Venetians

by Lodovico Pizzati

  “My King, I did not mean to insult you. We would accept your command, whatever it is. Just don’t leave us without a clear adjudication of the new land, or we will quarrel among each other to the death.”

  “Very well, Gisulf, so this is how it is. You are all dukes of lands upstream of important rivers. The Duke of Tarvisium will take the new lands downstream of the Sile River… that would be Altinum.”

  The Duke of Tarvisium appeared to be satisfied, and King Rothari continued.

  “Opterg is downstream of the Piave River, which belongs to the Duke of Ceneda. So, the Duke of Ceneda will take the surrounding land, but…”

  The assemblage became hushed at King Rothari’s ‘but’, and the smile suddenly vanished from the Duke of Ceneda’s face.

  “…but, because of the valor they showed in battle, Duke Gisulf’s sons, Kakko and Taso, will control the town of Opterg. I repeat: The Duke of Ceneda the surrounding lands, Kakko and Taso the town of Opterg.”

  The Duke of Ceneda was not enthusiastic, but overall he was satisfied. Better than a bloody feud with the neighboring clan of Duke Gisulf.

  “And you, Gisulf…” King Rothari concluded. “You already received all of Istria, and an able vassal in Zani… I think you have plenty already!”

  Everyone laughed, and after all having his two sons in power of the newly conquered town was the best prize Duke Gisulf could hope for. ‘The Duke of Ceneda can keep the surrounding farmland…’ Duke Gisulf thought. ‘…All the peasant men have been massacred earlier in the day, and their women and children by now are fleeing to the swampy and gnat infested lagoon…’

  The only one not laughing was Adalulf. He had been planning this moment for a few years and could not have been more disappointed. All the excursions, the men lost in preliminary raids, and now nothing. The last that arrived at the party ate all of his cake. He barged out of the hall furiously.

  Many days of navigation away, Polo was about to land in Constantinople. For a farm boy who had only seen a swampy lagoon, the view of the most stupendous city in the world was overwhelming. The biggest town he had seen so far was Opterg, and he thought that Constantinople would just be a bit bigger than the other ports they docked at along their journey south the Adriatic Sea and up the Aegean Sea. He could not believe his eyes. It was like a blind man seeing colors for the very first time.

  Once docked he immediately asked the captain to help him find Father Leontio. The two left toward the Emperor’s palace, where the captain would give the urgent news to the Emperor’s ministers, and Polo could meet up with Father Leontio. They entered the palace and a middle age priest, hurrying toward the entrance, greeted them. It was Father Leontio, who had been alerted of the arrival of Polo.

  “Polo!?”

  “Father Leontio?”

  “My boy! I can’t believe it! You are alive! Licio succeeded in saving you! How about Primo? Oh, I have so much to ask you, we need to catch up!”

  “Yes, I found out part of my story, but I have many questions for you too. I did retrieve a strongbox with documents, but I do not know how to read…”

  “My poor Polo! I was a young priest, serving your parents. I was in charge of raising and educating you and Primo to become cultured noblemen! Well, we have a lot of catching up to do, but now I have a chance to teach you, finally!”

  “And believe me, there is plenty I want to learn…”

  “Come, my little Polo, come. Well, not so little anymore… First, let me show you to your room. You will first rest, wash and eat…”

  The two disappeared inside the immense palace.

  A few weeks passed, and Polo spent his time discovering the wonders of Constantinople, but also studying Greek with Father Leontio. Polo was not wearing a ragged tunic anymore, but nice Byzantine clothing. He was also now sporting a short beard that he grew to give himself more maturity than his young age. The priest and his student had done most of the catching up after fifteen years apart, but Polo still had endless questions to ask.

  “Father Leontio, are Greek and Latin the only two kinds of writing in the world?”

  “No, Polo, there are many others, but you do primarily need to learn Greek if you want to converse with Emperor Constans II. I want you to make a great impression.”

  “Yes, I can’t wait to show him my gold medallion. I want his blessing to reclaim my lands in Istria!”

  Polo showed with pride the gold medallion he had been wearing since he had arrived.

  “Polo… don’t be so ingenuous…” admonished Father Leontio. “That medallion is just for show. It is good for formal events, but for all practical purposes, you have lost that land. You could only reclaim it by force, and that will depend on your charisma as a leader and your strength of character. It does not depend on the objects you found buried underneath a fireplace.”

  Father Leontio’s words did not discourage Polo. He felt self-assured about his abilities. He could not wait to return to his land.

  “I can’t wait to meet the Emperor,” Polo continued undaunted. “I cannot believe I will have such an honor. I will convince him to rely on me to protect the Empire’s possessions in the North Adriatic.”

  “Very soon you will have your chance, Polo, very soon.”

  More days had passed, and Polo and Father Leontio were walking through the marketplace in Constantinople. Polo was astonished by everything he saw, and he kept engaging Father Leontio to learn more.

  “I cannot believe the size of this market, and the amount of goods that are traded here from all corners of the world!”

  “Most exotic items you see come from the east,” Father Leontio explained. “We are often at war with Persia, but traders are a tight community across cultures. It is through Persian traders that we can have, at these market tables, the most exotic goods from distant lands such as India, Siam and Cathay.”

  Father Leontio was continuing his geography lessons as they were passing the emporiums of traders from different corners of the world.

  “Over there instead, those are Egyptian traders. We have recently lost Egypt to this new force that has emerged from Arabia…”

  An Emperor’s messenger, who had been urgently looking for Father Leontio, abruptly interrupted the geography and current events lesson.

  “Father Leontio! Father Leontio!”

  “Yes? What is the matter?”

  “You have been urgently summoned to meet with the Emperor,” the messenger began to explain, catching his breath in between sentences. “His Highness Constans II needs to consult with all his advisors on western matters. Please follow me!”

  Father Leontio signaled Polo to follow the messenger as well.

  “Well, Polo, scheduling a regular meeting would take weeks, but since it is an urgent matter, I am going to bring you along so that you will have a chance to meet the Emperor after all, and right now!”

  Polo and Father Leontio were waiting behind a giant, heavy and meticulously adorned wooden door. It finally opened and an attendant poked his head out to call for Father Leontio.

  “Father Leontio, it is almost your turn, but you may enter now. Thus we do not waste time in between matters.”

  “Thank you!” Father Leontio complied.

  As they entered the most beautiful hall Polo had ever seen, they heard an advisor conversing with the Emperor. As they walked toward the Emperor, the attendant spoke in a hushed voice:

  “Today is like if the world is imploding onto us. There has been news all day from all corners of the Empire…”

  They reached the front of the left side of the hall, and they were about just twenty feet away from the throne. Four guards were standing there by Emperor Constans II, who had not yet acknowledged Father Leontio and Polo. The Emperor was intensely discussing military matters with another advisor, standing on the right side of the hall, opposite to Father Leontio and Polo. Polo
caught the end of their conversation, as the Emperor was saying, in the Greek tongue he could now understand.

  “…so they have all been killed!”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” the imperial advisor to southern matters replied. “This is a powerful new force; they are not to be underestimated…”

  “I don’t know,” the Emperor continued. “Until not long ago they were camel herders, and now they have taken our Egypt and our Syria, just like that…”

  The Emperor turned toward Father Leontio and, with a smile of greeting, asked:

  “I don’t know, what do you think Father Leontio? Persia and Byzantium have been at each other’s throat over Syria for centuries, and now, between the two quarrelling and devastated parties, the third one gains! Isn’t it so, Father Leontio? Or are these Arabs and their new religion really that powerful? Do they constitute the primary threat to Constantinople?”

  The Emperor smiled again, as Father Leontio was sheepishly unprepared to answer on this particular matter.

  “Well, Your Highness… I am no expert on this matter as much as the esteemed colleague to my right. But, having the Avars and the Bulgars bothering us undisturbed from the north, and the Longobards doing as they please to the west… Well, at least the Arabs are a new threat for our Persian enemies as well! If we could have Persia fight off the Arabs, we could then focus our resources to the west! In my humble opinion, of course…”

  “Well said, Father Leontio… very well said! And I think you are right.”

  The Emperor now turned to the other advisor.

  “I do understand the gravity of the situation, but I believe we cannot retaliate just of yet.” Emperor Constans II was very resolute in his words. “We must accept those particular losses for now. Hopefully the Persians will fight our battle. At least it is worth waiting for the moment. Thank you, you are dismissed.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” and the imperial advisor to southern matters backed away. Now the Emperor’s attention was all for Father Leontio and Polo.

  “Father Leontio! My trusted advisor, let me cut straight to the point. We have just received a letter from the Patriarch of Grado. Not only has Opterg fallen badly – we were expecting that – but it has been a massacre! Apparently, there are only women and children surviving, and they are hiding in a damp marshland during this cold winter! What’s worse is that these damned Longobards now they think they are seamen, and they engaged this Istrian traitor to siege Grado and what’s left of Heraclia and the rest of Venetikà.”

  “We must immediately send support, Your Highness!” Father Leontio reacted, showing his impulsive nature. “Both military aid and provisions! We shall bring to justice that traitor and impostor from Istria…”

  As Father Leontio continued, the Emperor had lost his interest on the matter at hand, because he noticed a new comer: Polo.

  “And who do we have here? Who is this young man you bring with you?”

  Despite Polo’s Byzantine attire, the Emperor had a feeling that this was no boy from Constantinople.

  “Your Highness,” Father Leontio introduced his student. “This is Polo of Licio. He fled from Heraclia a few days before the siege of Opterg. He had to flee because the traitor from Istria wanted him dead.”

  “And why is that?” Emperor Constans II was fascinated.

  “Because the Istrian traitor is also an impostor. He murdered Polo’s father to take over his lands in Istria, and Polo, as the rightful heir, was a threat.”

  The whole time Father Leontio was speaking, the Emperor was staring at Polo with an amused smirk.

  “So we have a young nobleman here! Am I right, Paulus Litius?”

  “Yes, Your Highness, and I have this medallion that belonged to my father as proof!” Polo asserted with satisfaction. He wanted the Emperor to finally recognize him.

  Polo lifted his medallion that he proudly wore. Father Leontio rolled his eyes. Without rising from his throne, the Emperor extended his neck to look at the medallion.

  “Yes, yes, look at that… But I have another way to test my noblemen.”

  The Emperor stood up and walked toward a guard, who was standing off to the side. Father Leontio was preoccupied, because he was not sure what the Emperor would do next. The Emperor then took the guard’s sword and brought it over to Polo.

  “Here! Take it! I test my noblemen in the battle field.”

  Polo took the sword and held it upright.

  “Well, you do not know how to hold a sword…” the Emperor remarked, “…so I assume that you do not know how to use it either… Father Leontio, besides teaching him how to speak Greek – and you have done quite fine, I must say – arrange for Polo to learn the art of war.”

  “Yes, Your Highness!” a relieved Father Leontio replied.

  “If we want him to avenge his father and reclaim Istria for the Empire, he must succeed. Am I right?”

  “Of course, Your Highness, I will arrange for lessons today.”

  “You see, Father Leontio, I have already decided we need to teach the Longobards a lesson. It is time for King Rothari to feel the full might of the great Byzantine army. I am planning to go to Italy myself and give the Longobards a devastating defeat.”

  “Your Highness! I am shocked! The last time an Emperor has ventured to Italy, it has been… since… since…”

  Father Leontio was thinking and his historical knowledge was temporarily failing him.

  “It has been two centuries since an emperor has gone to Rome, I know… And yes, I am planning to go to Rome as well.”

  Then the Emperor turned and addressed Polo:

  “Paulitius, do you know why your town is called Heraclia?”

  “No, Your Highness, I don’t know…” Replied Polo, completely spellbound by the imperial presence.

  “It was renamed as such a few decades ago, after my grandfather Heraclius, the greatest Emperor Byzantium has ever had. My grandfather could stand tall with the great emperors of Rome…”

  The Emperor was now returning to his throne and sat down.

  “I believe that before Heraclia that port town was called… what was it called, Father Leontio?”

  “Melidissa, Your Highness!” Father Leontio was proud of himself for knowing this trivia, after his previous historical amnesia.

  “Yes, that’s right…” the Emperor continued. “Anyway, my Paulitius, you can understand that a port named after my grandfather is of great symbolic importance!”

  “Yes, Your Highness!” Polo nodded.

  “I mean, of course it’s strategic militarily and for commerce, but Heraclia must not fall because it is also a symbol of Byzantium’s greatness. Its fall would reverberate throughout the Empire.”

  The Emperor stood up again in one agile motion, as if he wanted to depart for war right at that moment.

  “Father Leontio, my fleet will sail to Taras before the end of winter, and from there we will attack the Longobards from the south of Italy. You and Paulus Litius will accompany me for that part of the trip. Then you will proceed north, all the way to Heraclia. I will send Gregorios with you, for he is a trusted military man, and he will be the new Tribune of Heraclia. With Gregorios, you will reconquer Opterg and also Istria. Thank you, you two are dismissed.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness!” Father Leontio replied as he and Polo bowed and backed away, exiting the imperial hall.

  Chapter 6

  THE RETURN

  Primo, Livia, and Livia’s cousin Justo, were walking through the streets of the town of Ateste. There was still plenty of Roman architecture that had survived the barbaric invasions, and above town, the beautiful hillside was basking in the midday sun. Primo was looking at some old Venetic inscriptions on a wall and said:

  “Justo, your family has been very kind to host us for the winter here in Ateste…”

  “Primo, no need to
thank us,” Cousin Justo replied. “We are very close to my aunt Lucilla, and of course to my beautiful cousin Livia… and it has been very pleasant to have you as our guest too!”

  Primo was still staring at the inscriptions, and scarcely acknowledging Justo’s hospitality, he continued.

  “When I look at this wall, I miss my little brother so much. He would love to visit this town so full of history. He was so inquisitive of the strange writings we kept finding in the ruins of Altinum, but he had no one to teach him. What did you say these were again?”

  “Those are ancient Venet inscriptions, before the Roman period. Ateste and Patavium where main ports of an independent nation. Ateste for the Athesis River that goes to Verona and up the Alps. Patavium for the Brint River. And of course also Altinum was a port for the Sile River, and Opterg for the Piave River…”

  “So, even before the Romans we traded with mountain people through these rivers…”

  “And even farther than that! There are stories of commerce beyond the Alps, through a river that flows into a Nordic Sea. You see, Primo, this is the most northern point of the Mediterranean, so any Greek or Egyptian trade would come through these Venetic ports: Ateste, Patavium, Altinum, Opterg… And then of course commerce flourished even more during the Roman Empire.”

  “It would be nice to bring back those days… Instead now everything is at a halt…”

  “You see, Primo, the main commodity the North Adriatic has to offer nowadays is salt, but Ravenna, not too far south of here, is the main hub for such trade, and despite the Longobards continuous attacks they managed to remain under Byzantium.”

  “But it can’t be just salt,” Primo asked. “I see that here the local forests have been depleted, and we need wood from the nearby mountains, and even more, we need iron ores to melt…”

  Primo’s questions were interrupted by Lucilla, who arrived in a hurry.

  “Livia! Livia! Your father has arrived from Patavium!”

  Primo and Livia saluted Justo and hurried back with Lucilla. Once inside their dwelling they greeted Tiberio, and Livia ran toward her father to hug him.