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Anno Domini 827, April-7-15
I had everything prepared aboard my ship. I had been given all the documents necessary to formally begin my rule as strategos of Crete: permits signed by the emperor, decrees authorizing me to act in his name, and safe-conducts that allowed third parties to execute orders with imperial authority.
My first act was to seek out shipbuilders. In every imperial shipyard, without exception. I planned to raise a fleet from nothing, but at the same time I ordered the purchase of existing dromons. I needed an immediate naval presence. My entire position depended on that, and I could not afford to appear incompetent in such a basic matter. Punishments would come quickly if I failed.
I began with what was most practical: damaged ships. Every pirate attack left vessels crippled or half-sunk, so it wasn't difficult to find hulls in poor condition. I bought seventeen of them and ordered their repair. In a couple of months they would be ready to patrol.
At that moment, my wealth had been reduced to roughly forty thousand gold coins. It was less than before, but now I controlled the entire island of Crete. The real problem lay elsewhere: the island had no iron mines. At best, it possessed low-quality hematite deposits. Iron could be extracted, yes—but poor and scarce. I would have to mix it with metal from better sources, which meant moving people, resources, and logistics from Ainos.
And there lay the true dilemma. Even though the lands were mine, I could not administer two regions separated by six days of sailing. Orders took too long to arrive. The only real solution was to move everything to Crete: people, workshops, administration. That meant paying compensation, breaking tenancy contracts, and facing discontent—but there was no alternative.
As I sailed back toward Ainos, I planned relentlessly. Reconstruction projects, new settlements, ways to generate income. I was going to invest enormous amounts of gold, and I needed to recover that expense as quickly as possible.
One idea that kept returning was sugar beet. The problem was obvious: it was a known plant, but not an efficient source of sugar in this era. Even so, despite the low concentration, it could still be sold at a high price. With seed selection and controlled reproduction, production could improve over time. Additionally, a crop-rotation system could be implemented across the island to preserve the soil and increase overall yields.
While I wrote everything down on papyrus—thinking about income and logistics—I noticed the sailors growing uneasy. I left my cabin and saw a vast number of drakkars sailing close to the coast.
"Looks like we've found Hakon," I said as I watched the ships advance in a loose formation. "Increase the pace. I need to speak with them."
The captain gave the order and the rowers began striking the water harder. The rhythm increased, speed rose, and we started closing the distance. The effort was visible; the Rhōmaioi pushed the ship to its limit.
Within minutes, the gap closed. I could already make out the Varangians on deck, watching us carefully as they reduced their speed.
"HAKON!" I shouted at the top of my lungs as we continued parallel to the coast.
"HAKON!" I shouted again, even louder.
"WHAT?!" a voice answered from one of the ships.
"HAKON!" I insisted, trying to locate which vessel the shout had come from.
"WHAAAT?!" came the reply again, this time from one of the leading drakkars.
We kept advancing until we were alongside the front of the formation. I quickly recognized Hakon's ship among the others.
"Try to bring us alongside so we can talk," I told the captain. He nodded and began maneuvering, adjusting course and rhythm until we were parallel with the Varangian drakkars, matching their speed exactly.
"Good morning, my esteemed friend from the northern sea," I said, leaning against the railing while looking at Hakon, who stood on his drakkar, gripping the mast as his men rowed.
"Good morning. You finally showed up. Since the day you left, we had no news of you—but from what I can see, everything turned out well," Hakon replied, immediately noticing that Sigurd stood at my side.
"Yes… mission from the emperor of the Rhōmaioi. We were sent to Crete. The pirates were out of control, raiding the empire's maritime routes and seriously damaging the economy, so someone had to put an end to it," I answered calmly.
"Bah, the Romans have always been bad at chasing people at sea," Hakon said, spitting into the water.
"Hey, we're keeping pace with you," I said, pointing at the oars. "We're doing fine."
"We're rowing slowly so we don't tire ourselves," he replied with a wide grin. "If I want, I can order full speed so you understand how we leave those slow dromones behind."
"You're right about that. They're the fastest ships in the empire, but they're built for fighting, not for pursuit," I admitted. "But you'll like this: the island of Crete now belongs to me. The Varangians you brought from Svearike last time are already settled there. In fact, my intention is for all the others to settle on the island as well. It's depopulated by ancient standards, and it seems imperial reinforcements won't be coming, so I need to secure population by my own means."
Hakon frowned, thoughtful.
"And how's the land? Because we already built in Ainos… starting over is no small thing."
"Very good," Sigurd answered before I could. "In some places it's even better than Ainos."
Hakon studied him closely. "And how big is the island?"
Sigurd shrugged, clearly lacking an exact reference. "It's huge. Many times the land around Ainos."
"The island could easily be divided into several thousand thema Kleros," I added, recalling the imperial census maps. "To give you an idea, I had about a hundred thema Kleros under my control. This is an abysmal difference. And that's counting only arable land—the mountainous areas can also be used for livestock."
"Quite an acquisition…" Hakon muttered after a few seconds. "And all that land is usable?"
"It is. And I urgently need people to populate it. If they're good sailors, even better. The island is a natural commercial hub, and fishing can also be exploited—its seas are full of resources."
Hakon fell silent, staring at the horizon and then at his ships.
"Well… we've moved once already, so what's the difference in doing it again," he finally said. "And you'll like this, my Roman friend: this time I managed to bring more people. I didn't do as well selling, though—I couldn't fill the ships heading north, so I only placed a few mail shirts and swords. Still, I spoke with several local jarls who were very interested in migrating… and when I say interested, I mean their entire groups. And they're not the only ones."
"That sounds good, but for some reason they didn't come," I replied, watching the ships. There were more than last time, but not enough to look like an entire tribe on the move.
"Yes. In some cases there were simply too many," Hakon explained. "And since you said you had to consult your superior, I didn't want to commit to anything. One Svear tribe wanted to migrate completely—we're talking several thousand people. Others from Gotland were in similar situations. The climate there has turned harsh and the harvests are failing, so the idea of fertile land and good weather is very appealing. But again… the numbers. And there are other cases that, to be honest, will be rejected. Some jarls want to come, but they intend to keep their full structure. They want the land, to pay tribute, and for their jarl to be recognized as the owner of that land."
I shook my head without hesitation.
"Those who come in large numbers and accept imperial administration are welcome. But we will not accept local chiefs with independent authority. That always turns into administrative and religious problems, and constant infighting. This is simple: I need warriors, and I have land to offer. No political privileges and no autonomy."
Hakon nodded slowly.
"Alright. I'll report that next time I go to Svearike and Gotland," he said. "But this time you'll have to give me things to sell. It doesn't help me much to sail with half-empty ships."
"I have a large quantity of equipment captured from the sarakenoi," I replied without hesitation. "Jewelry, stolen objects, and assorted loot. You can try selling it in the north. For now, I don't have time to analyze local markets and maximize profits."
"I understand," Hakon replied. "Right now I have about eighteen hundred young men from several tribes with me. If you have no issues with your superior, I'll try to bring as many people as possible."
"I no longer have a direct superior. I answer to the emperor now," I said calmly. "As long as I fulfill my duty and don't endanger the island, everything will be fine, Hakon. So we'll stop at Ainos and then depart for Crete as soon as possible."
After the conversation, we continued rowing toward Ainos. Several hours later, we finally docked.
I didn't waste time. I immediately began breaking tenancy contracts and paying financial compensation to all the families who would have to move to Crete. I had no intention of leaving land unused for years, unless someone chose to stay of their own free will. Even so, most had to be relocated.
It hurt to abandon my mansion. After so much investment and effort, leaving it behind was not easy. But there was no alternative.
The settlement under my control had around ten thousand people, almost twice the population of Ainos. Using the large fleet I had assembled, the population began embarking in an orderly fashion for what would be a long journey. Everything valuable was carefully stored. We didn't need to move large quantities of basic supplies, but we did need enormous volumes of animals: cattle, chickens, sows. Livestock alone filled almost ten ships completely.
Other ships were loaded with people, and several more with tools, seeds, and materials. Although I would have liked everyone to come with me, it wasn't possible. Some stayed behind; they could find work elsewhere or were not bound by pensions, and my control over them was limited. Several thousand remained, but all the Varangians departed. They dismantled their houses or took whatever they could tear down quickly and boarded without hesitation.
When everything was ready, after two exhausting days of work, we set sail for Crete.
The spring season favored us. The winds were ideal, and even the transport ships without rowers made excellent speed. The journey, which normally took six days, took only five. We didn't need to stop for water or food.
At last, we landed in Crete.
But the work was only beginning. As soon as I arrived, I had to face a mountain of accumulated matters. The first was distributing the loot among the soldiers, calculating precisely how much each was owed. In total, the loot amounted to just over forty thousand nomismata. It was a considerable sum, even greater than my personal wealth after paying compensations.
Divided among several thousand participants, the distribution was modest for the common troops. On average, each soldier received about three gold coins, while the officers received a much larger share, as was customary. Compared to other campaigns, my own mercenaries earned less than, for example, in Bulgaria—but that was because we had not yet sold the loot composed of armor and jewelry. That process would take time and did not enter the immediate distribution. That profit would be, for the most part, mine.
Once wages were paid, I disbanded the thematic army. I tasked the admiral with escorting my transport ships back to the themata of origin to return the surviving soldiers. The seven thousand five hundred men who had endured the campaign returned to their territories with the navy, while the three thousand orphans from Constantinople remained on the island. I had never used them in combat; they had only witnessed the chaos, as had the thousand local recruits from Crete.
Adding my mercenaries and those recruited troops together, I had around five thousand warriors ready to act. To that could be added nearly three thousand Varangians I could quickly recruit from the newly arrived migrants and those settled in the previous wave. In total, the island's population stood at around one hundred and eighty thousand people.
And still, it was not enough.
The real challenge was restoring Crete's population to something resembling what it had once been. Bringing Varangians was only part of the solution. I would have to send envoys to the great cities of the empire to recruit orphans, attract women of marriageable age from those same places, and encourage stable settlements. It was a slow process, but a necessary one.
The options were limited. I could not invite just any group to the island. Even so, I considered other possibilities, such as Christians from the Levant or from Egypt. I had no doubt that, after the Muslim conquest, not all had converted to Islam. Language would be a problem, but I could not afford to close doors.
With scarce resources, I could not afford to waste opportunities.
Now it was time to work.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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