The Rise Of An Empire In Ancient Europe
Chapter 55 Byzantium

Chapter 55: Chapter 55 Byzantium

In 657 BCE, a prince from the Greek city-state of Megara, located southwest of Athens, named Byzas, prepared to lead his people to establish a colony on the coast of Asia Minor. To choose an ideal location, he consulted the oracle at Delphi and received a cryptic answer: "Build your city opposite the land of the blind."

At first, Byzas did not understand the oracle’s meaning. However, when his ship arrived at Chalcedon on the eastern shore of the Bosporus Strait, he suddenly grasped the oracle’s intent. The geographical position of Chalcedon was so poor—it failed to see the advantages of the nearby Golden Horn. It seemed like only blind men would have built a city in such a location. Consequently, Byzas established his colony directly across from Chalcedon and named it Byzantium.

Since Megara was not a powerful state, it provided only a limited number of settlers. Even after centuries of development, Byzantium remained a small city. However, its strategic location became increasingly significant. When Athens rose to power, its grain supply depended on city-states near the Euxine Sea. Consequently, Byzantium, which had conquered Chalcedon and served as the hub controlling the maritime passage between the Euxine Sea and the Aegean Sea, naturally attracted Athens’ attention. It later joined the Delian League and became an ally of Athens.

After the Peloponnesian War, Sparta, as the victor, also recognized the strategic value of Byzantium. They established a puppet regime there, stationed troops in the city, and controlled the Bosporus Strait.

One early spring day in 399 BCE, Bourkos steered his ship into the harbor of Byzantium. Standing at the bow, he gazed ahead, spotting more than a hundred warships densely packed in the port. He exhaled in relief: "Looks like I’ve made it just in time."

As he guided his crew to slowly dock at a designated pier under the instructions of the harbor officials, chaos erupted. People working in the harbor began shouting in alarm. In the confusion, many rushed to their ships, untied ropes, and prepared to flee the port. Without proper coordination, ships collided with one another, creating a chaotic scene. Some ships capsized, and panicked sailors fell into the water.

Bourkos quickly ordered his crew to row away from the pier. Fortunately, he had not yet entered the dock area, narrowly avoiding disaster. Reluctantly, he anchored outside the harbor and observed the unfolding events. Many others shared his caution, and before long, the waters outside the port were crowded with more than a hundred ships of various sizes, bobbing with the waves.

Looking back at the once-bustling port, which now lay in ruins, Bourkos was filled with doubt. He shouted toward a nearby ship: "Hey! What’s going on?"

"It’s those damned mercenaries!" someone shouted back. "The ones returning from Persia! They’re attacking Byzantium!"

"Mercenaries attacking Byzantium?!" Bourkos’s heart skipped a beat. "Why?"

"Nobody knows for sure," the man replied. "Apparently, the Spartans lied to them, saying, ’Come to Byzantium, and you’ll get paid.’ But when they arrived, the Spartans refused to fulfill their promises, even tricked them out of the city, and shut the gates on them. Now those mercenaries are furious! These days, soldiers with shields and spears are no better than bandits, and it’s always us ordinary citizens who suffer."

An elderly man, who appeared to be a ship captain, chimed in bitterly: "Young man, you’re not from Byzantium, are you?"

Bourkos hesitated briefly before replying: "I’m from Thurii."

"Thurii... Oh, I’ve heard of it! That’s in Magna Graecia, isn’t it? I’ve never been there, but I have been to Tarentum. Now that’s a wealthy place!" The old man continued rambling. "I tell you, life must be much better in your part of the world!"

Uninterested in the man’s chatter, Bourkos interrupted: "Who’s in charge of Byzantium now?"

"The Spartan commander Cleander," the old man grumbled. "Spartans know how to kill but don’t know how to govern a city! Ever since they took over Byzantium a few years ago, it’s been downhill. Just look at it now... far worse than before."

Sensing an opportunity, Bourkos asked: "Old man, what’s your name? You’ve been a captain for many years, right? You must know all the shipowners here."

"Call me Pisillas of Byzantium. I’ve been sailing since the time when Pericles was Athens’ leading general. Back then, he even led the Athenian fleet to the Euxine Sea to buy grain—I met him myself! I know almost every captain and sailor here. Many of them grew up under my watch." The old man boasted about his past as he asked casually: "Why? Are you planning to hire a ship?"

"Perhaps," Bourkos said vaguely.

"What will you be transporting?" Pisillas pressed on. "Grain? Timber? Stone? Olive oil?"

Annoyed by the old man’s incessant questioning, Bourkos finally said: "...People, maybe."

The old man’s eyes widened in realization. His years of experience quickly pieced together the truth. "You mean the mercenaries? That’s why you asked if I know the shipowners here! Good! That’s great! Hurry up and get them out of here. Maybe then Byzantium can have some peace!"

Bourkos neither confirmed nor denied the assumption.

At that moment, a signal from the port indicated that it was safe for ships to enter.

"Hey, young man!" the old man called out. "If you need a ship, come to the port and ask any Byzantine for ’Old Piry.’ They’ll bring you to me!" As ships began docking one by one, Pisillas shouted this from his boat.

"Got it!" Bourkos replied, already calculating his next move. Should he first visit Cleander, the Spartan commander of Byzantium?

Not far from Byzantium, in a few Thracian villages, stretched the sprawling camps of the Greek mercenaries. By dusk, most of the soldiers were resting, but a large tent still glowed with candlelight.

Inside, Juleios sat deep in thought, so much so that he didn’t notice Chrysothemis entering.

"My dear, what’s on your mind?" Chrysothemis asked softly, wrapping her pale arms around him from behind.

Breathing in her scent, Juleios sighed. "Today, we had the soldiers put on a show, making it look like they were preparing to attack Byzantium. The Spartans, frightened by their anger, temporarily relented and agreed to provide us with some supplies. But this doesn’t solve the real problem.

Mercis managed to infiltrate the city and brought back some news. The Spartan commander Thibron has been appointed governor of Asia Minor. He’s already in Ephesus and is recruiting soldiers. It seems your judgment was correct—Sparta is preparing for war with Persia.

Meanwhile, Cleander has trapped us here, likely hoping we’ll help him deal with the nearby Thracians. He might even plan to recruit us for their war against Persia."

"Didn’t Chirisophus value you highly? When he returned to report, he even entrusted Anaxibius to look after you. Too bad you ignored Anaxibius’s overtures. Now he’s buddying up with Xenophon," Chrysothemis teased, stroking his cheek.

"Xenophon is good at that sort of thing, but I have no interest in Sparta," Juleios said irritably, scratching his head. "If we keep following Sparta’s lead, we’ll end up dead with no place to bury our bodies. Unfortunately, we’re like fish out of water right now, completely at their mercy."

Chrysothemis kissed his cheek gently. "My dear, don’t be so disheartened. On my way here, I met someone who might solve your problem."

"Who?" Juleios asked, his interest piqued.

Chrysothemis turned toward the tent entrance and called out: "Come in, Martius."