom she raised to the throne and whose legitimation she facilitated. Such imagery, to McClanan, reveals “the potential role of the Augusta as co-​­ruler and not merely the consort of the emperor.” And the scholar also rightly claims that “the five diptychs commemorate a woman who choreographed the ascendancy of three successive emperors—​­her son, Leo II, and two husbands, Zeno and Anastasius. Thus Anastasius strove to solidify his legitimacy with this reminder of his connection to earlier rulers. . . . ​Ariadne

Figure 5. Consular diptych of Clementinus, a.d. 513, with representations of Anastasius and Ariadne on the medallions on the top. Courtesy of National Museums Liverpool, World Museum.



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on the ivories proclaimed the Byzantine Realpolitik—​­serving as the necessary justification for Anastasius’s rule.”158 The “co-​­regency” Anastasius-​­Ariadne may well have stood as a political model for the Ostrogothic regent. Ariadne was a recent example of an influential Byzantine empress, probably the most significant one of those generations. Theodora, whose authority grew over the years and especially after the Nika riot in 532, never represented a model for Amalasuintha. Theodora appears in the medallions with Justinian on the consular diptych of Consul Justin, dating to the year 540, but with a completely different typology.159 When Orestes’s diptych was commissioned in late 529, Ariadne represented the best recent example of a woman in power. That she would be an influential model for the Amal court is not surprising: she had probably exerted an indirect influence over the years, given that the Byzantine court had been a model for some of the post-​­Roman kingdoms and especially for Ostrogothic Italy.160 Amalasuintha never met Ariadne, who died around 515, the year the Gothic princess married Eutharic.161 It seems likely, however, that the empress would have been a natural model for Amalasuintha. Like Amalasuintha in Ravenna, Ariadne spent her life close to the court at the palace of Constantinople, where she was connected to imperial power in different forms: as daughter of Leo, as mother of Leo II, as wife of Zeno and later of Anastasius.162 But above all, the figure of Ariadne was important in the history of the Amal family and evoked the past of Theoderic. As elder daughter of Emperor Leo I, she certainly had known Theoderic since his youth, when the young Amal was sent by his father Theudimer as a hostage to Constantinople (ca. 461/2). Theoderic remained in the Eastern capital for about ten years and was still living there in 466/7, when Ariadne married Zeno. Ariadne became Augusta in 474, the same year Theoderic succeeded his father as king of the Goths. In 478, Zeno offered Theoderic a huge amount of gold and silver on condition that he eliminate his Gothic rival Theoderic Strabo. By that time the emperor had adopted Theoderic per arma, suggesting that he marry the patrician lady Anicia Juliana, granddaughter of Valentinian III and daughter of Emperor Olybrius, and a noblewoman very close to the palace of Constantinople.163 But this plan did not have support, and Anicia Juliana instead married Flavius Areobindus Dagalaiphus, who later became the master of the soldiers in the East (the couple remained in Constantinople).164 We know that a few years after Ariadne’s death, Anicia Juliana contributed to putting an end to the Acacian schism between Rome and Constantinople in 519.165 Interestingly, this episode turned to be important for the relationship

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between Theoderic and Justin, and in the same year the emperor celebrated his consulship with Theoderic’s son-​­in-​­law, Eutharic, who was Amalasuintha’s husband.166 All these events bespeak the complexity of the relationship between the Amal king and the imperial family, and we might well wonder what Zeno’s plans for Theoderic had originally been, given that relations between king and emperor at that time were not easy.167 What we know for sure is that Theoderic’s experience in Constantinople, including the honors he received and the friendships (amicitia) he established, had a significant influence on his personality and his political views.168 As Augusta, Ariadne became closer to Theoderic’s sister, Amalafrida, who was part of her entourage. Apparently, Amalafrida had been sent to the court of Constantinople as a hostage for a short period of time, until 487.169 This was probably not the only connection that Ariadne had with the women of the Amal family. According to the Anonymus Valesianus, one of Theoderic’s daughters from a previous marriage carried the interesting name of Ostrogotho Areagni. This is interesting, considering that in the same document the empress is referred to as Ariagni.170 This curious combination of names suggests that Theoderic may have highly esteemed Ariadne during his years in Constantinople, or that his daughter was under Ariadne’s protection, or even that she was baptized with the empress as her godmother—​­after all, Ostrogotho Areagni would marry Sigismund, who a few years later converted to Catholicism (interestingly, Gregory of Tours does not include this woman among the Arian queens responsible for the calamities of their kingdoms).171 Ariadne was also the empress both at the time of the agreements between Zeno and Theoderic (488) concerning the plan of conquest of Italy and at the time of the later agreements between Anastasius and Theoderic (497) about the Gothic king’s administration in the name of the emperor.172 It is possible that Empress Ariadne had an influence on Anastasius when he eventually decided to confirm the agreements of 488 between Zeno and Theoderic. Theoderic’s right to rule was based upon these agreements, which would form the basis for all later Amal claims to reign in Italy.173 To a much larger extent than the Theodosian empresses, Ariadne played a determining role in the transition of power in Constantinople.174 Her infant son Leo II was proclaimed Caesar in 473 by her father, Leo, and one year later Augustus and consul (474). In fact, like Theoderic, Emperor Leo did not have a direct male heir. As soon as Leo died, Ariadne’s son ruled for a very short time. She persuaded him to make his father Zeno co-​­emperor (9 February 474), and she became Augusta. In November 474 Leo II died under mysteri-



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ous circumstances barely one year and twenty-​­three days into his reign, at the age of seven.175 When years later Zeno passed away, Ariadne had a determining role in the transition of power during the election only two days later of the new emperor, her future husband, Anastasius.176 In the Byzantine world, Ariadne’s role as regent and Augusta was not unique. In 414 Empress Pulcheria had proclaimed herself Augusta and regent for her younger brother Theodosius II, who had been an orphan since his father Arcadius died in 408. When Theodosius II died in 450, she crowned his successor, Marcian, whom she also married.177 Finally, Ariadne’s mother, Verina, as widow of Leo, crowned two usurpers, Basiliscus and Leontius.178 Ariadne was a central figure in the imperial succession, and she followed in the footsteps of a long tradition that had begun under the houses of Constantine and Theodosius. She was the agent of the legitimation of the power that was received from her father Leo and transmitted to her son and her husband. Both MacClanan and James in their studies on empresses in Byzantium have recently highlighted this element.179 Amalasuintha’s use of Ariadne as a model is a good example of the widespread phenomena of admiratio and imitatio of Byzantine empresses by early medieval queens,180 and Mischa Meier rightly considers Ariadne “Rote Faden des Kaisertums.”181 The conclusions of these scholars validate the suspicion that Ariadne may have been an exemplar for the Gothic female regent. Amalasuintha constitutes the common thread in the transmission of power in Gothic Italy. With caution, I wonder how these models of Byzantine imperial women serving as regents in Constantinople may have influenced Theoderic in his hazardous decision of 526 to leave the realm to his ten-​­year-​­old grandson, entrusted to the tutorship of his daughter. We may also wonder whether the case of Ariadne and Leo II was a reason for Procopius’s account, when he claims that the Goths suspected that Amalasuintha was hoping that her son would die so that she could remarry and have a stronger, more direct authority over the kingdom.182 Were such suspicions grounded on events that had occurred at the palace of Constantinople, such as the turbid vicissitudes that affected the election of Zeno as a coruler with the very young Leo II? Indeed, Leo II’s sudden death was considered suspicious at the Eastern court. Unlike Ariadne, however, Amalasuintha gained the royal title as a single woman, and she kept her royal status without marrying her coregent. Like Amalasuintha later, Ariadne had to face powerful enemies at the court, such as the general Illus, against whom she conspired and who seems also to have conspired against her.183

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A final parallel between Ariadne and Amalasuintha highlights their strength and reason in the face of transitions of power. As we have seen, our authors acknowledge both sexes in Amalasuintha (like Cassiodorus in Variae 1.11,14: uterque sexus). Interestingly, a few years earlier, Priscian had celebrated Ariadne for the way she managed the period after her first husband’s death: “How can I express the praise that the empress deserves, for having been the author and the cause of such happiness, while she strengthened her father’s empire to support such a prince, and committed the world and herself to his protection? She remained unconquered by all the fatal passions of the senses, she whose fame of piety is on everybody’s lips; and she went beyond what her sex had allowed her to do, when her foresight rendered such service to the Roman world.”184 Priscian praises her for choosing the right person for the throne with reason and not following sensual passion; she showed in that difficult moment a rationality that benefited the empire. As we have seen, an empress like Ariadne could remarry without having her position diminished, whereas marriage was not a good option for Amalasuintha.185 Did this model come to Amalasuintha only because of Theoderic’s own experience in Constantinople? Here perhaps we should pause and reflect that Priscian was a good friend of Symmachus, the head of the Roman Senate.186 Could this important example of a ruling woman and her role in the transmission of power also have reached the Gothic court from the East through Roman senatorial circles? Amalasuintha’s likely tutor, Barbara, was an important figure among the Roman elite, and she almost certainly was well acquainted with Symmachus and the people of his circle. The Roman elite may well have served as conduits to the Gothic court of imperial models of female power. Last but not least, Ariadne’s noble origins sharply contrasted with the well-​­known and more questionable origins of Justin’s and Justinian’s wives, Euphemia and Theodora: the first was an ex-​­slave, while the second was a circus performer.187 This is significant because the nobility of the Amals was perhaps the most important element of Amalasuintha’s claim to maintain the ruling power of her family. Among the reasons for promoting Cassiodorus to the Praetorian prefecture in 533 was to restore the glorious image of the origins and deeds of the Amal dynasty (his History of the Goths was indeed a work of dynastic propaganda), thereby justifying the government of Theoderic’s successors: “He restored the Amals, along with the honour of their family,” claims Athalaric in addressing the Roman senators, “clearly proving me to be of royal stock to the seventeenth generation. From Gothic origins he made a Roman



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history. . . . ​Think how much he loved you in praising me, when he showed the nation of your prince to be a wonder from ancient days. In consequence, as you have ever been thought noble because of your ancestors, so you shall be ruled by an ancient line of kings.”188 It is worth remembering here that Procopius in the Secret History points to Amalasuintha’s “noble ancestry” (εὐπατρίδης) as one of the reasons for Theodora’s jealousy.189 As we saw in the previous section, in the same letter-​­panegyric Cassiodorus compares Amalasuintha as tutor of Athalaric to the Theodosian empress Galla Placidia. But in the same piece he also eulogizes the queen as the worthy offspring of a family represented with the best virtues, and he challenges any possible comparison of Amalasuintha with the empresses of the past: “The form of the declamation demands that I should compare the parade of past empresses with her recent case (Augustarum veterum pompam moderna comparatione excutere). But how could these feminine examples (exempla feminea) suffice for one who surpasses all the praise given to men (virorum laus)?”190 Cassiodorus eventually builds up a comparison with her male ancestors in order better to highlight Amalasuintha’s role as ruler. The models here, however, are represented by the Augustae rather than by the Gothic queens, including Amalasuintha’s Frankish mother, or by queens of other gentes; though this choice may have been due to the fact that the audience for his piece was the Roman Senate (see Chapter 1). After all, any comparison involving governmental activities would be possible at this stage only with empresses, not with queens. Amalasuintha’s predilection for the imperial models also finds confirmation in Procopius’s account of her desire for an education in Roman style for Athalaric.191 The images of Amalasuintha and Athalaric on the diptych of Orestes cannot be simply understood as a practical and convenient reuse of a typology. These images should be interpreted in the wider context both of the political lexicon of Procopius and Cassiodorus and of the documents that we have considered in this section. They reflect the influences of the imperial court on the royal house of Theoderic. As a widow and tutor of Athalaric, Amalasuintha must have found her models in the imperial women of the Theodosian and post-​­Theodosian dynasties, especially those, like Ariadne, who had been agents in the transmission of power.

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Amalasuintha as a Bridge Between Gothic Italy and the Empire Ideas of female power in the Ostrogothic court of Theoderic during its years in the Balkans, in Moesia, and later in Italy were not very different from those of other late fifth-​­and early sixth-​­century peoples. Amalasuintha is the first and only woman in Ostrogothic Italy to gain strong political significance. Her regency following Theoderic’s death represents an experiment in the transmission of power; in the early sixth century, it was groundbreaking. On the nature of offices and honorary titles held by kings, who did not hesitate to use Roman legislative practices to strengthen their own status, as well as the position of their kingdoms, Ian Wood has observed that the kings “were also capable of thinking of the offices in question in Roman terms, fully aware of a relationship between the new kingships and people of the West and the Byzantine emperor—​­and by extension they had a concept of the relationship between their new states and the Empire.”192 This view should also be applicable to the development of queenship. Like Odovacer and Theoderic, who developed their power in the interaction of barbarian groups with the Roman Empire, Amalasuintha tried to legitimate herself as a ruling woman by inventing a new model of queenship in a “kingdom of the empire.” Her reign should therefore be understood as part of the evolution of the female royal office in the post-​­Roman world, rather than another incarnation of older Germanic conceptions of the role of royal wives. Many members of the Gothic elite were certainly disappointed, as they had expected a different arrangement. But Italy offered the right environment for Amalasuintha’s experiment. Here, much more than in the other kingdoms, Roman aristocrats at the court had speeded up the process of acculturation.193 As a result, Amalasuintha was in a better position than any other post-​­Roman queen to introduce a Romanized queenship and a stronger female power. During Amalasuintha’s regency, the promotion of Romans and Goths was performed under the name of Athalaric, according to the tradition of the empire. The lack in the Variae of letters in the name of Amalasuintha predating Athalaric’s death suggests that she did not issue edicts or other official documents in her name during the eight years of her son’s reign. Gothic Italy was under the Roman law of the Theodosian Code, and the palace of Ravenna never interfered with that.194 Nor did it interfere with the practice of allowing the Romans their traditional offices.195 Amalasuintha may have not been pleased with many of the choices made in the difficult period 527–532, a time



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in which she was under pressure from the Gothic aristocracy. It is clear, however, that she was behind many of the promotions, just as Galla Placidia had been as tutor of Valentinian III. Because of her position, she was eventually able to send her enemies from the Gothic nobility on missions to various places and have them killed.196 Procopius also makes her responsible for some diplomatic incidents between kingdom and empire, and he strengthens this point by including in his narrative some (probably fictive) letters between her and Justinian. By the early 530s, Amalasuintha had become very influential in the granting of appointments. And although at that time Athalaric was nearing the age of majority, we know that she orchestrated the promotions of Liberius to ­patrician-​­in-​­waiting and of Cassiodorus to Praetorian prefect. These two men, who expressed the pro-​­Roman direction that Amalasuintha pursued, were raised to the two most important political positions of the reign, and they became the supporting columns of the Ostrogothic kingdom.197 Following the rules of the royal chancery, the appointment letters for the Praetorian prefecture were issued under the name of Athalaric.198 It is Amalasuintha, however, that Cassiodorus thanked in his letter-​­panegyric, which is almost entirely dedicated to the domina, and in which he specified that she had also ordered the appointment of Liberius.199 If we did not have this unusual document in the collection of the Variae, we would not see Amalasuintha behind these promotions. But Cassiodorus reminds us that she gave benefits to the senators; many were helped, while others were “exalted with honours.”200 Simply said, Amalasuintha was responsible for many honores and dignitates that were granted to the members of the Senate. The Constitutio Pragmatica of the year 554 also reflects her role, recognizing her in the list of the successors of Theoderic: “That all that Amalasuintha or Athalaric or Theodahad granted stands firm: Firstly therefore we order that all that Athalaric or his royal mother Amalasuintha or even Theodahad granted to the Romans or under the request of the Senate will be preserved without violation.”201 On an official level, unlike most late antique and Byzantine empresses, Amalasuintha is not represented with the imperial symbols of power.202 In this, she is probably similar to other post-​­Roman queens, though admittedly the fragmentary surviving evidence for those women is generally written rather than iconographic. The only certain portrait, the diptych of Orestes, does not depict her wearing the diadem, although she is represented wearing earrings and pendants like a Roman empress.203 The sparse surviving epigraphic evidence is all in Athalaric’s name. This evidence consists of an inscription

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concerning a restoration of the amphitheater of Ticinum and dating to 528/9, and also a few brick stamps from Rome, in which the name of King Athalaric replaces that of his grandfather as dominus noster regnans.204 The same can be said for the coinage. As in the other sixth-​­century barbarian kingdoms, no coins seem to have been issued in Amalasuintha’s name, and in fact there is no female presence on the Gothic coinage at all.205 Theoderic’s monogram appears on a rare series of fractions of siliqua, which some scholars tend to attribute to the co-​­regency.206 Some silver coins minted with the monogram of Amalasuintha’s daughter, Queen Matasuintha, may constitute an exception. But the authenticity of these pieces is still the object of discussion,207 and in any case these most rare issues were part of the propaganda of legitimizing the position of Matasuintha’s husband, Witiges, who did not belong to the Gothic nobility but had joined the Amal family through marriage.208 Finally, in the Book of the Popes the pontificates of this period are regularly dated under the names of the ruling kings, Theoderic, Athalaric, Theodahad, but not Amalasuintha, though she is referenced as regina.209 It is possible that chancery documents were issued in the names of both Amalasuintha and Theodahad during the few weeks or months of the co-​ ­regency. The unusual nature of this political solution, however, together with the lack of evidence for such a short phase, makes it currently impossible to know for certain. The few letters that are included in the Cassiodoran collection do not help us understand whether or to what extent the power of Amalasuintha increased. The only two letters of appointment included in the Variae and dating to this period refer to the promotion of Patricius to the quaestorship in late 534.210 Even though these were issued during the co-​ r­ egency, and even though Amalasuintha claimed power equal or perhaps even superior to that of her coregent, it was Theodahad who, as king, officially appointed the Romans to the magistracies. Amalasuintha may have chosen the candidates herself or supervised and approved her cousin’s choices, but she did not change the tradition about making the appointments: as during the years under her son, this remained a prerogative of the king. Ironically, the only real appointment that she ever made in her name was the fatal one of Theodahad to rex. Cassiodorus’s letter-​­panegyric (Variae 11.1) illustrates Amalasuintha’s international politics, to which Procopius also makes reference when discussing her political role as tutor of Athalaric and guardian of the kingdom. In internal politics, as we have seen, this panegyric sheds light on Amalasuintha’s influence over important promotions. Her intervention can also be detected



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behind some other Variae in Athalaric’s name, however. Two significant examples are the Edict, which, among other things, protected landowners from property abuses, and a letter in which the payments for the masters of Rome were guaranteed, in part to support the education of the elite in the palace.211 Both these documents date to circa late 533/early 534, a time when Athalaric was getting close to his majority. They, however, express the policy of Amalasuintha in reestablishing rules that had been ignored in recent years. Interestingly, in both cases Cassiodorus, writing in the name of Athalaric, addressed the unpleasant situations in the kingdom by stating that a voice had reached the royal ear at the palace: frequent whisperings (crebris susurrationibus), or a discreet report from various people (quorundam susurratione). A letter of Theodahad about a whispering (susurrare) against his person that some senators had made to Amalasuintha confirms this view, and also confirms the central role of the queen in these palace secrets. These cases represent the only uses in the Variae of susurrare/susurratio, and this could also be considered in parallel with Cassiodorus’s description of Amalasuintha as a ruler of few words who acted in silence for the public good (silentiose geritur publicum bonum).212 That it was Amalasuintha (rather than Athalaric) who was behind these actions is clearly confirmed by Procopius, who in different points of his narrative refers to both her support of Roman education and her protection of Roman landowners from abuses perpetrated by the Goths and by her cousin Theodahad.213 Evidently, by this point Amalasuintha was free to impose her will, and she was the one who made these decisions. Our lack of evidence for any law or edict in Amalasuintha’s name is not unusual; we do not find such laws in the names of women in the other kingdoms, nor do we find them in the empire; and this was also true for the late Roman imperial tradition. Indeed, even imperial women were prevented from issuing laws, although they had influence and maintained some degree of power through their men. Emperors’ wives held acknowledged status, but as widows the Augustae could access power by serving as regents and securing their children’s positions.214 Justina is a good example of an empress who influenced the politics of her son, Valentinian II. Pulcheria was a very young regent, who looked after the reign of her younger brother after 414. Sozomen reports: “This princess was not yet fifteen years of age, but had received a mind most wise and divine above her years. She first devoted her virginity to God. . . . ​After quietly resuming the care of the state, she governed the Roman Empire excellently and with great orderliness; she concerted her measures so well that the affairs to be carried out were quickly decreed and completed. . . . ​

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She caused all affairs to be transacted in the name of her brother, and devoted great attention to bringing him up as a prince in the best possible way and with such information as was suitable to his years.”215 As Philostorgius wrote about Theodosius II: “His sister Pulcheria was with him, and she assisted with the imperial subscriptions and made sure they were in order.”216 And in 443 Theodoret of Cyrrhus thought that it would be appropriate to send Pulcheria a letter asking for her help concerning a matter of tax remissions, even if this was not part of her duties.217 Amalasuintha as represented by Procopius in Bellum Gothicum 1.2 and Cassiodorus in Variae 11.1 and 10.4 shows only slight similarity to Pulcheria, who ruled beside Theodosius II and supervised his edicts. The other famous example in the family, the Augusta Galla Placidia, who was Pulcheria’s aunt, was by far the most significant model of comparison for Amalasuintha, as I have already discussed. Galla, who held the title of Augusta from 421, ruled beside her son Valentinian III for the period 425–437, and she mentored him until her death in 450. Although she never officially issued laws, she always showed great attention to legislation.218 A few years later this would be codified in the Theodosian Code and officially approved in the West by Valentinian III.219 Galla also had a substantial exchange of letters with popes and a strong influence on politics and on religious matters.220 She corresponded with Pulcheria and with Theodosius II,221 whose daughter Licinia Eudoxia married her son. “A widow, and a mother of a reigning emperor, Galla had to forge a new balance between maternity and the responsibilities of her position,” writes Hagith Sivan when comparing the propaganda of Galla Placidia with that of other early fifth-​­century empresses, in particular Pulcheria and Eudocia. Sivan argues that Galla took as her model her maternal grandmother Justina, who “used her guardian status to cross a fundamental threshold between two separate domains, that of the emperor and that of the emperor’s womenfolk.”222 Something similar happened many years later in Italy with Amalasuintha. The best way to evaluate Amalasuintha in Ostrogothic Italy and the development of her public image is to consider her figure in the context of the relationships between kingdom and empire. On one hand, she was formally the power behind her son, respecting the imperial laws. On the other, in her self-​­representation as a woman in power she found her best (if not only) models in the Roman and Byzantine empresses: the Theodosian women Galla Placidia and Pulcheria together with the empress Ariadne constituted the precedents of women in power who had played a primary role in the transition of power. These women had usually taken care of their children as Augus-



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tae: Galla Placidia held this title previously, while Pulcheria assumed it as regent for her brother. When they did not rule for their children, they still enjoyed extended powers.223 I strongly suspect that Amalasuintha found in the post-​­Theodosian imperial women good models to shape her regency. After all, Western empresses following Galla Placidia did not play a significant political role, and the Theodosian empresses had been gone for more than fifty years. But a figure like Ariadne was a near contemporary of Amalasuintha. Theoderic’s life in the East, his eight-​­year-​­long experience in Constantinople, and his desire to improve the relationship with the empire, may have strongly influenced his final willingness to encourage female power in his family. The work of the educators from the Roman elite, like Barbara, may have influenced the introduction of imperial female exemplars in Ravenna. This was now more than ever necessary; for, as we have seen in this book, Amalasuintha would become her father’s instrument to maintain the Amal family on the throne of Italy. Even here, t­ oward the end of the book, a mystery still surrounds the figure of Amalasuintha within the multicultural, complex scenario of Europe and the Mediterranean world of her generation. In her private thoughts, in her anomalous and lonely situation, did she feel like a barbarian queen, who had to struggle at the court in order to survive, who wanted to protect her rebellious son and to preserve the political construction of her father? Or, in a palace that breathed the imperial past, did she covet the position of an imperial woman in an Italy open to a female ruler? Our impression remains cloudy; her interior struggles, whatever they were, remain inaccessible. Amalasuintha herself may have felt conflicted about this question, and she probably changed her views over the years as she experienced the many vicissitudes and tragedies of her family, from the loss of her mother and her husband, to that of her father and later her son. And what about the final betrayal of her only remaining kinsman? What about the revenge of her old enemies, and the final, fatal treachery of Justinian, her most dangerous false friend? As she awaited her assassins on that little island, in her last days of life, she was left alone with only questions, disappointments, and unattainable desires, surrounded by a dull silence that forecast the imminent storm of the Byzantine invasion.

Epilogue Amalasuintha’s Legacy in Early Medieval Italy

After Amalasuintha, the Gothic queenship reverted to its traditional features. A royal Gothic woman provided the king with advice; she could be used as a valuable instrument of diplomacy; she was meant to guarantee the continuation of the family. Indeed, as we have seen, these had been the most important functions of royal women in the post-​­Roman kingdoms. Gudeliva, Amalasuintha’s replacement and Theodahad’s wife, never reached a degree of power similar to that which her predecessor held as coregent of Theodahad. Gudeliva’s only two letters published in the collection of the Variae are addressed to Theodora; unlike Amalasuintha, she does not seem to have corresponded directly with Justinian. In addition, unlike the letters of Amalasuintha, the epistles in Gudeliva’s name follow rather than precede those of Theodahad in the structure of book 10. Simply said: Gudeliva was an ordinary Gothic queen. She never shared royal power with Theodahad but, like a barbarian queen, provided him with advice. In early 536 she took an oath with her husband about leaving the kingdom to Justinian.1 One year later, with Amalasuintha’s daughter, Matasuintha, queenship was once again used as an instrument of diplomacy. By marrying Matasuintha, the newly elected King Witiges tied himself to the Amal family and tried to legitimize his reign in front of Justinian. Later, Matasuintha would serve another diplomatic role by marrying Germanus, Justinian’s cousin, who tried to use this marriage to gain the loyalty of the Goths.2 Amalasuintha was unprecedented as a ruling woman in the world of the Migration Period and the century that followed. Neither Gothic women nor contemporary queens of the other kingdoms exercised such a degree of power, and the fact that she was a consors regni without ever being the wife of a king makes her case even more anomalous in both the post-​­Roman and the early medieval worlds. In La Rocca’s words, the consortium regni as devised by



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Amalasuintha and presented by Cassiodorus remains “a unique experiment that shows both the possibilities open to a queen in the sixth century and, at the same time, their failure to materialize because of the discrepancy of gendered roles that this unusual association created.”3 Indeed, after the late Roman Empire the formula of the consortium regni would first be used in the early Middle Ages to denote kings associated to the throne, who were generally members of the same family. This is seen in the Visigothic kingdom in Leovigild with his two sons, Hermenegild and Reccared, in the Merovingian kingdom with Chlothar II and Dagobert in Austrasia, and also in Lombard Italy. Eventually, the Carolingians began to use this formula informally to indicate a ruling couple—​­this had been done in the East, for example, by Justin II and Sophia—​­in which the woman was entitled to ruling power from her husband.4 From a historical point of view, to the extent that it did not find an immediate continuation after the queen’s death, the Amalasuintha experiment of the co-​­regency turned out to be unsuccessful. But for several reasons the position and status of reginae improved and developed in Western Europe, for example in Visigothic Spain, but especially in the Frankish kingdom. In the period from the late sixth to the ninth centuries, the regency of widowed queens became a quasi-​­normal phenomenon in the Merovingian kingdom—​ ­for which seven examples of mothers or grandmothers ruling for their children and grandsons are attested—​­and in the Carolingian Empire.5 Like the Roman empresses of the Constantinian and Theodosian dynasties, who over the generations moved from chiefly advisory roles to active participation in power, the barbarian queens developed their positions over a period of a hundred and fifty years. During this time their status shifted from passive instruments of diplomacy, to advisors of their husbands, to active representatives of their dynasties, which they protected as rulers for their children. Just two generations after Amalasuintha, widowed queens began to exercise the role of regents for reges pueri.6 Competition arose in Austrasia between the widows Fredegund and Brunhild.7 Between 587 and 590, in a time when her son Chlothar II was still a child, Fredegund tried to have Brunhild and her son Childebert II assassinated. Brunhild had experienced the pressure of the aristocracy since her husband’s death. A few years later, after the death of her son in 595/6, she would rule as regent for her grandchildren.8 Gregory the Great sent ten letters between September 595 and November 602; in one of these the pope praises the Frankish queen for taking care of her adult son: “The government of the kingdom bears witness and the education of your son

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makes clear the praises of your excellence and the goodness that is pleasing to God.”9 This sentiment brings to mind Cassiodorus, when in late 533 he praised Amalasuintha as regent for Athalaric.10 Less than half a century later, Nanthild, with the help of the mayor of the palace, ruled for about three years, until her death, as regent on behalf of her child Clovis II. The rex puer had succeeded his father, Dagobert, in 639 as king of Neustria and Burgundy. Following the death of Clovis II, in 657/8, Balthild ruled for her five-​­year-​­old son, Chlothar III, as queen regent in Burgundy and Neustria.11 Like Brunhild, who came from Visigothic Spain, Balthild had foreign origins; she was originally from Anglia. In the kingdoms, matrimonial alliances often brought in women from outside. Amalasuintha, however, was an exception also in this: like a male heir, she never left her kingdom, but rather her spouse came to her from abroad.12 During the second half of the sixth century, regent mothers increased their power in politics and diplomacy, but only in some extraordinary circumstances when female regency was necessary, if not inevitable. In any case, this required the full support of the aristocracy. Brunhild is perhaps the most important example in the Merovingian world. But while we doubt that there was any direct influence of the experiment of Amalasuintha on the situations in Gaul, the fire lit by her continued to smolder under the ashes of Gothic Italy. Queen Theodelinda, of Bavarian origins, who ruled over an Italy split between Lombards and Byzantines, may have been more influenced by the Gothic past. More than fifty years after Amalasuintha’s death, this queen ruled over the Lombards, first as wife of Authari (589–590) and later of Agilulf (591– 616), and eventually as regent for her son Adaloald (616–626). She also corresponded with Pope Gregory the Great, helping him preserve the peace with her husband Agilulf.13 The royal attribute “gloriosissimus” and the title name of Flavius, which were the privileges of both the Ostrogothic and the Visigothic kings, suddenly reappeared, this time attached to the name of Authari, her first husband.14 A northern Italian chronicle addressed Theodelinda as gloriosissima regina, the wife of Authari and of Agilulf.15 It was after the death of Theodelinda’s first husband that Secundus of Trent (died 612), King Agilulf ’s adviser and a friend of the queen, wrote a short history of the deeds of the Lombards up to his time, a historiola.16 This work, compiled around 610, is lost, but Paul the Deacon made use of it in his History of the Lombards. While scholars have rightly looked at the figure of Secundus of Trent in parallel with Cassiodorus,17 in a recent article Carl Hammer has extended the nature of this comparison to include the pictures



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painted in the palace of Monza, which Paul the Deacon referred to as gesta Langobardorum.18 Indeed, these murals may have represented both the events and the leading historical personages of the Lombard people, in an ensemble that Hammer interprets as a propagandistic plan of Theodelinda on different levels: “1) to impose a recognized Langobard historical identity upon an exceptionally heterogeneous people and, thus, create a unified gens Langobardorum out of diverse elements; 2) to demonstrate that the prosperity of all the Langobard peoples was dependent upon its kings and, thus, the institution of kingship; 3) and, finally, to assert the importance of Theodelinda’s Lething dynasty.”19 This situation leads to a more direct comparison with the history of the Amals. After all, going back to the very beginning of the Lombard invasion, Alboin’s family was related to the Amals, to the point that Audoin claimed his right to rule over Italy based upon this kinship.20 In addition, it is possible that Theodelinda’s distant female forebears were also connected to the Goths.21 Theodelinda’s son, Adaloald, was born in the very palace of Monza in which the murals were located, and he was baptized by Secundus of Trent, the author of the historiola.22 It is likely that the young king was educated in the family history in both images and historic writings.23 The analogy of both a biographical and political nature that Hammer suggests between Theodelinda, Adaloald, and Secundus, on one side, and Amalasuintha, Athalaric, and Cassiodorus, on the other, is well grounded.24 My analysis of the character and activity of Amalasuintha fully supports this view. To these considerations we may add that excerpts from the Cassiodoran Gothic History—​­especially the parts that eulogized Theoderic—​­may still have been available in the eighth century. More important, Jordanes’s historical and ethnographical works had a good reception and transmission in early medieval Italy, and Jordanes was one of Paul the Deacon’s sources for the final books of his Roman History.25 Even if, unlike Amalasuintha, Theodelinda was twice married to kings, the Lombard queen and regent seems to share much in common with the Gothic regent and queen. Theodelinda certainly knew about the fate of Amalasuintha, and as a widow she was aware that a co-​­regency was an impracticable solution. She never disobeyed the instructions of the Lombard aristocracy, perhaps because, unlike Amalasuintha, Theodelinda lacked a Roman aristocracy that supported her. According to Paul the Deacon, the nobility allowed Theodelinda to keep her royal power (permiserunt eam in regia consistere dignitate), and the queen chose her second husband with the consent of the wise men of her tribe (consilium cum prudentibus habens).26 Like Empress

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Ariadne with Anastasius, and like Empress Sophia on the death of Justin II, but especially like Amalasuintha on the day of Athalaric’s death, Theodelinda was an agent of transmission of power in Lombard Italy.27 More important is the fact that she became the regent for her son Adaloald for a period of ten years, 616–626. As an infant, Adaloald had been nominated as coregent of his father Agilulf in 604.28 As it happens, Adaloald’s destiny turned out to be no happier than Athalaric’s. Adaloald would eventually go insane, and apparently he died after taking poison. The circumstances of his death were mysterious, and one author claimed that the Lombard nobility (seniores et nobilissimi) did not tolerate his pro-​­Byzantine policy.29 Now as before, with the viri fortes in Gaul in 524 after the death of Chlodomer and the counts in Italy in 526 on the deathbed of Theoderic, a rex puer could not survive without the support of the nobility.30 While Theodelinda was “the queen,” however, the same chronicle that calls her the gloriosissima regina later refers to her as “the mother,” the regent of Adaloald; this happened as soon as she became the widow of her second husband, left alone to supervise her teenage son, the king.31 Does this mean, as scholars have hypothesized, that after her husband’s death, Theodelinda was treated with less respect?32 Was Theodelinda’s status as a queen diminished after twenty years because of her widowhood? She maintained the title of regina for the rest of her life, even after the death of her son. She continued to hold a primary role in the kingdom, though the center of royal power rested in her child. A letter of the Visigothic king Sisebutus dating to 616–620 is addressed to both Adaloald and Theodelinda; the name of the king precedes that of his mother, the queen, according to the style of the royal chancery.33 Despite the fact that Adaloald was the ruler, Theodelinda maintained the royal title as his mother. The vicissitudes of Queen Gundeperga, Theodelinda’s daughter, are also interesting for our analysis. After her brother Adaloald was deposed, she married his two successors, who belonged to different families, the second of them being King Rothari.34 Walter Pohl has speculated that Gundeperga played an important role in shaping the Origo Gentis Langobardorum; in this short document of early Lombard history, female agency in ruling is strongly highlighted. Here we agree with Pohl that Theodelinda “shaped the self-​­perception of the Lombards,” and that the Origo Gentis Langobardorum offers clues to the way that elite influential women conceived history.35 Pohl rightly draws parallels between Gundeperga and the Origo Gentis Langobardorum, and Theodelinda with Secundus of Trent’s historiola. “Theodelinda and Gundeperga did not



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simply serve as passive guarantees of legitimacy to contested rulers, they played a more active part in the politics of Lombard identity.” In the first half of the seventh century the two Lombard queens of Bavarian origins produced Lombard histories to celebrate the illustrious lineage of their people.36 Finally Paul the Deacon wrote under request of Adelperga, the daughter of the Lombard king Desiderius and the wife of Arechis II, the Duke of Benevento, his Roman History. As the author declares in his dedication letter to Adelperga, this work updated to the age of Justinian the Breviarium of Eutropius, a work which Paul had recommended to Adelperga, but which stopped in the second half of the fourth century. Paul had tutored this royal woman when she was young, and he maintained good relationships with her. Once again, there is a clear connection between the genesis of a historical work and a Lombard royal woman. There is certainly reason to suspect an influence of Amalasuintha’s experiment on Theodelinda, the queen, the widow, the mother, and the regent in Lombard Italy, even though Theodelinda appears to represent a rare, if not unique, situation among the Lombard queens in terms of power and of her political role. And of course, just as for Amalasuintha a century earlier, Theodelinda also looked to the Byzantine empresses more than to the royal women of Visigothic Spain or of Merovingian Gaul. After all, in Italy the Lombards had come in permanent touch with the empire and also with the Roman Church. It appears not to be a coincidence that Sophia, Justin II’s wife and consors regni, with whom Theodelinda seems to share a model in terms of transmission of power, is the only woman besides Theodelinda to be called regina in some early Lombard texts.37 The empire’s influence on the West seems to have increased considerably over the sixth and seventh centuries, despite the difficult relationships of the Lombard kingdom with Constantinople and Rome. The imitiatio imperii had been started at the beginning of the century by such kings as Clovis and Theo­ dobert in Gaul, Thrasamund in Africa, Sigismund among the Burgundians, and obviously Theoderic in Italy.38 The fact that Leovigild in Spain may have adopted the Byzantine ceremonial is telling of these progressive changes.39 Italy, however, was the right milieu for royal women to experiment with this imitatio. The examples of Amalasuintha and later of Theodelinda testify to this cultural transplant of models perhaps even better than the correspondence of Brunhild with Gregory the Great, with the imperial couple Maurice and Constantina, and with the mother of the empress, the Augusta Anastasia.40 As we have seen, Amalasuintha was deeply influenced by the models of

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Roman and Byzantine empresses of the fifth and sixth centuries. The kingdom she governed was much larger than those in which Brunhild and Theodelinda influenced politics; indeed, the Ostrogothic kingdom resembled in scale the Western Roman Empire of the second half of the fifth century. The Amal queen, in turn, probably became the most significant example of a barbarian woman in power for Theodelinda to consider as she asserted and consolidated her position in Lombard Italy. Indeed, Amalasuintha became a prototype for early medieval queenship in Italy. But the Carolingian conquest ended the Lombard kingdom, and brought to Italy the model of queenship that had developed in France during the Merovingian era. Yet the Amal legacy was still alive in Italy at the end of the eighth century. Charlemagne was fascinated by the image of Theoderic. Returning from one of his visits to Italy in 786/7, he brought with him to Aachen pieces of marble and mosaics from the Ravenna palace. Later, in the year 801, as newly proclaimed emperor he returned to his palace with the equestrian statue of Theoderic from Ravenna.41 And by the second half of the ninth century, the idea of co-​­regency reemerged in a different form in Italy with the Carolingian women: Ermengarde of Tours was the consors imperii of Lothar; Engelberga, the Italian wife of Louis II, was imperatrix Augusta.42 In the post-​­ Roman kingdoms, Amalasuintha remained a barbarian woman, whose imitatio of Roman empresses enabled her over the years to assert her power over the two peoples of the kingdom in what must have appeared to many of her Gothic subjects to be a usurpation of power. Her story took place in the heart of the Western world in a complex time of transformation, the period between the late fifth and sixth centuries: this was the time when barbarian warriors established themselves as rulers of Roman-​­barbarian kingdoms. It was only then, in the courts of this new world, that royal women of the barbarian world slowly began developing their position as women (qeins) of noble stock into the recognized, authoritative status of reginae.

Notes

Introduction Standard abbreviations are used for ancient authors, sources, and collections. Unless otherwise noted, translations of original sources are mine, and all emphases in translations of original sources are mine. 1. Amalasuintha was the subject of tragedies written by Gärschen 1845 in German, Sansone 18702 in Italian, and Grazyńki 1929 in ancient Greek. 2. See Fedeli 2014. Tarquini 1976 is a significant study on the geography of the island and also on the legend. For Amalasuintha’s legend in the popular tradition see Bosi 1979; Galli 1994; Pierini 2001. 3. On Amalasuintha see Hartmann 1894 (see also RE, vol. 2: 1926ff.); Hartmann 1897: 248–50; Ginetti 1901, passim; Bury 1923, vol. 2: 159ff.; Schwartz 1939: 2–11; Ensslin 19592: 283, 293, 320, 324–29; Lamma 1960; Lippold 1979; PLRE 2: 65; Jamróz 1981; Krautschick 1983: 161– 84; Wolfram 1988: 332–38; Thíebaux 1994: 71–84; Heather 1996: 260–63; Silvestre 1997: 98–103; Amory 1997: 448; Wilson and Margolis (eds.) 2004: 25–28; Hartmann 2009: 30–34; Goltz 2011; La Rocca 2012; Smurra 2014; Cooper 2016. More literature is referenced below. 4. The recent discussion on this subject is large: see Amory 1997: 1–39, 326–31, and passim; Gillett 2002a; 2009; Pohl 2004a; 2004b; Kulikowski 2007: 43–70; Dick 2008; Wiemer 2013: 593–98. For a more traditional view see Luiselli 1992; Wolfram 1998; Liebeschuetz 2007. 5. See, for example, Kohl 1877; Hartmann 1897: 229–47; Ginetti 1901: 1–59; Leuthold 1908; Sundwall 1919: 259–301; Bury 1923, vol. 2: 159–67; Bertolini 1941: 97–132; Van den Besselaar 1945: 101–23; Stein 1949: 262–64, 328–39; Krautschick 1983: 142–74; Macpherson 1989: 213–29; Wolfram 1988: 332–42; Rubin 1995: 73–90; Heather 1995: 165–72; 1996: 259ff.; Amory 1997: 152–60; Sirago 1998: 59–109; Kakridi 2005: 190–99, 234–47; Vitiello 2006a: 35–40, 225–37; and now Arnold, Bjornlie, and Sessa (eds.) 2016. 6. See Giardina et al. (eds.); four volumes (nos. 2, 3, 4, and 5) of this new edition have recently appeared, while the remaining two are scheduled to be published in 2017–18. 7. Jord., Rom. 348, Get. 292; Anon. Vales. 49; Paul. Diac., Hist. Rom. 15.14. The agreement between Zeno and Theoderic, according to which the king would have ruled as representative of the emperor, was the “treaty” of 488, on which see Prostko-​­Prostyński 1994: 103–29. See Proc., BG 1.1,10; Theoph., AM 5977; Ennod., Paneg. 25; Marc., Chron. s.a. 489; Evagrius 3.27; Cassiod., Var. 10.22,2; Jord., Rom. 348. Unlike Anon. Vales. 49 and Proc., BG 1.1,10–11, 2.6,16, Jordanes, Get. 290–92, states that the Gothic king convinced Zeno to give his permission for the military operation. 8. Get. 295; Anon. Vales. 57. 9. The appointments given by the emperor to Theoderic are widely attested in the sources;

222 No t e s t o Pa ge s 5– 1 3 for a list see PLRE 2: 1077–84, and with reference to the consulship, see also Bagnall et al. 1987: 502–3. On the magisterium utriusque militiae praesentale see in particular Malch., fragm. 11, 15, 18; Jord., Rom. 348; Joh. Mal., Chron. 15.94; Theoph., AM 5977. On the adoptio per arma see Malch., fragm. 17; Jord., Get. 289. 10. Zeno died during the war, on 9 April 491, and Anastasius did not recognize Theoderic’s position until 497/8; see Anon. Vales. 64. The institutional position of Theoderic and his successors is the subject of a vast literature, on which see Ensslin 19592: 54–84; Chrysos 1981; 1986; Prostko-​­Prostyński 1994; Kohlhas-​­Müller 1995; Haarer 2006: 80–89; Licandro 2012: 53–135; Arnold 2014; Wiemer 2014. 11. Anon. Vales. 60; see also Jord., Rom. 349; Cassiod., Chron. s.a. 500. 12. See Vitiello 2006a: 82–90. Within an extended literature on Theoderic’s civilitas see Ensslin 19592: 237–82; O’Donnell 1979: 96–100; Moorhead 1992: 66–113; Kohlhas-​­Müller 1995: passim; Amory 1997: 43–78; Hen 2007: 27–58; Arnold 2014: 175–230 passim. 13. See Schäfer 1991. 14. See Chapter 2, the section entitled “Tragedies and Tension at the Palace.” 15. See, for example, the Old High German fragment of the Hildebrandslied and the Middle High German Nibelungenlied. For an overview of the “Dietrich saga” see Millet 2008: passim. 16. For an overview see Vitiello 2015: 33–39. 17. Bjornlie 2013 has even speculated that Cassiodorus assembled the compilation not in Ravenna but a few years later in Constantinople, during his stay in the Eastern capital and for political purposes. There is, however, much justified criticism of this theory, which is far from being proved; see for example P. J. Heather in Early Medieval Europe 24, 2016: 369–72. 18. See Arnold 2014. I disagree with the author’s main theory. The propaganda of Ennodius and Cassiodorus does not make Theoderic a Roman emperor, although the king certainly may have liked to be represented as such. I discuss this very subject in Vitiello 2006a: 45–70, which the author does not consider. 19. See Kaldellis 2004; Brodka 2004: 14–151; Greatrex 2014a and 2014b. 20. See Vitiello 2014a: 3–13. 21. See Var. 4.39; 5.12; 10.4,4; 10.5; Proc., BG 1.3,1–3; 1.4,1–2. See Consolino 2011: 333; Bjornlie 2013: 312–13; Vitiello 2014a: 14–40, 74ff. 22. Var. 10.32,2. 23. Var. 10.31–33. I believe, like most scholars in the field, that the Variae were published in Ravenna between 538 and 540 and that they were meant for the administration of Italy. 24. See Chapter 4, the section entitled “The Reward for Her Life: Procopius, Cassiodorus, and the Affair of Amalasuintha.” On the question of the date of Procopius’s Secret History, which scholars think was completed in 550 or in 558/9, see recently Croke 2005 and Kaldellis 2009. 25. On Cassiodorus and the Variae see Van den Besselaar 1945; Momigliano 1960; 1980; O’Donnell 1979; Krautschick 1983; Macpherson 1989; Barnish (trans.) 1992; Jouanaud 1993; Meyer-​­Flügel 1992; Gillett 1998; Søby Christensen 2002; Kakridi 2005; Vitiello 2006a: passim; Giardina 2006; Bjornlie 2013; an introduction on this subject is forthcoming in the first volume of the new edition of the Variae. On Cassiodorus and Amalasuintha see Krautschick 1983: 161– 84; Sirago 1998: 24–26. 26. Proc., BG 1.4,15,21–25. 27. This is the general impression we gain from the commentary of Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015b: 127ff. 28. On the basis of this document, in 1599 Martin Crusius celebrated Amalasuintha with



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an oration: De excellentissima quondam Ostrogotthica Italiae regina Amalasuenta & de liberalibus atque regijs studijs oratio (Tubingæ, G. Gruppenbachius); here he also claimed: “There is a similar Queen today, Elizabeth of England.” For an exhaustive commentary on this letter, see Fauvinet-​ ­Ranson 1998 and Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015b: 127–52. 29. On Procopius see Rubin 1957; Evans 1972; Cameron 1985; Cataudella 2003: 391–415; Kaldellis 2004; Brodka 2004: 14–151; Treadgold 2007: 176–226; Goltz 2008: 210–67; Greatrex 2014a and 2014b; Stewart 2014; Börm 2015 analyses Procopius’s Secret History and the antimonarchical discourse in the late historiography. 30. See BG 1.4,15; 1.20,7; 1.24,28; 1.25,14ff.; 1.26,1ff.; 3.9,7; 3.13,12; 3.20,18ff., 27; 3.26,11–14; 3.35,9ff.; 4.21,10. 31. For a study on this subject, but with reference to other figures, see Brodka 2016. Liberius and Maximianus may also belong to Procopius’s oral sources. 32. We learn of him from Procopius, e.g., BG 1.4,15,21–25; 3.36,6; 3.37,26–27; 3.39,6–8; 3.40,12–14,18; 4.24,1. On Liberius see my Chapter 3, the section entitled “The Turning Point at the Palace: A Roman Patrician-​­in-​­Waiting,” n. 207. 33. Proc., BG 2.29,1–3; 3.6,7–13; 3.7,1–4. Maximianus refers to his embassy in one of his poems, Eleg. 5 ll. 1–3. For an accurate reconstruction of his life see Mastandrea in Franzoi (ed. and trans.) 2014: 5–32. 34. This is clear from the representation that Procopius makes of him in Anec. 24.22–23. On Peter the Patrician see Antonopoulos 1990; PLRE 3: 994–98. 35. Anec. 16.1–5, quoted in Chapter 4, in the section entitled “The Reward for Her Life: Procopius, Cassiodorus, and the Affair of Amalasuintha.” 36. On Gregory of Tours and his work see, for example, Goffart 1988: 112–234; Breukelaar 1994; Wood 1994; Heinzelmann 2001; Mitchell and Wood (eds.) 2002; Murray (ed.) 2016. On his Catholic and pro-​­Merovingian propaganda see also Wood 1985; Hen 1993; Joye 2005; 2007; Reimitz 2015: 27–73. Two studies that focus on Gregory’s representations of queens and elite women are MacDonald 2000: 108–93; Dailey 2015. 37. Hist. 6.46. 38. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.31, De filia Theudorici regis Italici (trans. Brehaut). 39. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.31 (trans. Brehaut). 40. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.31 (trans. Brehaut). 41. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.31 (trans. Brehaut). 42. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.31 (trans. Brehaut). 43. Ps-​­Fred., Chron. 3.43, in shorrer form. On the limits of this account and the image of Amalasuintha in Gregory of Tours see Kohl 1977: 49–50; Craddock 1996: 63–75; Sirago 1998: 104–5; MacDonald 2000: 142–45; Joye and Knaepen 2005: 245–57; Hartmann 2008; Dailey 2015: 99–100; Cooper 2016: 310–11. 44. Moorhead 1986: 117–19; 1992: 229. See also Kakridi 2005: 242–43. 45. See Eugip., V.Sev. 8 and 40.1–2. For a discussion on Gregory and Arianism see James 2009. 46. With specific reference to this point see Dailey 2014: passim and 2015: 16–45. 47. For a solid discussion on virtues and vices of the Merovingian queens see Merta 1988. 48. See Chapter 5, section entitled “Queens as Good and Bad Advisers: Panegyrical Representations?” 49. Avit., Epist. 29. We know that Sigismund came twice to Rome and that during his second visit, likely after his conversion to Catholicism, he met with Pope Symmachus. See Shanzer 1996–7: 249–52.

224 No t e s t o Pa ge s 1 8 – 2 4 50. See the analysis of Goffart 1988: 213–22; Hartmann 2008: 132–36. See PLRE 2: 218, on Basina; PLRE 2: 293, on Clotilde; PLRE 3: 1072–74, on Radegund, on whom see also Merta 1988: 7–9; Smith 2009a. On these stories see Greg. Tur., Hist. 2.37; 3.4–10; 5.38. 51. Greg. Tur., Liber in gloria martyrum 39; for this tradition see Greg. M., Dial. 4.31,3–4. See Goltz 2008: 587–95. On John I’s martyrdom and the sources against Theoderic as anti-​ ­Catholic see Chapter 2, section entitled “Tragedies and Tension at the Palace.” 52. Sundwall 1919: 263–74; Bertolini 1941: 103–10; Krautschick 1983: 173–74. 53. See Vitiello 2014a: 7–12. 54. BG 1.2–4. 55. See Chapter 2, section entitled “A Widow and a Rex Puer: The Beginning of the Regency.”

Chapter 1 1. See Gabelentz and Loebe 1980, vol. 2: 149. In this regard see the misspelling of the word “rex” as “rix,” which was likely due to phonetic reasons. This variation appears especially on some silver coins minted for Athalaric and Theias. See also the reference to Hilderic as Vandalirice in a poem in Anthologia Latina, no. 206; and Procopius, BG 1.1,26 and 2.14,38, the royal title as ῥήξ = R(h)ix. For the discussion on the title of rex and the influences from the Celtic world see Scardigli 1973: 50ff.; Reydellet 1981: 202–5; Wolfram 1967: 32–56, especially 39ff.; a fundamental work is Wolfram 2006: passim, 77–79, 127–28, 132ff., 140. The word “þiudans,” which is also used in a late fourth-​­century Gothic calendar to translate the title of Augustus of Emperor Constantius II, seems to be no longer in use by a.d. 500. See also Wolfram 1988: 124 and 1998: 42–48; Heather and Matthews 1991: 128–30, with n. 63, and 185. Gillett 2002b: 115–21 disagrees with the hypothesis of Wolfram 1967 about an influence of the term “reiks” in the adoption of the Latin title rex. For the Vandal kingdom see Berndt 2007: 203–7; Merrills and Miles 2010: 96–97; Steinacher 2013. 2. See Luiselli 1992: 542–43; Francovich Onesti 2007: 120. 3. See Götz 2005: 499. See also the observations of Scardigli 1973: 30. 4. See Gabelentz and Loebe 1980, vol. 2: 52. The word “qino” is also used for woman in general. 5. See Gabelentz and Loebe 1980, vol. 2: 219–20, 237, as “Ratsgeber” with reference to βουλευτής, γνώμη, and συμβουλέυειν, respectively translated as ragin and garaginon. 6. See Chapter 5. 7. On these names, including the variations of spelling, see Schönfeld 1911: 14–15, 232–34; Francovich Onesti 2007: 33–34, 94. 8. Var. 11.1,14,17. See Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015b: 131. 9. Proc., BG 1.24, 22–27 (trans. Kaldellis); in this work I use Kaldellis’s modernization of Dewing’s 1919 translation, except for a few details. I have also adapted the personal names. 10. BG 1.24,25. The translation of Dewing 1919: 235 as “groin” is changed to “genitals” by Kaldellis. 11. See Kaldellis 2004: 109ff.; Vitiello 2014a: 22, 47–48; Stewart 2014. See in general McDonnell 2006: 334. 12. BG 1.2,3. On the image of Amalasuintha by Procopius see Kaldellis 2004: 109; Frankforter 1996; Silvestre 1997: 91–98; Joye and Knaepen 2005: 232–39; Becker-​­Piriou 2008: 531–34; Goltz 2011: 243–44; Stewart 2014: 30–32, which includes a comparison with the Amazons (Proc., BG 4.3,7); Cooper 2016.



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13. See Proc., BG 1.1,26–27, on which is based the Suda; see also Theoph., AM 5977. Plato, Phaid. 69B: see McDonnell 2006: 128–34; Vitiello 2006a: 59–60. 14. BG 1.4,29 (trans. Kaldellis). 15. BG 1.2,20–21 (trans. Kaldellis). 16. BG 1.2,22 (trans. Kaldellis). 17. BG 1.4,2–3; an exception could be represented by BV 2.5,18. 18. Anec. 16.1 (trans. Kaldellis). 19. Kaldellis 2002: 145. 20. See Julian, Orat. 2.104b, 109c–d, 112b–c, on which see Vatsend 2000; Leppin 2000: 81–82; Wieber 2010; James 2012: 48ff. 21. Taur. fol. VI, in Orationum reliquiae, MGH AA 12, Traube (ed.) 1894: 483 l. 1–5. Some scholars attributed this fragment to the panegyric for Matasuintha. However, the description that follows of the palace that she had decorated makes this attribution unlikely; see Chapter 3, the section entitled “Amalasuintha’s Ambition: The Education of Athalaric,” including n. 131. 22. See also Var. 10.2. 23. Var. 11.1,15–18; see the observations of Fauvinet-​­Ranson 1998, especially 276: §§4–5 (temperantia), §§6–10 (prudentia), §§11–14 (fortitudo), §§15–18 (iustitia). See Vitiello 2006a: 22–44, 132–34. 24. Var. 11.1,19–20 (trans. Barnish). The same idea is briefly expressed in the letter in Theodahad’s name, Var. 10.4,5. See Romano 1979: 372–73; Goffart 1988: 34 with n. 64, 39–40; ­Fauvinet-​­Ranson 1998: 302–4; Vitiello 2006a: 34–35. For the Amal genealogy in Cassiodorus see also Heather 1989; Søby Christensen 2002: 74–76, 129ff. 25. See Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015b: 131: her royal qualities are a guarantee for those of Athalaric, her descendant. 26. Var. 11.1,19 (trans. Barnish). 27. Var. 11.1,14: Ecce praestante deo felix domina quod habet eximium uterque sexus, implevit: nam et gloriosum regem nobis edidit et latissimum imperium animi fortitudine vindicavit. 28. Var. 10.4,5: quae cum parvulo filio imperavit sola . . . ​non solum parentibus laudem contulit, sed ipsum quoque genus humanitatis ornavit. 29. See Chapter 5, section entitled “Amalasuintha and Galla Placidia: Motherhood and Power.” 30. Fauvinet-​­Ranson 1998: 306. 31. Var. 10.4,5–7. 32. La Rocca 2012: 136–37. 33. Var. 10.4,4,7–8. 34. Var. 11.1,8 and 18. See Chapter 2, section entitled “An Education in the Roman Style,” and 3, section entitled “The Turning Point at the Palace: A Roman Patrician-​­in-​­Waiting.” 35. Var. 11.1,19; 11.1,6–7, and 10.4,6. In Var. 9.24,8, written for the same occasion as Var. 11.1, Cassiodorus invoked Theoderic as a king who used to ask him “to recount the opinions of the wise (sententias prudentium), so that he might compare his own deeds with those of antiquity” (trans. Barnish). 36. See Isidore of Seville, Etym. 10.5,274; 11.2,17–20, and 22. 37. Greg. Tour., Hist. 6.4, and Hist. 5.38. 38. Get. 206 (trans. Mierow). On virtus and sexuality in ancient Rome see McDonnell 2006: 161–68. 39. Pflugk-​­Harttung 1889: 205–13. See also Hartmann 1897: 249–50; Stein 1949: 337 with n. 2; Claude 1980: 162–65 with n. 113; Wolfram 1988: 338; PLRE 2: 65.

226 No t e s t o Pa ge s 2 9 – 3 4 40. Pflugk-​­Harttung 1889: 209. 41. Claude 1980; among the followers of his views are Wolfram 1988: 337–38; Giese 2000: 62–68; Offergeld 2001: 81–85; Hartmann 2009: 30–32. 42. Agnellus, LPR 62, on which Claude 1980: 162. See Chapter 4, section entitled “Amalasuintha’s Urgency: The Day of Theodahad’s Election.” 43. BG 1.2,25–29, on which see Chapter 4, section entitled “Betrayed, Deposed, and Murdered: Amalasuintha’s End.” 44. Claude 1980: 163. See also Giese 2000: 67–68. 45. BG 1.4,8. 46. Var. 10.1–4, especially 10.1,1. 47. Var. 10.2,3: suscipite itaque affectiosis mentibus et nostra primordia et domnae sororis nostrae, cui singulariter studetis, favete iudicio. Nam si me similiter diligitis, regem quodammodo pariter efficitis. 48. Pflugk-​­Harttung 1889: 210. 49. Claude 1980: 163. 50. Interesting in this regard is the observation by Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016: 408 about the adverb quodammodo (“in some way”), which appears to deny any institutional value to an approval by Justinian. 51. Var. 11.1,10. 52. Var. 10.1,2: ut pacem, quam mente semper geritis et iam mihi specialiter retinetis esse collatam, adiectione quoque temporum proteletis. Mommsen (ed.) emended the word “temporum” of the manuscripts to “meorum.” But this amendment is not justified, as Fridh points out in his edition (CCSL 96: 1973) of the Variae, and as more recently Consolino also notes in her commentary: see in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016: 403. 53. BG 1.4,5. Claude 1989: 46 n. 50; 1980: 164. 54. Claude 1989: 46 n. 50; 1980: 164. 55. Var. 10.1,1, on which see Chapter 4, section entitled “Amalasuintha’s Urgency: The Day of Theodahad’s Election.” 56. See BG 1.2,23–29; 1.3,10–12,28–30; also Anec. 16.1. 57. Var. 10.1,2: Nam licet concordia principum semper deceat, vestra tamen absolute me nobilitat, quando ille redditur amplius excelsus, qui vestrae gloriae fuerit unanimitate coniunctus. 58. Var. 11.1,11. Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015b: 143 also notices that this expression used with this particular meaning is extremely rare in the Latin literature. 59. See Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016: 403; retinetis in Var. 10.1,2, likely recalls this previous situation. 60. Is this perhaps the meaning to give to the expression “domna Amalasuinta” in Cassiod., Chron. s.a. 515, a work that was published in 519? 61. See Gillett 2002b, who includes tables with lists of sources (pp. 91–105), and also his observations at pp. 106–7. To the lists we should add Ragnahilda, probably the wife of Euric and mother of Alaric II, on whom see Sidon., Epist. 4.8,5, ibid. ll. 7–10; see PLRE 2: 935; Hartmann 2009: 19. On women in Sidonius see MacDonald 2000: 58–107. 62. See Greg. M., Epist. 4.4, 4.33, 5.42, 9.68, 14.12 (Theodelinda); 6.5, 6.58, 6.60, 8.4, 9.213– 14, 11.46, 11.48–49, 13.5 (Brunhild); 11.35 (Bertha). 63. Var. 10.1; 10.3; 10.8; 10.10. The headings of the Cassiodoran letters can be misleading. For example, in Var. 10.19 and 11.13 Justinian is Augustus, while in the other letters he is imperator. 64. Var. 10.21 and 24, both addressed to Theodora. 65. The fragments are published by Traube (ed.) 1894: 465–84.



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66. Var. 9.1,1–2, addressed to King Hilderic: Amalafridam . . . ​habuistis dominam . . . ​qui dominae alienae gentis . . . ; Var. 11.13,2, addressed to Justinian, refers to both Theodahad and Gudeliva as nostri domini; see also also 12.18,3. 67. Var. 11.1,7,9–10,13–14,18; 10.4,1; 10.4,4; 10.4,7–8. She is domna soror in Var. 10.2,1,3; 10.4,2; these are Theodahad’s words to, respectively, Justinian and the Roman Senate. 68. Cassiod., Orat. fragm., 483 l. 6; 479 l. 20; 481 l. 21; also 482 l. 1: tua tot diademata conficit, quae cunctas mundi dominas. 69. See Orat. fragm., 483–84, and Var. 10.4,6. 70. Var. praef. 11. 71. In his Chronicle, Cassiodorus refers to Eutharic as dominus noster, as he does for Theoderic rex; Amalasuintha is referenced as domna under the year 515. 72. Hist. 3.31. 73. Hist. 3.5; 3.4. On Gregory’s use of the word “regina” for Merovingian royal women see Merta 1988: 1 with n. 1; Hartmann 2004. 74. Books 1–5 of the Variae, which cover Theoderic’s reign for the period 507–511 and 523–526, contain the king’s orders. 75. MGH AA 12: 390–91, Epist. 4: Hereleuvae reginae; Epist. 3 and 6 are addressed Theoderico regi. These documents date to years 495/6. On her name see Schönfeld 1911: 75–76; Francovich Onesti 2007: 45, who suspects that the original Gothic name was Eriliva. On Erelieva see also PLRE 2: 400; König 1997: 142; Magnani 2011: 85. 76. This is in both Epist. 4 and 5. 77. It is also possible that Erelieva kept the royal title until her son married Audefleda (though this seems unlikely). In this case we should date Theoderic’s marriage shortly after 495/6, and consequently postdate Amalasuintha’s birth (see Chapter 2, section entitled “Born and Raised on Italic Soil”) by one or two years. The royal title is in Epist. 4, but it is missing in Epist. 5. This difference could, however, be due to the manuscript tradition, in which the titles are often omitted. 78. See Get. 305–6, where she is referenced three times as the mater; also Rom. 367–68. 79. The word “rex” in this document occurs only once, at §8: a Theodorici regis temporibus. 80. Just., Nov. App. 7.1. In Justinian’s Corpus we find the word “regina” referring to an empress only once; CJ 5.16,26, dating to the year 529: divinus imperator in piissimam reginam suam coniugem. With only this exception, the empress is always referred to as Augusta. See Cassiod., Var. 11.1,19, referring to Amalasuintha’s ancestors: parentum cohors illa regalis. For the use of ­regius/regalis by Cassiodorus see Reydellet 1981: 225–31. The adjective “regius” is frequent in the authors; see Jord., Rom. 373: Matasuintha regia puella. Paul the Deacon, Hist. Lang. 4.30: the regius puer Adaloald was made coregent by his father Agilulf. Balthild is called regina mater in Liber Historiae Francorum 44. See in general Wolfram 2006: 20. 81. Goffart 1988: 100–105 is right in thinking that (p. 100): “The possibility that Jordanes’ historical collection was related to the circumstances of 554 seems more likely on internal grounds than the alternative that the Getica was designed as propaganda for the opening of the war.” 82. Rom. 367–68. 83. Var. 11.1,4; see later in this chapter, including n. 106. 84. In Get. 302, tutor is used twice with reference to Theudis, the armiger sent by Theoderic to Spain to tutor his grandson rex puer Amalaric. See Chapter 2. Jordanes’s only other use of regens is in Get. 281. The early sixth-century Lex Burgundionum 85.1 attributed tutela to the mother widow; see also Lex Visigothorum 3.1, 7. 85. McEvoy 2013: 9–12 with n. 25: the first use of regens as a noun to express the regent

228 No t e s t o Pa ge s 3 6– 4 0 ruler is in a document dating ca. 1343. On regencies on behalf of reges pueri see Offergeld 2001, 78–86 (Athalaric), 96–98 (Amalaric). With reference to late Roman principes pueri see McEvoy 2013; for the Merovingian and Carolingian dynasties see Kölzer 1990. 86. See for example BP 1.2; 3.7,10. In BG 1.1,2, the word “ξυνετώτατος” is used to qualify Orestes, Romulus Augustus’s father and regent. Zosimus, History 4.59,1, uses ἐπίτροπος to describe Stilicho as the guardian of Honorius, but he also specifies that he was the generalissimo. See also the reference to Stilicho by Eunapius, fragm. 62 (FHG 4): Rufinus and Stilicho ἐπιτροπευόντες; and Olympiodorus, fragm. 2 (FHG 4): ἐπίτροπος τῶν παίδων Ἀρκαδίου καὶ Ὁνωρίου. 87. BG 1.2,1 and 3; see also BV 2.5,18. 88. Kölzer 1990: 322ff.: “Regenschaft, Vormundschaft, Mitherrschaft”; see Wood 1994: 58; Magnani 2011: 83–87; Mastrorosa 2016: passim. 89. See Gabelentz and Loebe (eds.) 1980, vol. 2: 147: “Vormund,” also “Ratsgeber.” 90. Var. 11.1,6, quoted in Chapter 2, section entitled “An Education in the Roman Style.” 91. Get. 306: secum deliberans. 92. Var. 10.1,2; 10.2,2; 10.4,1; 10.3,3; 10.4,2. 93. LP 59.2; Marc., Chron. Addit. s.a. 534. See Claude 1980: 163. 94. Var. 10.32,2. The expression “divinae memoriae” is frequent in the letters in Athalaric’s name with reference to Theoderic: Var. 8.1,5; 8.6,1; 8.7,1; 8.8,1; 8.14,1; 8.16,5; 8.17,1; 8.21,3; 8.25,2; 9.10,2; 9.12,1; see also 8.11,3. In the Constitutio Pragmatica, Just., Nov. App. 7.1, we read of piae memoriae Theodora Augusta. 95. LP 60.2: reginam sibi commendatam. 96. BG 1.2,3, and 21. 97. BG 1.4,8–11. 98. Had Amalasuintha claimed her royal status only after the death of her son, this would indicate that she had made the choice to remain in Italy and keep ruling. But this hypothesis would contradict Procopius’s statement in Anec. 16.1–5 that Theodora was jealous of βασιλίς Amalasuintha, who wanted to move to Constantinople. In addition, according to the Byzantine historian, the embassy announcing the queen’s deposition reached Constantinople before Justinian gave his answer on Theodahad’s election; see Chapter 4, sections entitled “Amalasuintha’s Urgency: The Day of Theodahad’s Election” and “The Reward for Her Life: Procopius, Cassiodorus, and the Affair of Amalasuintha.” 99. Anec. 16.1. 100. In which case a male relative would be chosen as guardian: C.Th. 3.17,4, and Nov. Theod. 11.2. 101. Var. 11.1,10 (trans. Barnish). The event on the war on the Danube is reported in the same paragraph. 102. Wolfram 1988: 337. 103. This is the Praeceptum Papae Felicis, which is also published in Duchesne (ed.) 1886: 282: quia hanc voluntatem meam et domnis et filiis nostris regnantibus indicavi. Both Cassiodorus and Jordanes use regnare to express Athalaric’s rule and Amalasuintha’s ruling for her son during the eight-​­year period; see Jord., Get. 305. Cassiodorus uses both this verb and imperare when referring to Amalasuintha’s governing for her son; Var. 11.1,4; 10.4,5. On Athalaric as regnans on the brick stamps see the discussion in Chapter 5, section entitled “Amalasuintha as a Bridge Between Gothic Italy and the Empire,” including n. 204. 104. Var. 11.1,20. 105. See Var. 11.2,2; 11.5,2; 11.8,3 (dominis regnantibus) and 8; 8.23,1; 11.9,2; 12.9,3; 12.13,3;



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11.1,2,12; 11.3,3; 11.5,4 (both nostri principes and domini); 11.18,3; 12.13,1. These references are not plurals of majesty. 106. Var. 11.1,4–5 (trans. Barnish, slightly modified). On the meaning in this letter of genius as ingenium see Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015b: 138, who points to ThlL 6: 1839, l. 71– 1840, l. 12. On the relationship between Amalasuintha and Athalaric and the legitimation of the rulers in this document see Fauvinet-​­Ranson 1998: 292–305. 107. Rom. 367. 108. Var. 10.3,2 (trans. Barnish); 10.4,5. 109. Marc., Chron. Addit. s.a. 534; Just., Nov. App. 7.1. 110. For the Gothic term see Gabelentz and Loebe (eds.) 1980, vol. 2: 191. 111. See Gabelentz and Loebe (eds.) 1980, vol. 2: 6, and also 53, the word “qiþus.”

Chapter 2 1. The later date could be possible if we date Theoderic’s marriage to 496, a year when Erelieva was still regina. See Chapter 1, n. 75. 2. Jord., Get. 297: naturales ex concubina, quas genuisset adhuc in Moesia, filias, unam nomine Thiudigoto et aliam Ostrogotho. Differently Anon. Vales. 63, in which the two daughters were the fruit of a previous marriage: nam uxorem habuit ante regnum, de qua susceperat filias. 3. For the sources see Chapter 5, section entitled “Queens as Instruments of Diplomacy,” including n. 14. 4. See Jord., Get. 297 (MGH AA 5.1): ergo de Audefledam subolem haberet, referring to Amalasuintha. 5. See Anon. Vales. 63; Jord., Get. 295–96. 6. See Ennod., V. Epif. 171–72. On the Burgundian attack against Italy see Paul. Diac., Hist. Rom. 15.17–18; Ennod., Paneg. 54, and V. Epif. 136–40; Cassiod., Var. 12.28,2. 7. On this title name see Wolfram 1967:56–76; 1988: 286–87; Bagnall et al. 1987: 36–40; Prostko-​­Prostyński 1994: 63–74; Gillett 2002b: 116. Theoderic appears as Flavius in some papyri dating between 484, the year of his consulship, and 486 (P. Oxy. 6 no. 914, 16 no. 1969, PSI 3 no. 183); also in two of his praeceptiones dating to 501: MGH AA 12: 420, 424. This title name is regularly missing in the Variae, but also in the inscriptions of Athalaric and Theodahad. It appears, however, in an inscription of Theodenanda, Theodahad’s daughter: Fiebiger and Schmidt (eds.) 1917: 103, no. 204 (= ILS 8990; ILCV 40), quoted in Chapter 4, n. 216. 8. See Introduction, including n. 9. 9. Novae (today Svištov, in Bulgaria) became the center of Theoderic’s power: see Anon. Vales. 42, 49; Marc., Chron. s.a. 483 and 487; Joh. Ant. (Müller [ed.]), fragm. 214.8; Eugip., V. Sev. 44.4. 10. BG 1.1,12 (trans. Kaldellis); Ennod., V.Epif. 110, from which Paul. Diac., Hist. Rom. 15.17: Theodoricus . . . ​demum relictis ibi matre, sororibus uniuersaque vulgi multitudine; probably with sororibus we should understand his sister, his two daughters, and perhaps his niece Amalaberga. 11. Paneg. 42–44. 12. See in general SHA, Claud. 8.4–6. For an event involving Gothic wagons in the rear guard in a battle in Epirus, see Malch., fragm. 18. 13. See Malch., fragm. 18; Joh. Ant., fragm. 214.8 (likely Amalafrida). 14. See Jord., Get. 271 and 281; Paul. Diac., Hist. Rom. 15.12.

230 No t e s t o Pa ge s 4 5– 50 15. Joh. Mal., Chron. 15.9; Joh. Nikiu 88.47; Theoph. AM 5977. See Rota (ed.) 2002: 141– 42, 260–64; Vitiello 2006a: 25–26; Goltz 2008: 183. 16. Ennod., Paneg. 11. 17. Var. 1.1,2–3. For an analysis of this document see Giardina 2006: 116–41. 18. Ennod., Paneg. 74,76–77; in the Constitutio Pragmatica, §22, Justinian confirms the salaries for grammatici and oratores of Rome, which were paid under Theoderic. 19. Anon. Vales. 61 (trans. Rolfe 1936). On this sentence see the observations of Moorhead 1992: 103–4; König 1997: 150–51. 20. See Vitiello 2014a: 24–27, 45–48. 21. Cassiod., Var. 4.1. 22. Ennod, Opusc. 6.10–17. On the meaning of these virtues in the education of women see recently Wilkinson 2015, whose analysis concentrates on the most important fourth-​­century authors; see also Mastrorosa 2015: passim. Two solid studies on the education and Christianization of elite women are Nolte 1995; Salzman 2002. 23. Ennod., Opusc. 6.18–22,26, MGH AA 7; Cassiod., Var. 4.6. For the discussion of this model and the related bibliography see Moorhead 1992: 166–72; Relihan 1993: 164–75; Vitiello 2006a: 215–22; 2006c; 2014a: 43–47. 24. Ennod., Epist. 8.28,2–3, addressed to Beatus; also Opusc. 6.26, the final dedication to Symmachus. On Symmachus see Vitiello 2008. 25. Ennod., Opusc. 6.24 (trans. Relihan). 26. See PLRE 2: 69. 27. See Ennod., Epist. 7.29,3; in the same letter Ennodius asked Beatus to show Barbara his epitaph dedicated to Cynegia. 28. Ennod., Opusc. 6.23–25 (trans. Relihan). See the representation of Amalaberga in Cassiod., Var. 4.1,2. 29. Ennod., Epist. 8.16,3 (dated ca. 510). I believe that the quae before monitis refers to women, as in Opusc. 6.24 (on which see above in text). 30. See PLRE 2: 209–10; Moorhead 1992: 87. Ennodius sent two letters to her, Epist. 8.16 and 8.27. 31. See Anon. Vales. 68 (for Amalafrida) and Var. 4.1 (for Amalaberga). 32. Var. 11.1,6–7 (trans. Barnish, slightly modified). 33. On this subject, with reference to Chilperic, see Ven. Fort., Carm. 9.1, ll. 91–94 (MGH AA 4.1): Quid? Quoscumque etiam regni dicione gubernas, / doctior ingenio vincis et ore loquax / discernens varias sub nullo interprete voces, / et generum linguas unica lingua refert; Carm. 6.2, ll. 7–8, with reference to Charibert’s knowledge of the Latin language. See also the reference to Honorius by Claud., Hon. 6 l. 69–71. 34. See Proc., BV 1.8,11–12. We understand from Olympiodorus, fragm. 38, that Visigoths were still at Galla Placidia’s court in Ravenna. 35. See the observations of Scardigli 1973: 141–42. 36. See Vitiello 2014a: 24–27. 37. Var. 11.1,8 (trans. Barnish). 38. Var. 10.4,5–7. See the commentary of Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016: 420–22. 39. Var. 10.23,3, to Theodora: sapientiae vestrae moderatione. 40. In the eulogies of Cyprianus and Tuluin we find some of these elements: Var. 5.40,5, and 5.41,4 (Cyprianus), 8.10,3,5 (ad celanda cautissimus). 41. Sidon., Epist. 1.2,4 (trans. W. B. Anderson, Loeb 1980, slightly modified): inter haec



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intromissis gentium legationibus audit plurima, pauca respondet; si quid tractabitur, differt; si quid expedietur, accelerat. Another positive image of the king is in the Panegyric of Avitus, ll. 487–518. 42. Get. 200 (trans. Mierow): Erat namque Valamir secreti tenax, blandus alloquio, dolis gnarus. 43. Ennod., Paneg. 92: feriato ore legatis gentium aut pacem blanda pormittit effigies aut bella terribilis. Tantis constas insignibus, quanta facerent viritim distributa perfectos; see Rota (ed.) 2002: 425; Vitiello 2006a: 129–30. 44. Ennod., Opusc. 6.23–25, quoted above. 45. Greg. Tur., Hist. 4.27 (trans. Brehaut, modified); see Chapter 5, section entitled “Queens as Good and Bad Advisers: Panegyrical Representations?” 46. BG 1.2,6–7; see Chapter 3, section entitled “Amalasuintha’s Ambition: The Education of Athalaric.” 47. Cassiod., Orat. fragm., 480 ll. 2–15. See Macpherson 1989: 195; Vitiello 2006c. 48. Pelagius, Demetr. 19.4, and Virg. 12. See Wilkinson 2015: 94–104. 49. Var. 9.21 (trans. Barnish). 50. Just., Nov. App. 7.22. See above, section entitled “Born and Raised on Italic Soil.” 51. See Var. 1.45 (with reference to Gundobad), 2.40 (wirth reference to Clovis), 4.1,2 (to Herminafrid). 52. Var. 10.3,4. 53. Proc., BG 1.3,1; Var. 10.3 and 11.13,4. 54. Var. 9.24,8 (trans. Barnish). See Vitiello 2006a: 28–35, 103, 132. 55. Var. 11.1,17 (trans. Barnish, slightly modified): Quid ergo de animi firmitate loquar, qua vicit et philosophos valde praedicatos . . . ​procedit enim ex ore dominae beneficus sermo et manens sub securitate promissio. 56. Var. 10.4,5: Discerent profecto nova philosophi, si viderent et minora libris suis faterentur condita quam huic cognoscerent attributa. 57. Ennod., Paneg. 93: utinam heres regni in tuis sinibus ludat; this is the prayer at the conclusion of the panegyric; see also Epist. 9.30. Both documents date to ca. 506/7. 58. Hist. 3.31, on which see Introduction, section entitled “Gregory of Tours.” 59. See Chapter 5, section entitled “Queens as Good and Bad Advisers: Panegyrical Representations?” 60. See this chapter’s section entitled “Tragedies and Tension at the Palace” and Chapter 3, section entitled “The Turning Point at the Palace: A Roman Patrician-​­in-​­Waiting.” 61. See Wolfram 1988:311: “Theoderic ‘discovered’ the Visigothic Amal Eutharic”; Stein 1949: 154 n. 4. However, Eutharic’s name appears to be Ostrogothic: see Schönfeld 1911: 82; Francovich Onesti 2007: 46. We are not in a position to determine whether in the Spanish kingdom of the Balths Eutharic considered himself a Visigoth rather than an Ostrogoth. The question is complicated, considering that not all the gentes of the post-​­Roman kingdoms belonged to the dominating tribe. Theoderic’s army, for example, included Heruls and Rugians, and one of the Rugians, Eraric, would become king of the Ostrogoths in 541. For the question of different peoples within the tribes see Wolfram 2012. 62. Var. 11.1,20; the two names appear within a list of nine ancestors. What we know of the Gothic History is that it was commissioned from Cassiodorus by Theoderic, it reconstructed the origo and the history of the Goths, it celebrated the Amal dynasty, and it was completed during Athalaric’s reign, being published by 533: Cassiod., Var. 9.25,4–6; Anec. Hold. ll. 20–21 (Galonnier [ed.] 1996). 63. Jord., Get. 298 (trans. Mierow): Ad se eum facit venire eique Amalasuentham filiam suam

232 No t e s t o Pa ge s 55– 58 in matrimonio iungit. On Flavius Eutharicus Cilliga see PLRE 2: 438; see Jord., Get. 79–81, 174– 75, 251, 298. It is possible that his father was part of the following of Widimer, Theoderic’s cousin, who would later be allied with the Visigoths; PLRE 2: 1165. See Heather 1989: 119; 1995: 166–68; Offergeld 2001: 73 n. 85, 79–82. For the events of these years see Ensslin 19592: 296–305; Sirago 1998: 27–37. 64. Chron. s.a. 515: dn. rex Theodericus filiam suam domnam Amalasuintam gloriosi viri dn. Eutharici matrimonio deo auspice copulavit. 65. Jord., Get. 298 (trans. Mierow, slightly modified). In Get. 120, Eutharic’s ancestor, Ermanaric, Aestorum . . . ​nationem . . . ​ipse prudentia et virtute subegit. See Vitiello 2006a: 71–72, 82–84. 66. Var. 11.13,4 (trans. Barnish, slightly modified). 67. Var. 3.23,3 (trans. Barnish, slightly modified). 68. Jord., Get. 251 (trans. Mierow): qui, iunctus Amalasuenthae filiae Theodorici, item Amalorum stirpe iam divisa coniunxit; see also 80–81, in which: cuius affinitas generis sic ad eam coniuncta est. 69. On the implications behind Theoderic’s international politics see Proc., BG 1.12,21ff. 70. See Marc., Chron. s.a. 508, and the next section of this chapter. 71. On Gesalic see PLRE 2: 509–10; Vössing 2016. 72. Chron. Caesaraug. s.a. 513; Isidore of Seville, HG 39; see Vössing 2016: 246–49. 73. In Get. 313, Jordanes states that the capture by Belisarius of Witiges in 540 happened in nearly the 2,030th year of Gothic history. This number makes the year 510–511 a bimillenario, and this number must have played a role in Cassiodorus’s Historia Gothorum, a work of dynastic propaganda written to celebrate the Amals. See Heather 1987. 74. Jord., Get. 146: rege Halarico, cui erat post Amalos secunda nobilitas Balthorumque ex genere origo mirifica; ibid. 42: divisi per familias populi, Vesegothae familiae Balthorum, Ostrogothae praeclaris Amalis serviebant. See Wolfram 2006: 27. 75. For this hypothesis see Heather 1995: 167–68. On Theudis see the section entitled “Protecting the Heir” in this chapter. 76. On the question of the occupation of this space, which was originally controlled by the Alemans, see Claude 1997. 77. Var. 8.1,3 (in the name of Athalaric): qui annis vobis paene videbatur aequaevus. See Søby Christensen 2002: 138–39, who considers this element one of Jordanes’s “chronological absurdities”; Amici 2002: 132. 78. Wood 2006: 63, who expresses this hypothesis with due reservations. 79. See Francovich Onesti 2007: 38, also 33; Schönfeld 1911: 33–34. Amalaric was born at the latest in 508, considering his father’s death in 507. According to Heather 1987: 175, the choice of this name suggests that “there was already some need for the Visitoghic king to conciliate the child’s grandfather.” 80. Athalaric was likely born in 516. Jordanes, Get. 304, reports that he was barely ten (vix decennem) when Theoderic died, although Procopius, BG 1.2,1, writes that he was eight. As a consequence, Matasuintha may have been born in ca. 518, and she was around nineteen when she married Witiges. On Matasuintha see PLRE 3: 851–52; Hartmann 2009: 34–37; for her name see Francovich Onesti 2007: 67. 81. On Amalaric and Sigeric see, respectively, PLRE 2: 64–65 and 1008. 82. Cassiod., Var. 8.1,3: Desiderio quoque concordiae factus est per arma filius. On the adoptio per arma see Claude 1989; Prostko-​­Prostynski 1994: 113–29; Vitiello 2005: 83–87, 138–40. 83. See AE 1919, 70; CIL 5.5426; 5.6589; 6.32003; 9.410. On the title name Flavius see n. 7 of this chapter.



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84. See Cassiod., Var. 8.1,3. 85. Eutharic’s consulship is regularly mentioned in Western sources, while in Eastern sources it is to be found in CJ 5.27,9; CJ 2.7,25; SEG 29, 622. More curiously, in the Roman and Italic inscriptions of the year 519 there is no mention of Justin’s name. See Bagnall et al. 1987: 572–73. 86. Greg. Tur., Hist. 2.38, De patriciatu Chlodovechi regis. For the question see Fanning 2002; Mathisen 1997 and 2012. 87. See Avit., Epist. 8 and 78. See PLRE 2: 1009; Wolfram 1967: 51, 89. 88. For the complete list and the sources see Mathisen 1997: 406–7. Wiemer 2014: 330–32 expresses reasonable doubts about Odovacer’s patriciate. 89. CIL 12.1500, dated 25 January 519 as post consulatum iterum Agapiti. However, the missing name of Eutharic may be due to the fact that the consuls’ names were still unknown. Eutharic is mentioned by Marius of Avenches in his Chronicle s.a. 519. 90. Wood 2006: 63; see also Wood 2014b. 91. See this chapter’s section entitled “Tragedies and Tension at the Palace.” 92. See Chron. praef., and §1371. 93. Cassiod., Var. 9.25,3. 94. Var. 11.1, Cassiodorus’s eulogy of Amalasuintha to thank her for his promotion. 95. See Anon. Vales. 65–70, in which §68 refers to the marriage of Amalafrida as happening in this period; Cassiod., Chron. s.a. 500; V. Fulg. 27.13; Paul. Diac., Hist. Rom. 15.18. 96. Cassiod., Chron. s.a. 518: Eo anno dn. Eutharicus Cillica mirabili gratia senatus et plebis ad edendum exceptus est feliciter consulatum. 97. Cassiod., Chron. s.a. 519 (trans. Klaassen 2010). See the study of this document by Klaassen 2010, in which see pp. 12–15 and 310–25. 98. On Symmachus see PLRE 2: 1043; he is also mentioned by Pope Hormisdas in two of his letters, which are in the Collectio Avellana 221.2 and 229.1. On Gratus see PLRE 2: 519; see Collectio Avellana 146.5, and LP 54.5; he was sent to Italy with letters dated 7 September 518: Collectio Avellana 143 and 147. We may wonder whether he also announced to the Gothic court Justin’s approval of Eutharic’s consulship, which was probably given before 30 September; see Vitiello 2005: 77–78. On the Acacian schism see now Kötter 2013. 99. The information of Chron. s.a. 519 is also reported in Anon. Vales. 80: Ergo Theodericus, dato consulatu Eutharico, [i.e., Eutharicus] Romae et Rauennae triumphavit. On the triumphal parade (triumphus) see also Ennod., Epist. 8.1,3; Boeth., Cons. 2.3,8; Cassiod., Var. 6.1,7–8; 3.39,1–2; 5.42. See Vitiello 2005: 71–76, including discussion of the problematic Latin here of the Anonymus Valesianus. 100. See Chapter 5, section entitled “Queens as Good and Bad Advisers: Panegyrical Representations?” 101. See Vitiello 2005: 83–86. See Var. 8.1,3. On Theoderic’s consulship see Introduction, n. 9. Other Goths and barbarians of mixed-​­Gothic ancestry had obtained the consulship in previous times: Areobindus (434), Ricimer (459), Dagalaiphus (461), Areobindus Dagalaiphus (506). 102. The evidence comes from a fragment of panegyric, which, unfortunately, is difficult to contextualize; Orat. fragm., 469 l. 21, 470 ll. 1–15. Romano 1979: 355–56, interprets the evidence as a form of co-​­regency Theoderic-​­Eutharic. The fragment has been also studied by Callu 2007: 113–18, who hypothisizes a “dyarchie inégale” (p. 114). 103. See Cassiod., Chron. praef., also s.a. 515 (however, vir gloriosus may refer to a status that Eutharic gained after his consulship and not at the time of his marriage); and Chron. s.a. 518–19: note the ambiguous use of the adjective “gloriosus” in Chron. praef., referring to Eutharic, and s.a. 519, referring to Theoderic.

234 No t e s t o Pa ge s 61 – 64 104. See Jord., Get. 305, on which Gaudenzi 1888: 80 n. 1. 105. The reference in Anon. Vales. 82 to Eutharic and the bishop of Ravenna Peter, who died at the end of 519 or in 520 (on 3 December, according to Agnellus, LPR 52), leads us to date the event in that period. Eutharic may have spent part of his consulship in Ravenna. 106. See, for example, Moorhead 1992: 219–42, 261–63; König 1997: 47–53; Goltz 2008: 501–26. 107. Anon. Vales. 81 (for this quotation, here and below at n. 109, I follow the edition of Festy and Vitiello, in preparation for la Collection Budé): Quare Iudaei baptizatos nolentes, dum laudent, frequenter oblatam in aquam fluminis iactauerunt. Dehinc accensus est populus . . . ​consurgentes ad synagogas, mox eas incenderunt; quod et in cena eadem similiter contigit (the text is here corrupted). See recently Plassman 2011: 78–80. 108. See the situation in Rome years earlier in Var. 4.43,2 (ca. 509–511), in which Theoderic asked for the intervention of his count, Arigernus. See Var. 2.27 and 5.37; privilegia to the Jews are guaranteed in the Edict of Theoderic, §143. Protection to them and to the synagogues was ordered in C.Th. 16.8; see also C.Th. 168,9; 16.8,12; 16.8,20–21; 16.8,25–27. 109. Anon. Vales. 81: non reservantes [sic! (referentes?)] neque regi neque Eutharico aut Petro, qui tunc episcopus erat. 110. Anon. Vales. 81. See König 1997: 186–87. 111. Anon. Vales. 82: agente Triwane praeposito cubiculi, et ipse haereticus favens Iudaeis, insinuans regi factum adversus Christianos. 112. Anon. Vales. 81–82 (trans. Rolfe 1936). 113. Anon. Vales. 82; see the Edict of Theoderic, §97. 114. Anon. Vales. 80 (trans. Rolfe 1936): qui Eutharicus nimis asper fuit et contra fidem catholicam inimicus. 115. Var. 8.3,1. For Heather 1995: 169 n. 73, this could refer to a non-​­Amal succession. For the question of the succession see also Wood 2006: 62–64. 116. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.31 (trans. Brehaut), on which see Introduction, section entitled “Gregory of Tours.” 117. Hist. 3.31, also Ps-​­Fred., Chron. 3.43. Tragguilla (or Triwa) was previously saio in 507– 511, and praepositus cubiculi in 520–523. Anon. Vales. 82 refers to him. Boethius in Cons. 1.4,10 reported that he himself as master of the offices had to intervene against him to protect some people at the palace: Trigguillam regiae praepositum domus. See also Ennod., Epist. 9.21; Cassiod., Var. 3.20. On this figure see PLRE 2: 1126–27; König 1997: 189; his name has been transmitted with many variants; see Schönfeld 1911: 241–42; Francovich Onesti 2007: 100–101 nn. 314–16. 118. See Joye and Knaepen 2005: 250–51. 119. See Jord., Get. 304, Proc., BV 1.14,6, and BG 1.2,2. See also Cassiod., Var. 9.25,4–6. 120. See Wolfram 1988: 311. 121. Among many works on the years 523–526, see Ensslin 19592: 305–16; Amory 1997: 216–21; Moorhead 1992: 212–52; Goltz 2008: 160–64. 122. See Mar. Avent., Chron. s.a. 522: Segericus filius Sigimundi regis iussu patris sui iniuste occisus est; Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.5, also In gloria martyrum 74. 123. For the sources PLRE 2: 1009–10 (on Sigismund). 124. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.5, in which the verb “tenuit” wrongly implies Theoderic’s death. 125. Var. 8.10,8; see Wood 2006: 63, 71. 126. See Vössing 2016. 127. Proc., BV 1.8,15–19; Aed. 6.4,6. 128. Cassiod., Var. 9.1; Proc., BV 1.9,4; Vict. Tonn., Chron. s.a. 523: cuius uxor Amalafrida



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fugiens ad barbarous congressione facta Capsae iuxta heremum capitur et custodia privata moritur; see Chapter 5, section entitled “Queens as Good and Bad Advisers: Panegyrical Representations?” For an overview of the events see Berndt 2007: 227–33; Merrills and Miles 2010: 109–40. 129. The reasons for Theoderic’s decision not to attack the Vandals are discussed by Procopius, BV 1.9,4, quoted in Chapter 3, section entitled “Politics, Diplomacy, and Military Achievements: The Earthquake Between Kingdoms.” 130. Var. 5.17,3; see Giardina 2006: 136–37. See the letters Cassiod., Var. 5.16–20, on which see Giardina et al. (eds.) 2014: 424–28. Whether the fleet was built in connection to this event, however, remains unclear. 131. Var. 5.23, on which see Giardina et al. (eds.) 2014: 441–42; on Tata and Wiliarius see PLRE 2: 1153, 1167. 132. Cassiod., Var. 9.25,8–10; see Chapter 3, section entitled “Politics, Diplomacy, and Military Achievements: The Earthquake Between Kingdoms.” 133. Proc., BG 1.12,51. See section entitled “A Widow and a Rex Puer: The Beginning of the Regency” in this chapter. 134. These are Symmachus and Boethius juniores; see also Boeth., Cons. 2.3,8, and 2.4,7. 135. Anec. Hold. l. 10; Boethius, Cons. 2.3,8. 136. See Barnish 1990: 30; Vitiello 2014a: 55–56. 137. See Anon. Vales. 85–87; LP 55.5; Agnellus, LPR 39; Proc., BG 1.1,32–39; Boethius’s apology in Cons. 1.4. 138. See Var. 6.6.2, 10.33. 139. Boeth., Cons. 1.4,31–32: rex avidus exitii communis. See also Anon. Vales. 85. 140. Anon. Vales. 92. See PLRE 2: 1044–46; Schäfer 1991: 108–10. 141. Anon. Vales. 88–89; LP 55.2–6. See also Marc., Chron. s.a. 525; Greg. Tur., In gloria martyrum 39; Theoph. AM 6016. 142. See Var. 5.40 and 5.41 (Cyprianus) and in general 5.3 and 5.4 (Honoratus, with references to Decoratus). 143. Var. 5.4,4: patricius ei dictus est in celeberrima cognitione susceptus; see ibid. §§4–5. Boethius criticizes him in Cons. 3.4,4. 144. Boethius considered him a delator: Cons. 1.4,14. See also Anon. Vales. 85–86. On Opilio see Cons. 1.4,17, in which also the use by Boethius of the term “delator.” 145. The word “relator,” used twice here, Var. 5.41,3–4, is otherwise not to be found in the Variae. 146. Var. 5.40,5; 5.41; 8.21; 8.22,5. See especially Var. 5.41,2–4. From Var. 5.40,3–5 we also know that Theoderic sent Cyprianus to the emperor in embassy. Hodgkin 1886: 291 interpreted this letter on the basis of the evidence of the Anonymus Valesianus on Boethius’s affair, and hypothesized: “Probably it was during Cyprian’s embassy to Constantinople . . . ​that he discovered these intrigues of the senators with the Byzantine Court, which he denounced on his return.” 147. Cons. 1.4,9; ibid. §§6 and 46. 148. On Athalaric’s age see n. 80 of this chapter. See Anon. Vales. 96; Cassiod., Var. 8.1,4, to Justin (qui adepti sumus regiam hereditatem), and Var. 8.2–8. 149. See Jord., Get. 288. For the question see Claude 1980: 153–54; Giese 2000: 52–60. 150. See Offergeld 2001: 90–140, 182–234; Wood 2006 and 2014b. 151. Grahn-​­Hoek 1976 still represents a solid study on the power of the aristocracy in sixth-​ ­century Gaul. Dailey 2015: 101–8 expresses some reservations on polygamy. 152. Avit., Epist. 29 and 45; Ps-​­Fred., Chron. 3.3. See Wood 2006: 64–71; Favrod 1997: 148–55.

236 No t e s t o Pa ge s 68 – 7 3 153. Vict. Vit., Hist. Pers. Vandal. 2.5: Post occiditur et ille filius . . . ​cui secundum constitutionem Genserici, eo quod maior omnibus esset, regnum inter nepotes potissimus debebatur. See Merrills 2010. 154. Proc., BV 1.7,29 (trans. Kaldellis). 155. Get. 169 (trans. Mierow). See Get. 170–71 on the end of the Vandal kingdom. 156. Vict. Vit., Hist. Pers. Vandal. 2.14; see Offergeld 2001: 107–8; Hartmann 2009: 5–6. On Geiseric and Gunderic see, respectively, PLRE 2: 496–98 and 522. 157. Geiseric’s third son, Genton, survived, and his children, Gunthamund and Thrasamund, would later rule over the Vandals. See Vict. Vit., Hist. Pers. Vandal. 2.12–14; PLRE 2: 502–3, on Genton, and 1073, on Theoderic. See Wood 2006: 60ff. 158. Jord., Get. 184. 159. Var. 9.1,1–2; Proc., BV 1.9,3–4; Vict. Tonn., Chron. s.a. 523; see Chapter 3, section entitled “Politics, Diplomacy, and Military Achievements: The Earthquake Between Kingdoms.” 160. See Hartmann 2009: 9. For an overwiev on Vandal women see Merrills and Miles 2010: 106–8. 161. For the whole account see Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.18: per auxilium virorum fortium. See Grahn-​­Hoek 1976: 161ff.; Kölzer 1990: 297–99. 162. With reference to Merovingians and Carolingians see Kölzer 1990: 312 and 322. 163. Jord., Get. 304 (trans. Mierow, slightly modified). 164. Cassiod., Var. 8.2,4: magnitudinem dominationis suae tanta in nos celeritate transfudit. . . . ​Tot proceres manu consilioque gloriosi nullum murmur, ut assolet, miscuerunt: sed ita cum magno gaudio secuti sunt principis sui iudicia; ibid. §7; Var. 8.3,3; 8.4,2; 8.5,1–2; 8.6,2. See Gaudenzi 1888: 75–77; Claude 1980: 159–62. 165. See Proc., BG 1.1,39, and especially Anon. Vales. 94–95, which is the only source that provides an exact date for the event. 166. On Tuluin and Sigismer see in the next section; on Osuin see PLRE 2: 815; as vir illustris, and Count of Dalmatia in 510/11, he was reappointed count of the provinces of Dalmatia and Savia in 526, when he was elderly; see Var. 9.8,3. 167. See Var. 5.18; 5.19–20; 9.13; PLRE 2: 1167; on this office see Maier 2005: 308–11 and Petrini in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015a: 145–49. 168. See Chapter 5, sections entitled “Amalasuintha and Galla Placidia: Motherhood and Power” and “Amalasuintha on the Diptych of Orestes: Ariadne and Female Agency in the Transmission of Power.” 169. See Chapter 1, sections entitled “Amalasuintha’s Institutional Position in Ostrogothic Italy: The Status Quaestionis” and “Mater Regens or Regina? Amalasuintha and the Regency.” 170. Get. 304 and 305 (trans. Mierow, modified): Quod praeceptum quamdiu Athalaricus rex eiusque mater adviverent, in omnibus custodientes pene per octo annos in pace regnarunt. See Paul. Diac., Hist. Rom. 16.11: Gothi sibi Athalaricum . . . ​cum eadem Amalaswinta matre sua in regnum praeficiunt. 171. See Var. 8.2–7. See in Chapter 3, the section entitled “Friend of the Emperor: Amalasuintha “Entrusted” to Justinian,” the parallels between Var. 8.1 and Get. 304. 172. See Var. 8.2,9. The mention here of the legate’s name, Count Sigismer (PLRE 2: 1008– 9), is a rare case in the Variae. 173. See Var. 8.8,2–3. 174. Var. 9.25,2, (trans. Barnish.). 175. Jord., Get. 305; Var. 8.1, especially §§4–5. 176. Var. 8.1,2–3 (trans. Barnish). See Claude 1989: 29; Offergeld 2001: 83.



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177. Var. 8.1,2 (trans. Barnish), in which also: sed magis affectuosius tractandus est, qui ad regni causas innocens invenitur. The motif of revenge is also in Var. 10.33,2–3, which refers to Witiges’s killing of Theodahad. 178. On Theoderic’s anger see Anon. Vales. 85–93 and LP 55.2–6 passim. 179. See the words in the king’s name in Var. 8.9,1–2. 180. On Tuluin and the nature of his appointment see Gaudenzi 1888: 88; Mommsen 1889: 506ff.; Hartmann 1897: 235; Ginetti 1901: 18–23; Sundwall 1919: 261; Ensslin 1936: 244–48; PLRE 2: 1131–33; Wolfram 1988: 335; Kohlhas-​­Müller 1995: 323–24; Amory 1997: 72–73, 159–63, 425; Offergeld 2001: 83; Maier 2005: 132, 146, 156. See Var. 8.9,1. For a recent discussion on the magisterium militum praesentale in the East in this period see Poguntke 2014. 181. Theoderic’s patrician title replaces rex in the inscription AE 1953, 68. Tuluin’s position is compared to the one once held by Theoderic in the East: Var. 8.9,3–4. 182. Var. 8.9–11, in which 8.11,1: pro utilitate cunctorum. Scholars rightly attribute this letter, which in the manuscripts is in the name of Athalaric, to Tuluin, though Oppedisano 2016 accepts the attribution to Athalaric. However, the reference to Theoderic as princeps regum rather than as domnus avus noster, which appears in all the other letters in Athalaric’s name, seems to go against his argument. 183. See the section entitled “Promising Unions: Amalasuintha’s Marriage and Theoderic’s Dreams” in this chapter. See Ensslin 1936: 246. 184. Var. 8.10,5. On his relationship with Theoderic see also the references in Var. 8.9,1 and 8.10,2. 185. This information comes almost entirely from Var. 8.9–11. See the previous section. 186. See, respectively, Var. 8.10,3 and 8.9,7. 187. See the letters Var. 8.9–11, especially 8.11,3: In expetendis quoque honoribus apud gloriosae memoriae Theodericum principem regum mea vobis saepe vota coniunxi. . . . ​Saepe consules, saepe patricios, saepe praefectos habita intercessione promovi. . . . ​Congaudete nunc, patres conscripti, meis auspiciis, qui vestris favi semper honoribus. Tuluin’s power was probably not limited to military duties; see Var. 8.25,3, with reference to a royal present. See Ensslin 1936: 247. 188. See Cassiod., Chron. s.a. 519: Dignitates cessit in curiam. See in general Athalaric’s words in Var. 8.10,1: ante vobis contulimus honores. 189. Var. 8.9,8. In Jord., Get. 248, we read of a Gesimund the son of Hunimund. See Claude 1980: 152–53; 1989: 37; Heather 1989: 119; Offergeld 2001: 74, 83; PLRE 2: 510. 190. See the sections entitled “Promising Unions: Amalasuintha’s Marriage and Theoderic’s Dreams,” “The Collapse of Theoderic’s Best-​­Laid Plans,” and “Tragedies and Tension at the Palace” in this chapter. After Amalaric’s death in 531, Theudis (PLRE 2: 1112–13) ruled over the Visigoths until 548. 191. Jord., Get. 302: Nam et Thiudem suum armigerum post mortem Alarici generi tutorem in Spaniae regno Amalarici nepotis constituit. On the rare use by Jordanes of the word “tutor” see Chapter 1, n. 84; see also Chron. Caesaraug. s.a. 513, quoted in n. 193 of this chapter. 192. Proc., BG I 12,51 (trans. Kaldellis). See Wolfram 1988: 310, 334; Maier 2005: 224. 193. Chron. Caesaraug. s.a. 513: post Alaricum Theodoricus Italiae rex Gotthos regit in Hispania an(nos) XV, Amalarici parvuli tutelam gerens; similarly in Laterculum regum Visigothorum. 194. Proc., BG 1.12,50–54 and 1.13,13. 195. See Heather 1995: 169. 196. Var. 8.12; see PLRE 2: 127; Barnish (trans.) 1992: 104 n. 9. On this office see Var. 6.8 with the commentary of Petrini in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015a: 141–45. On Arator see PLRE 2: 126–27.

238 No t e s t o Pa ge s 7 6– 7 9 197. Var. 8.12,1 (trans. Barnish). See in Sidon., Epist. 1.9,2, the expression “praerogativa partis armatae.” 198. Var. 8.12,8 (trans. Barnish). 199. See Var. 8.13–14, in which 8.13,10 on the accumulation of the two offices. Technically the nomination should have made on 1 September, just two days after Theoderic’s death, but this probably happened sometime later. See in Var. 8.13,3, the reference to the anonymus predecessor (Honoratus?) offensionibus expulsus. On Ambrosius and Honoratus see, respectively, PLRE 2: 69 and 567–68. 200. For Ambrosius see the section entitled “An Education in the Roman Style” in this chapter. Arator received several letters and dictiones by Ennodius. 201. Cassiod., Var. 18–19 (Fidelis), and Var. 8.20 (Avienus). Both Faustus and Avienus were also friends of Ennodius, who sent several letters to them and years earlier eulogized them together for their intellectual qualities in the Paraenesis Didascalica (Opusc. 6.18). On Avienus see PLRE 2: 192–93. Abundantius is the addressee of several letters of Theoderic in book 5 of the Variae; see PLRE 2: 3–4. 202. See Var. 8.16–17 for Opilio, and 8.21–22 for Cyprianus (on whom see also Anon. Vales. 85). See Hodgkin 1886: 368–69; Moorhead 1978: 611–12; 1992: 226–35; Plassman 2011: 82–83; Vitiello 2011a: 356–58. 203. Var. 8.16,5 (eulogizing his devotio), quoted in Chapter 3, section entitled “Politics, Diplomacy, and Military Achievements: The Earthquake Between Kingdoms.” 204. See the section entitled “Tragedies and Tension at the Palace” in this chapter. 205. Var. 8.16,6–7, including: virum auctoritatis maximae, probatae constantiae, qui sub tanto principe et sine culpa paruit. Against Opilio is Boethius, Cons. 1.4,10–11. Hodgkin 1886: 362–63 remarked: “The allusions to delatores in this letter, considering the history of Opilio and his brother, are extraordinary.” In the Consolatio the word “delator” is widely used, especially in the apologia: Cons. 1.4,16–24,32,46, passim, also 1.5,8 and 3.4,4 (against Decoratus). On the connection of Opilio with Basilius see Var. 8.17,5. See Moorhead 1978: 611–12; Vitiello 2011a: 357–58. 206. He kept this appointment until ca. 527, when Cyprianus, one of Boethius’s fiercest enemies, took over this office. See PLRE 2: 332–33; Schäfer 1991: 55–56. 207. Var. 8.17,4, referring to Opilio: Ille quoque avaritia vacuus: et iste a cupiditate probatur alienus. Hinc est quod norunt regibus servare fidem, quia nesciunt vel inter aequales exercere perfidiam. . . . ​Quomodo ergo sub puritate non serviant dominis, qui nesciunt illusisse collegis? See also the reference to Decoratus in Var. 5.3,3: Secreta nostra, quasi oblivisceretur, occuluit: iussa, quasi scriberet per ordinem, retinuit, sine avaritia serviens et gratiam nostram summa cupiditate perquirens. Boethius accused the Goths of avaritia in Cons. 1.4,10–11. 208. Amory 1997: 149–65. 209. See Proc., BG 1.2; 1.3,12–14; 1.4,13; also Cassiod., Var. 11.1,8.

Chapter 3 1. Var. 8.1,5 (trans. Barnish): ut amicitiam nobis illis pactis, illis condicionibus concedatis, quas cum divae memoriae domno avo nostro inclitos decessores vestros constat habuisse. In the manuscripts of the Variae this letter is mistakenly addressed to Justinian (Iustin{ian}o?). See Gaudenzi 1888: 27. 2. When introducing the Gothic War, Procopius felt it necessary to discuss the fifty-​­year



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history of the political relationships between kingdom and empire: BG 1.1; 2.6,4ff. In BG 2.6,22ff., he inverts this perspective in the answer of Belisarius to the Gothic legates in Rome. 3. See Malch., fragm. 11 and 18, for events of the years 478–479; Joh. Nikiu 88,47. See also Jord., Get. 271, on Theoderic’s time in Constantinople: quia puerulos elegans erat, meruit gratiam imperialem habere. 4. Jord., Get. 304 (trans. Mierow). In Vitiello 2006a: 63–68, I discuss the philological comparison between this quotation and Var. 8.1–3 (including 8.1,4–5); the addressees of the letters are Emperor Justin, the Senate and the Roman people, the same as Theoderic recommended to his Goths before he died. In spite of the fact that the emperor whom Get. 305 references cannot be Justin, the terminology used by Jordanes finds important comparisons in the Cassiodoran letters. 5. See Var. 8.1,2–3 (affectuosius and affectus), ibid. §§1 and 4 (pax). 6. Var. 8.1,4–5 (trans. Barnish). 7. BG 1.2,2. See PLRE 2: 647–48. 8. See Gillett 2002b: 119. This formula goes back to the late republic and the principate; see Dick 2008: 79ff. 9. The sources in which the term “commendatio” occurs are listed in the notes to this section. The use by Jordanes and other authors of the terms “commendo” and “commendatio” with reference to this particular situation is important. Ennodius uses this term differently, with its traditional meaning; see Marconi 2013. 10. Get. 305 (trans. Mierow): Dum ergo ad spem iuventutis Athalaricus accederet, tam suam aduliscentiam quam matris viduitatem Orientis principi commendavit, sed in brevi infelicissimus inmatura morte praeventus, rebus humanis excessit. See the observations of Craddock 1996: 58–59. 11. Rom. 367; see the section entitled “Politics, Diplomacy, and Military Achievements: The Earthquake Between Kingdoms” in this chapter. 12. Get. 305. Nevertheless, Cassiodorus uses both adulescentia and pueritia with reference to Athalaric in the year 526; see Var. 8.1,3–4; 8.2,2; 8.9,1, 8.10,4. On the Latin definition for the ages see Offergeld 2001: 10–21. 13. Var. 9.25,4. See Jord., Get. 58, at the end of the digression on the Amazons: Sed ne dicas: de viris Gothorum sermo adsumptus cur in feminas tamdiu perseverat? Audi et virorum insignem et laudabilem fortitudinem. On the Amazons in the post-​­Roman literature see Pohl 2004c. For an attempt at reconstructing the events of Gothic Italy in Cassiodorus’s History of the Goths see Vitiello 2014b. 14. BG 1.3,19 (trans. Kaldellis). 15. Rom. 368. Paul the Deacon followed this same tradition in Hist. Rom. 16.12. 16. BV 1.14,6 (trans. Kaldellis), in which: δειμαίνουσα ἡ Ἀμαλασοῦνθα περί τε τῷ παιδί καὶ τῇ βασιλείᾳ φίλον Ἰουστινιανὸν ἐς τὰ μάλιστα ἑταιρισσαμένη. 17. Var. 11.1,10–11; see the section entitled “Politics, Diplomacy, and Military Achievements: The Earthquake Between Kingdoms” in this chapter. 18. Var. 11.1,11 (trans. Barnish); see the section entitled “Politics, Diplomacy, and Military Achievements: The Earthquake Between Kingdoms” in this chapter. 19. Var. 11.1,5 (trans. Barnish): cui etiam iure princeps servire debuisset extraneus. 20. BV 2.5,18. 21. BV 2.5,22–24. 22. BV 2.5,14–17 (trans. Kaldellis). 23. BG 1.2,22–24 (trans. Kaldellis), but see §§19–29 for the whole letter.

240 No t e s t o Pa ge s 8 3 – 8 7 24. Var. 10.1,2; see Chapter 1, section entitled “Amalasuintha’s Institutional Position in Ostrogothic Italy: The Status Quaestionis.” 25. Var. 10.19,1: qui se pura vobis affectione commendat; see also 11.13,2, addressed to Justinian in the name of the Roman Senate: Romanum . . . ​nomen vos commendatis, si nostris dominis benigna conceditis. 26. Var. 10.32,2 (trans. Barnish, modified): Nam si vindicta regis Theodahadi quaeritur, mereor diligi: si commendatio divae memoriae Amalasuinthae reginae prae oculis habetur, eius debet filia cogitari, quam nisus vestrorum omnium perducere decuisset ad regnum. See also LP 60.2. 27. See LP 59.2: Iustinianus Augustus indignatus est Theodato regi, eo quo occidisset Amalasuenta, filiam Theodorici regis, commendatam sibi, qui eum regem fecerat; LP 60.2: Hoc indignatus domnus imperator Iustinianus Augustus quia reginam sibi commendatam occidisset Theodatus. See also Paul. Diac., Hist. Rom. 16.12; Jord., Rom. 368; Marc., Chron. Addit. s.a. 534. 28. Cons. 1.4,23,31–32. 29. Var. 9.21 (on which see Chapter 2, section entitled “An Education in the Roman Style”); Justinian would confirm this privilege in Nov. App. 7.22. 30. Jord., Get. 304. 31. Var. 8.2,9; 8.3,2,5, and Anon. Vales. 66–67. On the connection between these documents see Vitiello 2006b: 116–20. 32. BG 3.9,10–11; this is in a letter of Totila to the Roman Senate. 33. Just., Nov. App. 7.1. 34. Cassiod., Var. 11.1,15 (trans. Barnish). 35. BG 1.2,4 (trans. Kaldellis); see BG 1.2,3–6. 36. Aug., De civ. D. 5.26: inimicorum suorum filios . . . ​christiana caritate dilexit, nec privavit rebus et auxit honoribus; see also Symm., Epist. 4.19.1, 4.51.1, and 6.12, which date to the years 395–396. 37. LP 55.2,5–6, and Anon. Vales. 88; on Fl. Theodorus see PLRE 2: 1097; on Fl. Inportunus see PLRE 2: 592. For the two Agapiti, who are difficult to distinguish from each other, see PLRE 2: 30–32. On the divisions inside the Decian family during the reign of Theoderic see Moorhead 1984. 38. See Vitiello 2011a: 358–59; 2014a: 82. 39. BG 1.2,5 (trans. Kaldellis); for the expropriations see BG 1.1,34; see also Boeth., Cons. 1.4,36. 40. Boeth., Cons. 2.4,5–7. On Rusticiana see PLRE 3: 1101–2; on her children see PLRE 2: 232, 1044; PLRE 3: 1231; Schäfer 1991: 39–40, 107–8. 41. See BG 3.20,27–30. 42. See Troncarelli 2010–11: 21–24; 2011:190–94. On the front of the diptych is carved the inscription amen in Se(v)e(r)ini me[moriam], and on the back memini xi ind(i)ct(i)one, which means the period 1 September 532 to 31 August 533. The mention on the back of Flavius Probus as former consul of Rome probably refers to the original owner of this piece, who is likely the consul of the year 513 and addressee of Ennod., Epist. 8.21. As a member of the family of the Petronii Probi, Probus was related to the Anicians. 43. Var. 9.17,2–4, addressed to the urban prefect Salventius. 44. On the subject see recently Porena and Rivière (eds.) 2012. 45. Var. 9.18,1–3; see the section entitled “A Dying Son, a Corrupt Cousin: The Fracturing of the Amal Family” in this chapter. 46. Proc., BG 1.3,2–3. 47. Proc., BG 1.4,1–3, which may be connected to 1.3,2–3; see Vitiello 2014a: 60. See the



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section entitled “A Dying Son, a Corrupt Cousin: The Fracturing of the Amal Family” in this chapter. 48. The letter is published in Schwartz, Acta conciliorum oecumenicorum, vol. 4.2: 206–10. The religious issues in this document are well analyzed by Caspar 1933: 219–21. 49. See Acta conciliorum oecumenicorum, vol. 4.2, §1. 50. Possibly “Avitus 3” in PLRE 2: 195–96. 51. This speculation is in PLRE 2: 192–93. See Cassiod., Var. 8.20. 52. See Var. 9.24–25 and 11.1,16. On these elections see the section entitled “The Turning Point at the Palace: A Roman Patrician-​­in-​­Waiting” in this chapter. 53. PLRE 2: n. 1001; he was sent to Dalmatia together with the Goth Osuin: see Var. 5.14– 15, and 9.9. See Giardina et al. (eds.) 2014: 422–24. 54. PLRE 2: 469–70; Var. 8.18–19. 55. PLRE 2: 808; see Var. 8.16–17, in which see 8.17,7. 56. PLRE 2: 74; Var. 5.35 and 5.39, concerning administrative issues of Spain; see the section entitled “Politics, Diplomacy, and Military Achievements: The Earthquake Between Kingdoms,” including n. 174, in this chapter. 57. See MGH Leg. 3: 53–54; Proc., BG 1.4,15,21–25. 58. For the references see PLRE 2: 680 (Liberius), 469 (Fidelis). 59. See Chapter 2, section entitled “A Widow and a Rex Puer: The Beginning of the Regency.” 60. See Var. 10.11–12; see PLRE 2: 748–49; Schäfer 1991: 85–86; Vitiello 2011a; 2014a: 88–92. 61. See Greg. Tur., Hist. 2.31 (MGH SRM 1.1): Baptizata est et soror eius Albofledis, quae non post multum tempus migravit ad dominum. . . . ​Conversa est enim et alia soror eius Lantechildis nomen, quae in haeresim Arrianorum dilapsa fuerat. Albofledis (PLRE 2: 54) was baptized shortly before she died and is probably not the same person as Theoderic’s wife; see Bednariková 1996; Goltz 2008: 221 n. 159; Hartmann 2008. 62. Anon. Vales. 58. 63. See MGH AA 12: 390–91, Epist. 4–5. 64. Anon. Vales. 65: et occurrit beato Petro devotissimus ac si catholicus. 65. See Chapter 2, section entitled “Promising Unions: Amalasuintha’s Marriage and Theoderic’s Dreams.” 66. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.31; Ps-​­Fred., Chron. 3.43. 67. On Arianism in Italy in this period see the recent works of Amory 1997: 236–76; Petrini 2011; Wood 2012 (on religious issues between Franks and Visigoths); Berndt and Steinacher 2014. 68. Anon. Vales. 94–95; Agnellus, LPR 39: see Bury 1923, vol. 2: 158 n. 23. Apparently, the Vandal King Huneric had ordered something similar in 484: Vict. Vit., Hist. Pers. Vandal. 2.3– 14; see König 1997: 206. 69. On the meaning of religious building activity by the Theodosian empresses and in particular by Galla Placidia in Ravenna and Rome see now Dirschlmayer 2015: 81–106. 70. LP 56.2. See Duchesne (ed.) 1886: 279–80. For the topographical context see recently Brenk 2012: 172–78; Smurra 2014: 287–88. 71. See Just., Nov. App. 7.22, in which the medici are included. 72. The inscription in elegiac couplets is in Duchesne (ed.) 1886: 280, in which see ll. 3–4. On the cult of the medici in Rome see the observations by Sirago 1998: 78; Moorhead 2015: 69–70.

242 No t e s t o Pa ge s 9 0 – 9 5 73. See Mauskopf Deliyannis 2010: 198–200, 223ff., 259ff. 74. LPR 62 (trans. Mauskopf Deliyannis 2004); this news is referenced after her deposition and imprisonment. See Testi Rasponi 1924: 175 n. 2. We know that the monasterium was in regione sanctorum Iohannis et Pauli; the place still existed in the twelfth century; see Smurra 2014: 291–98. 75. For this hypothesis see Smurra 2014: 298, who considers the possibility of influence from Constantinople. 76. Var. 11.3,5. See the Epistle of James 1.27. 77. See Proc., BG 1.3,19, Amalasuintha’s reference to Athalaric as an orphan child. 78. The question is well discussed by Moorhead 1985: especially 343ff. 79. See Declercq 2002. 80. See Zelzer 1985; see Paul. Diac., Hist. Rom. 16.20. 81. See Duchesne (ed.) 1886: lvi–lviii; Cassiod., Var. 8.24; 9.5; 9.15–16; 11.2–3; 12.13. Good overviews of the policy of the Roman Church are in Hartmann 1897: 237–40; Ginetti 1901: 60–149; Sundwall 1919: 265–75; von Harnack 1924; Caspar 1933: 193–221; Richards 1979: 120–27; Amory 1997: 221–24; Moorhead 2015: 65–81. 82. LP 56.1, on which see Moorhead 2015: 69. 83. See in the Epitome Cononiana: ex iusso Theoderici regis; this detail is missing in LP 56.2. 84. Var. 8.15,1–2. 85. Var. 8.15,3 (trans. Barnish, slightly modified). 86. Var. 8.24,4. See von Harnack 1924: 27ff. 87. See Sirm. 6; C.Th. 16.5,62; 15.2,46; 15.5,63; 16.2,47; 16.5,64. See Sirago 1961: 262; 1998: 76–77. 88. See Duchesne (ed.) 1886: xxxiii–lxvii. 89. His father’s name was Sigisbuld (LP 57.1). See von Harnack 1924: 24–25. 90. On the event see Duchesne 1883; Ginetti 1901: 75–96; Stein 1949: 329–31. For a recent and detailed account see Moreau 2015. 91. For the dates see LP 57.3–5 and 58.1. 92. Var. 9.15,2–3 (trans. Barnish). 93. Var. 9.15,6. 94. Var. 9.16, addressed to Salventius, the urban prefect. On this document see von Harnack 1924. On the “senatorial” coins in Theodahad’s name see Metlich 2004: 9–10, 51–2, 73; Vitiello 2014a: 138. 95. See LP 58.1. 96. See the recent observations by Moorhead 2015: 73–74; Moreau 2015: 191–95. 97. CJ 1.1,8. See Duchesne (ed.) 1886: 285–86. 98. See LP 58.2. 99. LP 58.1. The event is also reported by Liberatus, Breviarium 20, and in CJ 1.1,8,6. See Chapter 4, section entitled “To Abandon the Kingdom or Stay in Power? A Web of Lies.” 100. Just., Nov. 9: Et legum originem anterior Roma sortita est, et summi pontificatus apicem apud eam esse nemo est qui dubitet. 101. Amory 1997: 221–22. 102. See Chapter 4, n. 132. 103. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.31. 104. BG 1.2,10. 105. Anec. 16.1. 106. Lamma 1960: 618.



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107. BG 1.2,6–7 (trans. Kaldellis). On this account see Amory 1997: 155–58; Kaldellis 2004: 108; Stewart 2014: 26–30; Halsall 2002: 106–7; Cooper 2016: 296–301. 108. BV 1.3,10,12; see Chapter 5, section entitled “Amalasuintha and the Imperial Models.” 109. BG 1.2,11. 110. BG 1.2,8–10. 111. BG 1.2,12–13 (trans. Kaldellis). 112. See Chapter 1, section entitled “The ‘Strong Amal’: A Masculine Woman.” 113. BG 1.2,14–16. 114. BG 1.2,17 (trans. Kaldellis). 115. BG 1.2,18–20; here we find repeated the term “βάρβαροι,” referring to the Goths. 116. BG 4.19,8 (trans. Kaldellis). 117. See Stewart 2014: 26–30, on Athalaric as “unmanly man.” 118. BG 1.2,5 (trans. Kaldellis). See the section entitled “Amalasuintha and the Roman Senate” in this chapter. 119. Var. 9.21,4 (trans. Barnish): Hac non utuntur barbari reges: apud legales dominos manere cognoscitur singularis. Arma enim et reliqua gentes habent: sola reperitur eloquentia, quae Romanorum dominis obsecundat. See Chapter 2, section entitled “An Education in the Roman Style.” 120. Var. 9.21,2 and 9 (trans. Barnish). See Chapter 2, section entitled “An Education in the Roman Style.” 121. A perspective on Theoderic’s attitude to the education of the Goths is in Cassiod., Var. 1.38,2: Gothis aetatem legitimam virtus facit et qui valet hostem confodere, ab omni se iam debet vitio vindicare. For more examples see Vitiello 2006a: 40–44. 122. See, for example, Heather 1994; Goltz 2002. 123. Soz., HE 9.1 (trans. Hartranft). 124. On this series of decanummi see Metlich 2004: 115. 125. Jordanes, Get. 309, reports that Witiges was Theodahad’s armiger; to Wolfram 1988: 292 and to Maier 2005: 159–61, this was the same appointment, and the appointee had the rank of count; according to PLRE 2: 1112 and PLRE 3: 1383, armiger may have been a different appointment, such as the commander of the bodyguard. On Witiges see PLRE 3: 1382–86; Amory 1997: 460–61. On Theudis and his position see Chapter 2, section entitled “Protecting the Heir.” 126. Cassiod., Orat. fragm. 476, ll. 11–19. See Wolfram 1988: 343; Vitiello 2006a: 243–44; 2014: 167–68. On the expedition against Sirmium see the section entitled “Politics, Diplomacy, and Military Achievements: The Earthquake Between Kingdoms” in this chapter. 127. See the two previous notes above, while on his position of dux see Jord., Get. 309, Rom. 371; Cassiod., Var. 10.31,3 and in general Proc., BG 1.11,1. 128. Var. 11.1,4–5 (trans. Barnish, slightly modified). See Vitiello 2006a: 20–11; 2014: 41–43. See also the observations of Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015b: 136–39. 129. Hist. 3.31. However, I am against the identification of Athalaric with Gregory’s Amalasuintha: see Introduction, section entitled “Gregory of Tours,” including n. 44. 130. For a good overview see Mauskopf Deliyannis 2010: 119–22. 131. Indeed, it is unlikely that Matasuintha promoted such building activity. At the time of her marriage to Witiges, she was young and had only recently replaced Gudeliva as queen. In addition, her queenship lasted for a short time, during which Italy was badly affected by the war. It is therefore more likely that this fragment belonged to a panegyric for Amalasuintha: see Romano 1979. 132. This is the Taur. fol. VI, published by Traube (ed.) 1894: 483–84. This story was well known to classical authors, including Herodotus (§184) and Diodorus of Sicily. Cassiodorus’s

244 No t e s t o Pa ge s 1 0 1 – 1 05 potential sources here are many. In the panegyric for Eusebia, Julian refers to Semiramis as the “famous woman of Assyria” who built the palace and the wall: Orat. 2.126D–127A. 133. Var. 7.15,4. See Cecconi in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015a: 199–202. 134. See Var. 10.8 and 10.9. 135. See La Rocca 2010a: 9–10, and in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016: 427–28. 136. Agnellus, LPR 73 and 76. On the trade of marble on the Adriatic Sea in this period see Marano 2008. 137. See Chapter 2, section entitled “Promising Unions: Amalasuintha’s Marriage and Theoderic’s Dreams,” and for Amalasuintha see Chapter 1, section entitled “The ‘Strong Amal’: A Masculine Woman.” 138. Cassiod., Var. 11.1,4–5; 10.3,2 and 10.4,5; Jord., Rom. 367. 139. Var. 11.1,4–5; for Barnish (trans.) 1992: xvi, this may contain an allusion to Athalaric’s alcoholism, on which see also Stewart 2014: 29 n. 39. Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015b: 137, provides the opposite interpretation, on the basis of the expression “temperamento concordiae.” 140. Var. 11.1,20 (trans. Barnish). 141. BG 1.2,19–20; 1.3,10–11. 142. MGH AA 11.2: 389–90. 143. A solid overview for the years 526–540 is in Ruggini 1995: 296–359, 472–73. See also Noyé 2007, and especially the commentary on books 11 and 12 of the Variae by Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015b. 144. See Var. 9.10,11,14, the king’s order in matter of taxation dating to 526/7 (PLRE 2: 512); also 9.12, addressed to the viri sublimes Victor and Witigisclus. 145. Var. 8.33. 146. Var. 11.5,4, addressed to Ambrosius, his agens vices. See Ruggini 1995: 320, 472; Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015b: 173. 147. Var. 8.31. 148. Var. 11.39, the amount of tax was reduced from 1,200 to 1,000 solidi per year. 149. Var. 8.16,5. 150. Var. 9.25,8–10 (trans. Barnish). 151. See the section entitled “Amalasuintha and the Roman Senate” in this chapter. 152. Var. 11.1,10–11 (trans. Barnish). The expression “princeps Orientis” is also in Var. 12.20,1 and Jord., Get. 304, which derives from Cassiodorus: principem Orientalem. 153. On the date of this event scholars are divided: see Stein 1949: 307–8; Gaudenzi 1888: 74, 81–85 (with reference to CJ 5.12,17, on which see also Goltz 2008: 170 with n. 323), hypothesizes the end of the year 528; Wozniak 1981: 377–78 dates the expedition to 527/8, which means before the appointment of Mundo as magister militum per Illyricum; Wolfram 1988: 335 thinks the year is 530; Barnish (trans.) 1992: 147 n. 4 thinks that the incident occurred under Justin, but that Justinian was responsible; Prostko-​­Prostyński 1994: 241–45, suggests the year 529; Sarantis 2009: 21–22, prefers the early date 526/7. 154. See the two reconstructions of Wozniak 1981: 369–81; and Sarantis 2009: 21–24. 155. BG 1.3,15,17. 156. Orat. fragm. 476, ll. 11–19, quoted in the section entitled “Amalasuintha’s Ambition: The Education of Athalaric in this chapter.” Procopius, BG 1.1,15, reports that Witiges had won fame in the war against Sirmium under Theoderic. Witiges was possibly involved in both the wars against Sirmium. However, Procopius may have confused the events of 504 with the later ones under Amalasuintha in 527–530. See Sarantis 2009: 21–22.



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157. See Var. 10.32,3; 10.33,2. The expression in Var. 10.32,2, ante regni fastigia invicem vos divinitas nostram fect habere notitiam, does not necessarily mean that Justinian was not emperor at that time, but it indicates that Witiges was not king. The expression adhuc in illa positus fortuna does not allow us to determine whether Witiges was spatharius or which position he held in the embassy. Gaudenzi 1888: 85–86 hypothesized that it was Witiges who sealed the peace between Amalasuintha and Justinian. 158. See the reference to Tuluin in Var. 8.12,1, which is addressed to Arator in Athalaric’s name, quoted in Chapter 2, section entitled “A Widow and a Rex Puer: The Beginning of the Regency.” 159. Var. 11.1,11 (trans. Barnish), on which see Barnish (trans.) 1992: 147 n. 5. 160. Proc., BG 1.3,15. 161. Get. 296 (trans. Mierow): Quam ille grate libenterque concessit suosque filios Celdebertum et Heldebertum et Thiudebertum credens hac societate cum gente Gothorum inito foedere sociari. Sed non adeo ad pacis concordiam profuit ista coniunctio, quia saepenumero propter Gallorum terras graviter inter se decertati sunt, numquamque Gothus Francis cessit, dum viveret Theodoricus. Interestingly, the terminology of coniunctio, concordia, and foedus finds strong parallels in the Variae addressed to allied kings, as well as in the Anonymus Valesianus. 162. See Chapter 1, sections entitled “Domina Amalasuintha: A Woman in Power in the Gothic World” and “Mater Regens or Regina? Amalasuintha and the Regency.” 163. See Introduction, section entitled “Gregory of Tours.” 164. Get. 305 (trans. Mierow): quamvis Francis de regno puerili desperantibus, immo in contemptu habentibus bellaque parare molientibus quod pater et avus Gallias occupasset, eis concessit. Cetera in pace et tranquillitate possessa. For an interpretation of this difficult passage see Gaudenzi 1888: 80. 165. Rom. 367 (MGH AA 5.1): matre tamen regente Amalasuentha degebat, quando et Gallias diu tentas Francis repetentibus reddidit. 166. See Proc., BG 1.11,16–17,28–29; 1.13,15–29; 1.14,1. 167. Var. 11.1,12 (trans. Barnish). On Theoderic see PLRE 2: 1076–77. 168. See Chapter 2, section entitled “Tragedies and Tension at the Palace.” 169. See PLRE 2: 517. 170. Var. 11.1,13 (trans. Barnish, slightly modified). 171. See Stein 1949: 332–33; Wolfram 1988: 335; Kohlhas-​­Müller 1995: 351; Becker-​­Piriou 2008: 530–31. For an overview see Favrod 1997: 450–70. 172. On Herminafrid see PLRE 2: 549–50. In BG 1.13,1–2, we read that Amalaberga came to Italy at the time that Theodahad was ruling over the Goths. This chronology is problematic, however, for these events preceded Theodahad’s reign: see Stein 1949: 332 n. 2. Soon after the conquest of Thuringia, Procopius tells of the progressive annexation by the Franks of Gaul, including the subjugation of the Burgundians and the events in Visigothic Spain: BG 1.13,4–13. Venantius Fortunatus dedicated a poem to the conquest of Thuringia: De excidio Thuringiae. 173. See Chron. Caesaraug. s.a. 525: Amalaricus Gotthorum rex efficitur; regnat an(nos) V. 174. Theoderic sent the Roman Ampelius and the Goth Liwirit, the addressee of Var. 5.35 and 5.39; on these documents see Giardina et al. (eds.) 2014: 455–56, 461–63. On the Gothic control over Visigothic Spain see recently Faber 2014: 219–22. 175. Proc., BG 1.13,5–7, also 1.12,41–42,47. 176. See Olympiod., fragm. 24. See the observations of Sirago 1998: 82 with n. 4. 177. On the events see especially Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.1,10; Proc., BG 1.13,4,9–12. 178. See Stein 1949: 332. 179. See Chapter 2, section entitled “Tragedies and Tension at the Palace.”

246 No t e s t o Pa ge s 1 0 9 – 1 16 180. BV 1.9,5 (trans. Kaldellis). 181. Cassiod., Var. 9.1 passim. On Hilderic see PLRE 2: 564–65. See Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016b: 285–91. 182. On this war see Stein 1949: 311–18. On Gelimer see PLRE 3: 506–8; Merrills 2010: 148–52. 183. See Joh. Mal., Chron. 15.197: this evidence shows some inaccuracies: καὶ ἐκπέμψας μαγιστριανὸν ἐν Ῥώμῃ πρός τὸν ῥῆγα Ἀθαλάριχον, ἔκγονον τοῦ Οὐαλεμεριακοῦ. On the Byzantine tradition on Theoderic as son of Walamer see Goltz 2008: 42–44. 184. CIL 8.17412 (= ILS 860; ILCV 43), from Fonzaso by Feltre. See Merrils and Miles 2010: 96. Mommsen suggested that this piece came to Italy after 534, as war booty from Hippo Regius: Proc., BV 2.44,33–41; see Wolfram 1967: 80. 185. BG 1.3,22–24; BV 1.14,4–6. 186. See BG 1.3,11, and the next section. 187. BV 2.5,11–30, and BG 1.3,26–27: πέτραν μίαν. 188. See Chapter 5, section entitled “Queens as Instruments of Diplomacy.” 189. BG 1.3,15 (trans. Kaldellis). On Uliaris see PLRE 3: 1388–89. 190. Becker-​­Piriou 2008: 533. 191. See the section entitled “Friend of the Emperor: Amalasuintha ‘Entrusted’ to Justinian” in this chapter. 192. BG 1.2,21 (trans. Kaldellis). 193. BG 1.2,21–22: τὰς τῆς Ἰταλίας ἐσχατιὰς ἰέναι. See Stein 1949: 332; Wolfram 1988: 336; Plassman 2011: 86–88. 194. BG 1.2,22 (trans. Kaldellis). 195. BG 1.2,23–24. 196. BG 1.2,25–28. On the value of Amalasuintha’s treasure in comparison with Roman and imperial revenues see the observations of Wolfram 2006: 156. 197. BG 1.2,29 (trans. Kaldellis). 198. See Olympiod., fragm. 40; Philostorgius, HE 12.13; Prosper Tiro, Chron. s.a. 423; Chronica Gallica 452, no. 90 (s.a. 422). 199. Origo Gent. Lang. §5 (MGH SRL 1: 1–6); Hist. Lang. Codex Gothanus 5 (MGH SRL 1: 7–11); Paul. Diac., Hist. Lang. 2.29–30; Agnellus, LPR 96. After Rosamund’s death, the treasure was sent to Constantinople to the emperor. See PLRE 3: 797. 200. These are, respectively: Var. 9.21; 9.22–23; 9.24–25. 201. On Mavortius, Decius, and Paulinus, see, respectively, PLRE 2: 736–37; PLRE 3: 391, 973–74; Bagnall et al. 1987: 588–90, 592–93, 602–3. 202. See Chapter 2, section entitled “Protecting the Heir.” 203. Var. 11.1,18 (trans. Barnish, who rightly here translates domina as “queen”). 204. Var. 11.1,16–17 (trans. Barnish). 205. Of the authors quoted in Chapter 2,  n. 180, Mommsen, Hartmann, Sundwall, Ginetti, Kohlhas-​­Müller, and Maier are of this opinion. It is unlikely, however, that Cassiodorus would praise Amalasuintha in late 533 for having appointed Liberius if this promotion dated to late 526, the time when Tuluin was promoted. In addition, book 8 of the Variae includes three letters announcing Tuluin’s promotion to this most important appointment (Var. 8.9–11), while it does not include any for Liberius. 206. Of course, this does not necessarily prove that the election was made in those years, for the letter for Liberius’s promotion to Praetorian prefect of Gaul, which should date around 510, is also missing in the Variae.



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207. On Petrus Marcellinus Felix Liberius see Sundwall 1919: 133–36; PLRE 2: 677–81; O’Donnell 1981; Schäfer 1991: 79–83; Amory 1997: 158–60; Kakridi 2005: 250–52. He lived between ca. 465 and 554. Cassiodorus referred to his fidelity to Odovacer when eulogizing him in Theoderic’s name in Var. 2.16,2. See also CIL 11.382 (= ILCV 75), his funerary inscription, line 10. Amalasuintha rewarded him with a property (Var. 11.1,17). 208. On this subject see recently Porena 2012; Wiemer 2013. Liberius was also eulogized by Ennodius. 209. See Var. 8.6, one of the letters sent in the name of Athalaric announcing the new kingdom. 210. BG 1.4,24. 211. Cassiod., Var. 11.1,16; V. Caes. 2.10–12. 212. In 538 Justinian appointed him as praefectus Augustalis of Alexandria. In 549, the emperor was about to send him to Italy as leader of an expedition but changed his mind. He came to Sicily the following year as commander of a fleet, but the operation was unsuccessful. In 552 he was eventually given the command of an army in Spain to help Athanagild against the Visigoth Agila. 213. See Var. 8.9–11, on which see Chapter 2, section entitled “A Widow and a Rex Puer: The Beginning of the Regency.” 214. See Var. 8.10,7. In V. Caes. 2.10, Liberius appears to be scared when wounded. 215. On these two offices see Var. 6.22 and 6.23, which are very well discussed by Petrini in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015a: 173–77. On the defensor civitatis see Schmidt-​­Hofner 2014. 216. BG 6.29,18. 217. CJ 6.51, De caducis tollendis, on disposal of properties for which no owner could be found; see Browning 20032: 105. Chrysos 2002, however, poses reasonable doubts about the authenticity of the inscription of this law, which may have been originally addressed only to the Senate of Constantinople, while et urbis Romae could be a later addition. 218. BG 1.3,12. 219. See Var. 9.18,1–4, on which see the next section. 220. See the study of McEvoy 2013 with reference to late fourth-​­and fifth-​­century child emperors. 221. BG 1.3,10 (trans. Kaldellis). 222. Var. 11.2,2, 11.3,3, and 11.5,6. In the collection of the Variae these documents follow the letter-​­panegyric thanking the ruler for his promotion, Var. 11.1. 223. See Chapter 4, section entitled “To Abandon the Kingdom or Stay in Power? A Web of Lies.” 224. Proc., BG 1.4,1–2 (trans. Kaldellis). 225. See Vitiello 2014a: 18. 226. See Cagiano de Azevedo 1980; Vitiello 2014a: 36–37. 227. Var. 4.39, 5.12, and 8.23,2. 228. For the inscription of Theodenanda and the title name Flavius see Chapter 2, n. 7. Flavius is also missing in the only inscription in the name of King Theodahad (AE 1928, 121). But the same applies to the inscriptions of Athalaric and generally of Theoderic as well as to the coinage; see Chapter 5, section entitled “Amalasuintha as a Bridge Between Gothic Italy and the Empire.” 229. Proc., BG 1.3,2. Note here the image of violence in the verb βιαζόμενος, which is also in BG 1.4,3, probably referring to a different episode. This image clearly contrasts with that of Theodahad as hostile to violence, which the author had expressed just a few lines before when introducing him as a Platonic philosopher: BG 1.3,1.

248 No t e s t o Pa ge s 1 2 0 – 1 2 8 230. See in the Edict §§10 and 76, against invasions of properties. On this document see, for example, Amory 1997: 78–82; Lafferty 2013. 231. This is clear from Var. 4.39 and 5.12. See Vitiello 2014a: 31–35. 232. On this evidence see Vitiello 2014a: 56–58. 233. Var. 8.23,1. 234. Var. 8.23,3–4. 235. Var. 8.23,3. 236. See Var. 10.3, on which also §6; see Chapter 4, section entitled “Amalasuintha’s Iustitia: The Price for Theodahad’s Throne.” 237. Proc., BG 1.3,3 (trans. Kaldellis). 238. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.31. 239. We should not dismiss the possibility that in BG 1.3,3 and 1.4,3 (both quoted above) Procopius refers to the same incidents and not to separate episodes. For he tends to repeat the few things he knew of Theodahad; see Vitiello 2014a: 4–5. 240. Var. 9.18,13. See Lafferty 2013: 28ff. and passim. 241. Var. 9.18,1 (trans. Barnish). See Stein 1949: 334–35. 242. Var. 9.18,1–2 (trans. Barnish). See Giardina et al. (eds.): 367–68. 243. See Chapter 5, section entitled “Amalasuintha and Galla Placidia: Motherhood and Power.” The reference here is to Nov. Val. 8 (De Invasoribus), dated to 9 June 440. See also Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016: 366ff. 244. Var. 9.18,2–3 (trans. Barnish). See Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016: 368–69. 245. Var. 9.18,3. 246. Var. 10.4,4; see Chapter 4, section entitled “Amalasuintha’s Iustitia: The Price for Theodahad’s Throne.” On Amalasuintha’s justice see Proc., BG 1.2,3–5. 247. Var. 9.18,1. 248. Var. 10.4,1. 249. For the use of this wording see Chapter 5, section entitled “Amalasuintha as a Bridge Between Gothic Italy and the Empire.” 250. BG 1.3,4,9,29. 251. BG 1.4,4–6 (trans. Kaldellis). 252. Get. 306 (trans. Mierow, strongly modified): (i.e., mater) secum deliberans, Theodahadum consubrinum suum germanitatis gratia accersitum a Tuscia, ubi privatam vitam degens in laribus propriis erat, in regno locavit; see Rom. 368; Paul. Diac., Hist. Rom. 16.12. 253. Get. 306: ne pro sexus sui fragilitate sperneretur. 254. BG 1.3,11, and 1.4,13 (trans. Kaldellis).

Chapter 4 1. Agnellus, LPR 62. On the cause of death see Frye 1995. 2. BG 1.3,28–29; 1.4,19. On Alexander see PLRE 3: 41–42. 3. BG 1.3,12. 4. BG 1.2,29; 1.3,13–14. 5. BG 1.3,13. See Baynes 1925; Stein 1949: 337 n. 1, which includes the interpretation of the verb “ἥκειν.” 6. BG 1.3,6–7 (trans. Kaldellis); see ibid. §§5–9. 7. BG 1.3,13–16,29; 1.6,26.



No t e s t o Pa ge s 1 2 8 – 138

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8. BG 1.3,15–28. 9. BG 1.3,2–5,13,29; 1.4,17. 10. BG 1.3,30; 1.4,19. 11. BG 1.4,15–21; see Sundwall 1919: 282. 12. See the section entitled “The Short Co-​­Regency” in this chapter. 13. Baynes 1925: 73. 14. See Schwartz 1939: 10–11. 15. Frankforter 1996: 46. 16. Anec. 16.1 (trans. Kaldellis): ἐπινοεῖν δὲ ὅ τι ἂν βούλοιτο γοργὸς μάλιστα. 17. Proc., BG 1.4,1–4; Cassiod., Var. 10.4,4. 18. See Vitiello 2014a: 74–76. 19. BG 1.4,4–8 (trans. Kaldellis). 20. Var. 10.4,4. 21. Hodgkin 1886: 420. See also Schwartz 1939: 9; Stein 1949: 336. 22. See Claude 1980: 165. 23. Consolino 2011: 333; Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016: 419–20, in which see the observations on the relation between eius . . . ​gratiam and cuius iustitiam, and also those on prius ideo/ut prius. The plural causas indicates that Theodahad had been subjected to various trials; this matches with Proc., BG 1.4,1, who refers to many accusers. Ut scitis indicates that the senators knew of Theodahad’s recent scandals. 24. Var. 10.3,5 (trans. Barnish). On Cassiodorus’s use of iustitia and aequitas see Kakridi 2005: 329–39. 25. Var. 10.3,7 (trans. Barnish). See Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016: 416–17. 26. Var. 10.4,4. Hodgkin 1886: 419 n. 1, speculates that ut prius may be understood as ut posterius. Consolino’s explanation, however, is more grounded: see in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016: 419–20. 27. Var. 10.3,3 (trans. Barnish).
 28. Var. 10.3,6 (trans. Barnish). 29. BG 1.4,8 (trans. Kaldellis). 30. Var. 10.4,4: Exploravit conscientiam, cui erat regni traditura censuram, ut et illa domina cognosceretur esse cunctorum et me probatum perducere dignaretur ad regnum; see ibid. §5. 31. BG 1.4,8; Var. 10.4,4. 32. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.31 (trans. Brehaut). 33. Proc., BG 1.4,6; see also Jord., Get. 306: germanitatis gratia. 34. Among a wide range of examples see Orosius, Adv. pag. 7.20,1, 24,4, 26,5, 34,9 (consors), and 32,4 (particeps); Aug., De civ. D. 5.25; Jord., Rom. 283, 296, 307, 310, and 362 (Justinian); Paul. Diac., Hist. Rom. 16.12: Theodatum sibi socium ascivit in regnum. 35. See Chapter 5, section entitled “Amalasuintha and the Imperial Models”; Busch 2015: 227–30, including the example of Maria with Honorius, as in Claud., Epithal. 10, l. 277; the expression consors imperii is first to be found in Tacitus, Ann. 14.11 with reference to Agrippina the Younger. 36. In laudem Iustini Augusti minoris, praef. 23, 1, l. 9, and 273; 2, l. 47; and in general 2, ll. 171–72. 37. Among the scholars see Stafford 1983: 49, 136–37; Sardella 1993. 38. Claude 1980: 162–65. 39. Var. 10.3,2 (trans. Barnish). 40. Var. 10.4,1.

250 No t e s t o Pa ge s 1 3 9 – 1 4 1 41. Var. 10.1,2. 42. Var. 10.2,2; see ibid. §§1–2: de ipsa communione regnandi . . . ​ut et propria regna mirabili dispositione componat; §4: Nam si me similiter diligitis, regem quodammodo pariter efficitis. See La Rocca 2012. 43. Var. 10.3,2–3 (Amalasuintha), 10.4,2 (Theodahad), also the metaphor in 10.3,2; Jord., Rom. 368: regni sui participem faciens. 44. See Var. 10.1,2: virum fraterna nobis proximitate coniunctum; 10.2,1: domnam sororem meam; 10.3,1: maturi fratris; 10.4,2: domnae et sororis nostrae. 45. BG 1.3,1: πόρρω που ἤδη ἡλικίας ἥκων, as opposite to Athalaric in BG 1.2,1. See Vitiello 2014a: 15–20. 46. La Rocca 2012: 135. 47. The fact that a few years later the Goths may have offered to make Belisarius ruler of the West (Proc., BG 2.29,18–19) makes such a solution possible, even if this seems unlikely before the Gothic war. 48. This was because of the old agreements of 488 of Theoderic with Zeno, on which see the Introduction, including n. 7. Theodahad evoked these agreements in Var. 10.2,2–3 and sometime later in Var. 10.22,2. This was the same status as Athalaric had requested from Justin in Var. 8.1,5. 49. For more examples from the early Middle Ages see Hartmann 2009: 150–52. 50. This detail is specified only by Jordanes, Rom. 373. 51. For Theodahad see Cassiod., Var. 10.3,5, and other references, on which see Vitiello 2014a: 139–44. On preservations of marriages and against bigamy and illegitimate relationships see the Edict of 533/4, Var. 9.18,5–9. Important are the observations of Mastrorosa 2015. 52. Var. 10.3,1. 53. See Chapter 2, section entitled “An Education in the Roman Style.” 54. Var. 11.1,19. See in Var. 5.33,2–3, a letter in Theoderic’s name, the references to castitas and fides in the matter of marriage, and to castitas as expression of ratio, on which Mastrorosa 2015: 133–37; Mastorosa in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2014: 453–54. 55. Soz., HE 9.1: see Chapter 5, section entitled “Amalasuintha and the Imperial Models.” On Pulcheria and her propaganda see Chapter 5 n. 216. See also the case of Queen Radegund in Smith 2009a. 56. See also Var. 8.2,7 (for Athalaric); 10.1,1; 10.2,1; 10.4,1; 10.5,1–2 (for Theodahad); 10.31,1,3 (for Witiges). 57. Hist. 3.31. 58. Var. 11.1,4; 10.3,2; 10.4,5. Words such as socius and sociatus are not very common in the Variae. 59. See in particular Var. 10.1,2; 10.3,2; 10.4,1. 60. See Chapter 5, section entitled “Queens as Instruments of Diplomacy.” 61. Var. 4.1,1–2 and 5.43,1, both dated ca. 510/11. 62. La Rocca 2012: 136–37, who recognizes the superior hierarchical position of Amalasuintha behind the honorary title “praecellentissima domina,” as attributed to her by Theodahad in Var. 10.2,1. 63. Var. 10.3; see Vitiello 2014a: 70–73. 64. Var. 10.4,7–8. 65. Var. 10.3. See Vitiello 2014a: 69–73. 66. BG 1.3,1 (trans. Kaldellis); for the discussion see Vitiello 2014a: 24–31. 67. See Vitiello 2014a: 78ff.



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68. Var. 10.4,6: In libris regum regina Austri venisse legitur ad discendam sapientiam Salomonis. 69. The reference here is to regina Austri rather than to regina Saba; see the next note. 70. Matth. 12.42 (see Luc. 11.31): regina Austri . . . ​venit a finibus terrae audire sapientiam Salomonis; versus I Reg. 10.1–3 (also II Chron. 9.1–9): regina Saba audita fama Salomonis in nomine Domini venit temptare eum in enigmatibus. See Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016: 421. 71. See Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016. 72. See Epistulae Austrasicae no. 9. 73. For the circulation of this work and the influences from the Vulgata see Amory 1997: 236–47. On the development of the Gothic language see Scardigli 1973: 95–132 on the Bible. 74. CIL 13.2372 (= ILCV 46); see Consolino 2004: 109; Hartmann 2009: 11. This example is later to be found in medieval German literature; see Götz 2005: 499. 75. The death of their child, Theodosius, was considered part of the same prophecy about the couple having no offspring. See, respectively, the Spanish Chronicler of Hydatius, 12.57, and the church historian Philostorgius, HE 12.4, based on Daniel 11.6 and 2.40–43. See Oost 1968: 116, 117 n. 18; Wolfram 1988: 162–63; Pawlak 2005: 230. 76. Var. 10.4,7: beata res publica quae tantae dominae gubernatione gloriatur. This central motif of Plato (Resp. 473D–478E) is still to be found in Boethius, Cons. 1.4,5–6. 77. Var. 10.4,7–8; see ibid. §§5–6. For a detailed discussion see Vitiello 2014a: 77–80. 78. BG 1.9,1, and 1.3,1. See Introduction, section entitled “The Sources.” On this antithesis, which has been suggested by Kaldellis 2004: 106–15 passim, see Vitiello 2014a: 47–48, 79–80; Stewart 2014: 30–35. 79. See Chapter 1, section entitled “Mater Regens or Regina? Amalasuintha and the Regency.” 80. BG 1.4, 10–11. 81. Agnellus, LPR 62: defunctus est Athalaricus rex Rauennae vi. Nonas Octobris, et alia die elevatus est Deodatus. 82. Stein 1949: 337–38 with n. 2. Among the supporters of the date of 3 October are Bury 1923, vol. 2: 163 n. 3; Testi Rasponi 1924: 174 n. 8; Schwartz 1939: 10–11; Claude 1980: 162; Rubin 1995: 80. Mauskopf Deliyannis 2004: 178, translates et alia die as “and on the next day.” 83. For example, post paucos dies, post aliquantos dies, non post multos dies; see Agnellus, LPR: alia/o vero die: 29, 36, 37 (twice), 49 (twice), 123, 128, 130, 132, 137, 142, 152; die vero crastino/a: 30, 49, 71, 131, 157; altera (vero) die: 29, 49; subsequente die: 87, 128; die uno et altero: 37; post dies vero paucos: 120; post paucos dies: 39; post aliquantos autem dies: 96; non post dies alliquos: 106; non post multos dies: 40, 55, 62 (referring to Theodahad), 71; in illis diebus: 30, 48, 96, 165. 84. On Agnellus’s sources see recently Mauskopf Deliyannis 2004: 46–65; Burgess and Kulikowski 2013: 54, 179. 85. Paul. Diac., Hist. Rom. 16.12: post eius funus. 86. Var. 10.1,1–2: Adeo vobis, clementissimo principum, distulimus hactenus indicare filii nostri gloriosae recordationis occasum, ne amantis laederemus animum per tristia nuntiorum: sed nunc iuvante deo, qui consuevit casus asperos in prospera commutare, illa magis elegimus in vestram deferre notitiam, de quibus nobiscum possitis participata exultatione gaudere: iuvat enim divina munera diligentibus confiteri. Perduximus ad sceptra virum fraterna nobis proximitate coniunctum. See the observations of Pflugk-​­Harttung 1889: 210–12. 87. See Chapter 2, section entitled “Protecting the Heir.” 88. See Chapter 3, section entitled “Amalasuintha and the Roman Senate.” 89. Var. 10.3,1–2 (trans. Barnish, slightly modified): Post flebilem filii nostri divae

252 No t e s t o Pa ge s 1 4 6– 1 5 0 recordationis occasum vicit animum piae matris generalitatis affectio, ut non maeroris sui causas, sed vestra potius augmenta cogitaret. Quaesivimus regales curas quo solacio fulciremus. Sed auctor ille castitatis et misericordiae singularis, qui nobis primaevum subtracturus erat filium, maturi fratris reservavit affectum. Elegimus deo auspice consortem regni nostri felicissimum Theodahadum. 90. Var. 10.4,4. 91. Var. 10.3,2 and 11.1,4–5. 92. Var. 10.4,2. 93. For the sources see PLRE 2: 929–30. 94. See De caerim. 1.92; on the source see Stein 1949: 77 n. 1; Bury 1923, vol. 2: 429 n. 1. For a comprehensive reconstruction of the events see Lilie 1995; Meier 2009: 63–75; 2010: 288–90 with n. 71; according to Meier Ariadne purposely did not crown Anastasius by her own hands, because of the bad memory of the events of Verina. On the elections of Byzantine emperors in the fifth century see Siebigs 2010: 661–81. 95. See Stein 1949: 76–77; PLRE 2: 1202 and 79; PLRE 2: 648. 96. BG 1.4,5. 97. Get. 306. 98. See Claude 1980: 163 with nn. 122–23, with the reference to Var. 10.3,6: talem universitas debuit optare, qualem nos probamur elegisse. In the context of the letter, however, this expression is meant to reassure the senators that Theodahad will not take advantage of his position as king: qui rationabiliter disponens propria non appetat aliena. 99. See Chapter 2, section entitled “Protecting the Heir.” For Athalaric see Var. 8.5, and Jord., Get. 304. On the election of Witiges see the section of this chapter entitled “A War Without Truce: The Consequence of the Assassination,” including n. 215. 100. Var. 10.31,2 (trans. Barnish): in cubilis angustiis . . . ​inter blandientium delicata colloquia. See the observations of Pflugk-​­Harttung 1889: 290. 101. Var. 10.3,3: reseravimus . . . ​palatia viro nostri generis claritate conspicuo. 102. See Claude 1980: 64. 103. See Chapter 2, section entitled “Protecting the Heir.” 104. BG 1.4,11 (trans. Kaldellis). 105. Var. 10.1,2–3 (Amalasuintha), in which: Peracto itaque nuntio, quod vobis pro ingenita clementia credimus esse votivum, addimus etiam gratissimae legationis officium; Var. 10.2,4 (Theodahad). This person was probably not a Goth. It is also possible that Witiges accompanied the embassy; see Var. 10.32,3 and 10.33,2. 106. See Var. 10.2,1,3, in which affectum principis externi, vestram gratiam securus expeto, and affectuosis mentibus. See also, for the period following Amalasuintha’s assassination, the requests for affectus in Var. 10.19,1 and for gratia in 10.21,1 and 10.22,2. Witiges would ask Justinian for gratia and affectus in Var. 10.32,3. 107. Var. 10.2,2–3. See also in Var. 10.22,2. 108. See Vitiello 2014a: 68. 109. Var. 10.2,3; see Chapter 1, section entitled “Amalasuintha’s Institutional Position in Ostrogothic Italy: The Status Quaestionis.” 110. De caerim. 1.87–88: Λίβερ ὁ πατρίκιος (praesentalis?) καὶ ἔπαρχος Γαλλιῶν ἐπέμφθη ἐνταῦθα παρὰ Θευδάτου τοῦ ῥηγὸς Γότθων καὶ τῆς συγκλήτου Ῥωμαίων. See BG 1.4,15, where Liberius and Opilio are ἄνδρας ἐκ τῆς Ῥωμαίων βουλῆς. As in Var. 11.1,16, the titles of patricius and prefect of Gaul are still combined. In 529, however, Liberius signed the Acts of the Council of Orange as vir clarissimus et inlustris praefectus praetorii Galliarum atque patricius (MGH Leg. 3: 54). See Bury 1923, vol. 2: 164 n. 1; Ensslin 1936: 248–49; PLRE 2: 679.



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111. Proc., BG 1.4,25ff. See Amory 1997: 92. 112. Proc., BG 1.6,3. Some scholars believe that this privilege may have been given up before. On these agreements, which took place in Rome at the beginning of 536, see Chrysos 1981; Prostko-​­Prostyński 1994: 194–202. 113. BG 1.4,9,12–13 (trans. Kaldellis). 114. BG 1.24,25. See Rubin 1995: 219–20 n. 214. In BG 1.1,39, Procopius uses the expression οὐ πολλῷ ὕστερον to indicate the time between the executions of Boethius and Symmachus and Theoderic’s death. 115. Get. 306, and Rom. 368. 116. See Vitiello 2014a: 76–77. 117. Var. 10.7,1: Post primordia nostri imperii vobis feliciter nuntiata. See in parallel Var. 10.4,1, to the Romans. 118. Indeed, they postdate 1 September 534 by about two months. See Vitiello 2014a: 84–88. 119. Var. 10.8,2: ut cognoscamus nos a pietate vestra re vera diligi, quorum facitis vota compleri; see also Theodahad’s words in Var. 10.9,2. 120. Var. 10.10, quoted later in this section. 121. In this case, we should assume that Calogenitus was sent only by Amalasuintha and before Theodahad’s election, and it would be difficult to explain why Cassiodorus published these letters after Var. 10.6–7, rather than after 10.1–4. 122. BG 1.3,30. 123. Antonopoulos 1990: 231. 124. See Bagnall et al. 1987: 604–5. According to Sundwall 1919: 282, it was Peter’s long wait in Aulona that may have prevented the Romans from acknowledging a consul for the year 535. See Vitiello 2014a: 101. 125. Of the considerable literature on Theodora, see Diehl 1972; Allen 1992; Pazdernik 1994; Angold 1996; Garland 1999: 11–39; Leppin 2000; Browning 20032; Evans 2002; 2011; McClanan 2002: 93–146; Foss 2002; Connor 2004: 117–45; Brubaker 2004; 2005; Pratsch 2011; Goltz 2011; Ziche 2012–13; Herrin 2013: passim; Lasala Navarro 2013; Dirschlmayer 2015: 181–208. 126. Gianturco 1906 attributes “feminism” to Justinian; see also Diehl 1972: 139–47; two good analyses are Spruit 1977 and Garland 1999: 15–18. 127. Anec. 9.54: Ἰουστινιανὸς ξὺν Θεοδώρᾳ τὴν βασιλείαν ἔσχεν; ibid. 30,27, also Aed. 1.9,5–10. Romanos the Melodist in his hymns (no. 23.22,24,25) refers to the imperial couple as “the emperors.” 128. Anec. 17.27. 129. Anec. 30.25–26; see also 30.28–30. On this wording see Chapter 5, section entitled “Amalasuintha and the Imperial Models.” 130. For example, she created an exchange of gifts with the chief wife of the Persian king—​ ­this exchange paralleled that of Justinian—​­by using the same protocol: Joh. Mal., Chron. 18. She also sent letters to King Chosroes and Qobād I demanding προσκύνησις from the Sasanian envoys; this led Chosroes to despise her: Anec. 2.29–36; 30.24–25. See Connor 2004: 128–31; Vitiello 2011b; 2014a: 108–9. On Theodora and power see Garland 1999: 29–37. 131. See Var. 10.20–21; 10.23–24; see the section in this chapter entitled “The Reward for Her Life: Procopius, Cassiodorus, and the Affair of Amalasuintha.” 132. The empress’s correspondence is attested for the affair of Anthimus, the patriarch of Constantinople who had been deposed by Pope Agapitus. Theodora wanted him to be

254 No t e s t o Pa ge s 1 54 – 1 59 recognized by Pope Silverius. Eventually she removed the pope and replaced him with Vigilius: LP 60.6–9; Proc., Anec. 1.14. For the same reason Theodora wrote later to Vigilius, obliging him to go to Constantinople, where she had him arrested: LP 61.3–6; see also LP 59.3. 133. In Just., Nov. App. 7.1 (ed. Krueger), referring to the preservation of all the privileges granted by the Amal kings to the Romans and by request of the Senate, Justinian states: Sed et ea quae a nobis vel a piae memoriae Theodora Augusta quondam coniuge nostra conlata sunt, volumus illibata servari; see also Just., Nov. 8.1: Haec omnia apud nos cogitantes et hic quoque participem consilii sumentes eam quae a deo data nobis est reverentissimam coniugem; Nov. 118. 134. Var. 10.10 (I use here the translation of Thíebaux 1994: 82–83). See the commentary of Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016: 428–29. 135. See Chapter 5, sections entitled “Amalasuintha and the Imperial Models” and “Amalasuintha and Galla Placidia: Motherhood and Power.” 136. CJ 5.4,23 was framed in a way that allowed Justinian to marry Theodora. 137. See Gabelentz and Loebe (eds.) 1980, vol. 2: 123, 237. See the two references to Theodora in Procopius’s Secret History at n. 127. 138. Var. 10.4,1–2: ut illud mihi festinaretis divinitus evenire, quod meus animus non audebat appetere. Hoc nobis est potius novum quam vobis incognitum; ibid. §7: dum si quid sit pro novitate incognitum, fiet nobis eius instructione certissimum. 139. BG 1.6,17–18,20 (trans. Kaldellis). 140. BG 1.4,12–13. 141. BG 1.4,22–29. 142. BG 1.4,17–20. 143. BG 1.4,21. 144. BG 1.4,14–15. 145. Get. 306: Qui inmemor consanguinitatis post aliquantum tempus a palatio Ravennate abstractam in insulam laci Bulsiniensis eam exilio religavit; Rom. 368; Marc., Chron. Addit. s.a. 534. See also Paul. Diac., Hist. Rom. 16.12. 146. LPR 62: et deposuit Malasintha [sic!] regina de regno, et misit eam Deodatus in exilium in Vulsenis pridie Kalendas Maias. This is confirmed by Count Marcellinus, Chron. Addit. s.a. 534: Amalasuentham reginam . . . ​de regno pulsam. 147. See in Chapter 5, section entitled “Amalasuintha as a Bridge Between Gothic Italy and the Empire” the example in Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.5, of Theudigotha’s dress, which was later worn by Sigismund’s second wife. 148. On this broad topic see Sprigade 1964. 149. Proc., BG 1.4,15–16 (trans. Kaldellis). 150. See Anon. Vales. 53 and 64; Theod. Lect., Epit. 461; PLRE 2: 467. 151. Jord., Get. 306, quoted at n. 158. 152. Proc., BG 1.4,16,22. 153. See Chapter 3, section entitled “Amalasuintha and the Roman Senate.” 154. BG 1.4,22–25. 155. Vitiello 2014a: 100–101; the sources are Agnellus, LPR 62, and Jord., Get. 306, both quoted in this section. 156. Vict. Tonn., Chron. s.a. 523: custodia privata moritur. 157. BG 1.4,26–27 (trans. Kaldellis). 158. Get. 306: in insulam laci Bulsiniensis eam exilio religavit, ubi paucissimos dies in tristitia degens ab eius satellitibus in balneo strangulata est; Marc., Chron. Addit. s.a. 534 (the date is incorrect): in insula laci Vulsinensis occidit; see also Paul. Diac., Hist. Rom. 16.12.



No t e s t o Pa ge s 1 59 – 163

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159. App. Max. 3 ll. 6–15: cedunt arma loco: pugnant pro milite rupes; / turriti scopuli atque adiectae molibus arces / undarumque minae, praeruptaeque undique ripae / et tremulum quo pergis iter pendent ruina / promittunt certam per tot discrimina vitam. / Stat muris innixa domus, compendia parvum / distendunt spatium: recubans de culmine cuncta / prospicit et placido fruitur custodia lecto. / Nec munuisse locum satis est: iuvat eminus arcem / conspicere, et blando vocat intra moenia vultu; see Fo (ed.) 1984–85; see also Mastandrea in Franzoi (ed. and trans.) 2014: 229–30, 243–45 (with the variation cedant at l. 6). I find interesting the psychology of Var. 12.19,3 concerning the construction of a bridge of boats on the River Tiber in order to facilitate the passage of Theodahad and his soldiers, who were on their way to Rome: ut pavorem undas dubitantium terrena similitudine possit auferre . . . ​prosper datur transitus, cum fuerit casus asper exclusus. 160. See Fo (ed.) 1984–85: 202–6; Vitiello 2006a: 135–51; 2014a: 27–30. 161. BG 1.4,14–15 (trans. Kaldellis). 162. App. Max. 4 ll. 5–6: Nunc servant nova castra viros; licet horrida bella / stent circum, hoc septus vertice tutus eris. See Cagiano de Azevedo 1980: 362. 163. App. Max. 4 ll. 9–18: Viderat hunc scopulum lustrans sua litora solers / Theodadus atque aridi squalida terga soli: / “Aspera, nulla potens producere germina tellus, / at melius—​­dixit—​­condita ferre potes.” / Caeduntur scopuli, decorantur culmina muri / fitque decus subito, nuper id horror erat. / Nunc varios fructus diversaque pignora servat / dives ab ingrato caespite facta magis. / Resque vilis nimium pretii est modo reddita tanti / quantum tuta salus grataque vita valet. This leads us to opt for the identification of the island with Martana rather than with the other island in Lake Bolsena, the Bisentina, which was also believed to be Theodahad’s property, on which there are remains from previous periods. Fo (ed.) 1984–85: 207–19, is skeptical about this identification. 164. Marc., Chron. Addit. s.a. 536: Witiges subsequitur per Tusciam omnes opes Theodati diripiens, quas in insula vel in Urbevetus congregaverat; ibid. s.a. 538. See the generic reference in App. Max. 4 l. 22: quae quas non genuit laeta ministrat opes; ibid. l. 15: Nunc varios fructus diversaque pignora servat. See Cagiano de Azevedo 1980: 360. 165. Sirago 1998: 102. 166. LPR 62; see Leuthold 1908: 22–26; Bury 1923, vol. 2: 164–65 n. 3; Stein 1949: 342 n. 2; Rubin 1995: 219–20 n. 214. 167. Jord., Get. 306, quoted at n. 158 in this chapter. 168. Jord., Get. 306: in balneo strangulata est; Paul. Diac., Hist. Rom. 16.12. 169. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.31 (trans. Brehaut): succensum vehementer balneum, eam in eodem cum una puella includi praecepit. Quae nec mora inter arduos vapores ingressa, in pavimento conruens, mortua atque consumpta est. 170. Greg. Tur., Hist. 1.36: Hic Constantinus . . . ​Crispum filium veneno, Faustam coniugem calentem balneo interfecit, scilicet quod proditores regni eius esse voluissent. On Fausta’s death see also Sidon., Epist. 5.8,2, a possible source of Gregory. See MacDonald 2000: 143–44; Harries 2014: 202–6; La Rocca 2015: 430–31. 171. Jord., Get. 306. 172. Proc., BG 1.4,12–15,26–27,30–31. 173. On the remains on the island see Cagiano de Azevedo 1980. 174. BG 1.4,26. 175. BG 1.4,25 (trans. Kaldellis). 176. Pudor 1914, who also accurately explores Procopius’s use of the verb “ξυνέβη” plus the infinitive. Hartmann 1897: 251 may have suspected the same. 177. Bury 1923, vol. 2: 165 n. 3. 178. Kaldellis (trans.) 2014: 261 n. 468.

256 No t e s t o Pa ge s 1 63 – 1 6 8 179. Anec. 16.1–5 (trans. Kaldellis; I adapted the translation of the names), also 24.23. For recent discussions on Procopius’s views on the Amalasuintha affair see Frankforter 1996: 49–54; Silvestre 1997: 91–104; Kaldellis 2004: 144–45; Joye and Knaepen 2005: 239–44; Goltz 2011; Vitiello 2014a: 94–104. 180. Joye and Knaepen 2005: 244. 181. To the first group belong Leuthold 1908: 25; Pudor 2014; Bury 1923, vol. 2: 167; Barnish (trans.) 1992: 138 n. 7; Frankforter 1996: 49–41; Silvestre 1997; Kaldellis 2004: 113; Vitiello 2014a: 97–98, 107–11. Skeptical are Hodgkin 1886: 433 n. 1; Schwartz 1939: 13 n. 1; Meyer-​­Flügel 1992: 174–77; Garland 1999: 34–36; Evans 2002: 63–66; 2011: 95–98; Sirago 1998: 95. 182. Garland 1996: 36. 183. Frankforter 1996: 49. 184. The Cassiodoran evidence does not support Bjornlie’s 2013 theory that the Variae were used for political purposes in Constantinople. The ambiguous references in Theodahad’s and Gudeliva’s letters to Theodora to a recent affair that had pleased the empress (Var. 10.20,4; 10.21,2) would be difficult to explain in the context that the author suggests. 185. Var. 10.19,1: Gratias divinitati referimus . . . ​quod provectum nostrum clementiae vestrae gratissimum esse declarastis. Constat enim amare vos posse, quem gaudetis ad regni culmina pervenisse. Sic decuit suscipi qui se per vos praesumpsit augeri. 186. Var. 10.19,2,4: Non enim rixas viles per regna requiritis, non vos iniusta certamina, quae sunt bonis moribus inimica, delectant. . . . ​Quemadmodum enim pacem exorati poteritis abicere . . . ​ Bona quidem vestrae concordiae non tacemus. . . . ​Oportet ergo vestram pacem servari. 187. Just., Nov. App. 7.1. See Vitiello 2014a: 68–69. On Theodahad as king see also Proc., BG 1.6,3. 188. Var. 10.20,1–2 (trans. Barnish). 189. Var. 10.20,3 (trans. Barnish). 190. Var. 10.20,4 (trans. Barnish, slightly modified): nam de illa persona, de qua ad nos aliquid verbo titillante pervenit, hoc ordinatum esse cognoscite, quod vestris credidimus animis convenire. See bibliography at n. 181. 191. Var. 10.21,2 (trans. Barnish). 192. Var. 10.23,1. 193. Var. 10.13–14; 10.16–18. 194. Var. 10.13,4. 195. Var. 10.16,2. 196. BG 1.4,22–25. 197. BG 1.4,28–29 (trans. Kaldellis), which is connected to the previous statements about Amalasuintha in BG 1.2,3ff. 198. BG 1.3,30. See the observation of Kaldellis 2004: 113 on Procopius’s use of the verb “ἀνέπεισε/ἀναπεισθείς,” concerning Peter’s capability to persuade Theodahad. 199. BG 1.4,31: ὑπὸ ἀβελτερίας. The same expression is used in BG 1.2,19, to criticize the degeneration of Athalaric. 200. I see in this evidence enough reasons to think that both Justinian and Theodora were behind the Amalasuintha affair, and therefore to reject A. Gillett’s critique of Theodahad in the American Historical Review 121, no. 2 (April 2016): 636. The fact that Amalasuintha was an ally of Justinian does not exclude the possibility that the imperial couple conspired against her—​ e­ specially considering that both these details come from the same source, Procopius. Theodora’s action is hardly unique in the history of the Roman courts, where women could have a key role in suppressing their enemies (Livia and Agrippina the Younger, to name only two).



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201. BG 1.4,30 (trans. Kaldellis), which is anticipated in 1.4,15. See in BG 1.5,8–9 Justinian’s letter to the Franks, referring to the injustices and offenses made by the Goths. 202. BG 1.4,31 (trans. Kaldellis). 203. Proc., BV 1.17,12; Jord., Get. 170. 204. See Chapter 3, section entitled “Friend of the Emperor: Amalasuintha ‘Entrusted’ to Justinian.” 205. Var. 11.13,5 (trans. Barnish, modified). 206. BG 1.4,22–25. 207. Var. 10.13–18; see Vitiello 2014a: 111–19. 208. BG 1.5,1–2,6 (trans. Kaldellis). 209. See Chapter 3, section entitled “Politics, Diplomacy, and Military Achievements: The Earthquake Between Kingdoms.” 210. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.31 (trans. Brehaut). 211. Proc., BG 1.4,15,30–31, also Cassiod, Var. 10.19–24. For the representation of Theodahad as fearful king see Vitiello 2014a: 37–40. 212. See Proc., BG 1.5,10; 1.11,16–17,28–29; 1.13,14–29; 1.14,1. See Vitiello 2014a: 163–64. 213. See Chapter 3, section entitled “Politics, Diplomacy, and Military Achievements: The Earthquake Between Kingdoms”; Vitiello 2014a: 144–48. 214. Proc., BG 1.6. See Vitiello 2014a: 125–28. 215. Cassiod., Var. 10.31, which includes a description of the election according to traditional Gothic custom; Jord., Rom. 372–73, Get. 309–10; Proc., BG 1.11,1–9. See Vitiello 2014a: 156–63. 216. Fiebiger and Schmidt (eds.) 1917: 103, no. 204 (= ILS 8990; ILCV 40): [Mens percussa f]erit geminum uno tempore vulnus, [et semper rem]eans fit sine fine dolor. [Parvolus ille dedit lac] rimas, mox poscit et alter [iam senior rar]a sed bonitate pater. Fl. Amala Amalafrida Theodenanda c(larissima) f(emina). From the missing part of the stone it is clear that she was mourning somebody else, probably her own child. For Zimmermann 1953 the other loss was rather her brother Theodegisclus (PLRE 3: 1234), Theodahad’s son, who was arrested on Witiges’s order (BG 1.11,10). On Theodenanda see PLRE 3: 1236–37.

Chapter 5 1. See especially Wolfram 2006. 2. Tacitus, Germ. 45. See Pohl 2004c on the literary tradition of Germanic women at war. 3. See Wolfram 1988: 91–92. Heather and Matthews 1991: 125–27; Faber 2014: 114–15. The Acta of Wereka et Batwins are in the Menologion of Emperor Basil II (ca. 986) under the date 26 March. Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016: 400, rightly remarks that in the Menologion 3.28 Gaahta is referred to not as queen but as ἡ σύμβιος τοῦ ἑτέρου ἄρχοντος, while her queenship is stated in the more detailed version of manuscript Q. 40 sup., fol. 146v of the Ambrosiana, and that her royal status is not specified by Sozomen, HE 6.37,14. We likely see here a later addition made by the hagiographer. 4. Priscus, fragm. 8: ἐν τῇ κώμῃ ἀρχούσης γυναικὸς (μία δὲ αὕτη τῶν Βλήδα γυναικῶν). On the Hun king Bleda see PLRE 2: 230. The more famous case of Mavia, the fourth-​­century queen of the Saracens who was successful against the Romans in Palestine and Phoenicia after her husband’s death, does not seem applicable here: Soc., HE 4.36,1,4,12, and 5.1,3; Soz., HE 6.38,1–5 and 7.1.

258 No t e s t o Pa ge s 1 7 4 – 1 7 7 5. See Origo Gent. Lang. §1; Pohl 2004c: 36–40. 6. See Introduction, section entitled “Gregory of Tours.” 7. Becker-​­Piriou 2008. 8. On this subject see Becker-​­Piriou 2008; see also Claude 1989; Hartmann 2009: passim, also the references to the Lombards at 39–42; Herrin 2013: 304–8; La Rocca 2015: 424–31. 9. Orosius, Adv. pag. 7.43,7. See Oost 1968: 114–19; Pawlak 2005. On Galla’s wedding and the political implications see also Sirago 1961: 153–73; Amici 2002: 77–100; Sivan 2011: 9–36; Salisbury 2015: 87ff.; Busch 2015: 86–109. 10. For the sources see PLRE 2: 572–73, on Huneric. 11. See PLRE 2: 61–62, on Alypia, and 942–45, on Ricimer. 12. See Becker-​­Piriou 2008, which includes lists of names and genealogies. 13. See PLRE 2: 185; König 1997: 152–53; Amory 1997: 449. 14. For the sources see PLRE 2: 138–39, 1068, 63. On Ostrogotho Areagni see also Amory 1997: 452–54; Hartmann 2008: 134. She married Sigismund, who succeeded his father, Gundobad, in 516 and ruled until 523. Theudigotha’s husband, Alaric II, ruled from 484 to 507. 15. See Chapter 2, section entitled “Promising Unions: Amalasuintha’s Marriage and Theoderic’s Dreams.” 16. La Rocca 2015: 430 explains this silence “as a dismissal of Frankish control over Theoderic.” 17. See La Rocca 2015: 426–27: “The brother/sister relationship implies a different kind of hierarchy from that of father/daughter.” 18. Proc., BV 1.8,11–13; 1.9,4; BG 1.3,17; 1.4,19ff.; Ennod., Paneg. 70, on which see Rota (ed.) 2002: 389–90. This is also attested by the inscription CIL 10.7232: Fines inter Vandalos et Gothos. See also Var. 5.43. See in general Merrills and Miles 2010: 132–34. Amalafrida owned other properties, some of which would be given back to Theodahad after her death: Var. 8.23. 19. See Chapter 1, section entitled “The ‘Strong Amal’: A Masculine Woman.” 20. Stafford 2000: 63–64; Hartmann 2009: 154–60; La Rocca 2012: 131. See the case of the treasuries of Theodechilde and of Brunhild in Greg. Tur., Hist. 4.26–27 and 5.1, on which see Merta 1988: 9–10, 21. 21. Var. 11.1,14. 22. Var. 5.43,3: Hoc si voluisses cum sorore nostra tractare, utique vobis non potuisset accidere, quia nec fratrem permiserat laedi nec maritum fecerat in rebus talibus inveniri; see also Var. 5.44, on which see Giardina et al. (eds.) 2014: 476–85, in which the historical context is well discussed; La Rocca 2015: 426–29. Thrasamund changed his mind and, under consilium of sapientes, he sent a present to Theoderic, who, however, refused it. On Gesalic see Chapter 2, n. 71. 23. Vict. Tonn., Chron. s.a. 523; Proc., BV 1.9,4. 24. Vict. Vit., Hist. Pers. Vandal. 2.12–14: Primo sciens uxorem Theodorici fratrem astutam, credo ne forte maritum aut maiorem filium, qui prudens et sapiens videbatur, consiliis acrioribus adversus tyrannum armasset, crimine adposito gladio eam intercipi iubet. See Chapter 2, section entitled “Protecting the Heir.” 25. See, respectively, PLRE 2:513 (negative representation by Eugippius), PLRE 2: 260–61, and PLRE 2: 293–94. On Clotilde II see Chapter 3, section entitled “Politics, Diplomacy, and Military Achievements: The Earthquake Between Kingdoms.” 26. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.6 (trans. Brehaut). 27. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.18; see Grahn-​­Hoek 1976: 157ff. The queen decided to have them killed, while her younger child was eventually saved. 28. Greg. Tur., Hist. 2.28–30.



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29. Var. 4.1,1–2 and 5.43,1, both dating ca. 510–511. 30. Var. 5.43,1: generis Hamali singulare praeconium . . . ​feminam prudentiae vestrae parem, quae non tantum reverenda regno, quantum mirabilis possit esse consilio. 31. Var. 4.1,1–2 (trans. Barnish). See ibid. § 4: sed nihil maius persolvimus, quam quod vos tantae feminae decore copulavimus. 32. See Menander Rhetor, epid. 2.376,9–13; cf. the section in this chapter entitled “Amalasuintha and the Imperial Models.” On the influence of his model on the panegyric for Eusebia see Vatsend 2000. 33. See Merta 1988: 2 and passim. See later in this chapter, and also Greg. Tur., Hist. 1.32, on the Aleman King Chrocus: Qui cum nonnulla inique gessisset, per consilium, ut aiunt, matris iniquae; Hist. 6.30, Empress Sophia was asked for consilium by the dying Tiberius about choosing his successor: nunc consilio tuo elegam, qui rei publicae praeesse debeat; also Hist. 8.31; 9.1,32– 33,38. Gregory provides a negative representation of Sophia, however; see also Hist. 5.19 and 30; Dailey 2015: 32–36. 34. See Introduction, n. 45. On women as good and bad advisers in Gregory of Tours see Joye 2007. The anonymous author of the late fourth-​­or early fifth-​­century Epitome de Caesaribus blames some empresses for being bad advisers. 35. Hist. 3.4. See Joye 2007: 80–82: “l’archétype de la ‘mauvaise femme.’ ” On Baderic see PLRE 2: 208. 36. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.5: qui, perditam priorem coniugem, filiam Theudorici regis Italici, de qua filium habebat nomen Sigiricum, aliam duxit uxorem, quae valide contra filium eius, sicut novercarum mos est, malignari ac scandalizare coepit. . . . ​According to this story, her bad advising would generate the murder of Sigeric: At illa furore succensa, instigat verbis dolosis virum suum, dicens: “Hic iniquos regnum tuum possedere desiderat, teque interfecto, eum usque Italiam dilatare disponit, scilicet ut regnum, quod avus eius Theudoricus Italiae tenuit, et iste possedeat. Scit enim, quod te vivente haec non potest adimplere, et nisi tu cadas, ille non surgat.” 37. See Introduction, section entitled “Gregory of Tours.” 38. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.31 (trans. Brehaut): Hic autem cum adulta facta esset, per levitatem animi sui, relicto matris consilio, quae ei regis filium providebat. 39. On Jezebel see, respectively, I Reg. 18:4; II Reg. 10:13; II Reg. 9:30–37. On the later cases of Brunhild and Balthild see Merta 1988: passim; Nelson 1998; Heydemann 2006; Thomas 2012. 40. Greg. Tur., Hist. 2.28; see ibid. §§28–31,43; 3.17–18. 41. On her conversion see Greg. Tur., Hist. 4.27; Ven. Fort., Carm. 6.1a, l. 29. 42. Greg. Tur., Hist. 4.27 (trans. Brehaut, modified): puella elegans opera, venusta aspectu, honesta moribus atque decora, prudens consilio et blanda colloquio. 43. Ven. Fort., Carm. 6.1a, ll. 37–38: Pulchra, modesta, decens, sollers, grata, benigna, / ingenio vultu, nobilitate potens. On Gregory and Fortunatus see Brennan 1985: 78–79; Roberts 2016. 44. Carm. 9.1, ll. 115–26, 129–32 (trans. Smith 2009b: 237). The opposite image is provided by Greg. Tur., Hist. 4.51; 5.39; 5.49. On the reasons for this contrast see Smith 2009b, including 237 n. 74, and in more detail Dailey 2014. On Fredegund see PLRE 3: 494. 45. Hist. 9.20. 46. Carm. 9.1, ll. 118 and 123. See Cassiodorus’s and Jordanes’s use of participatio to express the co-​­regency in Chapter 4, section entitled “Reinventing Herself: Gender Reversal in the Co-​­Regency.” 47. See Carm. 6.1, which was written for her wedding. 48. See Traube (ed.) 1894: 483 l. 1–5 (Amalasuintha) and 480 l. 2–15 (Matasuintha). The

260 No t e s t o Pa ge s 1 8 0 – 1 8 5 praise of beauty by describing the features of the ruler is important in the panegyrists. It was advised by Menander Rhetor in epid. 2.371,15–17, in the section on φύσις, and it is to be found in the collection of Gallic panegyrics (for example, for Constantine and for Theodosius) and also in Ennodius for Theoderic, Paneg. 90. See Rota (ed.) 2002: 420–24. 49. On his career see Brennan 1985: 50–54. 50. Etym. 9.7,29; see ibid. 9.7,27–28, the almost similar references to the male virtues, especially those of Aeneas as in Virg., Aen. 4. 1l. 11–14, which caused Dido to fall in love with the Trojan hero. 51. See the excellent discussion in Wolfram 2006: 139–73. 52. Ennod., Paneg. 42. 53. Anon. Vales. 58: mater, Ereriliva dicta Gothica catholica quidem erat, quae in baptismo Eusebia dicta. See Francovich Onesti 2007: 11. On her baptism see König 1997: 141–42. 54. MGH AA 12: 390–91, Epist. 4 and 5; Epist. 1 and 6 are addressed to Theoderic for the support of the church. 55. MGH AA 12: 390, Epist. 4. 56. See Brubaker 1997; see also Drijvers 2011; Georgiou 2013; Herrin 2013: 139–40, 164–65; Harries 2014; Dirschlmayer 2015: 120ff. The Western author Venantius Fortunatus also compares Justin II and Sophia with Constantine and Helena: Carm., App. 2, l. 67. 57. She received this title together with, or shortly after, Fausta, Constantine’s wife. 58. See Wolfram 1967: 56–70, particularly 61. 59. See Chapter 2, n. 7. 60. Epistulae Austrasicae 8.18 (CCSL 117), generally dated before the year 568: Audisti, ava tua, domna bone memoriae Hrodehildis, qualiter in Francia venerit, quomodo domnum Hlodoueum ad legem catholicam adduxerit . . . ​et baptizare se sine mora promisit, qui baptizatus quanta in hereticos Alaricum vel Gundobadum regum fecerit, audisti; qualia dona ipse vel filii sui in saeculo possiderunt, non ignoratis. See ibid. §19, the bishop’s request to the queen. On Chlothsing see PLRE 3: 297. 61. See Greg. Tur., Hist. 2.28–31 and 1.36. See PLRE 2: 293–94. On the example of Clotilde and other women who converted their husbands see Consolino 2004; Nelson 2007; Martínez Maza 2009. An extensive study on the conversion of women in the early Middle Ages is Nolte 1995. 62. See Greg., Hist. 5.38 and 9.24; see PLRE 3: 620–21. 63. See Greg. Tur., Liber in gloria martyrum 5; and Vita Radegundis 16 (MGH SRM 2: 388): Sicut beata Helena . . . ​quod fecit illa in orientali patria, hoc fecit beata Radegundis in Gallia. 64. Greg. M., Epist. 11.35 (CCSL 140), and Epist. 11.37 (Aethelberht as Constantine). 65. See Paul. Diac., Hist. Lang. 4.11; Epistulae Austrasicae nos. 26, 27, 29 are addressed to her as regina. On her life see PLRE 3: 248–51. Significant studies on Brunhild’s power and her representation are Merta 1988: passim; Nelson 1998; Heydemann 2006; Thomas 2012; Dailey 2015: passim. 66. Greg. M., Epist. 9.68, and 14.12, in the final part of the letter. 67. Greg. Tur., Hist. 5.1. On Childebert II, king in 575–595/6, see PLRE 3: 287–91. 68. Greg. Tur., Hist. 6.4 (trans. Brehaut). See Merta 1988: 23ff.; see also the observations of Heydemann 2006: 76–77, on the use here of mulier instead of regina. 69. See the Epilogue. 70. See Claude 1980: 164 n. 127, with reference to Var. 5.43,1,3; 4.1,1. 71. Cassiod., Var. 9.1,3: Nam etsi quodlibet negotium in tali persona fuisset enatum, nobis debuit intimari, ut et nostro iudicio periret quae se pessimis actibus miscuisset; Vict. Tonn., Chron.



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s.a. 523; Proc., BV 1.9,4: νεωτερίζειν; interestingly, the similar expression νεωτέροις πράγμασιν is in BG 1.1,34, referring to the accusation against Symmachus and Boethius. 72. Var. 9.1,2: Si successio debeatur alteri, numquid femina in eo ambitu potuit inveniri?. For the interpretation of this sentence see Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2016: 288–89. 73. See Hartmann 2009: 5–20, 39ff. 74. I refer here to the examples of Thrasamund in the Vandal kingdom, and of Gundobad and Sigeric in the Burgundian kingdom; see Wood 2004; Hen 2007. 75. Within the growing literature on early medieval queenship and the development of the political power of queens see Stafford 1983; Merta 1988; Nelson 2004; Hartmann 2009: especially 179ff.; Earenfight 2013: 31–122; Mastrorosa 2016: 291–302. A synthetic overview on the position of women in late antiquity is Clark 1993. 76. Anec. 16.1. 77. Amm., 14.1,3; 14.9,3; 15.2,8; 15.8,3; 16.10,18; 18.3,2. 78. See Olympiod., fragm. 26. On the use of the title “Basilissa” referring to Byzantine empresses see James 2001: 125–27; Herrin 2013: 30, 200, 231; Busch 2015: 191ff. The word “regina” is used for the empress in CJ 5.16,26, of the year 529. In Rom. 349–51 Jordanes, perhaps badly translating a Greek source, refers to Ariadne as both regina and Augusta. 79. See BG 1.1,26 (Theoderic); 1.2,11 (Athalaric); 1.11,5 (Witiges); in BV 2.9,20, Procopius applies this term to Gelimer. In BG 1.2,1,16, and 1.6,21, the word “βασιλεία” expresses the Gothic kingdom, while in BG 2.29,18,21,26–27, it refers to the Goths’ attempt to give Belisarius rule over Italy: βασιλεὺς Ἰταλιωτῶν καὶ Γότθων. 80. BG 1.1,26; 1.2,6–7. 81. BG 1.2,3 (trans. Kaldellis); similarly in BV 1.14,6. 82. BG 1.2,4 (trans. Kaldellis). 83. BV 1.14,6. 84. BV 1.14,5 (trans. Kaldellis). See the similar wording in BG 1.2,3. 85. BG 1.2,10 (trans. Kaldellis). 86. BG 1.2,21 (trans. Kaldellis, slightly modified). 87. BG 1.2,29 (trans. Kaldellis). 88. BG 1.3,12 (trans. Kaldellis). 89. BG 1.4,8–9 (trans. Kaldellis). 90. See BG 1.2,28, for Theoderic, who is referred to as βασιλεὺς, τύραννος, and ῥὴξ (BG 1.1,27,29); BG 1.4.4, for Athalaric; BG 1.4,8,10, for Theodahad. 91. BG 1.1,25. 92. In revising the translation of Dewing 1919: 21 (“the dignity benefitting a queen”) Kaldellis (trans.) 2014: 256 interprets this expression as “royal qualities.” This does not, however, find support in Procopius’s other uses of this expression. 93. See, respectively, BV 1.2,28 and 2.25,10; BP 1.17,44 (Alamoundarus, king of the Lakhmids); 1.17.47 (Arethas, ruler of the Ghassanids). 94. Var. 11.1,7 (trans. Barnish). 95. Var. 10.1,2. 96. Var. 10.3,3 (trans. Barnish, modified); see also Var. 10.31,1 (regiae dignitatis) and 3 (regalem dignitatem), referring to Witiges’s elevation to the throne. See cum regia maiestate in Var. 10.4,4, in Theodahad’s name, and regium nomen in 11.31,4. 97. BG 1.4,8 and 11. 98. Hist. Lang. 3.35: Regina vero Theudelinda . . . ​permiserunt eam in regia consistere dignitate; see also the Epilogue.

262 No t e s t o Pa ge s 1 8 9 – 1 9 1 99. BG 1.2,17; see Dewing 1919: 19. On the use of this word see Bury 1923, vol. 2: 35; with particular reference to coinage, see James 2001: 125; Busch 2015: 190ff. 100. See BP 1.24,36; Anec. 3.18; 10.7; 15.27; 30.26; 5.27 instead refers to Antonina, Belisarius’s wife. 101. Anec. 30.25–26. 102. See Chapter 1, section entitled “Mater Regens or Regina? Amalasuintha and the Regency.” 103. Var. 10.21,1: Augustarum prudentissima and domina. 104. Holum 1982: 22–30, quotations at p. 23; for the document see PG 46: 877–92. See also Connor 2004: 45–64; Herrin 2013: passim. Busch 2015: 19–23, 231–35, and passim; see ibid. 25– 34, on Flaccilla. 105. Julian, Orat. 2.115–19; see also Amm., 15.8,3 and 21.6,4. The opposite image is in Epitome De Caesaribus 42.20 (vexantem famam viri, contra quam feminis modestioribus mos est, quarum saepe praecepta maritos iuvant). See Aujoulat 1983, a discussion on the representation of Eusebia in the sources; Leppin 2000: 84–85; James 2012; Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015b: 131, who also indicates a possible comparison with Claudian’s Laus Serenae (Carm. min. 30). 106. Amm., 14.1,2 and 1.8. 107. Nelson 1998. See Rufinus, HE 2.15, who, in addition, represents Ambrosius as Elijah; Augustine, Conf. 9.7,16; Ambrosius, Epist. 76.18, and the references in Epist. 14.75 and 79. 108. Proc. Gaz., Paneg. 23; Prisc., Anast. ll. 303–8. 109. On Sophia (PLRE 3: 1179–80) see Corippus, In laudem Iustini Augusti minoris, 2 ll. 168–73; also Venantius Fortunatus, Carm., App. 2, ll. 65–70 (MGH AA 4.1: 277). 110. For a limited comparison see the later eulogy of Queen Fredegund by Venantius Fortunatus, which is formulated according to the traditional rules of panegyrical literature: Carm. 9.1, ll. 117–20, 123, quoted in the section entitled “Queens as Good and Bad Advisers: Panegyrical Representations?” in this chapter. 111. See Anon. Vales. 55; Marius Avent., Chron. s.a. 492; and especially Agnellus, LPR 39–40. For the different stages of the construction see recently Mauskopf Deliyannis 2010: 55–58, 119– 22. On Galla Placidia and Valentinian III see Sirago 1961; Connor 2004: 64–72; Sivan 2011; McEvoy 2013: 223–304; Salisbury 2015. 112. See Becker-​­Piriou 2008: 535–36. 113. See Var. 11.1,19. 114. Var. 11.1,9–10 (trans. Barnish). The nature of this comparison is well illustrated by Ensslin 1936: 246; Sirago 1961: 255–56; Fauvinet-​­Ranson 1998: 297–303; Becker-​­Piriou 2008: 527–34; Sivan 2011: 174–76; Arnold 2014: 48–51; Smurra 2014: 291ff.; Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015b: 141–42. 115. Var. 9.25,4. See Chapter 2, section entitled “Born and Raised on Italic Soil.” 116. See the observations of Fauvinet-​­Ranson 1998: 300. 117. Soc., HE 7.24,2: (scil. Arcadius) τῇ μητρὶ αὐτοῦ Πλακιδίᾳ τὴν φροντίδα τῶν πραγμάτων ἐπιτρέψας. 118. Constantius, V. S. Germ. 7.35: Regebat enim Romanorum imperium Placidia regina cum filio Valentiniano iam iuvene. 119. Greg. M., Epist. 9.213: in regni regimine, also gubernatis; 11.46: providite nepotis quos cupite regnare feliciter; Paul. Diac., Hist. Lang. 4.11: Brunichildis tunc regina cum nepotibus adhuc puerulis Theudeperto et Theuderico regebat Gallias. . . . ​Mortuus quoque est Gunthramnus rex Francorum, regnumque illius Brunichildis regina suscepit cum nepotibus adhuc parvulis, filiis Childeperti. 120. Var. 11.1,9–10.



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121. Proc., BV 1.3,10 and 12 (trans. Kaldellis). 122. BG 1.2,6 (trans. Kaldellis). 123. BV 1.3,10; BG 1.2,18; see Chapter 3, section entitled “Amalasuintha’s Ambition: The Education of Athalaric.” 124. On the events in Illyricum see Wozniak 1981; for those in Africa see Sirago 1961: 287– 311; Berndt 2007: 128–41; Merrills and Miles 2010: 50ff.; Vössing 2014: 34ff. 125. See Chapter 3, section entitled “Friend of the Emperor: Amalasuintha ‘Entrusted’ to Justinian,” and, with reference to Amalasuintha, Proc., BG 1.2,20–25. 126. See Chapter 3, section entitled “The Turning Point at the Palace: A Roman Patrician-​­in-​­Waiting.” 127. Becker-​­Piriou 2008: 531–32. 128. Rom. 329: Post haec iii anno Valentinianus imperator a Roma Constantinopolim ob suscipiendam in matrimonio Eudoxiam Theodosii principis filiam venit datamque pro munere soceri sui totam Illyricum celebratis nuptiis ad sua regna cum uxore secessit. 129. See Fauvinet-​­Ranson 1998: 298–99, who interestingly remarks that this omission can be explained in light of the connections of Cassiodorus’s family with Aetius and his son Carpilio (Var. 1.4,10–11). See also Amici 2002: 100–101. 130. See Cassiod., Chron. s.a. 504; Jord., Get. 300–301. For events related to Galla Placidia see Cassiod., Chron. s.a. 423–24. 131. Var. 11.1,10–11. 132. Var. 11.1,11–13. 133. See Chapter 3, section entitled “Amalasuintha and the Roman Church.” 134. Var. 8.24,4. 135. Two of the three heads are in Rome, Palazzo dei Conservatori and Lateran Museum, the third is in Paris, Musée du Louvre. For the description see Schade 2003: 81, 219–24 with n. 219 (images nos. 60–62); see the observations of James 2001: 29–41 and McClanan 2002: 83–90. 136. Delbrück 1929: 148–49 (no. 32). This piece is preserved in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London (no. 139–1866). On Orestes see PLRE 3: 956; Bagnall et al. 1987: 594–95. 137. See Chrysos 1981: 459–60 n. 130 and 472–73; Chrysos compares it with the imperial coinage. 138. Wolfram 1988: 337, including observations on Athalaric’s portrait. See Kohlhas-​­Müller 1995: 313. 139. Bury 1923, vol. 2: 159 n. 1. 140. The use of diademata by Cassiodorus is rhetorical, Orat. fragm., 482 l. 1 (quoted in n. 144 in this chapter). Unlike the purple, on which see Giardina 2012, the use of a diadem is not proved for Theoderic and his successors. For a different view see Arnold 2014: 100–104. 141. Amory 1997: 342. 142. McClanan 2002: 80. 143. See Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.5: Unde factum est, ut una solemnitatum die, cum puer super eam vestimenta matris agnusceret, commotus felle diceret ad eam: “Non enim eras digna, ut haec indumenta tua terga contegerent, quae dominae tuae, id est matre meae, fuisse nuscuntur.” 144. Orat. fragm., 480, ll. 15–20, 481, 482 l. 1: Vos autem nubescite prasini, pallescite lychnides, albescite hyacinthi, fuscamini margaritae: non hic regias opes insana cupiditate devoratis, tulit vobis pretia, quae de se probatur ornata. . . . ​[I]nter innumeras margaritas et ostrum verenda nigredine decorum serena facie plus lucentem, quae in medio constituta gemmarum suum vincit ornatum. En corusca sedes, quam dives India miretur, Persis gemmata concelebret, Hispania nobilis obstupescat;

264 No t e s t o Pa ge s 1 9 8 – 2 03 ubi roseas virgines intuemur pinnis rutilantibus alatas, quales pomposas decet esse Victorias. Margaritarum quin etiam lacteae coronae flexis auro circulis pulcherrima rotunditate clauduntur: sic in opere tuo videtur positum, quod sola felicitas meretur ad praemium. Hyacinthi quoque taetra luce vibrantes cum luminibus claris mixtas cernuntur emicare nigredines, prasini tremula viriditate conludunt, lychnitae vomunt frigidas flammas, Hispanae sanguineos colores emanant: et una dispositio tua tot diademata conficit, quae cunctas mundi dominas (the following text is damaged). Translation partially based on Macpherson 1989: 195; see ibid. his observations at pp. 13–16. 145. Ennod., Paneg. 89, on which see Rota (ed.) 2002: 421–22. 146. Sedes seems here to indicate the imperial throne rather than the Ravenna palace; see in general Var. 8.82, and 8.9,3, perhaps as alternative to sella in Var. 8.1,1 and 8.6,2. See in parallel the evidence quoted in the next footnote. 147. In laudem Iustini Augusti minoris 3, ll. 194–203: Nobilitat medios sedes Augusta penates, / quattuor eximiis circumvallata columnis, / quas super ex solido praefulgens cymbius auro / immodico, simulans convexi climata caeli, / immortale caput soliumque sedentis obumbrat, / ornatum gemmis, auroque ostroque superbum. / Quattuor in sese nexos curvaverat arcus. / Par laevam dextramque tenens Victoria partem / altius erectis pendebat in aera pinnis, / laurigeram gestans dextra fulgentem coronam. The same meaning of “throne” is in Claud., Hon. 4 l. 584, with reference to Honorius, whose dress is described in ll. 585–89. 148. On these ivories see Angelova 2004. 149. Carm. 6.1, ll. 99–112, passim: clarior aetheria, Brunichildis, lampade fulgens, / lumina gemmarum superasti lumine vultus, / altera nata Venus regno dotata decoris / . . . / Lactea cui facies incocta rubore coruscat, / lilia mixta rosis: aurum si intermicet ostro, / decertata tuis numquam se vultibus aequant. / Sapphirus, alba, adamans, crystalla, zmaragdus, iaspis / cedant cuncta: novam genuit Hispania gemmam. Interestingly, in both pieces there is also the reference to Venus, which belongs to the panegyrical tradition. See also Claud., Epithal. 10, ll. 10–13, with reference to Honorius’s wife, Maria. 150. Jord., Get. 313; Marc., Chron. Addit. s.a. 540; Proc., BG 2.29,37; 3.1,1. 151. See Claud., Epithal. 10, ll. 10–13, for the wedding of Honorius and Maria, including the panegyrical motif that the ornaments shine less than the bride: iam munera nuptae / praeparat et pulchros Mariae sed luce minores / eligit ornatus, quidquid venerabilis olim / Livia divorumque nurus gessere superbae. 152. See Olympiodorus, fragm. 24. The sources on her capture are listed in PLRE 2: 888. 153. See Merta 1988:18–19 with n. 55. See also Chapter 3, section entitled “Politics, Diplomacy, and Military Achievements: The Earthquake Between Kingdoms.” 154. The image is on folio 6 verso of the manuscript, which was made for Anicia Juliana. On this princess figure see later in this section. 155. McClanan 2002: 80–81, who follows Netzer 1983. 156. See Var. 5.42,6–10. See Barnish (trans.) 1992: 92 n. 10; Dodge 2011: 73–76; Giardina et al. (eds.) 2014: 473–75. This letter postdates by only four years the consulship of Eutharic, in which amphitheatrical games with animals from Africa took place: see Chapter 2, section entitled “Promising Unions: Amalasuintha’s Marriage and Theoderic’s Dreams.” 157. On the consuls of the Decian family see Chapter  3, section entitled “The Turning Point at the Palace: A Roman Patrician-​­in-​­Waiting,” including n. 201. In 533 Justinian was consul for the third time in the East. Bagnall et al. 1987: 594–601. 158. McClanan 2002: 71, 81–82. 159. With reference to the diptych of Clementinus as well as other ivories see also James 2001: 133–45.



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160. See the observations of Hartmann 2009: 154–58. 161. Cassiod., Chron. s.a. 515. A discussion of the sources on Ariadne’s death is in McClanan 2002: 81. 162. See, respectively, PLRE 2: 140–41 (Aelia Ariadne), 79 (Anastasius 4), 1202 (Zenon 7). On Ariadne see Meier 2010; on Emperor Leo see Siebigs 2010. 163. Malch., fragm. 16, 29–34. 164. He is the consul of 506, on whose diptych see my discussion earlier in this chapter. See PLRE 2: 143–44; Poguntke 2014: 406–10. 165. Connor 2004: 337 n. 47. On Anicia Juliana see PLRE 2: 635–36 (she was probably born soon after 461); Connor 2004: 105–16; Avagliano 2008. 166. See Chapter 2, section entitled “Promising Unions: Amalasuintha’s Marriage and Theoderic’s Dreams.” 167. See Malch., fragm. 16 and 18. 168. Var. 1.1,2–3, on which see Chapter 3, section entitled “Friend of the Emperor: Amalasuintha “Entrusted” to Justinian.” 169. See Joh. Ant., fragm. 214, 8. 170. See, respectively, Anon. Vales. 63 and 39. The empress is also Ariagne Augusta in Vict. Tonn., Chron. s.a. 491. On the variations of this name see Siebigs 2010: 755–76. On her name see also Schönfeld 1911: 178; Francovich Onesti 2007: 75. 171. Greg. Tur., Hist. 3.5. Sigismund became Catholic when his father was ruling; PLRE 2: 1009. 172. Indeed, it took a few years before Anastatius acknwoledged the position of Theoderic in Italy; see Anon. Vales. 49, 57, 64. 173. See Chapter 1, sections entitled “The ‘Strong Amal’: A Maculine Woman” and “Domina Amalasuintha: A Woman in Power in the Gothic World.” See Var. 10.2,3 and 10.22,2, in the name of Theodahad. 174. See McClanan 2002: 66ff.; Haarer 2006: 1–6; Meier 2009: 311–12; 2010. For a recent overview see Earenfight 2013: 39–53; Herrin 2013: 30, 195. 175. See PLRE 2: 664–65 (Leo); see König 1997: 102–3. For a sliglthy different chronology see Kosiński 2008, according to whom Leo II was made Augustus at the end of 473. 176. See Chapter 4, section entitled “Amalasuintha’s Urgency: The Day of Theodahad’s Election.” 177. See PLRE 2: 929–30, also on Marcian see ibid. 714–15; see also Holum 1982: 208–9. 178. PLRE 2: 1156 (Verina), 670–71 (Leontius), 212–14 (Basiliscus); see Theoph. AM 5974; Joh. Ant., fragm. 214; Joh. Mal., Chron. 15.113. See Meier 2010: 297–90. 179. McClanan 2002: 92; James 2001: 64, who also compares this situation with that of the eleventh-​­century Empress Zoe (p. 79 n. 19); see also James 1997. 180. On this subject see recently Hartmann 2013. 181. Meier 2010; similarly, Busch 2015: 13–17, 231ff. 182. BG 1.2,10. 183. See Jord., Rom. 349–51; Joh. Mal., Chron. 15.35–36. On Illus see PLRE 2: 586–90. 184. Anast. ll. 301–8: Quas laudes meritas Augustae dicere possim, / Auctor quae fuerat tantorum et causa bonorum, / Dum patrium munit tam firmo principe regnum / Permittitque viro mundum seseque tuendam? / Ex omni sensus invicta cupidine prava, / Cuius fama piae vulgatur in omnibus oris, / Plus fecit quam quod sexus concesserat illi, / Provida cum tantum Romano profuit orbi. On Amalasuintha’s masculinity see Chapter 1, section entitled “The ‘Strong Amal’: A Maculine Woman.” 185. See Chapter 4, section entitled “Reinventing Herself: Gender Reversal in the Co-​­Regency.”

266 No t e s t o Pa ge s 2 0 6– 2 10 186. Priscian dedicated three of his works to Symmachus; see Vitiello 2008: passim and 301–2. 187. See Chapter 4, n. 136. 188. Var. 9.25,4–6 (trans. Barnish). 189. Anec. 16.1. 190. Var. 11.1,19 (trans. Barnish). See Consolino in Giardina et al. (eds.) 2015b: 141. On the use of the word “modernus” see Moorhead 2006. 191. BG 1.2,6–17; see Chapter 3, section entitled “Amalasuintha’s Ambition: The Education of Athalaric.” 192. Wood 2006: 72.  193. See, for example, Luiselli 1992: passim and 664–710; Vitiello 2006a; Hen 2007; Rohr 2012. For more literature on the civilitas see Introduction, n. 12. 194. On the use of Roman law in Ostrogothic Italy see for example Chrysos 1981; 2002; Prostko-​­Prostyński 1994; Kohlhas-​­Müller 1995: 228–45 with reference to the edicts of Theoderic and Athalaric, edictalia programmata; Lafferty 2013. 195. On the preservation of the Roman offices see Anon. Vales. 60; Proc., BG 2.6,19. 196. BG 1.2,21–29. 197. See Var. 11.1; see Chapter 3, section entitled “The Turning Point at the Palace: A Roman Patrician-​­in-​­Waiting.” 198. Var. 9.24–25. 199. Var. 11.1, in which also §16. 200. Var. 11.1,3,15: sublimavit honoribus. See Cassiod., Orat. fragm., 466, l. 7–9, referring to Theoderic: Hoc sacrarium vestris implet honoribus; Chron. s.a. 519, referring to Eutharic. 201. Just., Nov. App. 7.1: Vt omnia firma sint, quae Amalasuinta vel Atalaricus vel Theodatus concesserunt: Inprimis itaque iubemus, ut omnia quae Atalaricus vel Amalasuinta regia mater eius vel etiam Theodatus Romanis vel senatu poscente concesserunt, inviolabiliter conserventur. 202. On the symbols of power and the titles see James 2001: 101–31; Sivan 2011: 195–99. 203. See the section entitled “Amalasuintha on the Diptych of Orestes: Ariadne and Female Agency in the Transmission of Power” in this chapter. 204. CIL 5.6418, dating to the third year of Athalaric’s reign. For the brick stamps see CIL 15.1672: Regnante d(omino) n(ostro) Athalarico; 15.1673; 15.1674: Regnante d(omino) n(ostro) Athalarico bono Romae; 15.1675 (= Fiebiger and Schmidt [eds.] 1917, 101 no. 199): Regnante d(omino) n(ostro) Athalarico felix Roma. This typology follows the one as under Theoderic: CIL 15.1664; 15.1665 (= ILS 828; Fiebiger and Schmidt [eds.] 1917: 97 no. 191); 15.1666–67; 15.1668; 15.1669 (= ILS 828a; Fiebiger and Schmidt [eds.] 1917: 97–98 no. 192); 15.1670. 205. Rovelli 2007 analyses the elements of female presence on early medieval coinage for a later period. 206. See Hartmann 1894: 1715. See Rovelli 2007: 223–25, on the attribution to the period of Amalasuintha’s co-​­regency of some quarters of siliquas with Justinian’s portrait on the front and Theoderic’s monogram on the back. 207. See Metlich 2004: 40–41,107: ½ siliquas in the name of Justinian, ¼ siliquas (maybe) in the name of Anastasius. Rovelli 2007: 225 as well as other scholars doubt the authenticity of some of these pieces. 208. See Jord., Get. 311, Rom. 373; Marc., Chron. Addit. s.a. 536; LP 60.2; Paul. Diac., Hist. Rom. 16.15; Proc., BG 2.10,11 and 1.11,26–27; Cassiod., Var. 10.31,5, and 10.32,2. See Wolfram 1988: 343; Vitiello 2014a: 162–63. 209. LP 50.1; 51.1; 52.1; 53.1; 54.1; 55.1; 56.1: temporibus Theodorici regis; 56.2; 57.1; 58.1:



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temporibus Athalarici regis; 59.2; 60.1–2: Theodahad as rex and tyrannus; LP 59.2; 60.2: Amalasuintha as regina. 210. Var. 10.6–7. Patricius was therefore elected after 3 October for the thirteenth indiction; it is unlikely that this election took place in late December, after Amalasuintha’s deposition. These letters precede Var. 10.8–10, addressed by the two kings to the emperors. 211. Var. 9.18 and 9.21. 212. Var. 9.18,1ff.; 9.21,1ff.; 10.4,1 and 11.1,8. 213. BG 1.2–3, on which see Chapter 3, sections entitled “Amalasuintha’s Ambition: The Education of Athalaric” and “A Dying Son, a Corrupt Cousin: The Fracturing of the Amal Family.” 214. Dig. 1.3,31; C.Th. 2.1,7; CJ 10.40,9 and 12.1,13. On Byzantine empresses-​­in-​­law see James 2001: 72–75. See also Becker-​­Piriou 2008: 536. 215. Soz., HE 9.1 (trans. Hartranft). 216. Philost., HE 12.7 (trans. Amidon). On the propaganda of Pulcheria and her influence see Holum 1982: 79–111; Busch 2015: 110–35; for a different view see Harries 2013. 217. Theod., Epist. 43 (PG 83: 1219), while other letters were sent to the high officials responsible for this matter; see Harries 2013: 66–67. 218. See Sirago 1961: 313–37; Oost 1968: 120–21; De Marini Avonzo 19752: 50ff.; Sivan 2011: 119–28; Busch 2015: 100. This must have included the restitution of the memory of Nicomachus Flavianus: CIL 6.1783 (= ILS 2948); see Festy 2007. 219. C.Th. Gesta Senatus 2; a solid study of this document is Atzeri 2008. As an adult, Valentinian III later issued forty-​­six Novellae in the period 438–454. 220. Placidia’s exchange of letters is also attested by surviving documents in her name. For her interference in 450 in the Council of Ephesus of 449 see Sivan 2011: 134–41. 221. Of her and her son’s correspondence with the two emperors see Leo Magnus, Epist. 54–58 (PL 54: 855–65). 222. Sivan 2011: 113; see also 111ff.; Cooper 2016: 305–6. On Justina see PLRE 1: 488–49. For the activity of Placidia as regent see Sirago 1961: 255–86. 223. See James 1997: 127ff. After Helena and Fausta, of the family of Constantine, Flaccilla was the first empress to receive the title of Augusta, in 379 (see PLRE 1: 341) or 383; this started to be used more frequently in the fifth century: see Brubaker 1997: 60ff.

Epilogue 1. See Var. 10.21 and 10.23; Proc., BG 1.6,11. 2. Proc., BG 3.39,14–15,21. Witiges married her by force in order to tie himself to the Amal family (Proc., BG 1.11,27; Jord., Rom. 373, Get. 311; Marc., Chron. Addit. s.a. 536; Cassiod., Var. 10.32,2). Later Matasuintha married Germanus in Constantinople (PLRE 2: 505–8). 3. La Rocca 2012: 135. 4. For the question and the sources see especially Delogu 1964; La Rocca 2010b (on Engelberga) and 2012, in which see also at p. 129 the expression “consors imperii” for Lothar’s wife in a diploma dating to the year 848. For references to Leovigild and his two children see John of Biclaro, Chronicle s.a. 573.5; for the Lombards see Paul. Diac., Hist. Lang. 5.35 and 6.55. 5. For a resume of the events and a list of names see Wolf 1991; Hartmann 2009: 164–67 and 71–137 passim. 6. For a good overview of royal widows who acted with different functions on behalf of reges pueri see Wolf 1991.

268 No t e s t o Pa ge s 2 1 5– 2 18 7. On this contrast as also represented by the authors see Dailey 2015: 118–60. 8. Greg. Tur., Hist. 7.20; 8.29; 10.18. See PLRE 3: 494 and 248–51; see especially Thomas 2012. 9. Epist. 6.5: Excellentiae vestrae praedicandam ac Deo placitam bonitatem et gubernacula regni testantur et educatio filii manifestat. 10. Cassiod., Var. 11.1,4, also 10.3,2 and 10.4,5; see Chapter 1, section entitled “Domina Amalasuintha: A Woman in Power in the Gothic World,” and Chapter 3, section entitled “Amalasuintha’s Ambition: The Education of Athalaric.” 11. See Merta 1988: 16–17, 22; on Clovis II see PLRE 3: 288–89. On Nanthild see PLRE 3: 911. 12. See Chapter 2, section entitled “Promising Unions: Amalasuintha’s Marriage and Theoderic’s Dreams.” 13. On this figure and her political role see PLRE 3: 1235–36; Wolf 1991: 46–47; Magnani and Godoy 1998; Balzaretti 1999; Bonalumi 2006; Hartmann 2009: 44–47; Hammer 2014. 14. Paul. Diac., Hist. Lang. 3.16: Quem etiam ob dignitatem Flavium appellarunt. Quo praenomine omnes qui postea fuerunt Langobardorum reges feliciter usi sunt. See Wolfram 1967: 65ff. 15. This is the Auctarii Hauniensis ad a. 641, 9 and 15 (MGH AA 10.1: 339). 16. Paul. Diac., Hist. Lang. 4.40: qui [i.e., Secundus] usque ad sua tempora succinctam de Langobardorum gestis conposuit historiolam. On the literary context see Pohl 1994. 17. Anec. Hold. ll. 20–21 (Galonnier [ed.] 1996): scripsit praecipiente Theodorico rege, historiam Gothicam originem eorum et loca mores in libris annuntians. 18. Hist. Lang. 4.21–22; see Hammer 2014. 19. Hammer 2014: 248. On literacy in Lombard Italy see Everett 2003, in which 84–98 for the early sources. 20. Rodelinda, Amalaberga’s daughter, was the mother of Alboin; see Proc., BG 4.25,12; PLRE 3: 50–51, 152–53, 1089. See Jord, Rom. 386: Langobardorum gens, socia Romani regni principibus, et Theodahadi sororis filiam dante sibi imperatore in matrimonio iungens regi suo. 21. See Hammer 2014: 256, who rightly points to Theodelinda’s Gepid grandmother, Austrigusa, and great-​­uncle, Oustrigotho, as a sign of a possible orientation “of their subsequently-​ ­deposed Gepid royal line to the senior ethos of the Goths.” 22. Paul. Diac., Hist. Lang. 4.25 and 27; Greg. M., Epist. 14.12. 23. Cassiod., Var. 9.25,4–6. Two of the most important Lombard sources dating to the middle of the seventh century, the Origo gentis Langobardorum and the Edict of Rothari (of 643), indicate a Lombard genealogy in seventeen generations. This is the same number Cassiodorus had shown in his History of the Goths for the Amal genealogy up to Athalaric. See Hammer 2014: 255 with n. 78. 24. See Hammer 2014. 25. See König 1997: 7–14, 210–13; Vitiello 2006b and 2014b. 26. Hist. Lang. 3.35. The queen was asked to choose her husband. For a different interpretation, see Balzaretti 1999: 198–99. 27. See Hartmann 2013: 139, who suggests the comparison of Theodelinda with Ariadne and especially with Empress Sophia. For Herrin 2013:30, this similarity is coincidental. On Sophia’s influence at the court see now Dirschlmayer 2015: 208–17. 28. Paul. Diac., Hist. Lang. 4.30; envoys from the Frankish King Theodobert II were present at the event, and the child was betrothed to a daughter of the king as sign of peace between Franks and Lombards: see PLRE 3: 12. 29. Ps-​­Fred., Chron. 4.49–50; see also the account of Paul. Diac., Hist. Lang. 4.49. On



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Lombard reges pueri see Offergeld 2001: 141–59 especially 150–51 for Adaloald, on whom see also PLRE 3: 11–12. 30. See Chapter 2, section entitled “Protecting the Heir.” 31. Auctarii Hauniensis ad a. 641, 9, 15, especially 24: Mortuo apud Mediolanium Agilulfo Adaluual filius eius cum matre Teudelinda regni curam suscepit regnavitque cum matre annis decem. 32. Balzaretti 1999: 190. 33. These are the first lines of the letters, published in MGH Epist. 1: 671–75, Epist. 9: Dominis eminentissimis ac venerantissimis et germana caritate mihi consociis, fratri Adualualdo regi gentis Langobardorum et Theodolindae reginae in nomine Domini Sisebutus rex Wisegotorum. 34. For an overview of Lombard queens see Hartmann 2009: 37–59. On Gundeperga see PLRE 3: 565; Pohl 2001: 117–22 and 2004c: 37–40. 35. Pohl 2004c: 38–39. 36. Pohl 2004c: 38–39. 37. This remark is made by Balzaretti 1994: 194–95, with particular reference to the Hist. Lang. Codex Gothanus 5–6. The author also notices that the Bavarian Theodelinda is called by Lombard authors regina and not regina Langobardorum. Gregory the Great uses this very title in the head of his letters. Sophia is regularly referred to as Augusta by Paul the Deacon, Hist. Lang. 2.5; 3.11,12,15. 38. See Fanning 2002; Hen 2007; for Sigismund see recently Wood 2014a and 2014b. With particular reference to Theoderic see Vitiello 2006a: 45–110; Goltz 2008; Arnold 2014. 39. On the question, which is based on Isidore of Seville, HG 51, see Arce 2001. 40. Epistulae Austrasicae nos. 26, 29, 30, 44; for more sources and for the discussion see Hartmann 2013: 140–41. 41. See Pope Adrian’s Epist. 82 (PL 98: 371–73); Agnellus, LPR 94. For a discussion on Theoderic as one of the models of Charlemagne see Vitiello 2006a: 254–58. 42. See above, in n. 4.

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Index

Aachen, 220 Abundantius, 64, 76, 228 n.201 Adaloald (king), 216–18, 227 n.80, 269 n.29 Adelperga, 219 Adrian (pope), 269 n.41 Adriatic Sea, 244 n.136 Aeneas, 260 n.50 Æthelberht (king), 183, 260 n.64 Aetius, 192–93, 263 n.129 Africa, 49–50, 60, 64, 69–70, 82, 94–95, 109– 12, 118, 128–29, 132, 139, 159, 164, 166–68, 185, 188, 191–92, 219, 263 n.124, 264 n.156 Agapitus (patrician), 86 Agapitus (pope), 94, 252 n.132 Agapitus, Flavius, 46, 86 Agila, 242 n.212 Agilulf (king), 184, 216, 218, 227 n.80 Agnellus of Ravenna (bishop), 9, 30, 90, 144– 45, 147, 157–59, 161, 234 n.105, 251 n.84 Agrippina the Younger, 249 n.35, 256 n.200 Alamoundarus (king of the Lakhmids), 261 n.93 Alaric (king), 108, 175, 200, 226 n.61 Alaric II (king), 17, 43, 56, 175, 182, 258 n.14 Albinus, 65–67, 73, 84, 86 Albofledis, 89, 241 n.61 Alboin (king), 114, 182, 217, 268 n.20 Alemans, 3, 170, 232 n.76 Alexander, 127–30, 152–53 Alexandria, 247 n.212 Alypia, 175, 258 n.11 Amal(s), family, 10, 19, 24, 44, 54–58, 60, 63, 71, 74–75, 77, 81, 97, 118–19, 126, 128, 131, 137, 143, 149, 182, 191, 203–4, 206, 210, 213, 217, 231 n.62, 232 n.73, 267 n.1 Amalaberga (queen), 17, 35, 44, 46, 48, 54, 56, 108, 141, 175, 177–80, 185, 229 n.10, 230 n.28 and 31, 245 n.172, 268 n.20 Amalafrida (queen), 34, 44, 48–49, 54, 59–60,

64, 68–70, 109, 111, 119, 141, 159, 175–77, 180, 185, 204, 229 n.13, 230 n.31, 233 n.95, 258 n.18 Amalaric (king), 7, 17, 43, 55–57, 62, 65, 67, 75, 99, 108, 227 n.84, 232 n.79, 237 n.190 Amalus, 26 Amazons, 224 n.12, 239 n.13 Ambrosius, 46–47, 76, 238 nn. 199–200, 244 n.146 Ambrosius (bishop of Milan), 189, 262 n.107 Ammianus Marcellinus, 186, 189 Ampelius, 87–88, 245 n.174 Anastasia, Augusta, 219 Anastasius (emperor), 5, 45, 56, 58, 147–48, 158, 173, 190, 201–5, 218, 222 n.10, 252 n.94, 266 n.207 Anglia, 216 Anicia Juliana, 200, 203, 264 n.154, 265 n.165 Anician(s), family, 51, 240 n.42 Anthemius (emperor), 58, 175 Anthimus (patriarch), 94, 253 n.132 Antonina, 262 n.100 Aquitaine/Aquitania, 56, 107–8 Arator, 76, 88, 238 n.200, 245 n.158 Arcadius (emperor), 189, 205 Arechis II (duke of Benevento), 219 Areobinbus, 233 n.101 Areobindus, 201 Areobindus Dagalaiphus, Flavius, 203, 233 n.101 Arethas (ruler of the Ghassanids), 261 n.93 Ariadne (empress), 43, 57, 71, 132, 138, 147–48, 155, 172–73, 186, 190, 194–95, 198–207, 212–13, 218, 252 n.94, 261 n.78, 265 nn.161–62, 268 n.26 Arigernus, 234 n.108 Arimir, 174 Arles, 113 Assyria, 244 n.132

288 In d e x Athala, 226 Athanagild, 247 n.112 Athaulf (king), 108, 142, 175, 186, 191, 200 Attalus Priscus, 188 Audefleda, 15–16, 34–35, 43, 53, 62, 89, 144, 175, 179, 227 n.77 Audoin, 217 Augustine (bishop of Hippo Regio), 46, 51, 140, 189 Aulona (Vlorë), 157, 253 n.124 Austrasia, 179, 215 Austrechild Bobila, 17 Austrigusa, 268 n.21 Authari (king), 184, 216 Avienus, 46, 76, 87, 115, 238 n.201 Avitus, 87 Babylon, 34, 100 Baderic, 178 Balkans, 44, 208 Balth(s), family, 56, 108, 231 n.61 Balthild (queen), 157, 216, 227 n.80, 259 n.139 Barbara, 47–48, 51, 53–54, 89, 206, 213, 230 n.27 Barcelona, 108 Basil II (emperor), 257 n.3 Basiliscus (emperor), 70, 205 Basilius, 77, 238 n.205 Basilius, Caecina Decius Maximus, junior, 86 Basina, 17, 35 Baudovinia, 183 Beatus, 46–47, 230 nn. 24 and 27 Belisarius, 14, 82, 94, 103, 111, 117, 130, 153, 168–70, 200, 232 n.73, 239 n.2, 250 n.47, 261 n.79, 262 n.100 Benedict of Nursia, 91 Beremud, 55 Bertha (queen), 33, 174, 183 Bibliotheca Pacis (Rome), 90 Bisentina (island), 255 n.163 Bleda (king), 174, 257 n.4 Boethius, Anicius Manlius Severinus, 46, 65–67, 73, 76–77, 84, 86, 91, 234 n.117, 235 nn.143–44 and 146, 238 nn.205–7, 253 n.114, 261 n.71 Boethius junior, 86, 235 n.134 Bonifatius II (pope), 91–92 Bosporans, 194 Brunhild (queen), 9, 28, 33, 36, 51, 142, 174, 179–81, 183–95, 191, 200, 215, 216, 219–20, 258 n.20, 259 n.39, 260 n.65

Bulgars, 116 Burgundians, 3, 7, 43, 45, 56–57, 64, 68, 74, 81, 107–8, 117, 142, 176–77, 193, 219, 245 n.172 Burgundy, 111, 216 Calogenitus, 151–52, 253 n.121 Campania, 112, 117 Capsa, 64 Carcaso (Carcassonne), 108, 200 Caretena (queen), 172, 177 Carpilio, 263 n.129 Carthage, 168–69 Cethegus, 46 Chalcedon (council of ), 93 Charibert, 230 n.33 Charlemagne, 220, 269 n.41 Childebert (king), 69, 107–8, 169–70, 177 Childebert II (king), 184, 215 Childeric (king), 35 Chilperic (Frankish king), 15, 179, 230 n.33 Chilperic II (Burgundian king), 58, 142 Chlodomer (king), 64, 68–70, 170, 177, 218 Chlothar (king), 69, 107, 169–70, 167, 182–83 Chlothar II (king), 215 Chlothar III, 216 Chlothsing, 182 Chosroes (Persian king), 253 n.130 Chrocus (Aleman King), 259 n.33 Classe, 90 Clementinus, 87, Clementinus (consul), 201–2, 264 n.159 Cleopatra VII, 2 Clotilde (queen), 9, 17, 35, 69, 71, 89, 106, 157, 177, 179, 182–83, 260 n.61 Clotilde II (queen), 108, 177 Clovis (king), 17, 35, 43, 56, 58, 68, 71, 89, 105–6, 108, 169, 175, 179, 181–83, 219, 231 n.51 Clovis II (king), 216 Constantina (empress, wife of Constantius Gallus), 186, 189 Constantina (empress, wife of Maurice), 289 Constantine (emperor), 161, 182–83, 205, 260 nn. 48, 56–57 and 64, 267 n.223 Constantine Porphyrogenitus, 147, 150 Constantinople (Byzantium), 2, 5, 7–8, 14, 24, 32, 43–46, 49, 58, 60, 66, 71, 73, 79, 86–87, 92–95, 101, 105, 109, 113–14, 117, 119, 123, 127–32, 144, 146–53, 155, 158, 162–64, 167, 169, 192, 194, 198, 200, 203–6, 213,



In d e x

219, 222 n.17, 228 n.98, 235 n.146, 239 n.3, 242 n.175, 246 n.199, 247 n.217, 253–54 n.132, 256 n.184, 267 n.2 Constantius II (emperor), 189, 224 n.1 Constantius III (emperor), 39 Constantius Gallus, 189 Constantius of Lyon, 191 Corippus, 138, 198 Crusius, Martin, 222 n.28 Cynegia, 230 n.27 Cyprianus, 50, 66–67, 77, 230 n.40, 235 nn. 142 and 146, 238 nn. 202 and 206 Cyrus (Persian king), 100–101 Dacia Ripensis, 44 Dagalaiphus, 233 n.101 Dagobert (king), 215–16 Dalmatia, 57, 72, 88, 94, 169, 236 n.166, 241 n.53 Daniel, 142 Danube (river), 57, 82, 99, 104–6, 228 n.101 Decian(s), family, 86, 114, 201, 240 n.37, 264 n.157 Decius, 114 Decoratus, 66, 77, 235 n.142, 238 nn. 205 and 207 Demetrius of Philippi (bishop), 93, 128–29 Deoteria, 17 Desiderius (king), 219 Dido, 260 n.50 Dietrich von Bern, 6, 29 Diodorus of Sicily, 243 n.132 Dionysius Exiguus, 91 Dioscorus of Alexandria, 92 Durance (river), 107 Elijah, 262 n.107 Elizabeth I (queen of England), 223 n.28 Engelberga (queen), 220, 267 n.4 England, 183, 223 n.28 Ennodius, 44–48, 50–54, 76, 87, 140, 176, 181, 198, 222 n.18, 230 nn. 27 and 30, 238 nn.200–201, 239 n.9, 247 n.208, 260 n.48 Ephesus (council of ), 92, 267 n.200 Epidamnus (Dyrrhachium), 113, 127 Epiphanius (patriarch), 94 Epirus, 229 n.12 Eraric, 231 n.61 Erelieva / Eriliva, 35–36, 44, 89, 144, 181–82, 227 nn. 75 and 77, 229 n.1 Ermanaric, 232 n.65

289

Ermengarde of Tours, 220 Esther, 142 Eudocia (Valentinian III’s daughter), 64, 69, 175 Eudocia Aelia (Theodosius II’s wife), 39, 198, 212 Eudoxia Aelia (Arcadius’s wife), 189 Eudoxia Licinia (Valentinian III’s wife), 193, 198, 212 Eugippius, 17, 178, 258 n.25 Euphemia (empress), 206 Euric, 226 n.61 Europe, 13, 18, 43, 63, 111, 116, 176, 181–82, 184, 213, 215 Eusebia (empress), 25, 186, 189, 244 n.132, 259 n.32, 262 n.105 Eutharic Cilliga, 33, 42, 55–63, 65, 67, 70, 72–75, 175, 191, 203–4, 227 n.71, 231 n.61, 232 n.65, 233 nn. 85, 89, 98, and 102–3, 234 n.105, 254 n.156, 266 n.200 Eutropius, 219 Eve, 179 Fausta (empress), 161, 255 n.170, 260 n.57, 267 n.233 Faustus, 46, 76, 115, 238 n.201 Felix IV (pope), 40, 90–92 Festus, 46, 158 Fidelis, 76, 87–88, 238 n.201 Flaccilla (empress), 189, 262 n.104, 267 n.223 Fonzaso (by Feltre), 246 n.184 Forum of Rome, 90 Forum Pacis (Rome), 90 France, 182, 220 Franks, 3, 7, 17, 35, 43, 56–58, 62, 64, 74, 81, 105–9, 111–12, 116–17, 132, 167, 169–70, 175, 178, 241 n.67, 245 n.172, 257 n.201, 268 n.28 Fredegund (queen), 17, 174, 179–80, 184, 215, 262 n.110 Gaatha, 173 Galla Placidia (empress), 2, 27, 37, 39, 71, 73, 90, 91, 95, 100, 108, 114, 122, 138, 140, 142, 155, 172–73, 175, 182, 186, 190–94, 198, 200, 207, 209, 212–13, 230 n.34, 241 n.69, 258 n.9, 262 n.111, 263 n.130 Gambara, 174 Gaul, 7, 9, 35–36, 57, 61, 68–70, 72, 74, 81, 88, 106, 108–9, 115–16, 150, 174, 181, 183, 216, 218–19, 235 n.151, 245 n.172, 246 n.206, 252 n.110

290 In d e x Geiseric (king), 68–69, 175, 236 n.157 Gelasius (pope), 35, 89, 181–82 Gelimer (king), 110, 129, 139, 164, 167–69, 261 n.79 Gensimund, 74–75 Genton, 236 n.157 Gepids, 32, 82, 104, 113 Germanus, 214, 267 n.2 Germanus of Paris, 142 Gesalic, 56, 64, 176 Gesimund, 237 n.189 Gildila, 102 Giso (wife of the Rugian king Feletheus), 17, 177–78 Goldoni, Carlo, 1 Gratiana, 104–5, 112 Gratus, 60 Gregory of Nyssa, 189 Gregory of Tours, 4, 9, 13, 15–19, 23, 28, 34–35, 51, 53, 62–64, 89, 95, 100, 106, 108, 121, 137, 140, 161, 169–70, 172, 174, 177–80, 183–84, 189, 197, 204, 223 nn. 36, 43 and 45, 227 n.73, 243 n.129, 255 n.170, 259 nn. 33–34 and 43 Gregory the Great (pope), 33, 35, 174, 183–85, 191, 215–16, 219, 269 n.37 Gudeliva (queen), 33–35, 101, 139, 144, 154, 157, 164–66, 189, 200, 214, 227 n.66, 243 n.131, 256 n.184 Gundeperga (queen), 218 Gunderic, 69 Gundobad (king), 43, 58, 68, 142, 176, 182, 231 n.51, 258 n.14, 261 n.74 Gundomar, 107 Gundovaldus, 184 Gunthamund, 236 n.157 Guntharis, 188 Hasdings, family, 68, 110 Helena (mother of Constantine), 181–83, 260 n.56, 267 n.223 Hermenegild, 183, 215 Herminafrid (king), 17, 35, 56, 108, 141, 175, 177–78, 231 n.51 Herodias, 179, 189 Herodotus, 243 n.132 Heruls, 104, 113, 231 n.61 Hilderic (king), 64, 69, 103, 109–11, 167–68, 185, 224 n.1, 227 n.66 Hippo Regius, 246 n.184 Hippodrome (of Constantinople), 147

Honoratus, 66, 76–77, 235 n.142, 238 n.199 Honorius (emperor), 192, 200, 228 n.86, 230 n.33, 249 n.35, 264 nn. 147, 149 and 151 Hormisdas (pope), 92–93, 233 n.98 Horreum Margi, 45 Huneric, 69, 175–76, 241 n.68 Hunimund, 26, 55, 237 n.189 Huns, 96, 112, 193 Hypatius of Ephesus (bishop), 93, 128–29 Illus, 205 Illyricum (also Illyria), 57, 104, 113, 169, 190, 192–93, 263 n.124 Ingund, 28, 182–83 Inportunus, Flavius, 86 Isaurians, 169 Isere (river), 107 Isidore of Seville, 180, 269 n.39 Italians, 16–17, 133, 166, 187–88 Jerome, 46, 51, 140 Jezebel, 178–79, 189 Joannes, 193 John I (pope), 18, 66, 73, 91, 93, 224 n.51 John II, Mercurius (pope), 87, 91–94, 119 Jordanes, 4, 9, 15, 28, 30, 36–37, 40, 50, 54–55, 57, 63, 68–71, 79–82, 101, 105–6, 124, 137, 139, 148, 150, 156–59, 161–62, 191, 193, 217, 221 n.7, 227 nn. 81 and 84, 228 n.103, 232 nn. 73, 77 and 80, 237 n.191, 239 nn. 4 and 9, 243 n.125, 259 n.46, 261 n.78 Julian (emperor), 25, 189, 244 n.132 Justin (consul), 203 Justin (emperor), 42, 57–58, 60, 64–66, 72–73, 79–80, 82, 89, 148–49, 155, 204, 206, 233 nn. 85 and 98, 235 n.148, 239 n.4, 244 n.153, 250 n.48 Justin II (emperor), 138, 198, 215, 218–19, 260 n.56 Justina (empress), 37, 189, 211–12 Justinian (emperor), 3, 7, 8–10, 12–14, 29, 31–32, 36–38, 79–84, 87–88, 93–94, 101, 104–6, 109–13, 116–19, 123–24, 126–32, 137–41, 143–45, 147, 149–59, 162–71, 173, 187–89, 192–93, 197, 203, 206, 209, 213–14, 219, 226 nn. 50 and 63, 227 nn. 66–67 and 80, 228 n.98, 230 n.18, 238 n.1, 240 nn. 25 and 29, 244 n.153, 245 n.157, 247 n.212, 249 n.34, 252 n.106, 253 nn. 126 and 130, 254 nn. 133 and 136, 256 n.200, 257 n.201, 264 n.157, 266 nn.206–7



In d e x

Lake Bolsena, 1, 8, 94, 156–57, 159–61, 166, 255 n.163 Lampadius, 201 Lantechildis, 89 Leo (emperor), 45, 57, 203–5 Leo II (emperor), 57, 71, 201, 203–5, 265 n.175 Leontius, 205 Leovigild (king), 181, 215, 219, 267 n.4 Lethings, family, 217 Liberius, Petrus Marcellinus Felix, 13–14, 72, 87–88, 114–18, 121, 149–50, 158, 166, 169, 192, 209, 223 n.31, 246 nn.205–6, 247 nn. 207–8 and 214, 252 n.110 Libya, 83, 109, 192 Liguria, 77, 103 Lilybaeum, 82–83, 111, 117, 127–29, 175 Livia (empress), 2, 256 n.200, 264 n.151 Liwirit, 245 n.174 Lombards, 3, 174, 216–19, 258 n.8, 267 n.4 Longinus, 144 Lothar (Holy Roman Emperor), 220, 267 n.4 Louis II (Holy Roman Emperor), 220 Lucania and Bruttii, 102 Lyon, 142 Magnentius, 189 Marcatrude, 17 Marcellinus Count, 10, 37, 40, 254 n.146 Marcian (emperor), 140, 147, 205 Maria, 200, 249 n.35, 264 nn. 149 and 151 Marius of Avenches, 63, 233 n.89 Marta (island of ), 1, 171 Martana (village), 1, 170, 171, 255 n.163 Matasuintha (queen), 11, 34, 51, 57, 84, 100, 139, 180, 197–98, 200, 210, 214, 225 n.21, 227 n.80, 232 n.80, 243 n.131, 259 n.48, 267 n.2 Maurice (emperor), 185, 219 Mauritania, 192 Mavia (queen of the Saracens), 257 n.4 Mavortius, 114 Maximianus, 14, 159, 223 nn. 31 and 33 Maximianus (bishop of Ravenna), 9, 101, 144 Maximus (Anician), 88, 201 Mediterranean world/sea, 5, 8, 20, 56, 63, 65, 153, 155, 168, 172, 213 Menander Rhetor, 260 n.48 Milan, 1, 76 Moesia, 43, 119, 208 Moesia Inferior, 44 Moesia Prima, 105

291

Montecassino, 91 Monza, 86, 217 Moors, 64, 176 Mundo, 169, 244 n.153 Nanthild (queen), 216 Naples, 23, 112, 117, 150 Narbo, 108, 200 Neustria, 216 Nicaea (council of ), 93 Nicetius (bishop of Trier), 182 Nicomachus Flavianus senior, Virius, 86, 267 n.218 Noricum, 57, 170 Novae (Svištov), 44, 229 n.9 Numidia, 192 Odovacer (king), 1, 5–6, 44–45, 58, 78, 116, 158, 181, 188, 190, 208, 233 n.88, 247 n.207 Olybrius (emperor), 58, 203 Olympiodorus of Thebes, 186 Opilio, 66, 77, 87–88, 103–4, 158, 166, 235 n.144, 238 nn. 202, 205 and 207, 252 n.110 Orestes, 228 n.86 Orestes, Rufius Gennadius Probus, 173, 194, 196–97, 200–201, 203, 207, 209 Orfanotrophium (monasterium), 90 Orosius, 175 Ostrogotha, 26 Ostrogotho Areagni (queen), 35, 43–44, 57, 64, 175, 204, 258 n.14 Osuin, 71, 114, 236 n.166, 241 n.53 Oustrigotho, 268 n.21 Palatium in Laurio or ad Laureta (Ravenna), 190 Palestine, 257 n.4 Pannonia (Secunda) Sirmiensis, 57, 104, 113, 193 Patricius, 151, 210, 267 n.210 Paul the Deacon, 145, 188, 191, 216–17, 219, 239 n.15, 269 n.37 Paulinus, 114, 153 Pelagius, 51 Persia, 198 Persians, 125 Peter (bishop of Ravenna), 61, 234 n.105 Peter the Patrician, 14, 129, 147, 150, 152–53, 157, 159, 162–68, 182, 253 n.124, 256 n.198 Petronii Probi, family, 240 n.42 Philostorgius, 212

292 In d e x Phoenicia, 257 n.4 Plato, 11, 141 Pliny the Younger, 10 Priscian, 190, 206, 266 n.186 Priscus, 174 Probinus, 46 Probus, 46, 240 n.42 Procopius of Gaza, 190 Provence, 45, 56, 108, 113, 116, 170 Pseudo-Fredegar, 16 Pulcheria (empress), 37, 39, 98, 100, 132, 138, 140, 147, 189–90, 205, 211–13, 267 n.216 Qobād (Persian king), 253 n.130 Queen of Sheba, 34, 141–42 Radegund (queen), 17, 183, 250 n.55 Raetia, 57, 170 Ragnahilda, 226 n.61 Reccared (king), 215 Rhine (river), 57 Ricimer, 175, 233 n.101, 258 n.11 Rodelinda, 268 n.20 Romanos the Melodist, 253 n.127 Rome, 2, 5–6, 14, 20, 23, 45–48, 52–53, 59–61, 65, 71–72, 85–93, 97–98, 102, 108, 114, 117, 128, 146, 149, 158, 166, 175, 186, 200, 203, 210–11, 219, 223 n.49, 230 n.18, 234 n.108, 239 n.2, 240 n.42, 241 nn. 69 and 72, 253 n.112, 255 n.159, 263 n.135 Romulus Augustus (emperor), 228 n.86 Rosamund (queen), 114, 246 n.199 Rothari (king), 218 Rufinus, 228 n.86 Rufinus (Christian author), 189 Rugians, 17, 231 n.61 Rusticiana, 86 Saint Peter (church of, Rome), 89, 90, 93 Saints Cosmas and Damianus (church of, Rome), 90 Salome, 179 Salona, 169 Salventius, 240 n.43, 242 n.94 San Vitale (church of, Ravenna), 90, 197, 200 Sant’Andrea (church of, Ravenna), 101 Sant’Apollinare in Classe (church of, Ravenna), 90 Sant’Apollinare Nuovo (church of, Ravenna), 44

Santa Maria Maggiore (church of, Ravenna), 90 Saracens, 257 n.4 Savia, 88, 236 n.166 Secundus of Trent, 216–18 Semiramis (queen), 34, 100–101, 244 n.132 Septimania, 108 Severinus, 87–88 Sicily, 82–83, 94, 102–3, 111–12, 127, 130, 167–70, 176, 247 n.212 Sidonius Apollinaris, 50, 226 n.61 Sigeric, 57, 63–64, 70, 107, 197, 259 n.36, 261 n.74 Sigibert (king), 51, 179, 183–84, 200 Sigisbuld, 242 n.89 Sigismer, 71–72, 114, 236 nn. 166 and 172 Sigismund (king), 17, 35, 43, 58–59, 63–64, 68, 107, 175, 178, 182, 197, 204, 219, 223 n.49, 254 n.147, 258 n.14, 265 n.171, 269 n.38 Silverius, 87 Silverius (pope), 254 n.132 Sirmium, 45, 74, 104, 116, 193, 243 n.126, 244 n.156 Sisebutus (king), 218 Sitones, 173 Socrates, 191 Solomon, 34, 108, 142 Sophia (empress), 138, 190, 198, 215, 218–19, 259 n.33, 260 n.56, 262 n.109, 268 n.27, 269 n.37 Sozomen, 98, 174, 211 Spain, 7, 28, 43, 54–58, 64–65, 70, 75, 88, 108, 177, 181, 183, 198, 215–16, 219, 227 n.84, 241 n.56, 245 nn. 172 and 174, 247 n.212 Stephania, 47–48 Stilicho, 200, 228 n.86 Susa, 100 Symmachus, Quintus Aurelius Memmius, 46, 65–67, 73, 86, 206, 230 n.24, 253 n.114, 261 n.71, 266 n.186 Symmachus (legate), 59–60 Symmachus (orator), 10, 101 Symmachus (pope), 92, 223 n.49 Symmachus junior, 86, 235 n.134 Syracuse, 102, 117 Tacitus, 173, 249 n.35 Tata, 64 Theias, 224 n.1



In d e x

Theodechilde, 174, 258 n.20 Theodegisclus, 257 n.116 Theodelinda (queen), 9, 33, 174, 184, 188, 216–20, 226 n.62, 268 nn. 21 and 27, 269 n.37 Theodenanda, 171, 229 n.7, 247 n.228, 257 n.216 Theoderic (brother of the Vandal Huneric), 69, 176 Theoderic (Frankish king), 69, 177 Theoderic (Visigothic king), 69 Theoderic II (Visigothic king), 50 Theoderic Strabo, 203 Theodobert (king), 169–70, 219 Theodobert II (king), 268 n.28 Theodora (empress), 2, 8, 12, 14, 25–26, 38, 50, 94–95, 131–32, 138, 149, 152–55, 163–68, 172, 187, 189–90, 197, 200, 203, 206–7, 214, 226 n.64, 228 n.98, 230 n.39, 253 nn. 125 and 132, 254 nn. 132 and 136–37, 256 nn. 184 and 200 Theodoret of Cyrrhus, 212 Theodorus, Flavius, 86 Theodosius (emperor), 86, 189, 205, 260 n.48 Theodosius (son of Galla Placidia and Athaulf ), 251 n.75 Theodosius II (emperor), 39, 98, 147, 190, 192–93, 198, 205, 212 Thessalonica, 86 Theudigotha (queen), 43, 56–57, 175, 197, 254 n.147, 258 n.14 Theudimer (king), 26, 35, 45, 68, 128, 203 Theudis, 56, 65, 75, 99, 108, 227 n.84, 237 n.190 Thorismuth, 26, 55 Thrace, 44 Thrasamund (king), 60, 64, 69, 119, 141, 175– 77, 185, 219, 236 n.157, 258 n.22, 261 n.74 Thucydides, 11 Thuringia, 108, 111, 178, 245 n.172 Thuringians, 7, 35, 56 Tiber (river), 255 n.159 Tiberius (emperor), 259 n.33 Ticinum, 44, 210 Toulouse, 56, 185 Totila (king), 164, 197, 240 n.32 Traguila/Tragguilla, 16, 62, 95, 234 n.117

293

Triwila/Triwa, 62, 95, 234 n.117 Tuluin, 50, 64, 71, 74–76, 88, 105, 114–17, 149, 193, 230 n.40, 237 nn. 180–82 and 187, 245 n.158, 246 n.205 Tuscia/Tuscany, 119, 124, 128–29, 160 Uliaris, 112 Ursio, 184 Valentinian (emperor), 189 Valentinian II (emperor), 189, 211 Valentinian III (emperor), 64, 69, 71, 91, 95, 121–22, 175, 190–94, 198, 203, 209, 212, 262 n.111, 267 n.219 Vandals, 3, 57, 64, 68, 82–83, 103, 109–12, 167, 169, 175–76, 192, 235 n.129, 236 n.157 Venantius Fortunatus, 34, 174, 179–80, 200, 245 n.172, 259 n.43, 260 n.56, 262 n.110 Verina (empress), 147, 172, 190, 205, 252 n.94 Verona, 6, 44, 61–62, 114, 181 Vézeronce, 64 Via Sacra (Rome), 90 Victor, 244 n.144 Victor of Tunnuna, 185 Victor of Vita, 68, 176 Victorinus (bishop), 72 Vigilius (pope), 92, 254 n.132 Visigoths, 3, 17, 42–43, 56–57, 75, 108, 117, 175, 200, 230 n.34, 232 n.63, 237 n.190, 241 n.67 Vouillé (near Poitiers), 56 Walamer, 26, 50, 246 n.183 Widimer, 232 n.63 Winitarius, 26 Witiges, 11–13, 34, 37, 84, 99, 105–6, 139, 148, 164, 170, 197, 200, 210, 214, 232 nn. 73 and 80, 237 n.177, 243 nn. 125 and 131, 244 n.156, 245 n.157, 250 n.56, 252 nn. 99 and 105–6, 255 n.164, 257 n.216, 261 nn. 79 and 96, 267 n.2 Witigisclus, 244 n.144 Zeno (emperor), 5, 44–45, 57–58, 70, 79, 147, 158, 201, 203–5, 221 n.7, 222 n.10, 250 n.48 Zosimus, 228 n.86

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Acknowledgments

I wish to express my gratitude to Deborah Blake for her valuable advice and careful reading of the manuscript; to the anonymous readers for their most useful advice; to Dr. Michel Festy for having meticulously read this work and provided me with his valuable remarks; to the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation and to Professor Johannes Hahn for the wonderful five months that I spent doing research at the University of Münster. Particular thanks go also to Professor Franca Ela Consolino for kindly allowing me to use the drafts of her excellent commentary on some of the letters of the Variae; to Dr. Francesco Luzzini for helping me obtain a copy of Luigi Ginetti’s very rare book (1901); and to Dottoressa Maria Irene Fedeli (Biblioteca Comunale di Marta) for sending me important material on popular traditions in the area around Lake Bolsena concerning the legend of Amalasuintha and the island of Martana. I am also grateful to the University of Missouri–Kansas City and to my colleagues in the Department of History for supporting my research; and to my friends and colleagues Professor John Magee (Toronto), Dr. Matthias Haake (Münster), and Dr. Andreas Kakotschke (Belm). I take this occasion to express my gratitude to my deceased grandparents, Francesco Alfano, Antonia Risso, Colella Clara, and Domenico Vitiello, for their never-​­ending love and for the unforgettable moments that beautified my early life. Special thanks go to Linda Viviani for being such an amazing friend; to my most beloved parents, Clara and Catello; and also to my ­parents-​­in-​­law, Jill and Debbie. This book is dedicated to the memories of Bruno Conflitti, a maestro and a dear friend of my youth, and of Shona Kelly Wray, a wonderful scholar and colleague and a unique woman. My wonderful daughter, Antonia Louisa, and my wife, Joanna, are, without any doubt, my strongest supporters and my source of inspiration. Without their love, patience, and collaboration, Amalasuintha would still be only in my thoughts.