and then, through the entire Roman world.
Belisarius penned a letter to his life long friend in the East, Justinian.
There was an anger in this letter that Justinian had never seen from his friend.
The letter laid out just how this tragedy came to be, and just who was at fault.
Justinian immediately recalled Narses
and, with the order to recall Narses, he sent another letter.
There would be no equivocation this time. All of Italy would know: Belisarius was in command.
And, with a semblance of unity restored to the army,
one by one, the remaining Ostrogothic strongholds fell.
By the spring of 540, Belisarius was at last at the gates of Ravenna.
Victory was so close!
He laid siege to the city, and when Vitiges' nephew came to lift the siege,
he sent John -- who, yes, was still in service -- to capture the towns to the East,
where the families of most of the soldiers of Vitiges' nephew's army lived.
As word of this passed through the enemy ranks, the army melted away almost overnight.
With no chance of rescue, Vitiges began to negotiate his surrender.
But even as he and Belisarius began to talk terms,
there was a shift in the wind in the East.
Back in Rome, Justinian looked out over his city: a new capital.
Not just because Constantine had founded it when Rome began to fail,
but because he had reforged it.
The Hagia Sophia stood complete, the palace was more magnificent that it had ever been,
and soon his new capital would rule over the old homeland.
He had retaken Africa, and now, Italy.
Perhaps one day, he would reconquer Hispania.
A messenger woke him from his reverie.
A letter! It took him but a minute to read what it said; then he ordered, "Pen! Paper! Quickly!"
"Fetch the senators Domicius and Maximum!"
In that instant, those dreams of empire left his mind.
Now, he was a man trying to balance on a knife's edge.
Vitiges had not been idle.
While they had been closing the noose on him, he had written to the Persians in one last, desperate gamble.
He had told them how much of the Byzantine force was tied down in Italy.
and now that eternal peace, that peace that he, Justinian, had paid so dearly for,
was coming to an end.
Two senators rode up to the command tent of Belisarius' camp.
It was strange, they lacked the usual bagagge and hangers-on of senators,
their entourage was only a small bodyguard to get them through the ravaged countryside.
Belisarius made them enter, and asked why they had come.
"War has come to the East," they said, "You are needed in Constantinople at once."
"We bring the Emperor's terms for the Ostrogoths."
"We've gotten Vitiges to agree, now your signature is all that remains."
Belisarius took the paper they offered him, the peace agreement they just had given to Vitiges,
and with each line he read, he became more and more filled with rage and disbelief.
Vitiges would remain King of the Ostrogoths,
the Ostrogoths would get to keep all lands North of the Po.
They wouldn't even be seizing all of the Ostrogothic treasury.
This was outrageous! He had committed so many years of his life to this fight.
He hadn't battled starvation,
fought against insubordinate commanders,
and sacrificed the lives of countless men, just to give up now.
Not now! Not when they were days away from achieving everything they had planned so many years ago.
He turns to the senators: "I won't sign it. I don't believe these terms came from Justinian."
"Without an order directly from him to sign such a piece of ignominy, my pen will never touch that page."
He knew full well that even if Justinian actually wished him to sign it,
it would take weeks, perhaps months, for such an order to arrive,
and by then, he would've already crushed Ravenna.
But, as word of his rejection spread through the camp,
one by one, his generals came to tell him that they disapproved of his rejection of an imperial decision.
And so, he called a great council of his generals and asked them if they would have him approve of such a deal.
Unanimously, they said: "Yes!"
And he said that that exonerated him from many future troubles that may come from not defeating the Ostrogoths.
He summoned the senators back and offered to sign, but the damage was already done.
Word of his refusal had not only passed through his camp, but made it to the halls of Ravenna.
The Ostrogoths now suspected a trap.
If Belisarius, the only Roman they saw as honorable refused to sign, something must be wrong.
And then slowly an idea made its way through the ranks of the Ostrogothic nobility:
What if they were to go back to the old ways?
The ways that came before the reign of the Ostrogothic kings?
After all, Vitiges had failed them and the royal ancestral line of the Ostrogoths was nearly lost.
What if, instead, they raised a new man to, once again, become the Emperor of Western Rome?
And soon, this idea took root and secretly,
the Ostrogothic nobility sent out a messenger to Belisarius, the Roman they trusted most,
the man they respected on the battlefield and off.
They offered him the crown of Western Rome.
Even Vitiges, when he discovered this plot, urged Belisarius to say yes.
And so, Belisarius called together all of his commanders and the senators from Rome and posed to them a question:
"If I could, without assaulting the city or wasting one more life,"
capture Vitiges, bring all of Italy under imperial dominion and bring the entire Ostrogothic treasury back to Constantinople,
would you support me?" And around the room, he got a resounding, "Yes!"
And so, he agreed to the Ostrogothic proposal, and marched his army into Ravenna.
But once inside the walls, he exposed his real intentions:
To claim Italy for Justinian,
to seize the royal treasury,
and to bring Vitiges captive back to the East.
He made sure that no further Ostrogoths were harmed,
that no looting was done
and that no property other than royal treasury was seized,
but even so, the Ostrogothic nobility was stunned.
Here was the noblest of the Romans lying to them, breaking an oath to them, treating them in bad faith.
The Ostrogoths raised up a new leader, but even he pleaded with Belisarius to take the throne of Italy for himself.
Once more, Belisarius refused.
And so, at last, five years after Belisarius had first sailed for Sicily,
Italy was conquered.
Justinian's dream was complete.
But in the end, it had not been captured by force of arms,
it hand't submitted to an honorable peace,
or even fallen to a noble ruse.
Instead, in those last few hours, it had fallen to broken oaths and bad faith.
And there are always consequences for broken oaths and bad faith.
Some are felt soon after,
others are buried as seeds that sprout only in the darkest winter.
And as Belisarius sailed home at last,
his long time friend sat in his palace feeling suspicion and the pain of betrayal.
The East was in turmoil.
The border regions were already at war,
and it was all because the man he trusted most in the world had disobeyed him.
When his need was nearest, it seemed he could not count on anyone but Theodora.
This friend, this man that was nearer to him than a brother,
had allowed one of the mightiest empires in the world to threaten Byzantium,
to sate his own ego and ambition.
The Ostrogoths had been broken, they could've always been conquered a few years down the line,
but those months, those precious months that Belisarius had spent on the vanity of a complete conquest,
those months might cost them everything.
His legions and his best generals -- they were all in Italy.
Byzantium herself stood exposed and undefended.
And then there was the matter of the crown.
What was he to think of the fact that Belisarius had accepted the Western crown?
Sure, he had betrayed the Ostrogoths and told them all he would never take a crown while Justinian lived,
but he had accepted imperium, and that does something to a man.
And he had betrayed Justinian to do so.
And what of the fact that clearly people thought he was suited to be emperor?
How do you put such a man at the head of armies? How do you trust such a man without reserve?
And so, with these doubts, and with bad faith built on good intentions,
the cracks begin to grow.
Join us next time as the two greatest empires in the Western world come to blows,
and the cracks begin to ripple outward.