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Anno Domini 828,February-1-3
POV of Constantinople orphan
"So, once again on a ship", I said quietly as I climbed aboard one of the five vessels that were now under my responsibility.
I looked around, and almost every face was unfamiliar to me. There were people everywhere, but above all varangoi. Men from the north. They were all over Crete: as guards, farmers, sailors, shepherds, woodcutters, and craftsmen. They arrived in large groups from time to time and, although they were openly pagan, the strategos tolerated them for the value of their military service.
My parents had been claimed by Our Lord within a short span of time. My mother died to a plague, and my father was found days later floating in the river, near the tannery where he worked. After that, I was left in the care of the clergy of the Church of the Theotokos Pantocrátor, one of the many in Constantinople. I spent several years there. They gave me food and shelter, and in return I helped however I could: tending the gardens, carrying objects, accompanying the clergy through the city when they needed it.
During that time, I thought I would end up joining them. They were teaching me to read using the Holy Scriptures, and I learned quickly. But one day a sailor arrived. He made a generous donation of gold to the church and, almost immediately, many of us —orphans in similar situations— were handed over to him to fulfill different roles.
After a long journey by sea, we arrived in Crete, a land I had always heard described as an refuge of pagan sarakenoi, from where they raided and enslaved thousands of the faithful, forcing them to serve their designs. Fortunately, the island was now ruled by the strategos Basil the Macedonian, although it was still far from resembling a Christian land. Largely because of the massive presence of varangoi, even within the personal guard of the strategos himself.
Upon arrival, I was assigned a small plot of land where, in time, I was expected to build a house. In the meantime, I lived in a tent, enduring wind, rain, and sun with little protection.
As I struggled to adapt to all these changes, one of the administrators who served the strategos directly began searching for people he could teach to read and write. I was selected without delay, since I already knew the basics of both. Soon after, they taught me arithmetic, though in a strange way. We had to learn two accounting systems: the one used by the strategos and the one used by the imperial official. Mastery of both was mandatory.
After that, I was assigned work going through the city of Heraklion house by house. I asked how many people lived there, the names of all inhabitants, their trades, approximate ages, and which cultural group of the Empire they claimed to belong to. All that information was delivered to the strategos' administrator, and then documents were distributed with the data already organized.
Eventually, my duties changed. I began helping merchants and artisans correctly declare their taxes. Many did not know how much they owed or how to comply with imperial fiscal law. So I spent my days traveling from the center of the city to its outskirts, speaking with anyone whose work was difficult to declare clearly, trying to bring order where there had previously been only confusion.
One of those days, we were summoned by the strategos himself. We were all gathered inside his office, and there we were given a simple, direct order: from that moment on, we would stop working as pseudo tax officials, as we had done for the past months. From now on, we would operate as merchants of his own company.
No one was exempt. Each of us was assigned five merchant ships loaded with goods produced on the island: salt, textiles, olive oil, swords, spears, preserved food, books, and tools. The holds were full, along with several chests of gold, silver, and bronze coins intended to finance the voyages, pay wages, and purchase whatever Crete might need. We were given clear ledgers with precise instructions: what could be bought, at what prices, within which ranges it was acceptable to sell, and how everything was to be recorded afterward.
And, of course, the varangoi were assigned to us as guards. Though, for some reason, I suspected they had another mission. The strategos spoke to them in their own language and pointed at us several times as he did so. I did not understand a single word, but it was obvious they had additional orders.
So here we were.
"We are ready to depart", said one of the captains when he saw me come aboard.
"Of course… if everything is ready, then raise sail and let us begin the journey", I replied, somewhat nervous at the sudden authority that had fallen upon me without warning.
"Where to?" the captain asked. "You have not said anything about the destination."
"Oh… right. Right", I said as I took out the book we had been given. "It recommends starting with Rhodes, stopping at the ports along the way to Seleukeia, and trying to reach the port of Lemesos", I replied after reading carefully.
"Cyprus?" the captain said, doubtful. "There is a strong pirate presence in that area. Though it is true we are not a lone ship… five vessels and a strong group of varangoi can deter more than one."
"The route is dangerous, yes", I replied, pointing to the same book. "It says so clearly here. But the profits can be enormous. It is an active frontier: basic equipment, durable food, and good-quality weapons sell extremely well. And remember, we receive a share of the profits. If we want to fill our pockets, we will have to accept some risks."
The captain nodded.
"Very well", he said, spitting over the side after clearing his throat with a rough sound. "I will inform the others."
He walked toward the other ships and began speaking with the other captains. Before long, all the sailors took their positions. The sails were unfurled, and the varangoi began boarding in great numbers, nearly thirty per ship.
Without further delay, the wind began to push us out to sea.
The journey was calm. The wind was favorable for the season, or so the sailors said, and we faced no real complications. The only difficulty was a constant pressure in my stomach that returned every time I thought about what awaited me. I had to make deals to earn my bread. Officially, I had no salary. Unlike the sailors and the varangoi, I only earned money if there were profits. Nothing more.
Two days passed at sea. I spent them reading the book the strategos had given us again and again, filled with advice on how to start conversations, how to spot potential buyers, and how to project confidence. I read that part especially many times. The part about having confidence in oneself.
For some reason, I felt I did not have it.
But I could not fail either. Because if I failed, I would simply starve.
At last we arrived at Rhodes, an island city of great importance to trade in the region.
Our ships docked in the harbor, and even before we disembarked, a city official was already waiting for us. He examined the vessels carefully, one by one.
"The owner of the ships?" he asked.
"That would be me", I replied, raising my hand as I stepped toward the gangway the sailors had set in place.
"Five miliaresion per ship as a docking fee", he said, extending his hand without preamble.
"Of course… give me a moment", I answered.
I went back down to check the cargo and opened one of the chests where we carried coins. I took two nomismata and one miliaresion, stepped off the ship, and walked down to the pier, where the official was still waiting.
"Here you are", I said, handing him the coins.
He put them away quickly in a pouch and gestured toward our ships. A group of workers approached and marked the hulls with charcoal, leaving a large, visible sign.
"Proceed with your business", said the harbor official.
I nodded and began walking along the pier. Without wasting time, five varangoi came down with me. They carried no visible weapons, but their presence alone was enough. I observed the market, what was being sold, what was being bought, and tried to guide myself by the strategos' book on what steps I should follow.
I decided to try the first recommendation: target the port officials. We carried books with blank pages, and according to the book, they could be sold at a good price.
I found the administrative building. Inside, a man was writing on papyri while consulting a wax tablet. People approached to pay market taxes.
"Blessed Jesus Christ", I said as a greeting.
"Blessed Jesus Christ… tell me what you want. Are you here to pay taxes?" he replied, setting his pen into the inkwell.
I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the pressure in my stomach.
"Actually… I came to offer a proposal", I said, taking one of the books from the crates carried by one of the varangoi.
"We do not buy books here. Try the church", he replied at once.
"Trust me", I said carefully, "your superior will be very pleased if you buy this. It saves you many times your salary." I opened the book and showed him the blank pages.
"What use is a book wi—" he began, but stopped when he looked at his loose papyri. "How much?" he finally asked.
"The book has three hundred pages… thirty nomismata", I said, with difficulty.
"Thirty… give me a moment. I will speak with my kentarchos", he replied before leaving quickly, leaving two guards to watch the area.
I waited with the varangoi while the line of taxpayers formed again. Shortly after, the kentarchos returned, accompanied by more guards.
"Is it him?" he asked.
"Yes, it is him", the official replied, immediately resuming the collection of taxes.
"Where did you get these books? They are not stolen, are they?" the kentarchos said as he examined them.
"No… property of the strategos of Crete", I replied, feeling my body tense.
"Of the strategos of Crete? Then you will have the document", he said, making a gesture with his hand.
"Yes, I have it", I replied, searching through my clothes and handing it to him.
The kentarchos examined it carefully. "Good… good… it is not that I doubt the strategos, but how does he obtain paper so cheaply? Is it not poor quality? I will have to account to the droungarios if I make the purchase."
I had no idea. So I improvised. "It is of great quality", I said. "Our strategos is known for producing only the best. Just look at his swords…" I paused for a moment, remembering we had not brought any. "And the way he equips his guards", I added, pointing at the varangoi.
The kentarchos looked at the brigandines they wore.
"Yes… I have heard something of that", he murmured. He thought for a long time. Then he wet his lips. "Very well. Give me five books. Can you leave them at twenty-five nomismata each?"
I looked at him, trying not to show the immediate relief I felt.
"I am already offering you a… good price", I replied, barely holding back a laugh. "But considering we are servants of the Empire… I can go down to twenty-eight nomismata."
"Twenty-eight… twenty-eight…" the kentarchos repeated, thoughtful. "Five times twenty-eight… how much is that?" he asked the tax official.
"One hundred and forty", he answered immediately.
"Right… yes… one hundred and forty", said the kentarchos, nodding. "Give me one hundred and forty nomismata."
"That much? If the droungarios gets angry, he will kill us…" the official murmured, clearly nervous.
"No", the kentarchos replied calmly. "He will give us a fine reward for saving him many coins on papyrus. He will hand them to his tourmarchai… and they will be very grateful."
The official bit his lip.
From a box beneath the table, they began taking out coins. They counted them carefully. One hundred and forty nomismata. As soon as they handed them to me, I gave them the books.
"Good, then that would be all… there is no need to charge taxes", said the kentarchos, satisfied.
"I have swords from the forges of Knossos", I added quickly, feeling my chest about to burst. "As I said, among the best in the Empire… comparable to those of Constantinople."
"No… I cannot", the kentarchos replied. "I bought one not long ago. I cannot afford another now. But I will inform the others if you stay a few days." He took the books and turned away.
"Are they iron or steel?" asked the tax official when he finished attending the line.
"Steel", I replied.
"Right… perhaps as a gift… how much?" he said, wiping sweat from his forehead with his glove.
"Ten nomismata", I answered.
"Bah… two years' salary… but still cheaper than one from Constantinople… what about seven?"
"I can go down to nine…" I said, keeping calm while feeling the pressure in my chest.
"Puf… eight?" he insisted.
"Eight… yes… that is a good price", he said with a smile. "A bargain. I will go fetch it from the ship", I said happily.
"Yes… a good price… let us hope my wife does not find out", he murmured, shaking his head.
With the coins in a pouch, I returned to the ship. As I stored the earnings, I began to smile… and to laugh.
"Ha… ha… ha… one hundred and forty nomismata… one hundred and forty gold coins… I had to sell each book at fourteen at minimum for the strategos to make a profit… and I sold them at double… I earned seventy extra nomismata… from that, half goes to the crew… I take thirty percent… so I earned almost… ha… ha… ha… I earned ten in a single moment… I am going to be very rich…"I could not stop laughing.
The heavy step of one of the varangoi pulled me from my thoughts. I turned and saw the guards behind me.
"Right… right… business… business…" I said, breathing fast. "I can still earn much more… much, much more… how much will we earn in the frontier cities… where swords will sell like jewels…?"
I touched my chest. The blow was still there.
I took a sword from one of the crates and carried it outside. I had many things to sell… and many to buy.
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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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