Venetians

by Lodovico Pizzati

  As Polo’s children were lulled to sleep by his fantastic bedtime stories, not too far away Mauro and the seven Ravenna’s soldiers were impatiently waiting for darkness. They were aided in their intent by a new moon. Navigating in two small rowboats, four people in each boat, they rowed from Metamauco to Heraclia via the waterways inside the lagoon. There was no visibility, but Mauro knew the lagoon very well, and he could reach Heraclia even blindfolded.

  Once they reached the outskirts of town, Mauro raised his hand to stop the rowers. They had arrived, but they needed to wait because the villagers were still awake. They had to wait for everyone to sleep, because they would need a head start to escape once they accomplished what they came for.

  Primo and Father Leontio were descending the hill just behind the port of Trebizond. They were returning from the Sumela monastery that was visible up on the rocky wall behind them. Even though they were descending, Father Leontio was sweating profusely and he looked pale and fatigued.

  “Now that we have done our little pilgrimage, I say it’s time to head to Armenia!” Primo stated. “What do you say, Father Leontio?”

  “Primo… I wanted to tell you…” Father Leontio replied, sounding very fatigued. “I am not sure I can make it to Armenia…”

  “What is the matter? Are you feeling all right?”

  “No… I do not feel good at all! I am not sure what sort of illness I am getting, but I am in no shape to travel…”

  “Once we get to Tribune Ari’s house you can rest all you want. I will wait!” Primo reassured.

  “No, Primo… we have been idling around Trebizond long enough. The caravan of Armenian merchants is leaving tomorrow… you should go without me…”

  “Are you sure?” Primo asked again.

  “Yes… I am feeling weak, and I am not sure how long it will take me to recover… If I will recover at all…” Father Leontio replied. “But I am in no shape to climb a steep mountain trail… I am too old for this…”

  “Don’t worry, Father Leontio, we are almost back. You will then lie down and rest.”

  Primo helped Father Leontio walk down by assisting him.

  The next morning Father Leontio was lying in bed with a high fever and sweating. His vision was blurry when Primo approached.

  “Father Leontio, I hate to leave you in these conditions, but the caravan is departing this morning and if I don’t go it will be months before we have another chance…”

  “Don’t worry, Primo, I will be fine. I just need to rest, and there is no need for you to wait for me because I might not be able to make it regardless. You go, and I will wait for you here in Trebizond…”

  Primo put his hand on Father Leontio’s shoulder and smiled at him. Even though they had been apart during his whole youth, Primo still felt a connection with the man that was in charge of his teaching. They had become even closer during the months of traveling together, and part of him felt bad to leave him alone in a foreign land. On the other hand, the curiosity for the adventures ahead was too strong for a merchant like Primo to resist.

  Primo walked outside Tribune Ari’s house. His cart filled with wine and olive oil amphorae was ready. The cart was attached to a mule that Tribune Ari made available. Other carts, belonging to the Armenian merchants traveling with Primo, surrounded him. As Primo hopped aboard and took hold of the reins, Ari approached.

  “My dear Primo, since Father Leontio will not be coming with you, I thought to get you a new travel companion…”

  “You decided to come?” Primo asked.

  “Ha! Not a chance!” Tribune Ari amusedly replied. “I must stay in Trebizond as the tribune of this town, but I have done better. I have arranged for your favorite witch to sit by you. This way you can learn everything you need to know about being immune to poisons!”

  From another wagon the Mithridatic witch approached Primo and Tribune Ari. She was the same woman that bewildered Primo the very first day he had arrived in Trebizond. Primo smiled, as he could not hide being pleased by such beautiful company for a long journey up a mountain pass.

  “Primo, this is Naira,” Tribune Ari introduced the Mithridatic witch. “She is the same girl that you spotted in the market the day you arrived. Be careful not to be poisoned! Ha, ha, ha!”

  “Hello Primo, nice to meet you,” Naira introduced herself.

  Naira hopped aboard and sat next to Primo. She appeared very assertive and confident as she smiled at Primo while greeting him.

  “Nice to meet you… Naira… I am glad to find out you speak Greek!” Primo replied.

  “I do, but I will try to teach you as much Armenian as I can along this trip, because where we are going, people won’t speak much Greek at all!”

  The caravan started moving and Primo had his mule move along. He distractedly saluted Tribune Ari, as his new travel companion intrigued him. They were both quiet for the first few minutes, but then Primo could not help but inquire about the fascinating skill of being immune to poison.

  “Naira… you caught my attention the very first day I arrived…” Primo began what would be a long conversation.

  “I noticed! I could feel you staring at me quite intensely…”

  Naira smiled at Primo, as she was neither shy nor nervous. She knew she was very attractive and she did not mind embarrassing potential suitors.

  “Yes… I guess I was…” Primo admitted. “I could not believe you ingested all that poison!”

  “Oh, the Mithridatic trick, I know… Would you like to gain immunity?”

  “Well, it seems like a useful thing to possess!” Primo admitted.

  “I am not sure, but it’s better to start from childhood. At your age, you risk dying attempting to acquire this immunity,” Naira warned.

  “If we are careful, perhaps…” Primo politely insisted.

  “Perhaps… but definitely not during this trip. It will take several days to arrive at Duin, and I am not planning to sit next to a vomiting travel companion.”

  “Duin? Is that the capital of Armenia?” Primo asked.

  “It’s the commercial capital,” Naira explained. “That’s where you will find all the Persian traders you need. But remember, both Armenia and Persia are already under the Arabs, so…”

  “Yes, I am aware of that,” Primo made sure to show he was well informed, “but I imagine the merchants still have their autonomy.”

  “Yes, it’s just that militarily we have to be aware of who is in command…” Naira warned.

  “Tell me, Naira, what will happen once in Duin? Who shall I meet?”

  “I would avoid the Arab Emir. He is the military governor. In Armenian we call him Ostikan, to distinguish him from the Ishkhan.”

  “And what is the Ishkhan?” Primo asked.

  “The Ishkhan is the Armenian Prince, recognized by the Arabs as the local leader.”

  “Great! So I shall meet with the Ishkhan,” Primo replied. “Is that his name or is that the title?”

  “His name is Grigor, of the Mamikonian clan… but the situation is very fluid. The Bagatuni clan could take over any time…”

  “I see… lots of political turmoil!” Primo added grinning.

  “You bet. We survived multiple Arab massacres during their conquest, and now we are divided and squabbling,” Naira continued. “It’s not the best time for trading, to tell you the truth.”

  “I can imagine, but I am a trailblazer. Someone has to reopen this trade route,” a convinced Primo replied.

  Primo and Naira continued in their uphill ascent to the mountain pass, following the caravan.

  Several days had passed and the caravan was now descending. They had traveled across the mountain range, and they were following the Araxes River all the way to Duin.

  “Naira, when we arrive in Duin, where will I be staying?” Primo asked.

  “You can stay w
ith me…” Naira replied.

  Primo was intrigued by Naira, but even though they had talked quite a bit during the travel, he still could not figure her out. She was independent, and she did not mention having a husband. She was still quite young, so it would be plausible for her not being married yet, but he was puzzled by the fact that she was not being pursued or protected by a jealous man. She was surrounded by family, with her uncle in front of the convoy and her cousin behind them. Still, the mystique of being called a witch, down in Trebizond, and her confidence at such a young age, had Primo very attracted to her.

  Up ahead to the east, a village became visible, and as the valley opened up Primo noticed it was more than a village. This was the town of Duin.

  The caravan came to a stop in the middle of town. People gathered around and Primo noticed Naira’s uncle talking to a couple of persons from town.

  “Naira, what’s going on?” Primo asked.

  “My uncle is talking to two men from the Mamikonian clan… Let me walk up and see what is happening.”

  Naira dismounted and started walking toward the front of the convoy. This was a completely foreign land to Primo. He did not speak the language, even though Naira had taught him a few things along the way. He did not receive the same welcoming greeting he received when he landed in Trebizond. Primo could tell the difference between sea people and mountain people. He kept on staring up ahead trying to read the body language of Naira, Naira’s uncle, and the two men who did not look too amused. Then Naira headed back toward Primo.

  “Is everything fine?” Primo asked.

  “Yes, everything is fine. They just wanted to know who you were. They spotted you as the newcomer from a distance.”

  “And what did your uncle say?” Primo asked.

  “He told them you come from a distant land, beyond Constantinople, and that you bring presents.”

  “Were they happy about it?”

  “I think so,” Naira replied. “Now they are on their way to talk to Grigor, the Ishkhan.”

  “So what do we do? Do we wait?”

  “No, we are free to do what we want. Let’s bring the wagon toward my house. We can unload the cargo and have something fresh to eat.”

  “And where do you live?”

  “Right here in town, with my uncle and my cousins,” Naira replied.

  “What happened to your parents?” Primo decided to ask a more delicate question.

  “Massacred by the Arabs,” Naira responded. “Being immune to poison does not make you immune to the sword.”

  Later in the day, Primo was unloading the amphorae when he noticed the two men returning and speaking to Naira’s uncle. Naira noticed as well and went over to listen. She then approached Primo with a smile.

  “Grigor, the Ishkhan of Duin, is delighted to have a visitor from a distant land!”

  “That’s great news!” Primo exclaimed. “I was starting to worry about whether I was welcome here.”

  “Oh, no! We are welcoming people. In fact, he has invited us over to his house for dinner and he is eager to taste the Mediterranean wine you have brought!”

  “Well, we have plenty of that!” Primo confirmed.

  “He has also invited two Persian merchants that are in town,” Naira added. “This way you can talk business as well!”

  “Perfect! When should we go?”

  “In a couple of hours it will be dusk. I say we get moving by then.”

  Chapter 31

  OSTIKAN

  Mauro and the seven Ravenna soldiers waited silently for a couple of hours in the outskirts of Heraclia. It was now midnight, and with no moon, only the bright stars were providing some visibility. Everyone in town was sound asleep when Mauro and the seven Ravenna soldiers rowed very quietly for the last portion of the canal. Once reached their destination, they turned the boats around and they left two rowers on board. They did not tie the boats, so they could make a fast escape.

  Mauro and the remaining five soldiers disembarked and they stealthily walked toward Polo’s dwelling. Mauro knew exactly where Polo lived. He made sure to remember the last time he was in Heraclia, when he accompanied Ioannicio to the lagoon. But Mauro’s rancor was deeper, and went back to five years before. It was when he went to report to the late Tribune Gregorios about Adalulf’s Longobards incursion in Metamauco. After Tribune Gregorios’ death, the people elected Polo as their duke, and since then Mauro had been looking directly to Ravenna for protection. He waited too long for his revenge. The humiliation of having Metamauco raided would finally be avenged. Mauro always knew it had to be Polo orchestrating the punitive raid onto his village. Finally, the day had come for Mauro’s vengeance.

  Mauro had at his service professional killers sent directly by Ioannicio, the Exarch’s notary. All Mauro had to do was furtively bring them to Heraclia and point them toward the correct dwelling. The killers indeed entered the right house, and unfortunately for Polo and his family, this was not a happy ending. At least, this is what historical accounts have reported about the fate of the first Doge of Venice: Paulicio Anafesto was murdered by insurgents from Metamauco, who killed his whole family and set his house on fire. Interestingly enough, these historical accounts did specify that one descendant survived. Perhaps the chronicles of the time were referring to the offspring living in Rivo Alto.

  That tragic night must have been appalling for the inhabitants of Heraclia. Aurelia’s screams woke up the neighboring dwellers, and once the house was set on fire, people were already outside, disoriented but alert. Saverio and Sabino were among the first to succor, and as they rushed toward the house, they saw a few shapes running away toward the canal. Mauro and the five Ravenna soldiers had already boarded their boats and the two rowers swiftly maneuvered away from the crime scene. Mauro, however, made the mistake of turning around and look back at the crime scene. It was dark, but thanks to the flames illuminating the scene, Saverio managed to recognize the perpetrator.

  “Mauro!! Damn you! You will pay for this!” Saverio angrily shouted.

  Saverio then helplessly turned around to see if anyone else was coming. People were getting out of their huts, and Sabino exited Polo’s house.

  “Father! They are dead! They are all dead!” Sabino yelled incredulous at his own words. “They have killed the Duke and his family!”

  It was dawn in Heraclia, and Sabino was giving orders to his sailors to untie the ship. The murderers were traveling through the lagoon’s canals by rowboat and they only had at most a couple of hours of head start. They probably did not reach Metamauco yet. Sabino had a fast ship and he was planning to take advantage of the early morning breeze. By sailing out on the seaside, he could reach Olivolo in time and alert Marcello and the others. They could avenge their duke that very day. Mauro stood no chance.

  Sabino was sailing along the coast, still under shock for having lost his closest friend. It was still mid-morning when Sabino’s ship entered the Lido Albo’s inlet and proceeded toward Olivolo’s shipyard. As he was approaching, he began to yell to everyone:

  “The Duke is dead! Mauro of Metamauco murdered Polo last night!”

  Marcello exited the emporium nearby, and all men stopped working in disbelief. After Sabino docked, everyone was discussing what to do.

  “Sabino, if they left by row boat they must not be back in Metamauco yet!” said Marcello.

  “They are probably hiding somewhere on the way,” Sabino replied.

  “Listen, this is what we do,” Marcello began to impart orders. “We send a ship out of the Lido Albo’s inlet and we have it sail toward Metamauco’s inlet from the sea side. This way they won’t escape toward Ravenna.”

  “Marcello, I will lead that ship,” Justo offered. “Let me round up my men and we will leave right away.”

  “Good! The rest of us, we wait here until we see them pass by,” Marcello replied. “If they do not se
e any movements they might feel it is safe to go.”

  Sabino then suggested to Claudio:

  “Claudio, why don’t you go by rowboat closer toward Lido Albo? If you see them approach, you signal us.”

  “How many row boats were they in?” Claudio asked.

  “Just two,” Sabino replied.

  “Fine, once they pass, we chase them,” Marcello continued. “They might try to find refuge in Metamauco, or they might try to flee all the way to Ravenna. Either way, we kill them all. We flatten the whole village. We spare no one.”

  Around mid-day, they saw the signal from Claudio. He had hidden his rowboat in the reeds on the lagoon side of Lido Albo, and was waiting to see if any rowboats began to approach from Equilium. Indeed, he eventually noticed the two rowboats come out of a hiding place, as Mauro imagined it was safe to advance. As soon as the two rowboats crossed the Lido Albo inlet, they were right in between Olivolo and the Metamauco Island. The Venetians begin to sail with all their ships and sailboats. They were armed to the teeth.

  Mauro and the seven Ravenna soldiers continued rowing as fast as they could. They were losing ground, but they managed to arrive at Metamauco’s village. They were exhausted. There was no way they could row all the way to Ravenna. The only thing they could hope for was to hide in the Metamauco’s huts.

  Marcello was leading the way. Venetian ships and sailboats surrounded the village. From the ships, the archers began to shoot arrows toward the village of Metamauco. Some arrows were on fire, and the huts were quickly set ablaze. The Venetians disembarked from the ships and proceeded with ship’s launch-boats toward the village. They still had the Longobard mercenaries with them as well. Metamauco was completely overpowered.