In the year 532, Emperor Justinian I of the Byzantine Empire and his wife Theodora were in trouble. Rioters had rampaged through the capital for days, leaving burning neighborhoods behind them, and now they’d proclaimed a rival emperor, turning the riots into a full-blown revolt. Justinian and his advisors prepared to flee the city, preferring exile and an unknown fate to dying at the hands of the rioters, but Empress Theodora proclaimed that she would not leave. (In a History Channel depiction, this occurs in dramatic fashion on the docks as the men are boarding ships.) The men were shamed or otherwise persuaded into fighting for the city and were victorious. Justinian remained emperor for another 33 years.
Theodora displayed incredible courage and/or wisdom, but for me, she can only be the second-best wife. My wife will always be first. She stood beside me for three years in Catfish City while its residents tried to put me in my grave with their slings and poison arrows. She followed me to the USA, facing winter temperatures below anything imaginable in her home country, an uncertain financial future, and the inscrutable bureaucracy of the US immigration system. She supports me every day in little ways that are too personal to share here, and I can’t imagine how I could accomplish anything without her. Sorry, Empress Theodora, you will never be number one.