EMPIRE REWRITTEN
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Chapter 39: Quills, Gold, and Power
🕑 Added 2024-12-09 17:51:50 +0000 UTCThe sea breeze carried a subtle tang of sun-warmed earth as the galley’s oars dipped and rose, guiding Constantine’s fleet into the port of Ostia. The harbor, though modest compared to Naples, pulsed with its own life: bare-chested dockworkers shouted instructions over the creak of timber gangplanks, and foreign merchants—Genoese, Venetians, and the occasional Moor—bickered in a dozen tongues. The scent of brine mingled with whiffs of exotic spices and the pungent sweat of horses, creating a heady perfume that made Constantine’s head swim. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with this ancient air.
“Rome,” he whispered as the sailors tethered the ship and placed a broad plank onto the worn stone quay. It was exhilarating to speak that name and know he stood in the fifteenth century. He knew this city from his vacations, high-definition images, and well-thumbed guidebooks. He had strolled its streets once as a comfortable tourist, marveling at the Renaissance grandeur of St. Peter’s Basilica, craning his neck at the painted glories of the Sistine Chapel, and sipping espresso in tiny cafés wedged between centuries-old structures. But that Rome—the Rome of the future—did not exist here. There would be no Baroque fountains splashing under electric lights, no cafés fragrant with dark-roasted coffee beans. Instead, this was a Rome on the cusp of transformation: one foot in the medieval world, the other edging toward the Renaissance.
The journey from Ostia to Rome passed quickly, the dusty road lined with olive groves and the occasional crumbling aqueduct—a haunting reminder of the city’s ancient past. As they entered Rome’s gates, Constantine’s party was greeted by Bessarion, his confidant.
“Despot,” Bessarion said warmly, bowing deeply. He had been in Rome for several months and had clearly adapted well. His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Welcome to the Eternal City. I trust your journey was smooth?”
“It was,” Constantine replied, clasping Bessarion’s arm in a rare show of familiarity. “How have you found Rome?”
“Fascinating,” Bessarion said, voice brimming with enthusiasm. “The Pope and the local clergy are deeply impressed by our books, especially the Bibles. They marvel at the clarity of the script and the quality of the binding. Your work has made quite an impression.” He lowered his voice slightly. “Your victory against the Ottomans has made you the talk of the town.”
Constantine raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that explains the flood of invitations I’ve been receiving.”
Bessarion grinned. “Indeed, my Despot. The city’s most esteemed cardinals and nobles are eager to host you. Their tables groan with wine and delicacies, yet their conversations always circle back to two things: the books and the union of our churches.”
Constantine chuckled softly. “And these books of ours—have they made themselves comfortable in such esteemed company?”
Bessarion’s grin widened. “More than two hundred copies sold already, some for as much as twenty gold florins apiece. By my reckoning, that’s over three thousand florins in total.” His expression grew thoughtful. “There’s more, Despot. The local nobility and priesthood are increasingly drawn to ancient Greek philosophy—Plato, Aristotle, and the works of the ancients. There’s a hunger for knowledge that mirrors our aspirations for unity and cultural revival.”
Constantine leaned forward, a playful smirk on his lips. “It seems you’ve not only become a successful book salesman, Bessarion, but also an ambassador of philosophy.”
Bessarion laughed, a rich and hearty sound. “Who would have thought? A monk turned merchant, and now, it seems, a purveyor of wisdom—and, I daresay, a rather prosperous one.”
A few days later, Constantine was summoned to the Apostolic Palace for an audience with Pope Eugene IV. The Pontiff had recently returned from the Council of Basel.
The Apostolic Palace stood as a solemn testament to Rome’s enduring authority—an enduring fortress of faith and influence that had witnessed centuries of councils, conclaves, and quiet accords. Its corridors stretched long and silent, save for the muffled shuffle of servants and the distant murmur of whispered prayers. Half-light sifted through tall, arched windows, illuminating frescoes along the hall. These depicted the Church’s past in vibrant scenes: saints leading processions of the faithful, angels descending from celestial heights, and martyrs standing resolute amidst tribulation. Time had softened their once-vivid hues, leaving a gentle shimmer beneath the warm glow of candelabras. The aroma of incense drifted softly in the air, adding a heady thickness to the corridor.
Constantine moved forward with measured grace, his ornate robes whispering over the marble floor. He approached the grand chamber at an unhurried pace, aware that what lay beyond those carved wooden doors was not merely an audience but an opportunity to influence the course of history. Pope Eugene IV waited within, and their encounter promised to be both delicate and pivotal. The Pope’s return from the Council of Basel had not been without controversy, and the question of a union between the Eastern and Western Churches hovered over these proceedings like a distant star—faint yet full of portent.
At last, Constantine stepped into the richly adorned chamber. Though impressive, the room did not bear the overwhelming opulence that he knew the Vatican would someday boast. Still, the tapestries were masterworks of woven narrative: divine interventions, holy battles, and great saints whose piety shaped Christendom. Heavy curtains muted the outside world, focusing the eye on the candlelit center, where the Pope himself was enthroned. The carved wooden seat, adorned with delicate filigree, seemed almost too grand for the small, round-shouldered man who occupied it. Yet there he sat, silent at first, the flickering flames reflecting on his bald head and lending his eyes a mysterious intensity.
A quiet descended as Constantine approached. He bowed his head in respect, his gaze briefly taking in the Pope’s countenance. Pope Eugene IV studied the Despot of the Morea with keen interest, fully aware of who he was, what he represented, and the alliance he sought.
“Welcome, welcome, my dear Despot,” the Pope said at last, his reedy voice cutting through the silence. Eugene IV raised his right hand, revealing the papal ring. “May God bless you and your endeavors.” Constantine stepped forward and bent low, pressing his lips gently to the ring’s surface—a centuries-old acknowledgment of Church authority.
Constantine then straightened and offered a deep bow, his voice composed and respectful. “Your Holiness, it is an honor to stand before you. May God guide your hand in the great work of His Church.”
A hush settled in the chamber as the formalities concluded. The Pope shifted slightly forward in his ornate throne. His face bore the measured calm of a man who had weighed many demands and desires. He let a few heartbeats pass.
“I have received letters from your brother, Emperor John Palaiologos, regarding the union of our churches,” said the Pope, pronouncing the Emperor’s name with care. “It was raised at the Council of Basel, where the desire for reconciliation stood like a distant star—visible yet remote.”
Constantine inclined his head. He recalled his brother’s unwavering commitment to this cause, yet he knew his position here must be cautious. “The Emperor is deeply committed, Your Holiness,” Constantine replied softly. “As am I. But such decisions are his to make. I stand only to reflect his will, not to shape it.”
The Pope nodded slowly. Healing the schism was no trifling matter; it was a question of theology, politics, pride, and the soul of Christendom. He chose his words carefully. “The healing of our schism could bring strength not only to Rome or Constantinople, but to all Christendom. Should our traditions come together once more, old wounds might close, and a new era of cooperation might dawn.”
Constantine allowed himself the faintest of smiles. “I pray fervently for that blessed day, Your Holiness. Yet I come before you now with a matter somewhat apart from these grand ecclesiastical aims—something more practical, but which I believe can strengthen the bonds between our churches and aid the faithful.”
The Pope’s eyes sharpened. “Ah, the Latin Bibles and other printed works,” he said, tone measured. “A printing press in the Morea—remarkable indeed.”
Constantine inclined his head. “A humble beginning, Your Holiness, but one that I hope will serve a greater purpose. The faithful deserve the truth, accessible and unadulterated.”
“A noble sentiment,” the Pope remarked, a trace of caution in his voice.
Constantine gestured to an attendant, who stepped forward carrying a richly bound Bible. Its leather cover gleamed, embossed with the papal emblem in gold. “A gift for Your Holiness,” Constantine said, “a token of respect.”
The Pope accepted the Bible, tracing its embossed emblem. Cardinal Francesco Condulmer, standing nearby, leaned closer, his eyes narrowing in appraisal. “This is remarkable,” he said, flipping through the pages. “The script is so clear and legible that even the Holy Father could read it without glasses!”
The Pope chuckled, pausing on a page. “A fine gift, Despot. The papal emblem is a delightful touch. Such work speaks highly of your craftsmen.”
“I am glad it pleases you,” Constantine replied with a slight bow. “But this is more than a gift. It represents an opportunity—a venture that could benefit the Church greatly.”
Condulmer and the Pope both leaned forward, intrigued.
“What sort of opportunity?” asked the Pope.
Constantine straightened. “Your Holiness, I propose creating a special edition of the Bible—exclusively for the Papacy. Ten thousand copies, each bearing the papal emblem and inscribed as a ‘Papacy Edition.’ These would be distributed to clergy, monasteries, and noble households across Christendom, reinforcing the Church’s authority and spreading the Word of God.”
The Pope leaned back, contemplative. “A Papacy Edition, you say? Intriguing.” He studied the gift in his hands.
Condulmer spoke next, his gaze fixed on Constantine. “Ten thousand copies, you propose. At what price?”
“Eight gold ducats per copy,” Constantine said initially, “guaranteed delivery within two years.”
Condulmer frowned slightly. “Eight ducats per copy would strain even the Church’s coffers. Suppose we proceed—what assurances can you provide of timely, unmarred delivery?”
Constantine nodded, calm and composed. “I will personally oversee production and delivery. We can arrange staged payments, ensuring you hold the final balance until every Bible is in your hands.”
Condulmer’s lips twitched with approval. “A prudent safeguard,” he murmured.
Constantine met his gaze. “Your Eminence, I am certain the Papacy could sell them for twice that amount, if not more. Imagine the prestige if every monastery and church possessed a Papacy Edition Bible.”
The Pope glanced at Condulmer, whose frown had softened to thoughtfulness. “It would not only provide the Church with income,” Constantine continued, “but also ensure that Scripture spreads more widely, in a form accessible to all. The Papacy would strengthen its spiritual and cultural influence.”
The Pope nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “An interesting proposition indeed. Francesco, what say you?”
Condulmer’s lips curled into a small smile. “It has merit, Your Holiness. With careful management, it could bolster both the Church’s treasury and its influence.”
“Then let it be so,” the Pope declared. “Francesco, you will oversee the details. Despot Constantine, your idea is bold and promising. May it bear fruit for the glory of God.”
As Constantine left the Apostolic Palace later that day, a sense of satisfaction settled over him. The deal was finalized: ten thousand Bibles, each marked as a Papacy Edition, to be delivered within two years. The first five thousand would arrive by the end of the next year, and if that initial batch proved successful, another five thousand would follow soon after.
Negotiating the terms had been challenging, with Condulmer driving a hard bargain. Ultimately, Constantine secured a price of five and a half gold ducats per copy—a compromise from his initial eight florins, but still a lucrative figure. The advance payment of five thousand gold ducats was a good motivation too.
However, Condulmer, ever the astute negotiator, had another condition: special privileges for Venetian family traders connected to both himself and the Pope. As influential members of Venetian society, their families sought preferential treatment in any future trade agreements tied to Constantine’s burgeoning printing ventures. Constantine, recognizing the necessity of securing the Church’s favor while protecting his autonomy, agreed to grant these privileges with careful stipulations that preserved his control over the book trade.
In return, Constantine made a proposal of his own—a request for the rights to establish a bookstore in Rome. This store would sell works other than Bibles to avoid competition with the exclusive Papacy Editions. Philosophical texts, educational treatises, and even poetry could find their way to Rome’s scholars and clergy, spreading Byzantine culture and knowledge. The Pope and Condulmer, seeing the potential for cultural enrichment without threatening the sanctity of their agreement, conceded to the idea, provided the venture operated under strict oversight to ensure no conflicts arose with Church interests.
With these terms finalized, the deal became a multifaceted partnership. The Papacy Edition Bibles would serve as a beacon of faith and influence, while the bookstore in Rome promised to weave Byzantium’s intellectual contributions into the heart of Christendom. Both sides left the negotiation table with more than they had anticipated—a testament to the delicate balance of compromise and ambition.
Comments
RENAISSANSE SI
Thanks for the comment and great insights! You're absolutely right—while the bookstore is a great long-term revenue stream, those 25,000 gold florins are a game-changer in the short term. Though it might not revolutionize Constantine's forces before the big battle next year, it lays a solid foundation for the future. Once the initial crisis with the Ottomans is resolved, that influx of wealth could go toward scaling up weapon production, expanding troop numbers, and securing Morea's prosperity. And with projected profits reaching 80-100,000 gold ducats, Constantine is beginning to operate on a level comparable to the wealthiest Venetian merchants. The Morea is poised to flourish—if he can survive what's coming next...
RENAISSANSE SI
Great question! A co-Despot in Morea typically brought in around 30-40,000 gold ducats annually, with profits often hovering in the range of 10,000 gold ducats after expenses like fortifications, court upkeep, and military salaries etc. However, Constantine is aiming much higher this year thanks to the new book deals . With recent arrangements and expanding opportunities, he's aiming for a projected profit of 80-100,000 gold ducats—placing his income on par with that of a wealthy Venetian merchant during a highly successful year! Of course, that's a general estimate, but it's safe to say his financial acumen is making waves in the Morea.
RENAISSANSE SI
Thank you for your thoughtful comment and keen eye for the unfolding strategy! Constantine's book sales are certainly a very profitable venture. And yes, you're absolutely right—Italy, being the hub of mercenary activity, offers some intriguing possibilities. Rest assured, the next chapter delves into these dealings, and you'll get a front-row seat to the negotiations as Constantine leverages his resources to secure the best fighters for the battles ahead. Stay tuned!
Hugo23
(The removed one was mine didn't like how it sounded) An Excellent Chapter! I am seeing double meaning, while the total 55000 will be nice and all, we know there is conflict on the horizon with Sultan Murad. Constantine now has 5000 ducats plus whatever else he brought in Rome, which is in Italy. The heart of the mercenary trade he should be able to get quite an army if he want's to with that down payment.
Bobby Hill
As high as snoop dogg.
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter! A very interesting trade deal! The book store is a good source of long term revenue but in the short term those 25.000 Gold Florin per year will be huge probably won't be able to kick in for Constantine's Army too much before the big battle next year but after... I mean They will get a strong pretty well sized Mercenary company probably already. But this much Gold could do wonders to scale up production of weapons and similarly troops. So I guess once again it comes down to once the big battle against the Ottoman punitive army arrives is over the Morea should florish extremey much.
ioshf fikry
How high is Constantine's income by now?
