“Anyway, Father Leontio,” the Emperor continued. “I am glad you two made the trip to reassure me of the devotion of Heraclia and the surrounding lagoon. But at the moment I do not really have time to dedicate to the Adriatic… Since I have to meet other advisors, why don’t you two continue to talk with my son Justinian II. After all, I have nominated him co-emperor…”
Justinian II walked forward, he nodded smiling to Primo and Father Leontio, and then he escorted them outside. Father Leontio and Primo bowed at Emperor Constantinos IV and exited the room with Justinian II.
As they walked outside the imperial hall, Justinian II started speaking frankly to the two visitors. He was still a teenager, but he was very mature. He had a good sense of the political situation, as five years of war had made him already a man.
“It is very much appreciated that the two of you went to the trouble of traveling all the way to Constantinople in the middle of winter…” Justinian II said.
“Well, it’s the least we could do,” Father Leontio replied. “We felt that it was our duty to show our devotion to the Empire. Duke Polo decided to send his own brother Primo as an official delegate…”
“Yes, yes, yes… Duke Polo… Primo the delegate… we are all very impressed, but the truth of the matter is another one,” Justinian II replied.
“What is it?” Primo jumped in.
“The thing is that we don’t really care about the Adriatic anymore!” Justinian II bluntly stated.
Justinian II started laughing. He really should not have spoken so frankly about very important matters, and he was being a little immature about it.
“Think about it!” Justinian II continued. “The Arabs have already started conquering Sicily, and of course they have half of Iberia as well. The Longobards of Beneventum have taken over Taras and Brundisium… they have all of Apulia. My father chose to indulge the Pope and the Papal ambitions, because it was inevitable, and at least this way it seems like it is our plan as well. The reality is that we are completely absent in the west!”
“What about the North Adriatic?” Primo asked. “There is still Ravenna, there is still Venetia?”
“Sure! The mighty Exarch of Ravenna! The Byzantine ruler of Italy! Ha, ha, ha! The Longobards and the Pope have Italy. Ravenna is just a port, protected by its surrounding lagoon. Just like your villages further north…”
“So what you are saying is that Byzantium is conceding all the lands to the west?” Father Leontio asked.
“Not officially, but I guarantee you that this will be my policy as the next Emperor. Look, we just fought for our lives for the past five years. We were struggling for survival, not to have our heads roll to the feet of Arab conquerors. Yes, we are considered an Empire because we are the living continuation of the Roman Empire, but look at us… we have control of the Aegean Sea, and that’s about it!”
They kept on walking quietly, and Father Leontio continued with some small talk with Justinian II about life in Constantinople since Father Leontio had departed for Heraclia ten years ago. Primo was not listening to them anymore. He was thinking about the future of Venetia. Officially, they were a Duchy of the Byzantine Empire, but in reality, they were on their own. Their survival depended solely on their instinct, on how to negotiate with the Longobards and how to trade with the mercantile network around the Mediterranean, no matter who the military forces were on land. Ravenna did not have Constantinople behind it anymore, and they probably did not even know it. This was a huge potential for the Venetians. Primo could not wait to go back and tell Polo. After all, his younger brother’s instinct was right.
It was a warm day in late winter, and a procession of keelless boats was navigating up the Brint River aided by the high tide. Polo was leading the way, with Aldo on board his boat. He was followed by what seemed to be twenty boats. He figured he needed a boat for every four prisoners, and he had two of his own men per boat: one rowing at the bow and one rowing at the stern. Just in case, he brought additional boats, because he planned to bring down more than just prisoners.
The boats arrived in Patavium. They left the Brint River behind them and they entered the canal leading straight to the town’s prison. Adalulf was there to meet them. Aldo could not wait for the boat to moor as he jumped out and ran to hug his father.
“Adalulf! I am glad to see you again,” Polo said. “I hope we can be good neighbors and leave the past in the past…”
Adalulf was not really in the mood to reciprocate Polo’s warm approach, but he had no alternate plans.
“Hello Polo… as promised I have fifty shackled prisoners that my men are going to load onto your boats…”
Adalulf was holding Aldo under his arm. He was a bit impatient to get the transaction over with. There could always be surprises, and the sooner Polo left with all the prisoners the better. He could not wait to go back to Aponus and submerge his aching leg into the hot spring waters.
As the prisoners were being loaded, Polo decided that it was time to make an additional proposal.
“Adalulf… I believe that your offer is too generous. I mean, you are not paying a ransom. We treated Aldo as one of us, not a hostage. He would have been free to reunite with you in exchange for a simple understanding of mutual non-aggression.”
“Whatever you say, Polo…”
Adalulf was feeling uncomfortable. The more Polo talked, the more he was concerned that he was not going to like how this ended. He was looking at his guards intimating that they should hurry up. As soon as the prisoners were loaded he was ready to take off with Aldo and wave good-bye to Polo, hopefully for good.
“I mean, having also fifty slaves…” Polo continued. “That is an additional gift, and I feel indebted.”
“Don’t mention it,” Adalulf replied to dismiss the conversation.
“I want to give you a monetary gift as well, and to your warriors as well, if you don’t mind…”
“You have gold here with you?” Adalulf was now curious.
“A portion of what I am willing to pay you… The rest is in Rivo Alto… I would just need to ask a favor…”
“Oh, here we go! I knew it! Spit it out, Polo!”
I just want to hire your warriors for part of the spring, that’s all…”
“No way! My soldiers are not coming with you to Kerkyra or wherever you are going this spring!”
“No, actually… I don’t need to go anywhere. It’s a matter to be resolved within the lagoon…”
“Ha! You want us to go rough up Mauro of Metamauco again? Forget it…”
“No… this time it is a bit of a bigger fish. We are expecting an attack from Ravenna…”
“You have the Byzantine Empire against you!? Good luck!”
“No, no, no… our relationship with Byzantium is just fine. We are an autonomous Duchy devoted to our Emperor. It’s just that now we are Ravenna’s rivals and we need support… I am paying very well, Adalulf!”
“Against Ravenna, huh?”
Adalulf was now thinking. Ravenna had been a thorn in the side of the Longobards for over a century. Now that Ravenna was allied with the Pope and King Perctarit, weakening it from the sea would actually be beneficial. It was definitely better to deal with Polo and the Venetians than with the Exarch of Ravenna, who had been the perennial foe. If Polo became the commercial hub for the North Adriatic, Patavium would be the gateway to the rest of Europe.
“I don’t need much,” Polo continued. “I think this can be solved just with archers. Many archers, but that’s about it. I don’t even think there will be much battling with swords and spears.”
“Just archers, huh?” Adalulf was considering Polo’s request. “Well, my warriors do it all, but I can count on only one hundred men nowadays, and I do need to keep a few in Patavium.”
“About fifty men, that would be plenty!” Polo answered. “I am willing to pay you wel
l. Say I pay you personally ten gold solidi and another ten gold solidi to be split between your warriors… that’s a big pay for them!”
“You really have that much money?” Adalulf asked incredulous.
“Listen! It’s a fair price for fifty slaves. I am essentially purchasing them, and you are providing this service for me in exchange of our renovated friendship.”
“How much gold do you have right now?” Adalulf insisted.
“I have ten gold solidi for you right now. I will pay the other ten to your warriors once their job is completed. It might be all over in a week, or in a couple of months, I don’t really know…”
Adalulf was silent for a moment. He then sighed loudly and pronounced:
“Deal!”
Polo smiled at Adalulf, and in fact, he could not control himself and laughed as he descended from the boat and went toward Adalulf holding a leather pouch with ten gold solidi.
“Adalulf! Come here! Let’s shake on it!”
Adalulf smiled, but it was a bitter smile. It had nothing to do with Polo. What was bothering him was having let down his friend, Duke Alachis. By letting his small army go and defend Rivo Alto, he was giving up on his plans to aid Duke Alachis. He took the easy route, and also the better paid route. If he ventured to Brixia, it would have been another brutal battle against western Longobards. It might not have been enough even if he went to help. But now Duke Alachis’ fate was pretty much sealed. He was going to face all western dukes by himself. None of the eastern dukes were coming to help. Duke Alachis was the last guardian of the true Longobard spirit, and the reason he would be alone was that he was essentially fighting a battle against time. It was not just Adalulf, but the other dukes had culturally merged with the local traditions. Around the villages and towns, it was a melting pot of Latins and Longobards. In addition, the religious clash was more of a political concern, often used to justify one duke over another, while the peasants simply followed what the local priest or bishop told them, without really knowing much more about the theological differences.
What bothered Adalulf was that, although Duke Alachis was rowing against the tide of history, as a friend, he felt obligated to be there by his side, even if it was for the last time. By shaking Polo’s hand, Adalulf had basically signed off on Duke Alachis’ fate, and with Duke Alachis also the fate of the Arianism faith among Longobards.
It was spring in Rivo Alto, and Polo was restless. He had not been to Heraclia in months. He had not seen his wife Aurelia or their two children, Clelia and Manlio. He had spent a lot of time with Marcia and Orso instead, but that was not why he was restless. He had spent all winter in Rivo Alto and Olivolo to rebuild and improve the villages. In fact, now it was more like a town, populated by even more people who came from the mainland to help with the construction. Polo was paying well, and there was no lack of manpower coming from the surrounding farmlands. But now it was spring time, and it was time to trade. He had fifty slaves sitting idle, while he should have been navigating south, past Kerkyra and all the way to Alexandria. The Venetians kept busy anyhow. They took the time to fill three ships with salt, and three ships was all that was needed to bring fifty slaves on board. Sabino had done the math. It would be sixteen slaves per ship, eight on each side, all of them rowing. There would be two extra slaves on one ship.
The problem was that Polo could not leave before the Ravenna attack. Or could he? Or was Ravenna ever going to attack? Polo was pondering these things while he was pacing around Olivolo. The slaves were secured and guarded by the Longobard mercenaries he hired from Adalulf. Everything was ready. He needed to make a decision. He met up with Sabino, Claudio, Marcello, and Marcello’s father, Justo.
“Marcello, I really think we need to split up this time…”
“What do you mean, Polo?”
“I mean that you are the magister militum and you are to be in charge of the defense of town, while I need to take care of the commercial aspects.”
“But we will be weaker…” Marcello complained.
“We won’t be weaker! We have fifty Longobard warriors with us. They will not be paid unless we win, so we are guaranteed to be victorious. Besides, it’s really suicidal for Ravenna to come inside this lagoon.”
“I guess…” Marcello was still doubtful.
“Admit it, you are just upset because you want to sail down the Mediterranean with us.”
“Perhaps that’s part of it…”
“I would be glad to wait, but this time around we need to divide. If we wait, it will be too late once we reach the market.”
“Polo is right,” Justo intervened. “We are well prepared for a defensive siege. In fact, it is better to leave before such a siege, should it happen. Ravenna might choose to keep us trapped, and for us that would be worse than fighting!”
“Justo, you are absolutely right!” Polo added. “Let’s load up the three ships. We have Justo, Sabino and myself as captains, and we leave the rest here as defensive units.”
Once ready, the three Venetian ships exited the Lido Albo inlet and ventured south. In the meanwhile, to the west, twenty ships from Ravenna were approaching in the distance. Exarch Theodoros had decided to arm every ship in town. They were armed to the teeth and they were ready for a showdown. They had to smother the rising rival before they would become too powerful. Exarch Theodoros himself was aboard one of the ships, together with his trusted advisor Ioannicio.
“This is it, Ioannicio! The time has come to squash them!”
“Yes, my lord…” Ioannicio replied.
Ioannicio did not appear very enthusiastic. He believed his alternate plan was less costly and with a higher probability of success. He had seen the lagoon already, and he believed they would eventually end up trapped.
“My lord, if I may give my advice…” Ioannicio continued.
“You may! That’s part of your job!” Exarch Theodoros replied.
“We are now entering the lagoon from the Metamauco’s inlet… That’s the fishing village of Metamauco to our right…” Ioannicio explained pointing toward the dwellings on the lagoon side of the island.
“I see… that’s where your informant is from, right?” Exarch Theodoros replied.
“Precisely. Now, up ahead there is the main basin, right in front of Olivolo. That’s the island where they keep the shipyard and their emporium.”
“We shall then charge straight ahead!” The Exarch commanded.
“No! No, my lord, that’s where the trap is. The waters in between here and that basin are extremely shallow. We are better off navigating along the Metamauco’s island up until almost the Lido Albo’s inlet, the next inlet up along the coast. Then we tack and enter sideways right in front of Olivolo.”
“I see… If that’s what the informant suggests, we have no other choice.”
“I tested these waters myself last year, my lord. There is no other way.”
“But where are their dwellings?” The Exarch asked. “They cannot all be sleeping in the shipyard!”
“Their cove is on the island right next to Olivolo…”
“I don’t see anything…”
“That’s because there is a wide canal snaking through it, and Rivo Alto, their residential area, is right in the middle. It can only be accessed with smaller boats…”
“Hmm, so we can attack with our archers and with Greek fire from our ships, but we will only damage their shipyard and emporium… We would have to reach Rivo Alto with the ship’s launch-boats…”
“I am afraid so, my lord. And that’s the part where we are most vulnerable, since only they know their waters.”
“It’s trickier than I expected,” the Exarch conceded. “I thought their town resembled Ravenna more. But it’s too late now.”
“If I may, my lord, I would also suggest that our ship stay back to have better perspective and impart orders with m
ore clarity.”
“I agree, Ioannicio, I agree!”
Exarch Theodoros gave an order to his commander, who then shouted directives to the other ships. The warships started navigating along the lagoon side of the Metamauco Island, but they were close enough to shore to be vulnerable to incoming arrows. Sure enough, arrows started flying in from nowhere. They could spot some archers. They were not many, but they were moving along the island. Ravenna’s archers were shooting back with their own arrows, but shooting at mobile targets well hidden by the reeds and the occasional sand dune. Conversely, Ravenna’s ships were sitting ducks and although they had proper shielding, they were already starting to suffer the first casualties. Exarch Theodoros began to worry. Covered by guards with their shields up, he shouted to Ioannicio.
“Are you sure we cannot move further away from Metamauco Island and more into the lagoon?”
“I am sure! Otherwise, we would get stuck in the shallow shoal and then we would be sitting there as an easy target!”
“Why don’t the people of Metamauco come to our rescue? I thought they were on our side!”
“Metamauco’s village is on the opposite end of this very long island! The rest of the island is no man’s land! And they would not be able to fight off Polo’s men by themselves!”
One of Ravenna’s ships toward the end of the convoy decided to navigate farther away from shore in order to avoid the arrows, and indeed they found themselves stuck in the shoal. It was hard to move a heavy ship once grounded in the underwater sands, especially while they also tried to protect themselves from the incoming arrows. The Venetians concentrated their arrows on that last ship essentially killing anyone on deck. The remainder of the crew hid below, but since the ship was stuck in the sand, one archer could keep a whole ship in check by shooting arrows at anyone who appeared on deck.
The rest of the warships began to position themselves in the main basin in front of Olivolo. They received incoming arrows, but now they were ready to respond with Greek fire. Ravenna’s flamethrowers managed to hit wooden structures setting them ablaze, but this did not prevent retaliation arrows to rain down on the warships, as the Longobard mercenaries were well versed in this kind of battle.
Venetians Page 35