Flavius Fettotempi: 1, #1

By Michael DiMatteo

The late 14th century was a turbulant time: The Byzantine Empire was crumbling, Islam was expanding through the Mediterranean, and the Venetians controlled the lion's share of trade...along with the island of Crete. The Revolt of St. Titus (1363-1368) found the people of Crete attempting to rid themselves of the Venetian yoke, with numerous important families involved. The Fettotempi family was one of them. This is the story of one man's attempt (Flaivus Fettotempi) at redemption, reconciling a great loss, and in the process finding the love of his life, only to become enmeshed in tragedy and deceit. As with us all, Flavius is faced with decisions that will impact not only who he is, but what he is to become.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael DiMatteo
• Release date: Jan 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215423219

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

He was gone. That is all she knew and all she wanted to know. She watched him wither and die a slow, miserable death of plague and it was during that time she knew she had to leave. It wasn’t the plague that incited her to move, it was him. The sickness turned him into a hideous version of himself, and she could not live in that place any longer as his memory was soaked into the walls of her home, the village where they’d met, even her very soul. Everywhere she looked she would see him: Tending the olive trees, singing his songs as he worked, the smoothness of his gait as he made his way back to their home after a long day. She still saw in her mind’s eye his shoulder muscles working in tandem with his back while he reached up, shirtless, to gather the ripe fruit from the willing trees. She loved to watch him work, to be one with his orchard, one with the Mediterranean sun. He belonged here, and she with him.

Now, the terrible illness that befell him but spared her took all that she was upon his death. She tended him in those last days without regard for her own health, preferring to wither and die beside him, but the gods, or Christ, she wasn’t sure which, felt differently. The one God displaced the many by her time, coming from the West and building the mighty Byzantine culture, a culture also near death.

She tried desperately to circumvent whichever god thrust this disease upon him. She would wipe the sweat from his brow, lance the boils to release the toxins, and even smear them with human excrement and tree resin as the doctors told her. She washed him with vinegar and rose water to cool him down, and even bled him when she thought it would help. Despite her best efforts and her prayers to Christ and even Zeus himself, the disease was too strong for her and her efforts, and when his spirit left this earth, her heart went with him. The months since were barren, without life, without hope.

She stood on the shores of the Adriatic at the port of Brindisi, Italy. She was going to leave, and the port with its busy traffic offered her an opportunity to try to remold the life which had suddenly turned to sand. As she stood at the shoreline facing the ancient sea, the salt in the air tickled her nose. The sun beat down on her already bronze skin and her black hair, stretching down to her mid-back, was buffeted by the wind coming off the sea. She stood there, staring into the distance and decided that for her, there was only one way.

She took one last breath of the moist sea air and exhaled audibly. There is no going back. My life is no longer here. I must do this. Convinced, Apollonia Savucci turned from the shores on which she’d grown and set out for a new life. She was unsure where it would take her, but she knew that to remain, here, in Brindisi, was to become stagnant like all of the others who’d lost the ones they loved. She was not about to become one of the town’s talking points or become the object of pity for anyone. She was Apollonia Savucci, daughter of Principio and Augustina Savucci, and she would not sit still while that which was around her withered and died. No, she’d made up her mind, it was time to go.

Apollonia Savucci’s family was originally from Crete. Much of Savucci family history is rooted in the mists of time, and as far as Apollonia knew, they were an ancient family tracing their origins back to the Byzantine Empire and its control of the island during the 13 th century. It was said that their ancestor, Honorius Fettotempi helped organize the so-called Revolt of St. Titus which pitted the old families of Crete against the powerful Venetians in 1363 as the latter were imposing taxes on the island that were punitive in nature, a punishment for an earlier opposition to their rule. Honorius organized the resistance alongside the powerful Kallergis family on the eastern side of the island. Eventually, partisans joined with Fettotempi and the Kallergis, retaking control of the island thus forcing the Venetians to take more aggressive action. Pope Urban V declared a crusade to bring the island under complete control, and by 1368, the island was in his hands, the Kallergis family capitulating to the overpowering Venetians. With no one left to protect him, Honorius Fettotempi was captured, tortured, and killed in the middle of Chandax, an example for others should they decide to organize against the Venetians, his blood consecrating holy ground, a martyr for all time.

Honorius had seven children, four of whom died in the Venetian conflict, but three survived. A daughter, Sevilla, who succumbed during the plague in 1375 at eighteen, his youngest son, Bentavos, who at twelve, was reputedly lost at sea while working on a merchant fishing ship, put there by his father to avoid the conflict, and then Flavius, who at twenty, fought by his father’s side in the crusade against the Venetians. It was said that Flavius was captured after becoming drunk one night at a friend’s home, a cousin of the Kallergis, who was providing him shelter just outside Megalo-Castro for the promise of money and land. Flavius was sentenced to death but on the eve of his execution, was freed by the intercession of the patriarch of the Kallergis as repayment for the efforts of his father during the revolt. Flavius was banished from the island, never to return except upon pain of death by flaying should he do so for fear of sparking another revolt. The son of Honorius gathered what money he had left and departed Crete sailing for Athens. Once there he set about looking for work, but with little luck. He was homeless and slept on the streets during the summer as the Mediterranean climate was generally warm and dry during the nighttime hours

One evening, with what little money he had left and even fewer ideas as to how to survive, Flavius entered the local Inn not far from his sleeping spot as he’d done on a couple of earlier occasions. The Inn was not too busy this night, only a few patrons entertaining themselves and each other with lively conversation. A few laughs could be heard along with the smell of wine and fresh lamb permeating the dry air. The tables were small, but one stood out in particular. A well-dressed man who seemed a bit out of place was talking to another whom Flavius recognized as he’d seen him around more than once. He took a seat not far from them after he’d received his libation, his mind contemplating his next moves. The well-dressed man was conversing with his companion about the lack of available slaves to help tend his olive groves. He needed more workers and said as much, loud enough for Flavius’ ears. When Flavius overheard the conversation, he turned to the well-dressed man and said,

Sir, you are in need of slaves. I am no slave but am in need of work. Might you consider me?

The well-dressed man looked at his companion and then at the unkempt Flavius. And why would a man like me hire a man like you? he asked.

As you say, you are in need of slaves. Even though I am a free man, I have two hands and a willing heart. Do not make the mistake of judging the character of a man by his appearance, sir. I am willing to do what you need for the price you wish to pay, Flavius responded.

The well-dressed man shifted in his chair and glanced at his companion who gave him a reassuring look, smiling as he did so.

Do you have a bed for the night? he asked.

I do, sir. The dirt on the ground serves as my bed, and the black, star lit sky above me, my blanket, Flavius responded, confident in his prospects now.

The well-dressed man laughed. Getting up from the chair he said to Flavius, If you can find my groves tomorrow, and the house that sits on the land, you shall have work.

I’ll—I’ll be there sir. Flavius Fettotempi does not tell lies.

Good. See you tomorrow.

With that, the well-dressed man stood up, acknowledged his companion, and exited the pub with the shake of his head and small laugh following him out the door. Flavius, smiling, took a long drink of wine from his cup, put it down and ordered another. As he did so, he turned to the companion who remained and said, If I might ask, of whom did I just obtain a job? I did not ask and he did not tell.

That was Marros Kontos. Master Marros is a man of golden reputation, you best be aware of that, said Marros’ companion to Flavius.

He must be, sir, for he hired me by my word alone. What man such as that does so? Flavius asked.

One that understands need but also compassion. He is a man of deep feelings for he remembers what it was like, once, to be as you are.

And how is that?

Of questionable state, out of work, but possessing a good soul. Oh, yes, Master Marros remembers. You may have struck gold, my friend, if you work hard. And with Master Marros, you can be sure that you will, said the patron.

As the wine began to work, Flavius’ words slowed just a bit as he held up his dirty hands, palms facing the companion and said, My friend, all I have to give are my hands in work, nothing more. If Master Marros sees fit to allow me to use them in his service, I will not let him down.

Yes, you said that already, the patron remarked, laughing. You best tuck yourself in tonight under your stars so that you’ll be prepared for the ‘morrow. Be well, my friend and good luck.

With that, the man clapped Flavius on the shoulder and departed, leaving Flavius Fettotempi with his goblet of wine, his thoughts, and a date with Marros Kontos.

The next morning, Flavius awoke to the sound of banging in his head, and a vociferous morning sun, not a good combination after an evening of wine drinking. His head was not too cloudy to remember that he had an appointment with a man named Marros and a job working in an olive grove. There was not time to clean himself up properly, so he simply rose, brushed himself off and decided to attempt to find the groves of Marros Kontos.

Sir, Flavius said to a passerby. I wonder if you know a man named Marros? I am to see him today and need to know the way to his orchard.

The man paused, Flavius noticing him scanning his appearance from top to bottom. It is not my concern, my friend, but to meet a man like Marros Kontos as you are will not be good for you. He is a man of great respect and you—well, the man looked him up and down and frowning said, you are somewhat dirty,

An embarrassed Flavius said, I know that, and am not proud of it, but Marros Kontos asked me to see him this day. Do you know the way or don’t you?

The man smirked. "About a dolichos that way, he said pointing west. You will find his orchard, and most likely him. He is always in his orchard." With that, the man sauntered off and left Flavius standing there. With a deep breath, Flavius turned left and began to walk.

When he arrived at the grove he was overwhelmed. He had seen such groves on Crete, but nothing quite like this. The trees were like old men. Their trunks were twisted, the bark appearing like aged skin, and branches like witches’ fingers drooping over the road. Some were slightly bent at the trunk as well, making the entire tree appear as though it was a drunk old man barley able to remain upright. They were in a row on either side of the dirt road and Flavius found them beautiful. Together, the trees formed a tunnel along the road as the branches from one tree sagged and touched lightly the branches from the tree on the other side, both meeting in the middle. The mid-morning air, warm and dry, blew gently among the fingers, seeming to invite Flavius to walk down the path under their protection. He obliged them.

Ah, said a voice from behind him, You made it. I thought you might come but still, a doubt remained. Wine will make one speak promises that might not be kept. It was Marros Kontos.

Surprised, Flavius turned to see his benefactor. Sir, I’ve scarce seen an orchard such as this, said Flavius.

Smiling, with obvious pride, Marros Kontos made his way toward Flavius. Yes, the orchard is nice, but not so much better than the day, I suspect. It is always a joy to be alive. It is good to see you too.

Flavius was struck by this happy, stoutly built man with a smile that could drive away any demons. As Marros approached, Flavius found himself wondering if anyone could be happier with their life.

I am here as you requested and am prepared to work, Flavius said as Marros approached him, straightening his frame and brushing himself off one more time. He knew that Marros was aware that he’d slept outside but still wanted to appear as though he cared about his appearance. Besides, he needed the job and the money that went with it. Marros reached him, smile still beaming, and put a hand on Flavius’ shoulder.

Not as yet, my friend. We must talk a bit first.

Flavius’ stomach dropped. What could there be to talk about, he thought. He was in no position to disagree however, so when Marros indicated they walk together, Flavius complied.

How long have you been in Athens, Flavius? Marros inquired.

Not long. A week perhaps.

"And in that time, you were looking for work?

In truth, no. I had only just arrived and was trying to get my bearings, Flavius said. This was only a half truth and Flavius became concerned that Marros would recognize it as such.

How did you manage to survive? To eat? Marros replied.

Mostly, by the money I came with or someone’s kindness. But I am near the bottom of my pouch which is why I need work, Flavius said.

"Yes, money does seem to go quickly in Athens, especially when one is hungry. Are you hungry now?

Flavius’ stomach seemed to hear the question and growled in affirmation. Yes.

Good. Then let us go to my home. We will eat and then I will set you to work.

Flavius was unsure of what was happening, but if there was going to be a meal involved, he was not going to turn it down. Nodding his head in agreement, they both made their way to Marros’ house.

Flavius was struck by Marros Kontos’ home. It was a sizable estate with columns in the front, a slate roof, more than one well, and room enough for a Roman legion. When they entered, a servant was waiting with a gold-plated goblet of wine for Marros. Flavius was struck by her lighter complexion even though she lived in this Mediterranean region.

Thank you, Mirna. Now you may go. Mirna left their presence and Marros looked over at Flavius with a knowing eye.

You’ve never seen a Slav before? They make good servants. This one was purchased from a trader about a year ago. She has been good to my family. She works hard.

Yes, I see that she obeys without question. A good quality in a slave.

Oh, please forgive me, said Marros almost embarrassed. I did not offer you any wine. Would you like some?

No, Flavius said as he looked about the house. I think I had enough last night.

Marros laughed. There is no such thing, but, as you wish.

Marros motioned to move into the sitting area and Flavius went with him. The hand carved chairs with thick pillows for cushions were more than comfortable, considering where Flavius’ backside resided these past days. Both men sat across from each other.

By the looks of it, the wine won the battle last night, although a man of your stature is not used to having wine and then sleeping under the stars, no?

My stature, sir?

Oh, come now, don’t be so obtuse. Playing coy is something women do, but it does not fit men.

Flavius was caught off guard. He didn’t know what to expect from this twist in the conversation but thought it best to continue to be coy as he didn’t want to give something away.I’m sorry sir, I do not know of what you speak. I came for a job as you requested as I need money and need work. Is there something more?

Flavius, a man in my position does not get to that position if things are left to chance. Motioning in a wide gesture, cup in hand, Marros said, This home does not happen by chance, and while Athens is big, it is rather small as well. I know who comes in and where they are from, and I know you. I’ve had you watched since I first heard that you were forced out of Crete. Now, you are here and under my protection. Do not fear. The confidence in which Marros spoke shook the equally self-assured Flavius. Was this a trap? Instinctively, Flavius shifted his eyes looking for a way out, prepared to bolt should the need arise, but as there were no guards present, nor anyone else but the two of them, Flavius’ calm returned and thought to see the conversation through.

How do you know who I am? he asked.

Marros laughed again. The Kallergis. Do you think that someone of your family would be able to simply disappear without a trace? Your father was someone of significant note, and when the Venetians bargained for the end of the uprising, the Kallergis made sure that you were the one that would escape. Of course, there was no way to know where you would go, but once you were seen, eyes were upon you anywhere you went. When you came upon our shores, I left you to your own devices for a time as I wanted to see the kind of man you were. When I thought the time was right, I made my presence known. That is why you met me at the wine shop, my friend. That is the only reason why. I allowed it.

Flavius was shaken at what he’d just heard. He was followed everywhere even when he thought he’d made an escape. Now, he understood who Marros’ companion was. He was Marros’ eyes. Flavius sat, looking at Marros Kontos. If this man could find him from Crete to Athens, he must be a man to be reckoned with. Flavius wanted to find out how far this was going to go.

So, now you know who I am, he said. This does not change the fact that there was a bargain in place for me to leave Crete and spare my life, does it? I am here for work, to live a simple life, and not one of rebellion like I knew in my home. Marros Kontos lost the smile on his face as the words came out of Flavius’ mouth.

You misunderstand me, Flavius. I am not here to punish you. I admire what your father did in Crete. The Venetian presence throughout this region is significant, and all who do business must deal with them. What your father attempted to do, Christ be with him, was, in the eyes of many, something everyone should do to the cursed Venetians. His death, and the manner of it, reached our ears almost the moment it happened. No, I am here to offer you more than work. I am here to offer you protection, as best I can, to ensure that your father’s legacy will not be forgotten. No son forgets a father’s sacrifice, especially one such as your father made. Find your place here, Flavius. Find it here and be welcome.

Flavius stared at Marros Kontos. He felt something toward this strange man but was unsure what it was. Gratitude welled up in his belly, tinged with a bit of distrust, but there nonetheless.

Marros, Flavius said, now more familiar as the circumstances changed, what did you see?

Marros looked at Flavius a bit puzzled. I don’t understand, he said.

You said earlier that you waited to introduce yourself as you wished to see what kind of man I was. I would like to know what you saw. What kind of man am I?

Marros laughed a bit, took a drink of his wine, and then grew silent. Looking directly at Flavius, Marros said, You are the kind of man that I want to help. You did not beg, you did not steal, you did not whine about your position. What you did do is take advantage of an opportunity presented to you and follow through with it. You must be a man of your word to remember a job in an olive orchard that was offered and accepted while you were with drink. You are the kind of man I like, Flavius Fettotempi.

Flavius felt more at ease with this rich stranger who was ready to take him in, but doubt still remained. He could not help feeling there was more to this than what Marros told him, but for now, Flavius decided to trust him. I do not lie, sir, he said.

I know, you said that last night, Marros said. Relax. You are among friends. I will have Mirna draw a bath for you, then we shall talk of work, yes? For now, have something to eat and drink, if your stomach can handle it, and we shall talk later. Alas, I must go tend the trees for it is what I do, he said smiling again. Marros Kontos got up and began walking to the door. When he reached the opening, he turned to Flavius still sitting on the couch. Welcome home, Flavius Fettotempi.

CHAPTER 2

Amonth passed with Flavius discovering he enjoyed June on Athens and the Peloponnesus. The temperature was moderately high, with barely noticeable humidity and almost no rainfall. He was a regular fixture at the Kontos morning table which was well provisioned as one would expect. As he grew to learn the business of olive oil, tending the trees and adapting to his new life, Flavius knew that he needed a more intimate understanding of how trade was conducted, so, sitting across from Marros, he jumped in with both feet.

Marros, why must we answer to the Venetians in this region? I understand Crete as we are an island with a history of being conquered, but Athens? I do not understand.

Without looking up, Marros reached for some dried meat and olives, his typical morning faire. We do not. We answer to the Catalan Company here in Athens. The Venetians are masters of the sea and the Company the masters of the land. Not since the days of the ancients have we truly been in control of our own destiny. Marros now glanced at Flavius. For now, we make our way by dealing with the Catalans and the Venetians.

Flavius became intrigued, so he pressed further, feeling as though the lid was being lifted off a treasure chest as he pried it open with another question. "So, we are not in control of our destiny?

Flavius saw Marros’ chest swell with pride. We are the descendants of those who helped business and commerce in the entire region flourish, my boy. We traded with Persians eons ago and anyone else that desired to do business and make coin. One could say that is what we Greeks do. It was the smile of Marros as he said those words that made an impression on Flavius.

There must have been wars, however. I cannot see how commerce was conducted without war, Flavius stated.

War, snorted Marros, adding a dash of pepper to his olives. War is always present. It appears that is another curse that was given to us by God, this settling our differences with battle. It does nothing but get in the way of business.

And the first curse?

Marros looked at Flavius with a mischievous eye. Love. It is the curse that afflicts all men. What will we not do for a woman? His voice trailed off as though he suddenly became lost in thought. Flavius watched as Marros returned to the present. It is love and war for men, and not much else I think.

Flavius noticed that Marros stopped eating. He began tapping his fingers on the table, clearly becoming uneasy. Flavius deduced that there was something more to this but did not pursue it. Finally, after a few moments, Marros continued.

Soon, if the past is a proper teacher, others will come and remove the Venetians, the Catalans. It is all part of the unfolding of history. Waving his hand toward Flavius, he said, "Even now it is the Ottomans who are encroaching on the Byzantines just north of here.

Flavius tore off a piece of the dried meat as he was preparing his next question. It would seem, then, that if we are going to grow this business further, it would be wise to deepen our ties with both the Catalan and the Venetians, yes?

The observant slave girl Mirna moved to fill the empty water cups of Marros and Flavius. The Venetians are only the latest in the region, but yes, despite their ongoing territorial disputes with the Genoese, we must cultivate our relationship with them. To control our waters is to control us, and it is a necessary evil that we must deal with these outsiders. With that, he raised his now full water glass and smiled. It is the price of business.

But what of the Catalans? Flavius asked. If they control Athens, I do not see much of them.

Marros stopped smiling and put his cup down. The Catalan are independent of the Aragonese who claim us as theirs. They are a band of mercenaries and only come when they need money. Outlaws who have no honor. Marros spit those words with a contempt reserved for only the most hated.

They are barbarians and know only battle, conquest and taking what is not theirs. They live to fight and little more, but I can deal with them as I have in the past. The Venetians are the larger concern as it is the water that is the life blood of trade. Now, let us finish this meal and start to work. The slaves must be kept on task or they will slack. The conversation came to an abrupt close and both men finished their meal in silence as they prepared for the day ahead.

The business endeavors of Marros Kontos reached new heights since Flavius’ arrival. His olives and the oil they produced came to be known as the finest around. Flavius made the operation more streamlined as he held the slaves to tighter schedules without overworking them. He also increased irrigation throughout Marros’ lands by digging more wells. The result was the Kontos family making significant financial gains by 1370.

Through artful bribery, various political connections, and shrewd business acumen, the omnipresent Venetians left Marros and Flavius alone to ply their trade throughout the Aegean. Marros also satisfied the greed of the Catalan by providing them with some of the excess from his lesser trees that they could sell for their own profit. As a result, his product and the ships that carried them operated with little interference.

The pair also expanded not only the olive oil business but broadened into the growing of juniper, lemons, and peaches. Flavius became familiar with juniper on Crete as he helped his grandfather grow it for his own medicinal purposes. It was a common local practice and throughout the region. Flavius knew it took two years for