On Sunday, I will upload a glossary of Greek terms and include all the information that you consider relevant. You can leave whatever you want me to add here.
P.S. My finger doesn't hurt anymore.....just a little
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Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
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Anno Domini 827,September-3
The information reaching me from the capital was, to put it mildly, an uncomfortable mix of good and bad news. The campaign in Sicily was still underway. Apparently, there was an attempt to lay siege to Syracuse, and the emperor had sent a fleet along with an army to confront the sarakenoi from Africa, who were supporting a false emperor: Euphemios, expelled from Sicily the previous year by his own men after proclaiming himself emperor.
What was truly worrying was that the Umayyads—who ruled over what today would be Spain and part of Portugal—had sent reinforcements to support the invasion. According to the reports sent to keep me on alert, the sarakenoi had around three hundred ships at their disposal. Not all of them were warships, but even so, the number was enough to raise alarms.
The presence of such a large fleet in Sicily could completely disrupt existing trade routes. If piracy took hold there, it would block the most important passage for Italian, Frankish, and German trade—the very corridor through which much of the western Mediterranean's commerce flowed. That affected me directly. My goal was to restore Crete to its position as a key commercial port, and I was succeeding..... I think. I had sent envoys to every port in the Empire, and even to foreign states, assuring them that Cretan waters were safe and that they could resume trade without fear whenever they wished.
I was not asked to take part in this campaign. The Empire's priority was to prevent Crete from falling again, so the orders I received were clear: prepare for the possibility that the sarakenoi might attempt an offensive to retake the island and expand their network of naval bases, from which they could continue raiding the seas and filling their coffers with slaves.
My duty, therefore, was to remain alert while a large imperial force was organized. Now that piracy no longer interfered systematically with commerce—being limited to isolated acts of banditry—the Empire could mobilize several naval themas and combine their forces. This time my fleet was not needed to transport imperial troops. Other strategos could, on their own, gather around seven thousand men and eighty dromons, enough to contain an invasion and, with some luck, expel the sarakenoi from Sicily before the economic impact reached my own coffers.
Among all the news, there was one item that particularly irritated me. A bishop had been assigned to the city of Heraklion, with the clear intention that he would eventually become metropolitan and exercise religious authority over these lands. That was all I knew. Apparently, although the appointment had been announced, a political struggle was unfolding in the capital over the post. The promise of a future elevation to metropolitan had sparked the interest of almost every rank within the Church.
That meant one thing: sooner or later I would have to deal with some corrupt fool, willing to do anything to gain influence.
Amid so many concerns, more welcome news also arrived. I now had a brother. My mother had given birth to a boy, whom they named Bardas, after my father. It was good news. For a moment, I could relax and be with my family, knowing that at least they continued to live in luxury—even if ensuring it required me to break my back working to set the island on its feet.
By then, we had once again reached one hundred thousand inhabitants. I knew the figure with considerable certainty because I had been educating a group of young Greeks who had arrived through the churches. Once they learned to read and write, we began carrying out a massive census. It was not merely a matter of counting people, but of recording information and issuing identification documents that would allow us to maintain control over the population.
The census's first objective was to determine how many people lived on the island, but the process advanced quickly. We made use of the printing press to produce these documents. We modified one of the presses to work with small forms, three or four sheets long, recording the data of each family group and their origin within the Empire: whether they considered themselves Greek, Armenian, Pontic, or Varangian. The idea was to integrate them into society and prevent the formation of closed ghettos.
So far, the results had been positive. The Varangians were not troublesome, which in itself was surprising. Given their reputation as a warrior culture, one might expect constant brawls, but they were satisfied with their situation and did not seek trouble.
Deliberately, I made sure they took part in Greek and Christian festivities, encouraging them to learn the language. Officially, I presented it as an administrative and military necessity, though in reality I was seeking a deeper and more lasting integration.
All of this was important because, just as Håkon had warned, groups of Varangians who were not traveling with him began to arrive. These were men coming on their own, drawn by rumors, looking for land to work.
And these were far more aggressive. Instead of docking at ports, they landed directly on beaches and seized tracts of land, forcing us to pay them well-armed visits to explain what happened when rules were broken—and that, from that moment on, they were required to obey Roman law.
There was even one particularly revealing case. One of our dromons, crewed by Varangians in our service, encountered another group of Varangians with clear intentions of raiding the island. They asked for directions, believing them to be merely fellow northerners, but the fight broke out immediately. The Varangian crew of the dromon subdued them and brought them back as prisoners.
Everything suggested that the Varangian presence would only continue to grow. News of Crete's fertile lands was spreading, and many were eager to trade the cold and barrenness of the north for this island.
"All right, all right… how do we stand with this? Nine hundred and forty nomismata to pay the wages of the Varangians guarding the seas. Two thousand four hundred nomismata a month for my mercenaries. Fifty nomismata for my hird. One thousand nomismata to pay those producing salt. Three hundred and forty nomismata for the smiths. Two hundred nomismata for the merchant fleet. One hundred and twenty nomismata for the paper producers. Fifty nomismata for the printing workers. Five hundred nomismata in food expenses," I said, pointing at my accounts while Lysander wrote everything down at speed.
"All of that… per month. How can we afford these expenses, my strategos?" Lysander asked nervously, without stopping his writing.
"We brought in about twenty-two thousand nomismata from selling the sarakenoi loot, so that covered four months of expenses. Håkon has already left to sell more armor and weapons in the Varangian realms of the north. That should generate around ten thousand or so; he took many suits of armor, which gives us almost another two months. The salt… we're producing quite a lot, but we aren't selling anything yet. For now it's being used to pickle vegetables, salt fish, some dried meat and smoked meat, which gives us about six hundred nomismata selling to the local population of Heraklion. The harvest… we can't sell almost anything. Everything has to stay in storage in case of a siege. And we have an income of around two thousand nomismata thanks to the merchant fleet, buying and selling goods in the cities of the Aegean," I replied, rubbing my face as I looked at the massive fiscal hole.
"We have almost no real income. Instead of waiting for buyers to come, it seems we'll have to go to them, which isn't ideal, since you mentioned something about transport costs," Lysander said as he continued to write everything into the ledger.
"Yes. Transporting the goods ourselves means additional wage costs and reduces the cargo capacity of the merchant fleet, which lowers income. The other option would be to buy more ships, but that greatly increases crew expenses, and if pirates show up it could cause serious problems," I replied thoughtfully.
"I don't understand it, my strategos. We have a huge port, one of the largest in the Empire. We have supplies sailors crave. The waters are safe, the Varangians patrol carefully, and we even produce expensive goods like sugar and cotton fabrics used by the aristocracy. And yet almost no one comes except to buy the basics," Lysander said, clearly irritated.
"Information travels very slowly," I replied. "It will take time for trade routes to adjust."
I had around twenty thousand nomismata left. That gave me, at most, four months of breathing room. Either I found a way to fill the fiscal gap, or I would have to rein in my ambitions.
"My strategos… a messenger from Constantinople has arrived with a message from the emperor," one of my guards said as he entered my private chamber.
"Let him in… it must be important," I replied, hoping it was not accompanied by an order to hand over men or ships to the imperial army.
I continued reviewing documents in the meantime. I also had to pay the provincial taxes. I had hoped for some temporary exemption, but it never came. I would have to pay for the harvest and the rents from my lands. It would be costly, though I still had some time before the deadline.
The messenger entered, and I immediately noticed he belonged to the Scholai. That made the message important. He handed me a letter sealed with the imperial seal.
"A private letter, I see," I said with a faint smile.
"I have instructions that the letter is to be burned once you have read your orders," the scholai replied.
"Let's see what it says," I said, breaking the seal.
"My esteemed strategos…
The campaign in Sicily is at a standstill... We need reinforcements... Take advantage of the distraction and the season to strike the African coasts and thus prevent further landings from there toward Sicily..."
As soon as I finished reading, I brought the papyrus closer to a slowly burning candle and watched it catch fire almost instantly.
"My instructions are clear. You may withdraw," I said, returning my gaze to the scholai.
The messenger bowed his head and left the room without a word.
"Well, shit…" I muttered, running a hand over my face.
"What is it, my strategos?" Lysander asked, watching me closely.
"The campaign in Sicily is bogged down. Even with reinforcements, the sarakenoi have more men than expected. The emperor wants us to attack the African coasts to distract them and prevent them from sending more troops, taking advantage of autumn and winter, when the weather is more favorable. He wants to cause chaos… and, incidentally, make good use of the Varangians, who have a reputation as raiders, and their drakkars," I replied, already thinking through how to do it.
"But… what about the orders to protect the island? We can't leave Crete undefended. If the sarakenoi return, everything we've built will be lost," Lysander objected.
"I'm not an idiot. My forces stay here," I replied firmly. "What I'm going to mobilize are the Varangians. We'll use their drakkars. I may take some dromons as well. Merchants aren't coming, so I'll leave five here and take fifteen to Africa. I'll also bring some merchant ships to transport supplies. With about five thousand Varangians we can cause considerable damage along the African coast."
"Orders while you're away, my strategos?" Lysander asked, looking straight at me.
"Do what you can to protect the seas. If more Varangians arrive, settle them among our Greek communities to force integration, and punish those who settle illegally. For now, we won't start new fortifications; we don't have the funds. We'll see if we can obtain them through raiding and the sale of slaves, which would be a significant source of income," I replied thoughtfully.
"I understand, my strategos. I'll do my best to keep everything in order while you're gone," Lysander said.
"Good. I'm going to call the Varangians. I think they'll be very happy to be able to raid in autumn," I said, getting to my feet.
I gave Sigurd a signal, and he couldn't help but laugh when he heard the news.
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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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