her judgment is not lucid, what was glorious for Alexander will be shameful for Theodosius,<hr>
what made her beloved will make her hated, and what made her formidable will render her weak. The throne on which she sits today is so mighty that I fear she may not have a clear enough sight to see the hut where she once lived. I am afraid she may blind herself and, by taking hold of the state's reins after I made the concession, commit a great blunder.<hr>
       As for me, power has never blinded me. I was born in silk, my childhood unfolded on the throne, and the first thing I learned was to reign, over others and over myself. The wise Anthemius, while teaching me the politics I have practised successfully up until now, once told me that one must always prepare to endure what they inflict on others, so as never to be surprised by fate's fickleness – never be victorious without preparing to face the same defeat as their enemies, should fate wish it so.<hr>
Thus, Flavian, I should not be surprised if, after having somewhat exiled the empress to Palestine, she wants to recoil me into solitude today. The gentleness she finds there surely explains her desire to replace me, and it's out of ingratitude that she wishes to occupy the seat I once held. When she came to prostrate herself at my feet, and for reasons too lengthy to describe, I made the choice to make her an empress. I thought she would be infinitely grateful for ruling in the heart of Theodosius, raised on a throne to which she dared not even lift her gaze. However, things did not unfold this way, and she who desired but a modest hut to find happiness does not find it in a grand and sumptuous palace, unless she can be there alone and dismiss the one who opened its doors to her. It is true that, in her defence, she does not believe the crown she wears was awarded by my hand. The presage left by her father before his death, stating she would be richer than her brothers, convinced her that this crown dropped from the heavens and onto her head. She believes her fortune owing to the influence of stars and that I merely acted out of inevitability. Judging herself indebted only to the stars for her prosperity, she thinks it sufficient gratitude when merely lifting her gaze skyward without sparing a glance for me. As for myself, Flavian, I have never believed in all the miracles related to me about judicial astrology. I recognise how unreliable this science is, how obscure and dubious its predictions, and entirely superfluous. Therefore, I know for certain that I was not compelled to crown Eudoxia.<hr>
       I did not act without deliberation when expressing my will. I scrutinised the situation, considering its magnitude, I did not make a rash decision. It would have taken but little for Eudoxia not to win her case and lose the Empire that day, in spite of stars and constellations. Ultimately, father, I am well aware that this so-called science,<hr>
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                                                    98<hr>