On the Road to Glarentza

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the rolling hills and olive groves that lined the road to Glarentza. George Gemistos Plethon and his young protégé, Bessarion, rode side by side on sturdy horses, accompanied by a small entourage of servants and guards. The rhythmic clopping of hooves and the gentle murmur of their companions provided a steady accompaniment to their conversation.

"Master," Bessarion began, his eyes reflecting both curiosity and concern, "the Emperor's enthusiasm for Despot Constantine's books intrigues me. Do you think they will truly aid in unifying the Orthodox and Catholic Churches?"

Plethon stroked his long white beard thoughtfully. "The Emperor believes this innovation could be instrumental in our efforts toward unification with the Catholics; we might bridge the chasm that has divided us for so long. Constantine's production of Latin Bibles is a bold step in that direction."

Bessarion nodded slowly. "Yet, I wonder how our people will receive such changes. The wounds of the schism are deep."

"Indeed," Plethon replied. "But sometimes, one must endure further pain to heal a wound. The Emperor and Constantine see the union as a means to bolster our defenses against the Ottomans. Despot Theodore, and the majority of the Church, remains staunchly opposed though."

Bessarion glanced at his mentor. "And where do you stand, Master?"

Plethon's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. "I stand where wisdom guides me, my young friend. Let us see what Glarentza holds before we cast our judgments."

As the sun began to set, the silhouette of Glarentza's walls appeared on the horizon. The city, perched by the Ionian Sea, was a hub of commerce and culture.

"Look, Bessarion," Plethon said, pointing ahead. "There lies Glarentza. Let us hope our journey yields fruitful discussions."

"An impressive sight," Bessarion remarked.

"Indeed," Plethon agreed. "It seems Despot Constantine has been busy."

Upon their arrival at the castle gates, they were met by a delegation of courtiers and servants. A tall man with a warm smile stepped forward.

"Master Plethon, welcome to Glarentza," he said with a respectful bow. "I am George Sphrantzes, the Despot's right hand. Despot Constantine awaits you, but he has instructed me to first see to your comfort after your long journey."

"Thank you, George," Plethon replied graciously. "We are most grateful for the hospitality."

Servants led them to their quarters within the castle—a suite of rooms overlooking the sea. As they settled in, Bessarion gazed out the window, the salty breeze ruffling his hair.

"Glarentza seems a world apart from Mistra," he mused.

"Yes," Plethon agreed, joining him at the window. "Change is in the air here. Let us rest now; tomorrow promises to be enlightening."

The following day, Plethon and Bessarion stood atop the castle's ramparts, gazing out over Glarentza as the city stirred to life. Constantine, accompanied by George Sphrantzes and Theophilus Dragas, approached them with a welcoming smile.

"Master Plethon, Brother Bessarion," he greeted them. "I trust you rested well?"

"Indeed, Despot Constantine," Plethon replied. "Your hospitality is most gracious."

"I thought you might appreciate a tour of our endeavors here," Constantine said. "Shall we visit the town?

They made their way through the bustling streets to a simple square building adorned with a sign bearing the emblem of Morea Publishing—a stylized M. Inside, the scent of fresh parchment mingled with the rich aroma of ink.

"Welcome to our bookstore," Constantine said with a proud smile. "I thought it fitting to show you this first."

They stepped inside to find shelves lined with books—more than either scholar had ever seen in one place. Traders perused the volumes, and clerks assisted with purchases.

"Incredible," Plethon whispered, running his fingers along the spine of the beautifully bound Bible. "The quality of the binding, the clarity of the text, the size... it's remarkable."

Bessarion picked up a book, marveling at the crispness of the printed pages. "And to think these are produced in such numbers."

Constantine grinned. "Our printing presses have been working tirelessly. Soon, we will be able to produce books in Greek as well."

Plethon turned to him, eyes alight with interest. "That would be a monumental achievement. Access to knowledge is the key to enlightenment."

"Precisely," Constantine replied. "We aim to make literature accessible to all who seek it. If you have suggestions for texts that should be printed, we are eager to hear them."

Plethon considered this. "There are many works—philosophical treatises, historical accounts—that could enlighten and educate. The possibilities are vast."

After touring the bookstore, they proceeded to the printing workshop. Inside, six large presses stood like sentinels, each operated by teams of workers meticulously setting type and pressing pages.

"This is astonishing," Bessarion remarked, watching the synchronized movements of the craftsmen. "The organization, the efficiency..."

"We plan to double our presses soon," Constantine informed them. "Our goal is to spread knowledge far and wide."

Plethon nodded appreciatively. "You are laying the foundation for a new era, Despot. The mass production of books will transform our society."

"That is my hope," Constantine said earnestly. "Education is the bedrock of progress."

As they left the workshop, the group discussed the potential impact of printing on education, literacy, and the unification efforts.

"The more our people understand the world around them," Constantine said, "the better equipped they will be to face its challenges."

A grand dinner was held in the castle's banquet hall that evening. Candles flickered in ornate holders, casting a warm glow over the assembled guests. Plethon and Bessarion were seated near Constantine, along with George Sphrantzes and Theophilus Dragas.

As the meal progressed, the conversation turned to matters of philosophy and governance.

"Despot Constantine," Plethon began, "I must commend you on your vision. Your initiatives resonate deeply with some ideas I have long contemplated."

"Please, Master Plethon," Constantine replied, "I am eager to hear your thoughts."

Plethon set down his goblet, his eyes alight with passion. "I believe that by embracing the wisdom of our Hellenic ancestors, we can rejuvenate our society. The Peloponnese is the heartland of the ancient Hellenes—we are their descendants."

He continued, "Imagine a revitalized state—a centralized monarchy advised by learned men of the middle class. An army composed of professional native soldiers, supported by the people. Public ownership of land to ensure equitable distribution and productivity."

Constantine listened intently. "You envision a return to the principles that guided our ancestors."

"Indeed," Plethon affirmed. "By embracing the wisdom of the ancient Hellenes, we can forge a stronger, more just society."

George chimed in, "Master Plethon, how do you see this affecting our current challenges, especially the threat from the Ottomans?"

"By fostering unity and strength from within," Plethon explained. "A professional army, well-trained and loyal, could stand firm against external foes."

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Constantine's eyes lit up. "It's fascinating that you mentioned a professional army. I have begun assembling a core of such troops—long pikes, disciplined formations, and new tactics."

"Like the Spartans of old," Plethon remarked with a smile. "Their discipline and skill were renowned."

"Precisely," Constantine replied. "And with new military innovations—cannons—we can strengthen our defenses, particularly at the Hexamilion wall."

Plethon smiled. "Then you are already paving the way. Strength coupled with wisdom is a formidable force."

George Sphrantzes interjected, "The Hexamilion is a vital barrier against the Ottomans. Reinforcing it is a sound strategy."

They delved deeper into discussions about economic reforms, the importance of supporting local trade over imports, and the need for educational advancement.

George Sphrantzes raised a question. "Master Plethon, how do you propose we balance these reforms with the traditions that have long defined us?"

"By honoring the essence of our heritage while adapting to the needs of the present," Plethon replied. "Change is inevitable, but it need not forsake the past."

The conversation turned to various radical reformation ideas of Plethon.

Theophilus observed the exchange with interest. "Master, how do your ideas address our economic challenges?"

Plethon turned to Theophilus. "I propose that land be publicly owned, with a portion of all produce contributing to the state. Trade should be regulated to favor local goods over imports, and coinage should be limited to essential use, encouraging barter instead."

Theophilus Dragas considered this. "Such measures could stabilize our economy and reduce dependency on external powers."

"Indeed," Plethon affirmed. "Moreover, we must reform our societal values—abolishing harsh punishments like mutilation, promoting justice and the common good."

Constantine nodded thoughtfully. "Your vision is bold, yet it resonates with the need for renewal. Perhaps, together, we can lay the groundwork for such changes."

Inwardly, Constantine was astonished by the depth and progressive nature of Plethon's ideas. This man, standing before him in the 15th century, seemed to possess a mind that transcended the confines of their time. Plethon's concepts of societal reform, centralized governance, and the revival of ancient wisdom were ideas that felt as though they belonged to a distant future. Constantine couldn't help but think that Plethon was truly a man ahead of his era, whose philosophies would be better suited for an age yet to come.

The conversation flowed late into the night, weaving through topics of philosophy, governance, and the future of their beleaguered empire.

Later that night, Constantine invited Plethon to his private chamber. The room was modestly furnished, with shelves of books and maps adorning the walls.

"Master Plethon," Constantine began, pouring wine into two goblets, "your insights tonight have given me much to consider."

"I am glad to hear it," Plethon replied, accepting the offered drink.

They sat by a window overlooking the moonlit sea. For a moment, both men were silent, contemplating the vastness before them.

"The Emperor plans to visit the Morea next year," Constantine said finally. "He hopes to coordinate our efforts for a potential journey to Rome."

Plethon nodded. "A significant undertaking. Do you believe the union with the Western Church will truly aid us against the Ottomans?"

Constantine sighed softly. "In truth, I am uncertain. Political alliances are fickle, and the promises of aid may not materialize as we hope."

"Yet, pursuing union serves a purpose," Plethon observed. "It demonstrates our willingness to seek solutions, to adapt."

"Indeed," Constantine agreed. "But we must also strengthen ourselves from within, as you have suggested."

Plethon regarded him thoughtfully. "You possess wisdom beyond your years, Despot. Your openness to new ideas is refreshing."

A contemplative silence settled before Constantine spoke again. "Your insights tonight have been enlightening. Your vision for revitalizing our society is inspiring."

"You honor me, Despot," Plethon replied.

"I have a proposition," Constantine said, leaning forward. "Would you consider relocating permanently to Glarentza? Your presence here would be invaluable as we prepare for the Emperor's visit and the potential journey to Rome. Together, we could implement some of your ideas and work toward the betterment of our people."

Plethon was taken aback. "I am surprised by your offer. I must admit, I am drawn to what you are building here."

"Then consider it," Constantine urged. "Together, we can lay the foundations for a renaissance of knowledge and strength."

"I will give it serious thought," Plethon promised. "What I have seen here fills me with hope."

After a couple of days, Plethon and Bessarion prepared to depart. As they rode away from Glarentza, the younger man sensed a change in his mentor.

"Master, you seem deep in thought," Bessarion remarked.

Plethon smiled gently. "Our visit has given me much to ponder. Despot Constantine is a remarkable man—wise beyond his years, with a vision that aligns closely with my own."

"Despot Constantine is an unusual man," Bessarion remarked. "His openness to new ideas and his initiatives are uncommon among leaders of his age."

"Indeed," Plethon agreed. "He possesses a mind both innovative and receptive."

Bessarion hesitated before asking, "Do you think his plans will succeed?"

"There is great potential," Plethon replied. "His embrace of the printing press alone could transform our society. The ability to spread knowledge so widely is a powerful tool."

They rode in silence for a moment before Plethon continued. "Bessarion, I have decided to accept Constantine's offer to move to Glarentza."

His student looked at him with surprise. "Truly, Master?"

"Yes," Plethon affirmed. "I believe that by working closely with him, we can bring about meaningful change. With the Emperor's arrival and the potential journey to Rome, our efforts could have far-reaching impact."

Bessarion smiled. "I am glad to hear it. The environment in Glarentza seems fertile for your ideas."

"It does," Plethon said. "And I hope you will join me. Your insights and abilities would be greatly valued."

"I would be honored, Master," Bessarion replied earnestly. "I am eager to be part of this, to contribute however I can."

"You have much to offer, my young friend," Plethon said kindly. "Together, we can help shape a future where knowledge and wisdom guide our people."

As they continued along the road, the distant silhouette of Mistra came into view. The journey ahead was uncertain but filled with possibility.

"Change is upon us," Plethon mused. "And with leaders like Constantine, perhaps we can navigate it toward a brighter horizon."

Bessarion looked ahead, his heart filled with renewed purpose. "The path may be challenging, but with conviction and unity, we can prevail."

Plethon placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Well said. Let us embrace the journey, wherever it may lead."