Venetians

by Lodovico Pizzati

  “I won’t press the issue any further, Your Eminence,” Ioannicio replied. “At least I got a reply and now I know where we stand. I will simply report what you said to the Exarch as his humble messenger.”

  The Patriarch and Saverio had decided to meet Ioannicio standing up, without inviting him to sit. Always holding on to his crutch, Ioannicio then turned to Saverio:

  “And you, Saverio, from what I understand you have always functioned as a tax collector for the Exarch. Am I correct?”

  “That’s what I have been doing,” Saverio coldly replied. “Never directly for the Exarch, but my point of reference was always the Tribune of Heraclia, who then directly dealt with Ravenna’s treasury.”

  “Very well, so I shall deliver this second parchment to you!” Ioannicio continued.

  Ioannicio handed the leather parchment to Saverio, who immediately opened it and began reading. He then looked up and told Ioannicio:

  “Well, notary Ioannicio, I am not sure I am the right person to receive this directive. You see, we have elected a new Duke, and now that the Tribune is gone, he should be the one dealing with these matters. In fact, he did not even appoint me as the tax collector for his administration!”

  “And who did your so called Duke appoint as his tax collector?” Ioannicio asked.

  “Well… he did not appoint anyone!”

  “Well then, until your so called Duke communicates a new taxman to Ravenna, we still find you responsible. I am confident that you will deliver this new directive to ‘Duke’ Polo Licio…”

  Ioannicio ended with an ironic smile, implying that Ravenna was not really recognizing any power to the election of Polo as Dux Venetorum. But Ravenna did not even want to formally challenge this autonomous election, otherwise they would just give Polo more importance and credit that they were willing to concede. The best response was to laugh it off and make Ravenna’s presence felt with stringent directives.

  Chapter 24

  TWO SUNSETS

  The end of summer was coming, and the Venetian traders were loading up their ships with farm products in the Istrian port of Ruvinium. Primo, Polo and Marcello were discussing by the docks what to do for next year. Polo was pushing on slave trade:

  “I say if we do not bring eunuchs next year, we might as well give up slave trade and stick to just salt like those losers from Ravenna!”

  “Yes, but is it worth it?” Primo contested. “One thing is to buy prisoners taken from various battles. Another is to engage in mass castration ourselves!”

  “There is no question!” Polo insisted. “The difference in price is just too big to be ignored! I will perform it myself to every single slave if I have to!”

  “And how exactly are we going to do it?” Marcello asked. “I mean, logistically… we need to set up a place just for this, and I don’t really want it near the shipyard where I work. We also have to hold people prisoners for weeks, if not months. And that’s costly.”

  “As far as how to do it, I don’t know…” Polo admitted, “…perhaps the same way farmers turn a bull into an ox? I am sure we will find several farmers with experience to do it. It pays too much!”

  “But Polo! You heard the merchant from Egypt!” Primo protested. “You have to do it to boys! Once they develop you might as well forget it!”

  “So? Boys are even easier to manage in a prison!” Polo answered.

  “And what are you going to do?” Primo kept objecting. “Are you going to lurk at night around farms inland and kidnap every blondish boy you can find!?”

  “No, I am just going to advertise that I will buy them, and you will see that they will bring them to us in Rivo Alto!”

  “It just does not sound right, Polo! We are not talking about grown warriors taken as prisoners. We are talking about boys that are just a little older than children! And just because these Arabs have an appetite for blond eunuchs, I don’t know if we are the ones to do this dirty job…”

  “Look Primo, Arabs are new customers, and if they have a preference for blonds, that’s just a new market and someone will eventually tap into it. Now, the Adriatic is the farthest north you can navigate in the Mediterranean. It’s less costly for this new merchandise to come from here. It is only natural and inevitable. Either we do it, or we wave at Ravenna as they sail by with the fortunes they can make in this type of slave trade.”

  Marcello interrupted the argument between the two brothers as he saw a small sailboat approaching in the distance. As it got closer, he could spot the people on board.

  “Is that Saverio?” Marcello wondered.

  “Ha! Last year he came to greet us in Heraclia to collect taxes…” Polo commented, “…now he is so impatient that he comes to Istria to collect! Heh, heh, heh!”

  “Polo, you are the Duke now…” Primo corrected his brother. “He cannot collect taxes from you, as he should be collecting taxes for you”

  “Good point! I forgot about that! And who else is on board? Is that Father Leontio? Hmmm, there is something else going on. I hope it is not bad news…”

  Primo, Polo and Marcello were standing by the pier as Saverio’s sailboat was docking. Before even disembarking Saverio told Polo:

  “Duke Polo Licio! I have bad news and bad news! Which one do you want to hear first?”

  “Go ahead and give me the bad news first!”

  “Bertwalt attacked Olivolo, Canareclo and Rivo Alto soon after you left, in the early spring. He burned everything to the ground. Every boat, the two new ships you left there, and every single house, plus the shipyard, of course.”

  “How about the people, are they safe?” Primo immediately asked.

  “Everyone is safe. They left in time, as the Longobards were quite slow in their rafts. Most of them moved to Torcellum and Equilium and they are waiting for your return to resettle and rebuild…”

  “Well, that’s certainly bad news, but at least our families are fine!” Polo was looking at the positive side. “What’s the other bad news?”

  “We received a visit from the Exarch’s notary… he brought this parchment for you… I take it you can read it yourself… it’s in Greek…”

  Saverio had now disembarked and he was handing a leather parchment to Polo. Polo began to read it. He stayed quiet until he finished.

  “What does it say, Polo?” Marcello asked.

  “Saverio… is this for real?” an incredulous Polo asked. “There is no way I can accept this…”

  “Polo, what does it say?” Primo asked.

  “Well, it says that they have heard that we are engaged in slave trade, and the Pope in Rome frowns on the possibility that Christian people are being sold off in distant lands to non-Christians…”

  “Well, I can understand the Pope’s position on this…” Primo commented.

  “No, Primo! This just creates a middle man!” Polo replied. “We sell it to some Greek Christian down in Kerkyra, and we are fine with the Pope, and then this middleman sells it to the Egyptian traders, because he is not under the Pope, but under, say, the Patriarch of Constantinople! What is the point?”

  “Ok, so what! We’ll say we are going to sell it to Christian merchants in Alexandria!” Marcello suggested. “Maybe those that hold the relics of Saint Markos! I don’t see a problem at all!”

  “There is more…” Polo continued. “They want us to stop in Ravenna for inspection every time we venture south to trade…”

  “That, we cannot do! And based on what?” Primo protested.

  “Based on everything! They say traders on the North Adriatic must cooperate… that it makes no sense to compete because we both end up selling too much for too little. So in essence they want to control what we do, and tell us what we can sell and at what price…”

  “I can see their point…” Marcello commented. “If I could command Ravenna I would tell them the exact same thing! �
��Don’t go trade without my permission! And if you really want to, I tell you how much and for what price.’ That’s what I would do too…”

  “I will never accept this. I’d rather die!” a determined Polo had decided.

  Father Leontio had been quiet up to this point. While Saverio always counseled Polo on economic and fiscal issues, Father Leontio had always been the one updating him on the geopolitical situation. He now decided to tell his point of view:

  “Polo, this is a turning point, and you must make a big decision. The Byzantine Empire is not what it used to be. They have essentially called to Constantinople all able military personnel. They are concerned about defending Constantinople from the Arabs. The Adriatic is of secondary importance…”

  “Exactly!” Primo interrupted. “How can they pretend to tell us what to do if they are not going to protect us?”

  “There is more going on,” Father Leontio continued. “The Longobards are now split. The Duke of Tridentum, with Adalulf, has defeated the King of Italy, Perctarit. Now the Longobards are divided: the Catholics to the west, allied with the Pope, and the Arians to the east, from Friuli to Tridentum and Verona… actually all the way to Brixia, I should say…”

  “I am following, but I don’t understand…” Polo asked.

  “I believe Ravenna is eventually going to be squashed. They have no reason to exist. Emperor Constantinos IV is allied with the Pope, who is allied with King Perctarit. The Catholic front has the Pope as a religious leader for all, but they do not need two military heads: The Byzantine Exarch and the Longobard King. My hunch is that the Longobards will eventually swallow Ravenna.”

  “And if they do, they can cut off the Arian Longobards from trade, unless…” Polo added.

  “Unless the Arian Longobards have their own independent trade route, and naturally this can only be the Venetian lagoon!” Father Leontio concluded.

  “So, we either bow down to Ravenna and let it be the main port and we return to be cheery fishermen while they centralize all trade from the North of Europe to the Mediterranean… or we challenge them.”

  “Yes, Polo, this is the turning point,” Father Leontio confirmed. “They do not respect you as a duke. Nomination and elections are not what makes someone a duke. You have to prove it with force. They have to test the boundary. Either you choose to assert yourself and tell them no, or you just kneel to them and obey.”

  “And what do you suggest, Father Leontio?” Polo asked for advice.

  “Duke Polo, I suggest you let those bastards know who they are dealing with! We elected you Duke! We might be part of the Byzantine Empire, but as an autonomous entity that needs no middle man like the Exarch!”

  “Father Leontio! You should have been a warrior, not a priest!” Saverio teased Father Leontio.

  Saverio laughed at the energy coming out of Father Leontio’s words, but he was clearly empowered as well, and agreed. After all, this had been the Patriarch of Grado’s plan all along. He needed an autonomous duke if he wanted to keep his religious independence as well.

  “So be it, we will give them a response to this parchment with action,” Polo decided. “And I know exactly what to do…”

  Summer was nearly over, and the town of Vicetia was bustling with Longobard warriors. Inside the main town hall all eastern dukes were celebrating. There was Grasulf, the Duke of Friuli, brother of the late Gisulf, and uncle of Grimwald. Duke Grasulf was a little aloof since he did not want to celebrate Adalulf, his nephew’s killer. There was the Duke of Vicetia, the Duke of Ceneda, the Duke of Tarvisium, the Duke of Verona and, of course, the Duke of Tridentum, Alachis. They were celebrating the victory over King Perctarit. Previously, no one had any intention to join and fight with Duke Alachis. After his victory, however, they all recognized him as their leader, and his wishes had to be uncontestably accepted. Duke Alachis’ wish was to return Patavium to his old friend Adalulf, and he wanted all neighboring dukes to participate and expel Bertwalt, the Beneventum Longobard. Duke Alachis addressed the hall:

  “Fellows! Bertwalt is a stranger and we cannot allow him to do as he pleases in Patavium, which is part of the Duchy of Vicetia!”

  Everyone in the hall cheered to this obvious statement. Duke Alachis continued:

  “For once, let’s show a unified front! We are facing other Longobards, so it won’t be easy, but this has to be done! If we all attack in a coordinated fashion, victory is assured!”

  Everyone cheered again. After all, this was just a pep talk to motivate people before the battle that awaited them the next day. Just the fact that they all showed up to meet in Vicetia was a sign that they were all in favor, and Duke Alachis did not need to convince anyone.

  “We will return the town of Patavium to Adalulf’s control! Adalulf has been around controlling Patavium for decades now, and to me he is even to be considered a duke just like the rest of us!”

  Adalulf decided to interrupt his friend Alachis. He walked forward aided by a walking stick. After the battle of Tridentum, he had injured his leg even more. There was something wrong with it. Perhaps he should have taken more time to heal up in Sleghe, among the Cimbrians. The long hike toward Tridentum first, and the brutal battle after, they had made his injury much worse. Now he was in chronic pain and he could not walk without a stick. So, Adalulf addressed the hall:

  “No, Duke Alachis. I appreciate your praise and the esteem you have for me. But the Duke of Vicetia and I, we go back a long way. It is his Duchy and my presence in Patavium is not to be seen as a threat to his land. It was never like that in the decades past, and it won’t be after my return to Patavium.”

  The Duke of Vicetia smiled and nodded to Adalulf. He had always feared Adalulf, and he never tried to impose himself on him. He was just grateful that Adalulf was never ambitious enough to take over his whole Duchy. And this live and let live served him well, as it was a good buffer to have against Tarvisium and Ceneda to the east.

  “Very well then!” Duke Alachis shouted. “We move first thing at dawn tomorrow, and we go shred Bertwalt to pieces!”

  Everyone roared as Duke Alachis ended the discussion with his screaming call to war.

  The next morning, the army assembled by Duke Alachis and the other dukes approached Patavium’s wall. Inside the walls, Bertwalt was in charge of what was left of Grimwald’s fearsome army. Since then half had left, returning to Spoletium and Tuscia, but Bertwalt was still holding on to all the Beneventum warriors. Perhaps they were not as motivated under Bertwalt, but they were still a feared bunch. Especially if they were under siege and put up a fight, there would be a long and costly battle for both sides.

  Adalulf was on horseback next to Duke Alachis and he suggested:

  “I say we try to negotiate before we attack!”

  “Sure! What do you want to propose? A personal battle between you and Bertwalt, in order to save a bloodbath? Ha, ha, ha!”

  “I just might!” Adalulf surprised his old friend.

  “Adalulf, you cannot be serious! I hate to break it to you, but you are not what you once were! You are a pathetic warrior now! My men told me that you ended up not killing anyone in Tridentum! They basically were disadvantaged in order to defend you!”

  Adalulf smiled as he was amused by his old friend’s unapologetic and impertinent remarks.

  “Thank you for believing in me, my old friend, but I might offer him that option…” Adalulf insisted.

  “Adalulf… in all seriousness, what are you going to do? Crawl off your horse and walk toward Bertwalt with your walking stick? Shall I remind you that you need help to mount on your horse? That you cannot even swing your leg over as any self-respecting Longobard?”

  Adalulf began to walk his horse forward and turned around to tell Duke Alachis:

  “Alachis! Are you coming? You think you are the only one able to bluff your way through a negotiation?”

 
Duke Alachis kicked his horse on the flanks and caught up with Adalulf.

  From Patavium’s walls, Bertwalt spotted the two old warriors approaching and stopping halfway. ‘They want to negotiate’ he thought… ‘I might as well see what they have to say…’ Soon after, Patavium’s walls open and Bertwalt came out of the gate on his horse accompanied by another horseman. He approached Adalulf and Duke Alachis halfway in between Patavium’s walls and Duke Alachis’ army.

  “Bertwalt! We meet again!” Adalulf said.

  “I cannot say it is a pleasure to see you again,” Bertwalt replied. “I really thought that a twenty foot drop into a rocky creek, with two arrows in your torso… I really thought that was enough to kill a man…”

  “Well, we old timers are from a different mold. You really need a hatchet to finish us off for good.”

  “Tell me, Adalulf, how did you injure Grimwald so badly?”

  “I simply laced a pointy wooden stick with viper’s venom… All he needed was to tough it out one night, and he would have been fine the next morning. That’s why I don’t really think I am the one who killed him…”

  “I guess Tiberio is the one who killed him…” Bertwalt mumbled.

  “Poor Tiberio…” Adalulf replied, trying to refrain from smiling. “Anyway, enough small talk. I am here to give you some options.”

  “And I am here to hear them.”

  “You have a depleted army, but it is still strong, I know,” Adalulf stated. “But you are no Grimwald, and I am not sure they are willing to die for you…”

  “We shall see about that!” Bertwalt countered.

  “Anyway, you might hold off inside the walls for a while, but rest assured that we will expunge you and defeat you. Besides, I know that city much better than you, and believe me, I know how to enter it without you even knowing… so that’s option one. You die in battle.”