I do not know, Flavian, if my assumptions today will be as false as they were when I crowned Eudoxia, but the reign of these eminent figures will be neither long nor happy. The complacency of Theodosius and the inexperience of the empress awaken my pity. I already see her rushing to consult her books at the slightest unforeseen circumstance. But my father, her books were not written for our time and if her judgement is not clear, what was glorious for Alexander will be shameful for Theodosius, what made him loved will make him hated, and what made him feared will make him weak. The throne on which she currently sits is so powerful that I fear she does not have a clear enough vision to see the cottage where she once lived. I am afraid she will blind herself and that in taking the reins of the state after I have conceded them, she will make a grave mistake.

       As for myself, power has never blinded me. I was born in silk, my childhood spent on the throne, and the first thing I learned was to rule, over others and myself. The wise Anthemius, while teaching me the politics that I have successfully practiced since, told me one day that one must always be prepared to endure what one inflicts on others so as never to be surprised by the instability of fate, and one must never be victorious without preparing to face a defeat similar to that of one's enemies if fate wills it. Thus, Flavian, I should not be surprised if, after having somewhat exiled the empress in Palestine, she now sends me back into solitude. The sweetness she finds there undoubtedly explains her desire to take my place, and it is out of ingratitude that she wishes to occupy the place I once held. When she came to throw herself at my feet, for reasons too long to explain, I made the decision to make her an empress. I believed this person who was content with a simple cottage as wealth would be infinitely satisfied to see herself reigning in the heart of Theodosius, elevated on a throne upon which she didn’t dare raise her eyes. However, things did not go as planned, and the woman who only asked for a modest cabin to find happiness does not find it in a large and sumptuous palace if she cannot be alone and if she cannot drive out the one who opened its doors for her. It is true that in her defense, she does not believe that it was by my hand that she received the crown she wears. The omen her father shared with her before his death, that she would be wealthier than her brothers, convinces her that this crown fell from the heavens to land upon her head. She thinks that the influence of the stars has contributed to her happiness and I have only done what I could not prevent. She believes that I was compelled by the constellation under which she was born to make her an empress of the East and, imagining she owes her happiness only to the stars, she thinks it enough to simply raise her eyes to the sky without regarding me. As for me, Flavian, I have never believed in all these miracles that have been recounted to me regarding judicial astrology. I am well aware of how uncertain, confusing, and doubtful these predictions are and how useless they become. Thus, I know quite well that I was not obligated to crown Eudoxia. 

                                     
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