Patras

After leaving the city, Elion got his wish and met Vitus. "Your Highness, we meet again."

Vitus sized up the short, stocky Venetian, whose upper lip bore an extravagant pair of mustaches. He thought for a moment but couldn't recall anything about the man.

Elion explained, "Last year, I went to deliver supplies outside Milan and visited the siege camp near Florence. At the time, you were drinking and feasting with a group of Hungarians, so you didn't notice me."

So that was it?

Vitus remained on guard and asked Elion what he really wanted. "Signor Daltino, are you trying to persuade me to withdraw?"

"No. I don't actually want to get involved in this conflict. But Centurione's in a terrible state of mind, and I'm worried he'll fly into a rage and cut me down, so I agreed to leave the city."

Having traded abroad for years, Elion was extremely sensitive to the situation in the Eastern Mediterranean. The rivalry between Venice and the Ottomans was now reaching a boiling point. Venice had to concentrate its navy on thwarting Ottoman ambitions at sea and had no time to interfere in the war on the Peloponnese.

From his perspective, the peninsula was a classic "bad asset." Most of it was undevelopable mountain country, and the Greek farmers hated Venice, making it incredibly costly to rule.

Worse still, Venice's land forces were mediocre and could never stop an Ottoman advance on land. Since the peninsula was likely to fall into Ottoman hands, Venetian merchants had no reason to wade into this mess.

"Your Highness, so long as you recognize Venice's control over Modon and Coron, Venice will never help Centurione."

(Note: In 1206, Venice took control of two seaports in the southwestern Peloponnese, Modon and Coron, and won recognition from the Principality of Achaea.)

Manuel had mentioned this before they set out, and Vitus chose to follow the emperor's wishes. "I agree. Is there anything else?"

Elion shook his head, saying he would find a nearby village to stay in for a few days and return to Patras once the war was over.

As he walked out of the command tent, a powerful sense of regret suddenly came over him. I'm leaving now, but what about the goods I left in the city?

Elion stood outside the tent, torn for a long time, then went back to Vitus and offered to act as an inside man.

"Your Highness, when someone is driven to despair, they're quite capable of doing something destructive. I'm worried Centurione and the Latin nobles will set fire to the city at the last moment. To save those innocent residents, I'm willing to contact the mercenaries inside..."

Vitus was half-convinced. He promised Elion a share of the spoils, on the condition that he persuade the mercenaries in the city to rebel within three days and help the Eastern Roman army enter.

Elion acted faster than Vitus had expected. On November 25, Elion and five mercenary captains suddenly made their move during a banquet, taking the duke and some of his closest men hostage. They then blocked the courtyard gates to keep the guards outside from coming to their aid.

"Send up the signal!"

At Elion's urging, one of the mercenary captains fired a rocket into the night sky. More than three hundred mercenaries soon came in response and seized the duke's residence.

A little over an hour later, the remaining Latin nobles finally caught on. They surrounded the residence with their troops, but when they launched their attack, they held back, unable to act decisively. By the time they had made up their minds, the Eastern Roman army had already taken the South Gate.

The next morning, Vitus had his men take stock of the prisoners and spoils. The Eastern Romans had captured a total of 1,500 people in the battle, including Duke Centurione, four barons, twenty-five knights, 605 soldiers, and their families.

Vitus planned to send the duke and his family to Constantinople, while holding the remaining barons and knights until their relatives paid for their release.

By long-standing tradition, the victors were supposed to treat noble prisoners of war with dignity, but were entitled to demand a ransom from them. The amount varied from person to person, usually coming to two to four times the captured noble's annual income.

After the Battle of Agincourt in 1415, England's King Henry V feared a French counterattack and ordered the execution of his prisoners, including nobles. English nobles fiercely resisted the order. In the end, longbowmen from the common classes carried it out, killing prisoners who had laid down their arms with daggers.

In Vitus's view, Henry V's actions had earned him the hatred of countless nobles. Perhaps that was one reason southern and central France still held out.

"Uranus, make sure your men guard these prisoners closely. They must not mistreat them or let them escape!"

With the prisoners dealt with, Vitus began touring the city at the northern tip of the peninsula. More than three-quarters of it lay deserted, and only a thousand people remained.

He found the Venetian merchant Elion. "You promised to minimize our losses. And this is how things turned out?"

Elion shook his head frantically. "It had nothing to do with me. Have you forgotten the war two years ago? The main Ottoman force was besieging Constantinople, while another force raided the Peloponnese. Patras was plundered, and more than four thousand residents were taken away as slaves. If you don't believe me, ask the locals."

Vitus had never imagined that, across all of Achaea, Andravida—with only 2,500 residents—was the largest settlement.

In a foul mood, he brought Elion to the warehouse where the spoils were stored and pointed to a box of coins and a pile of gold and silver vessels on the floor to the left. "This is the payment I promised you. Take your goods and mercenary companions and leave at once."

Elion didn't press the matter further. He wisely packed up his things and goods, then headed for the pier west of the city and sailed away. The remaining three hundred Achaean mercenaries feared they would be held to account, so they fled by ship as fast as they could.

On November 27, Vitus left a small force to garrison Patras and led his army along the coast, reaching the northernmost tip of the Peloponnese.

Lead-gray clouds hung over the sea. A few gray-white gulls wheeled overhead, searching for food. Vitus stood at the edge of a cliff, the hem of his thick wool cloak snapping in the wind.

A stretch of sea several kilometers wide lay before him. Beyond it were the parts of Greece occupied by the Ottomans. He narrowed his eyes against the stinging sea wind, and the outline of a fishing village on the far shore appeared and vanished in the gloom.

"Across the north, all is vast and hazy; birds fly on and never cease to return. The sight brings tears for the lost Central Plains; I dare not climb Mount Duliang's highest peak."

Though the circumstances were different, Vitus deeply understood the despair of the Southern Song poets. He stood facing the bay and murmured for a long time, then suddenly turned and asked Marcus, "When do you think I'll be able to reclaim all of Greece?"

"Uh? That's hard to say. Maybe ten years, maybe twenty..."

Looking at his subordinate's bewildered face, Vitus sighed, swung himself into the saddle, and continued along the coast.

As news of the duke's capture spread, the Principality of Achaea, which had endured for more than two hundred years, crumbled apart. The Eastern Roman army met no resistance along the way and eventually reached Corinth, at the northeastern tip of the peninsula.