Venetians

by Lodovico Pizzati

  Bertwalt was now quiet, as he did not have a quick response as before. Adalulf was right. His men were tired of lounging around. They wondered why they did not participate in Duke Alachis’ battle against King Perctarit. And Bertwalt was definitely no Grimwald. Bertwalt would be defeated and he knew it.

  “Or, you have a second option, and it is my favorite,” Adalulf continued. “You avoid a bloodshed and you fight me in a duel one on one. No bow and arrow for you and sticks and stones for me, as the last time we saw each other. An even battle. This way I get my revenge on you, and your men will honor your death, since with this option you are saving their lives.”

  Adalulf was looking Bertwalt straight in the eyes. His voice was calm, but at the same time, intimidating. That is why the neighboring dukes feared Adalulf. But Bertwalt did not know he was crippled, and he swallowed, because he was being forced to accept the duel, as it would be cowardly not to. He did not know what to say. In fact, Adalulf wanted this pause to be as long as possible, as if he were waiting for a reply. Instead, he was ready with a third option as soon as Bertwalt was about to open his mouth:

  “Or, we have a third option,” Adalulf anticipated Bertwalt’s response. “You gather your things, you and your warriors hop on your horses, and you head south toward Ateste. Then you continue toward Spoletium, and you finally make it back to Beneventum. I am conceding you a free passage. I cannot be more generous than that.”

  Adalulf paused again to let Bertwalt think. Now he did not have to wait much longer, and as soon as Bertwalt was ready to speak, Adalulf interrupted him again:

  “No! You do not have to tell me now! You go back inside the walls now. You talk it over with your men, and we will wait until the afternoon. If we see you leaving, we know which option you have chosen. Whoever of your men wants to stay under my leadership, I will consider keeping them. Now just turn around and go!”

  Bertwalt looked at Adalulf, but being a man used to taking orders, Bertwalt simply turned around and trotted back to the town walls. After they were far enough, Duke Alachis told Adalulf:

  “I’ll be damned, Adalulf! That Bertwalt really feared you! If he saw you with your walking stick, he would have certainly chosen to fight you in a duel. And he would have beaten you to a pulp!”

  “Some men are never meant to be in command, no matter the army they inherit,” Adalulf responded. “And some men are just born to be leaders, with or without titles.”

  Adalulf and Duke Alachis then turned around and trotted toward their troops. They talked it over with the other dukes, and decided to wait until afternoon. They did not have to wait long, as a little after noon, Patavium’s gates opened and a series of horsemen were seen walking out and turning south toward Ateste. Bertwalt was leaving with his tail between his legs. Patavium, once again, belonged to Adalulf.

  It was fall in the lagoon, and all men were very busy working to reconstruct their villages in Olivolo and Rivo Alto. They had to at least put up decent dwellings for the winter. At first, they had to wait for the Cimbrians to bring down wood, but now they finally had plenty to rebuild. This season the Venetians were paying so well, that the Cimbrians decided to go back up and deliver one more batch of timber before the snow became too heavy. Marcello was arriving to the Olivolo’s basin with a small sailboat shouting:

  “Polo! Polo!”

  Polo stopped his carpentry and walked toward the canal bank, and yelled back:

  “Are they here? Are they within sight?”

  “Yes! As you expected with these winds they opted to take the route close to our shores!”

  Aldo was nearby helping as well, and he asked Polo:

  “Who is here? Are we waiting for someone?”

  “Ravenna merchants coming back from Istria,” Polo explained. “This time of the year they always sail north near our shores instead of cutting straight to Ravenna. It has to do with the most favorable winds that change each season…”

  “How many ships should we take?” Marcello asked.

  “One large ship and two fast sailboats!” Polo answered. “Everyone! Drop what you are doing! Get your weapons and come aboard! We have no time to waste!”

  The Venetians sailed as fast as possible toward the Ravenna merchant ship. There was a western wind, so the merchant ship had to tack northwest in order to advance westward. The Venetians were sailing south, optimizing their speed to reach the merchant ship in no time. The two sailboats arrived first, enough to stop Ravenna ship and allow the bigger ship to arrive with all the men armed to the teeth. Polo and Marcello were in the first sailboat. They hooked their anchor to the merchant ship and climbed aboard.

  “What in the world!? What is going on?” A merchant from Ravenna shouted.

  “Good afternoon my fellow trader!” Polo replied. “Are you aware that you are navigating in the domain of the Duchy of Venetia?”

  “The Duchy of what? You must be kidding me!” The merchant from Ravenna replied. “This is Exarchate domain! I have been going back and forth from Istria to Ravenna for decades!”

  “Have you now!” Polo angrily replied. “Are you telling me that the Exarch has not informed you that as of last year Venetia is an independent Duchy? Are you telling me he has not told you that any merchant navigation in his water must be pre-approved by the Duke himself?”

  “And who would be the Duke, might I ask?” The merchant from Ravenna asked with a smirk.

  “That would be me, Duke Polo Licio Anafesto!”

  The merchant laughed at Polo, but in the meanwhile the large Venetian ship has slammed onto the Ravenna’s merchant ship and Venetian men were climbing aboard fully armed. They were clearly overpowering the few Ravenna sailors.

  “You made two mistakes, poor man,” Polo continued. “First, you entered my domain without my permission, and second you laughed at me. What are you carrying?”

  The merchant did not think it was funny anymore, but he still thought that Polo’s move was suicidal.

  “We are carrying olive oil and wine must that is fermenting in its barrels!”

  “You will pay a hefty fine now!” Polo admonished.

  “What are you talking about!” The merchant from Ravenna protested. “I am not paying no hefty fine! You are engaging in piracy and the Exarch will have your head roll!”

  “Wrong answer, you pitiful man!”

  Polo took out his sword and pierced it through the old merchant’s stomach. As the man was slowly dying, Polo kept pulling the sword up toward the sternum of his victim, and his face was so close to the poor merchant’s head that their noses were almost touching.

  “It’s not so funny anymore, is it? You think you can come and go as you please through my sea? Well, things are going to change from today onward!”

  Polo pulled his sword out of the man’s body and looked at all the other Ravenna sailors. He yelled at them, pointing his bloody sword at them:

  “Anyone else want to question my authority!”

  No one dared to speak but they all shook their heads in total fear.

  “Good!” Polo continued. “Now empty the bulk of your lousy ship and transfer it to mine!”

  The sailors hurried down below and began to bring up all the barrels. The Venetian men took the barrels and placed them in the hold of their own ship. Once they were done, Polo ordered the Ravenna sailors to board the ship’s launch-boat and start rowing toward Ravenna:

  “Tell the Exarch, and his deformed notary he keeps as a pet, tell them not to set foot on my land nor sea! Do you understand? If they cannot protect us from Longobard incursions, they have no right to demand anything from us! Stay away or we will bring war right to your shores!”

  The Ravenna sailors rowed as fast as possible westward toward Ravenna, while the Venetians returned to their ship and two sailboats. Before leaving, they set the Ravenna merchant ship on fire and let it glow in the evening sky for ever
yone to see.

  As they sailed back, Primo decided to board with Polo, and he confronted his brother:

  “Polo! Did you have to kill that old merchant? He was another Latin just like us! He could have been Livia’s father, Tiberio!”

  “Listen Primo, what Ravenna wants is for us to return to being simple fishermen, joyfully waving at Ravenna’s merchants as they return from lucrative southern trades. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d rather die than return to farm in Altinum or fish in Equilium. To me being a duke was no joke. And to them it was a joke unless I pushed back… Now I have pushed back.”

  They sailed north, back to shore, all silent for the rest of the trip. The red sun was setting west, but an even brighter glow was left right behind them as the empty merchant ship was engulfed in flames.

  Chapter 25

  HOT WATERS

  It was almost dawn, but it was still very dark in Rivo Alto. The Venetians had been rebuilding as fast as they could, but their dwellings were still not fully completed and winter was approaching. Livia and Primo were lying down next to each other, more or less in the same location where many years before Primo had reconnected with his brother Polo, by the banks of the same canal. Now he had three children with Livia, who were sleeping in the unfinished room next to theirs. Primo had a lot to be satisfied with. Aside from his dedicated wife and three healthy children, he was a survivor. He overcame overwhelming odds to avoid a meager future as a measly peasant, and he became a successful merchant instead. But most importantly, he was a man without a lord above him. Technically, he had a lord, since they elected his younger brother Polo as the Duke. But he was still the older brother and that pecking order was never challenged, especially since they were very close to one another and functioned more as a synchronized duo. However, something was not right anymore. It had nothing to do with Longobards or Byzantines, because this time what worried Primo was something internal. Something within the tight community of merchants. Restless in bed, he was jumping from one thought to another without any order. It was anxiety, but he did not even know exactly about what. Eventually his restlessness woke Livia up.

  “Primo… did you sleep at all?” Livia asked in a sleepy voice.

  “Not really…”

  “What is the matter?”

  “I am worried about what happened yesterday…” Primo confessed.

  “You mean about the merchant that Polo killed? Are you concerned Ravenna will retaliate?”

  “I should be worried about that,” Primo replied, “but I am actually not losing sleep over that… It’s about Polo…”

  Now Livia lifted herself up on her elbow. This was a new worry she had not heard before from her husband. And although it was still pitch dark, she partially lifted herself up to stare at Primo face to face.

  “You are worried about Polo? For his safety or about his actions?” Livia inquired.

  “Again, I should fear for his safety, but I am concerned about his judgement. It’s not quite the same Polo, the little brother of mine who is not bothered by anything and that goes on his way indifferent about what others might think or do…”

  “What do you mean exactly?” Livia asked again.

  “For instance, this last trip in Kerkyra, he has been obsessing about starting to trade eunuchs, but not only trading them, but ‘making’ them. Just like a shipyard for ships, he wants to ‘make’ eunuchs here in the lagoon, simply because it makes commercial sense… I can’t explain it, but something does not feel right…”

  “Primo… you know that you men came back from this last trip with so much gold… so much gold, that it is unfathomable,” Livia explained. “I mean, I don’t think that my father managed to make half as much in a lifetime of trading. What you men have accomplished in just one season is immeasurable, and you know that it is mostly due to Polo’s leadership…”

  “I know! I know!” Primo interrupted. “He has a vision, and nobody questions that! He has an obsession. He sees so much potential and he is restless to accomplish it all. We all love him, and everyone looks up to him. But he has no constraint, and I am the only one who can keep him level headed. It’s not that I really ever needed to, but as his older brother I am the one he would have to listen to if he goes astray…”

  “So, you are going to tell him not to trade eunuchs?” Livia asked.

  “Not unless I make some sense of this myself first. It’s not the eunuchs per se, it’s the concept of trading anything there is a market for. And I wonder, is it right to trade ‘anything’? For instance, do you know that while in Kerkyra it appeared as if he was considering trading away Aldo? Sometimes I don’t know when he is serious and when he is joking. But I am afraid he does not know either…”

  “Well, you better talk to him this morning while he is still in Rivo Alto. He might go back to Heraclia soon, and who knows how many weeks will go by before we see him again.”

  Right at that moment Primo and Livia heard someone knocking. It was not really at the door, since the new door had not been placed yet, but it was a knock at the wooden frame that had recently been rebuilt after the fire. Primo got up and went into the other room to find Polo at the entrance trying to see in the darkness. In a whispering voice, Primo addressed his brother:

  “Polo! It’s still night! What’s the matter?”

  “I could not sleep, Primo, we need to talk!”

  “Is it about the merchant you murdered? Do you feel guilty?” Primo asked.

  “No, that actually felt good! It made me feel unshackled… That’s not why I could not sleep…”

  “So, what is it?” Primo insisted.

  “I am worried about retaliation. We need to defend ourselves…”

  “I think we can take Ravenna, especially defensively within the lagoon.” Primo reassured his brother. “No one knows how to navigate battle ships in these shallow waters but us!”

  “It’s not just that. What about if we go away trading? What about Byzantium?” Polo asked.

  “You are right… Ravenna is going to accuse us of piracy… We never had the Emperor’s blessing for your election…”

  “We need to send Father Leontio to Constantinople as soon as possible.” Polo continued. “Emperor Constantinos IV must hear our version before he hears from Ravenna!”

  “Good thinking!” Primo replied. “But, there are no Byzantine ships to take him there…”

  “One of us has to go,” Polo asserted. “We need to send an official delegate. A priest alone won’t be enough…”

  Primo stared at Polo, and the two did not share another word. Polo’s concerns were very reasonable, as it also made sense to Primo that the best defense was diplomatic. It was not just a matter of protecting themselves from an erratic retaliation by the Exarch. What they could not afford was the Empire condemning them. Byzantium would be forced to intervene, and then it would be the end of them and everything they managed to build. Constantinople had other matters to worry about as the Arabs were sieging the capital every spring. If the Byzantines had an excuse not to resort to a military expedition to the Adriatic, they would gladly try to resolve this small matter diplomatically. But the only way was for the Venetian Duchy to act like one: send an official emissary.

  “Primo… I cannot go,” Polo explained. “As the Duke I must stay back. If I go to Constantinople it would look like I abandoned my land and that I am fleeing Ravenna’s wrath.”

  Primo knew he was the only other one that could complete this task. But he was mostly worried about leaving Polo without anyone able to confront him in case he showed poor judgement.

  “What about Marcello?” Primo asked.

  “He is too young…” Polo replied. “And besides, I was planning to finally use him as a magister militum. He would need to stay back and guard the lagoon while I am away on trading expeditions. We cannot afford to leave the lagoon unguarded again, especially not
now…”

  “So, you want to send me…” Primo concluded.

  “We have no choice, Primo! During the winter, the Arabs will not bother Constantinople so it will be fairly safe to get there. And you can be back here by spring…”

  “Be back already by spring? When would you want me to leave?”

  “Today! I’ll go with you to Heraclia, we tell Father Leontio to get ready and by tomorrow you sail off with as many sailors as you require.”

  Polo sensed some hesitation in Primo. It could not be about the plan. They both knew this was what had to be done in order to be on Byzantium’s good side. Something else had to be bothering Primo.

  “What is it, Primo? Is it about Livia and the children? I will take care of them. Either they can come to Heraclia or I will spend more time here in Rivo Alto while you are gone. Whichever way you prefer.”

  “It’s not that…” Primo tried to explain.

  “What is it, then?”

  “It’s you, Polo! I don’t know if I agree with your judgement and I am concerned about leaving you alone without confronting you if you show poor judgement!”

  “Poor judgement about what? About the merchant I killed?” Polo immediately replied.

  “Perhaps, but also your new trading endeavors…”

  “The eunuchs!?” Polo exclaimed. “Look, we have more urgent matters now. If it pleases you I will hold off on that until after your return, and then we shall talk about it. Now let’s defend what we have! Otherwise there won’t be anything left if we don’t act fast!”

  Primo nodded. He could not believe it. Polo was a step ahead and it all made logical sense. But the end result was that the only person capable of questioning Polo would be at the other end of the Empire, and who knew when, or if, he would make it back.

  It was a cold winter, but the thermal waters in Aponus were fuming. Adalulf had decided to spend most of his time at the hot springs just south of Patavium. His leg was not well. It was constantly hurting, especially with the cold humidity that was fueling his rheumatism.