Venetians

by Lodovico Pizzati

  “I did, I did, sir Ioannicio, and Tribune Gregorios was furious and he said he will severely punish the offenders…”

  “Good! So, what is the problem then?”

  “Tribune Gregorios was killed by Grimwald in Opterg. I sailed to Ravenna as soon as the news came. We are in a state of lawlessness without the Tribune. We are at the mercy of errant Longobards and that bandit Polo who is protecting them.”

  “Then we must immediately find a new tribune for those marshlands and bring order to the lagoon…” Ioannicio determined. “Also, I need to notify Patriarch Cristoforo of Grado that he must now respond to the Pope, and that his autocephaly is over…”

  “Auto what?” Mauro asked.

  “Autocephaly… it’s Greek. It means that the Patriarch was an independent bishop. But now he must report to the Pope. It’s the new Emperor’s will,” Ioannicio shifted uneasily in his chair, attempting to assuage the pain in his shrunken back.

  A moment of silence followed as Ioannicio was wondering why he was explaining these matters to a simple fisherman, and Mauro was not sure what he was waiting for.

  “Well, thank you for your service, Mauro… I will report everything to the Exarch and you shall have a new tribune very soon. In the meanwhile, please do not hesitate to report directly to me any additional troubles you might experience in the lagoon.”

  Mauro got up, saluted and left.

  It was mid-day in Heraclia, and at the docks a crowd was gathering as Primo and Polo returned. It was as if they were witnessing the return of a ghost, as everyone thought this had been the end for Polo. Saverio, Sabino, Father Leontio, Patriarch Cristoforo, Aurelia, they were all gathered around Polo and Primo as they tied the boat to the dock. While Aurelia was hugging Polo, Patriarch Cristoforo began with questions:

  “What a joy! Primo! How did you save your brother?”

  “He actually did everything by himself,” Primo replied. “I pretty much functioned just like a ferryman!”

  “I knew it! Polo, I knew I would see you again!” Father Leontio exclaimed. “But now tell us, did you see Grimwald? Is he going to invade us?”

  “Well, it’s quite simple!” Polo replied. “Grimwald just wanted to thank me for saving his life six years ago in Opterg, and he was returning the favor by letting us be!”

  “Polo… I too am happy to see you alive, but… I find it hard to believe!” Saverio commented. “I understand if he had no revenge to settle toward you, but the fact that he will just leave us alone? We are still in Byzantine territory, and Constantinople is his main foe!”

  “Yes… Byzantium is his enemy, but I guess he does not see us as too much of a threat…” Polo dismissed the legitimate question. “In his eyes we are just an afterthought, as he will concentrate his wrath on Ravenna, I guess…”

  “It’s unbelievable, but nevertheless great news! We must celebrate!” The Patriarch rejoiced.

  “I guess as long as we don’t antagonize the Longobards we can be forgotten,” Father Leontio concluded. “They already have all the lands in Ateste, Patavium, Altinum, Opterg, Aquileia… the marshland is of no use to them…”

  “And now we can focus on what is important!” Polo changed the conversation. “Primo, how are the ships?”

  “The ships are ready! They are empty, but they are ready to go!”

  “But wait!” Patriarch Cristoforo stopped. “Tribune Gregorios is dead, and there is no capable second-in-command among the remaining soldiers stationed here in Heraclia…”

  “Yes, and with a new emperor, and no firm directions from Ravenna, the situation here is rather chaotic!” Father Leontio added. “We need to elect a leader for the time being! We can’t have all capable men sail off for the spring! Not right now!”

  “Polo, Father Leontio is right, and I think you should be our Duke,” Saverio suggested. “You are the best known person among all villages of the lagoon…”

  “I agree, at least for the time being…” The Patriarch seconded Saverio’s suggestion. “…At least until we do not receive a new tribune from Constantinople or from Ravenna!”

  “Not a chance,” Polo disagreed. “First, we face no peril from the Longobards, and we are in no imminent danger. Second, I am not interested in being the military leader. I am a merchant, and I have been waiting too long to return to the Mediterranean.”

  “But as Duke you do not necessarily have to have military responsibilities,” Patriarch Cristoforo objected. “We can assign a magister militum as your right hand man for military matters. You would be a political figure, our representative…”

  “I agree with Polo…” Primo backed his brother. “We have worked for years to pull ourselves up from complete desolation. We finally have complete cargo ships equipped for a long journey. The men cannot wait to follow Polo to new Mediterranean ports. We have been listening to his stories about Constantinople for too long. We need to go. We need to go now.”

  “Great!” Polo concluded. “Let’s fill them with salt and sail south as soon as possible! We need to get to the Mediterranean markets before Ravenna does!”

  “I already told Marcello to go to the salt ponds and load up the ships,” Primo informed Polo. “In a week we shall be ready to sail off! I am going back to Rivo Alto right now. Polo, in a week you must meet us at the shipyard in Olivolo. We will sail off with loaded ships!”

  A week had gone by, and Polo and Sabino met Primo and Marcello at the shipyard. Adalulf and some of his men were there, too.

  “We are only going to take three ships,” Primo directed. “That’s all that we could load up. The fourth one remains.”

  “So, you, Marcello and I will each take the helm of one, and we split Adalulf’s men evenly among us,” Polo added.

  “Whichever way,” Adalulf complied. “As you know we are not of much help as sailors, but we are more than glad to come along as military back up, in case we run into high sea bandits…”

  The ships left the Lido Albo’s inlet into the open Adriatic Sea. Adalulf ended up being in the same ship with Polo and Sabino.

  “You know, Polo…” Adalulf said, “I am thoroughly enjoying this second life of mine. Being a blacksmith in Canareclo was only an appetizer. I am really looking forward to see these wonderful ports in the Mediterranean you are speaking of…”

  “You have no idea how much I have waited to return…” Polo replied. “The first challenge will be to make it through the Adriatic. There is some piracy along the Dalmatian coast, and that’s why I am glad you came along.”

  In the second day of navigation, the three Venetian ships had already sailed past the coast of Istria, and as they were beginning to venture down the Dalmatian coast, they spotted another cargo ship following in the distance behind them. Marcello was the first one to spot it, and he yelled at the other two captains:

  “Primo! Polo! Look behind us! To the northwest, there is another ship in the distance going in the same direction!”

  “I am looking!” Polo yelled back. “It appears to be a Byzantine ship! But it’s not a military ship! It must be a cargo ship… merchants from Ravenna, most likely!”

  “I am surprised!” Primo yelled. “I thought we left too late! I am surprised they left even after we did!”

  “So far they have had no competition!” Polo explained. “They can afford to arrive to the market as they please! Everyone probably waits for their salt, since buyers have no other options but Ravenna!”

  “Well, they have a surprise this year!” Marcello chuckled. “But why only one ship? Ravenna can probably load up much more salt than we can!”

  “If I were they, I would probably do the same!” Polo replied. “If I am the only merchant of salt, I’d rather show up with only one ship and have everyone fight for my salt! This way the bidding goes up! Maybe they make more money this way, rather than saturating the market!”

  “Sounds li
ke the smart thing to do!” Primo commented. “But not this year! This year they are late and under capacity! They are not going to like the fact that we showed up too!”

  It was now evening and the three ships were venturing even farther south.

  “Polo! I see some fire further south!” Primo yelled. “Southeast, to be precise! It’s coming from those little sailboats!”

  “Pirates!” Marcello yelled.

  “We can easily take them!” Adalulf assured the others. “They have small sailboats compared to our big ships, and we are many more!”

  “No, wait!” Polo interrupted. “That fire, I think it’s Greek fire!”

  “What do you mean?” Marcello asked. “Are you saying they are Byzantines?”

  “No! Greek fire is a type of fire used to set fire to ships!” Polo explained. “It ignites with water! I am not really sure how it works, but I have seen it in Constantinople!”

  “Then it does not matter that we are more than they are!” Primo realized. “They can burn down our ships and we can’t even put out the fire with water!”

  “I have an idea!” Polo yelled at the other captains.

  Polo instructed Adalulf’s men aboard his ship to take apart part of the deck and build a flat raft by securing the boards together. He also told his sailors to bring up a barrel of salt from down below. They secured the barrel on the raft, and they floated the raft behind the ship with a long line.

  “Polo! What are you doing?” Marcello asked.

  “I am going to offer to pay them off! We avoid a fight! We save our cargo and they save their lives!”

  As they approached the light, indeed they noticed they were dealing with three small sailboats, each with four sailors aboard. They were menacing and they were indeed pirates.

  “Ave! Do you speak Greek or Latin?” Polo yelled at the strangers.

  “We speak your same language, merchant!” The pirate leader replied.

  “Please don’t attack us! We are offering you a full barrel of salt!”

  “That’s it?”

  “Take a look! We have many men!” Polo continued. “We are carrying with us professional warriors! If you want to die we have no problem fighting you!”

  “You will lose more than one barrel of salt!” The pirate leader replied.

  “Yes! But you will lose your life! Instead, this way you get to keep a lot of salt, and we will pay you off again on our way back later this spring!”

  The pirate did not say another word, but simply sailed toward the raft to take the barrel of salt.

  “I tell you what!” Polo continued. “There is a rival ship sailing behind us! Maybe a couple of hours behind! If you set that ship ablaze, on our way back we will pay you triple!”

  The three Venetian ships kept on sailing aided by a strong evening breeze, leaving the pirate sailboats behind. A couple of hours later they did indeed witness a large fire over water. The pirates had in fact attacked the merchant ship from Ravenna.

  After several more days of sailing, they finally arrived in Kerkyra. The three ships were approaching the beautiful Byzantine town.

  It was a vibrant port and the Venetian sailors were ecstatic. Aside from Polo, no one had seen anything like this before. They were not used to the diversity of people. There were merchants from Egypt, Constantinople, and the western Mediterranean. There were slaves from Africa, the Middle East and even from Asia. It was the first time they had all seen anything like this. In addition to the people, they were also astounded by the goods being traded. It was not just primary commodities as they were used to in the northern Adriatic. There were fine cloths and spices that they had never seen or smelled before.

  They immediately began to sell salt to numerous buyers. The only one speaking Greek was Polo, so every deal had to go through him. Other merchants spoke Vulgar Latin to the Venetians, but no one made a deal unless Polo first approved it.

  In this important market, they did not need to barter and they were paid in gold solidi. Each barrel of salt weighed less than three hundred pounds, but Polo managed to be paid three gold solidi per barrel. They had about one hundred barrels per ship, so they did not really need Sabino’s accounting to understand they were getting very rich. At one point one merchant wanted to purchase a barrel with bronze currencies instead of the gold solidus, and Polo replied:

  “What is that? Don’t you have a gold solidus? What am I going to do with four hundred of these bronze follis?”

  “You need smaller change as well, my friend!” The merchant replied.

  “What for?”

  “Look how many passengers you brought with your ships! Do you think they only came to trade? Are you going to buy them food with gold coins? How about those beautiful slave girls? You need smaller coinage to pay! You cannot do smaller transactions with gold solidi! Maybe where you are from you barter everything, but here you need small change!”

  “Give me the follis!” Polo answered. “You definitely convinced me! Pay me up with bronze coins as well!”

  The Venetians enjoyed all that the port had to offer at night. There was heavy drinking, there were brothels, there were friendly interactions with merchants from distant lands, and there was a lot of laughter.

  One of these interactions was with an Egyptian slave trader.

  “You Venetians have gained so much gold on this trip that you cannot return to your land just with fine textiles and spices…”

  “I know! We are returning with lots of gold as well!” Marcello replied.

  They all laughed at Marcello’s jesting, but the Egyptian slave trader, while laughing as well, he was actually trying to talk them into a transaction.

  “You should really consider bringing back a few exotic slaves that I have for you. I have them both from Africa and from the Orient. Imagine the impression you will make to folks back home!”

  “I don’t know, thirty gold coins for a slave sounds rather expensive…” Primo commented. “That’s a lot of salt!”

  “And that’s the beauty of it!” The slave trader replied. “What do you think is worth more? Your ship full of salt or your ship full of slaves?”

  “Well, if a slave holds the same space as a barrel, then with slaves it will be worth ten times more…” Sabino realized.

  “Exactly! You should look into trading people, that’s where the real gains are!”

  “Yes, but thirty solidi for one of your slaves…” Polo sounded perplexed. “I am not saying it is not the fair price, but on this trip we could probably just afford to take one, or two at best, and… it’s too risky. We don’t know enough about it. What if a slave dies on the way back? Other commodities are easier to handle, but a human? It might be more trouble than value…”

  “Forget the thirty solidi!” The slave trader insisted. “I will give you one of my slaves for half price! Consider it a gift. But you don’t see the point. I am not trying to sell! I am trying to buy! I am suggesting you people bring some slaves from up north next time you come down to Kerkyra!”

  “You want to buy slaves from us?” Primo asked, a bit confused.

  “Listen to me. I am from Alexandria, and as the rest of Egypt, it is recently conquered land by Arabs. They are a force to be reckoned with. Believe me, soon they will conquer all the ports in the south Mediterranean. They already took Syria from the squabbling Byzantines and Persians, and you never know, they might even one day take Constantinople…”

  “Fine, we get it. The Arabs will dominate the Mediterranean…” Adalulf jumped in the conversation. ‘But what does this have to do with slave trade?”

  Adalulf was very curious about this Arab threat. Discussions about war and battles were still more interesting to him than haggling over the price of salt, spices or slaves.

  “Oh, it has a lot to do with slaves, my Longobard friend! You see, the Arabs are getting rich fast, and they have
a thirst for slaves. I don’t know if it is their desert Bedouin roots or what, but I am telling you, when I go back to Alexandria, there is more demand for slaves than anything else!”

  “But if they just conquered so much land, they should have enslaved plenty of people!” Polo suggested.

  “That is definitely true, but like any man in every market, Arabs too have a taste for the exotic!”

  “But they already live in an exotic land!” Marcello asserted.

  “Ha, ha, ha! The desert where they come from might be exotic for you, but it’s dull and boring for them! No, what is exotic for the Arab client is Nordic people. The farther north the land of origin, the more they are willing to pay! You bring me blond and blue eyed people from the Nordic Sea, and I would pay you handsomely!”

  The Venetians started to look at each other. The Egyptian slave trader had a point. They knew nothing about the difficulties of trafficking humans, but the lucrative advantages, even compared to salt, were indeed obvious.

  “You have a point, Egyptian!” Polo replied. “Now it is too late and I cannot think straight, but I don’t rule out that next year I will come back to this port with more than just salt…”

  “Very well! I am leaving the morning after tomorrow. I will stop by your ships in the afternoon with some of my best slaves. I am practically offering them to you for free. For me it is an investment. You will find out that it is not too hard to handle slaves, and next time we meet, return the favor and give me a good price! Ha, ha, ha!”

  They all laughed about it, but they were also exhausted. It was deep into the night.

  “We will definitely talk tomorrow when we are sober…” Polo concluded.

  Very early the next morning, while the crew of the three ships was sound asleep, Polo walked up to Primo’s ship.

  “Primo, are you awake too?”

  “Sort of…”

  “Let’s walk and talk. This way we let the crew rest…”

  The two brothers began walking around the port. It was a peaceful morning and the daybreak light was shining on the Mediterranean port.