Venetians

by Lodovico Pizzati

  The city of Ravenna, the Byzantine capital in Italy, was where the Exarch lived. The Exarch was the plenipotentiary ruler of all Byzantine territories in Italy. On the main hall in his palace, Exarch Theodoros was in a lively discussion with one of his aides.

  “How is it possible that we cannot find another notary in all of Ravenna!?” Exarch Theodoros thundered. “My old notary died a month ago, and we have business to complete!”

  “We did announce the position being opened, but…” his aide sheepishly replied.

  “But?”

  “We only had one response, and…”

  “And?”

  “And he is quite young…”

  “How young?”

  “Twenty, my lord, twenty years old.”

  “Well, that’s not too young!” Exarch Theodoros assessed. “That will do! In fact, better young so he will last for some time, and not die of old age in the middle of important business like the previous notary!”

  Exarch Theodoros, despite the Greek name, was born and raised in Ravenna. The son of an important Byzantine functionary, he inherited the privileges and the career, but he was a Ravennate through and through. He spoke the Vulgar Latin spoken in Ravenna, but like most people at the time, he could not read much Latin or Greek. In addition, he could not speak Greek all that well either. Exarch Theodoros continued:

  “So, when can we see this young candidate for the position of personal notary to the Exarch?”

  “He is actually in the palace, my lord, and he has been waiting since morning, just in case you cared to interview him.”

  “Well good! Call him over, and what is his name?”

  “Ioannicio, my lord, his name is Ioannicio and I will call him right away…”

  The aide exited the hall leaving Exarch Theodoros alone, sifting through important parchments that had arrived from Constantinople. Moments later the aide returned followed by Ioannicio, who was crippled. One of his legs was deformed and he had to walk aided by a crutch he held under his arm. In addition, Ioannicio’s face was somewhat morbid, not quite deformed, but asymmetric and it aroused disgust to those who met him for the first time.

  “Good Lord! What is that!?” Exarch Theodoros exclaimed. “No, no, no, no, I don’t want to see that! Get him out of here, please!”

  “I am sorry, my lord…” the aide justified himself, “…that is why I was hesitant to bring him forward. My apologies, but we really had no other qualified candidate…”

  The aide was asking Ioannicio to leave, but after the first instinctive repulsion, curiosity set into the Exarch’s mind.

  “Wait! Before you send him off, let me take a second look, because you do not often see such monstrosity…”

  Exarch Theodoros studied the young candidate, looking with attention and a frown of disgust at the same time.

  “And so your name is Ioannicio?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Ioannicio replied.

  Ioannicio’s voice was so grotesque and nasal, that it made him even more hideous than his looks alone. Now Exarch Theodoros, perhaps feeling a rare moment of compassion, decided to give a reasonable justification for why he was not to be hired. Not because of his bloodcurdling looks, but because of his qualifications.

  “You see, Ioannicio, the position I am trying to fill is a very important position. The notary to the Exarch essentially has the duty to be my personal secretary, and it is not just a matter of providing counsel on crucial political disputes, but it also requires a profound knowledge of not only Latin, but also Greek! So that’s why I cannot hire you…”

  “My lord, I am proficient in both Latin and Greek, spoken and written. You cannot find a more prepared scholar on these two subjects in Ravenna.”

  Exarch Theodoros was now a bit amused.

  “Oh, are you now? Well, it happens to be that I have received not long ago a parchment from Constantinople, and it appears that it is from the royal family itself! Now, here! Let’s see how well you know Greek!”

  Exarch Theodoros handed Ioannicio the leather parchment with a little giggle. He felt that he must have made this poor boy’s day, letting him touch such an important parchment. Ioannicio, in the meanwhile, had already opened it and he was reading aloud:

  “Χαιρε Θεοδωρος, εξαρχος Ραβεννας…”

  “Ahem, not just read, heh, heh…” Exarch Theodoros interrupted. “You also have to translate as you read… Can you do that?”

  Exarch Theodoros was being condescending, but that did not trouble Ioannicio one bit, as he now continued speaking in the local tongue:

  “…to Theodoros, Exarch of Ravenna. As you may have heard, my father, Constans II, was brutally murdered by his personal chamberlain while bathing in his personal residence in Syracusae. The Armenian general Mezezius has announced that he is the new Emperor, but rest assured that he is just an impostor and his treachery will be squashed in a matter of months…”

  “Well of course we already knew that…” Exarch Theodoros scoffed. “We received verbal communication from the last merchant ship that arrived from the Mediterranean… continue, continue…”

  Exarch Theodoros did not want to show how unprepared he was, in front of this crippled newcomer. News of the assassination had indeed arrived, but he was unaware of this new Emperor in Constantinople, and the parchment had been sitting at his desk for at least two weeks.

  Ioannicio kept on reading:

  “The letter continues: …as your new Emperor I want to urgently communicate with you my strategy for Italy, as in this particular matter my views diverge from those of my deceased father…”

  Exarch Theodoros’ mouth was wide open. This was extremely important information that had been sitting idle on his desk for too long.

  “…it is my firm belief that the Longobard’s threat cannot be properly contained without a pivotal alliance with the Papal State. In order to show Byzantium’s good will, I am immediately granting the Pope’s continuous request that all bishops under the Exarchate be subjects to the Pontiff’s will. The Exarch, of course, will continue to hold the military power, but on all religious matters and appointments the Bishop of Rome is the beacon of light to follow…”

  Ioannicio paused, as he could not hear a sound from the Exarch. He looked up at the shocked and speechless Exarch Theodoros, and so he decided to summarize the rest.

  “He then continues with all the formal greeting remarks to end the missive, and it is signed Constantinos IV.”

  Theodoros began stuttering, in part out of fear of the changing political dynamics, and in part because he was not sure what to do or say.

  Ioannicio sensed the Exarch’s indecision, and with no hesitation, he took the initiative:

  “My lord, it seems imperative that we immediately draft a response letter for the new Emperor, congratulating him on his appointment…”

  “Yes, yes, yes… of course… can you do that? I mean, in addition to reading, can you also write in proper Greek?”

  “Yes, my lord. I just need a leather parchment and some ink and I can write a formal reply according to Byzantine standards in no time.”

  “Very well! My aide will show you to the notary’s desk and will procure you leather and ink.”

  Exarch Theodoros gestured at the aide to show Ioannicio to the notary’s desk. But Ioannicio was not done:

  “If I may, my lord, I believe you will look good in the eyes of the new Emperor if you show initiative and already contact the Pope with a soothing letter, mending old strains between the Exarchate and the Papal state…”

  “Yes… I guess, yes… That is the appropriate thing to do… Why don’t you also draft a letter for Pope Vitaliano?”

  “It would be my pleasure! And shall I also send communications to all bishops and patriarchs under the Exarch’s command? Letting them know of the new Emperor and the new line to fol
low on religious matters?”

  “Well, they have probably already heard about the new Emperor through merchants’ word of mouth… but yes, an official letter is a must, especially because now they will have to respond to the Pope…”

  “Very well, my lord. I shall start immediately… Oh, and does that mean I got the job?”

  Exarch Theodoros was quite impressed. He had not seen yet how Ioannicio wrote, although he would be able to check only the style and not really the content. But he was very impressed about his initiative and how he analyzed the situation. Theodoros’ old notary was very passive and just formalized words into writing without any input or suggestions. So Exarch Theodoros confirmed:

  “Yes, Ioannicio, yes. I still need to see the letters before making it definitive… but it appears so!”

  Chapter 14

  POLO AND GRIMWALD

  It was a beautiful early spring day in Rivo Alto. There were only a few modest wooden huts by the high bank of the Grand Canal, on the side of one of its tortuous turns. Marcia, Paulina, a pregnant Livia, but also Hermetruda and Fabia, were preparing lunch for what appeared to be about a dozen people, at least judging by the long table they were setting. Orso was playing with Livia’s children, Licia and Fausto. Hermetruda’s son Aldo, being a few years older was instead playing alone by the canal.

  “Livia, why don’t you rest?” Marcia said. “Your baby is almost due and you don’t want to ruin everyone’s lunch by giving birth right now!”

  With her typical irony, Marcia was allowing Livia to take a break, but she made it sound, in jest, as if it was a warning not to disrupt other people’s mealtime.

  “You are right, Marcia. I will lie down for a moment. Call me when the men arrive from the shipyard.”

  As Livia walked into her home, Paulina approached Marcia and in a low voice, she asked:

  “Marcia… do you think Livia is going to have a boy or a girl?”

  “I really hope it’s going to be a girl!” Marcia confessed.

  “Why?” Paulina asked.

  “Because Primo is horrible at picking names. He grew up with Uncle Licio and Aunt Fausta, and named his two kids Licia and Fausto… the next batch he will name them after Livia’s parents!”

  “So, if it is a girl it’s going to be Tiberia… that’s not bad… I like it!” Paulina said.

  “And if it is a boy?” Marcia asked.

  Paulina thought for a moment, and then in unison they laughed and said:

  “Lucillo!”

  “My Goodness, you are right! Let’s hope it’s a girl!” Paulina concluded.

  At that moment, their attention was diverted to young Licia’s screams, as her little brother Fausto and her cousin Orso were rolling down toward the canal in a wrestling entanglement. Both around four years old, they appeared more like bear cubs playing, but regardless Marcia had to run as fast as she could, and catch them before they splashed into the still freezing water.

  “Orso!” Marcia admonished. “You look more like the son of a Longobard warrior than of a Venetian merchant! Can’t you play nicely for awhile? Or does it always have to be you pouncing on every boy you encounter?”

  Marcia was hauling both boys up toward the tables holding them by their wrists, when an oar-propelled boat approached and docked. It was Primo, Marcello and Claudio.

  “How are the new ships? How did the test trial go?” Paulina asked.

  “Oh, they are fantastic!” Primo answered. “Battle ships are probably still faster, but as far as cargo ships go? I think we have just built the fastest in the Mediterranean!”

  “I can’t wait to sail them down south to the Mediterranean ports!” Marcello added.

  The three men walked up and sat at the table, as Hermetruda and Fabia brought out the meal, and they all started eating.

  “Hermetruda, is Adalulf coming to join us for lunch?” Primo asked.

  “Oh, no!” Hermetruda answered. “Lulf and his men are staying in Canareclo, busy completing a wide platform to build permanent huts on. Placing all the wooden stilts deep into the mud has been quite an effort! But now that the pile work is completed we can finally have dry pavement to build proper dwellings on!”

  “I am sorry that this winter has been so challenging…” Livia added. “Canareclo is really the worst place when it comes to winter high tides!”

  “Yes, but Adalulf and I have been through worse conditions! So now that we have a wide elevated platform for each dwelling, we will enjoy our stay much more!”

  “Well, whenever you need anything, let us know…” Primo offered.

  “We are fine, but while Lulf is so busy at work, Fabia, Aldo and I prefer to come and enjoy your company instead!”

  They all laughed and continued eating in silence for a couple of minutes. Then Marcello asked Primo about the trading season:

  “Primo, so what is exactly the plan of action now that we have four cargo ships ready to go?”

  “Very simple! We load them up with all the salt that we can from the ponds we have at the edge of the lagoon, and we sail south hoping to beat our rivals from Ravenna!”

  “But is there enough sun, so early in the year, to evaporate all those ponds and leave salt to be collected?” Hermetruda asked.

  “Oh, believe me,” Marcello answered, “…salt forms even during sunny late winter days like this one. And it is before the summer season that salt is in most demand down south throughout the Mediterranean…”

  “I don’t understand…” young Aldo interrupted. “I don’t like salt, why of all things would people want to buy salt!”

  It was the first time Aldo had spoken to adults, but lacking children his age around, he preferred to listen to the grownup conversation than play with children who were to him just a little older than babies.

  “That’s a very good question, Aldo!” Primo answered. “You see… people do not buy salt just to eat it! They need it to store food! If you don’t cover food with salt, especially in the hot summer months it won’t last more than a few days! So there is a lot of demand for it!”

  “But can’t they all go to the shore and collect some?” Aldo inquired.

  Primo smiled at the ingenuous question, but he enjoyed feeding the young Longobard’s curiosity.

  “Oh, no! It’s not that simple. You need salt water to evaporate. And in order to have that you need sea water sitting still, with no waves. And in order to have that you need marshland! And we have plenty of that, and we are the only ones in the Adriatic to have salt production. I imagine there are some other places in the Mediterranean, but not to my knowledge!”

  “So all people in the world…” Aldo continued asking, “…if they want to store their food, they need our salt? They rely on us, sitting here at this table!?”

  “Well, unfortunately we have some major competition from Ravenna… in fact, they have been the primary suppliers of salt for the whole Byzantine Empire. We are the newcomers, and we are planning to take a big share of the market…”

  “But how much is salt worth?”

  “That’s a great question! That’s the right question to ask, young man!” Now Marcello took a turn to answer the young Longobard’s questions.

  Marcello intervened in this conversation as he had a great deal to teach on this matter.

  “As a rule of thumb, a gold solidus - that’s the Byzantine coin, Aldo – buys about one hundred pounds of salt.”

  “Always? Is that price decided by the Emperor?”

  “No…” Marcello answered. “If the merchant ships from Ravenna sink to the bottom of the sea, and we are the only ones arriving to the market, we can ask for more! Maybe we exchange only ninety or eighty pounds of salt for each gold coin…”

  “…but if we are late and there are other merchants selling plenty of salt…” Primo intervened, “…then we have to lower our price to lure in custo
mers! Maybe one hundred and twenty pounds, or even one hundred and fifty pounds for each gold solidus!”

  “So, we better hurry up! We better get going before Ravenna!” Aldo determined.

  “That’s right! Now eat fast! Time is money! Ha, ha, ha!” Primo concluded.

  Suddendly, Sabino interrupted their meal. He called to them from his small sailboat as he was venturing straight into the Grand Canal.

  “Primo! Grimwald has taken Opterg, and Heraclia is next! Polo sent me to gather every one of you to come help protect Heraclia! I already stopped in Equilium and Torcellum on our way here! We need to get everyone! All the carpenters, all the blacksmiths. Everyone from the whole lagoon!”

  Primo immediately got up and ran to his boat before Sabino could even dock and land on shore.

  “Let’s go!” Primo commanded. “We will load all men from the shipyard onto the new ships! We can get there by late afternoon! If the Longobards are approaching, there will still be light for them to see our fleet and fear us!”

  Late that afternoon, the four ships arrived in Heraclia with all men from the lagoon. Adalulf’s Longobards were there too, together with the inhabitants of Murano, Olivolo and Rivo Alto. The fishermen from Equilium, Torcellum, and Grado had already arrived.

  As the men disembarked, Primo ran out and found Aurelia waiting for them by the docks:

  “What is happening, Aurelia? Where is Polo?”

  Aurelia started crying, and in between sobs, she explained:

  “Saverio and Father Leontio have left around noon… and they are accompanying Polo… to be delivered… to be delivered to Grimwald!”

  “What!? Why!?” Primo was shocked.

  “Grimwald offered to spare Heraclia… in exchange for my Polo!” Aurelia cried.

  “Why would he do that? We would have defended the city to the death! Where is Tribune Gregorios! How could he allow this to happen!?”

  Primo was furious. He was looking around for Tribune Gregorios. He was ready to crash the Tribune’s skull for letting his little brother be a sacrificial lamb.