We were running under jib down the western Peloponnese from Pylos to the bottom of the first Peloponnesian finger. The low walls of the castle and the tower at the headland jutted out into the narrow strait between the finger-end and the islands. The battlements grew steadily more apparent and imposing.
Then we gybed onto starboard tack and broad reached down the roadstead to what the Venetians called Modon (and the Greeks call Methoni). It felt like a privilege to be doing this; to sail along a route that hundreds of thousands of merchants, marines, knights, pilgrims and pirates had done before. The history was crystallising from the sea air. [Alix: I think Richard was a bit sniffy that I wasn’t more impressed].
We furled the sail and motored up past the Ottoman tower, past the old, broken and submerged Venetian harbour wall, motored beyond a rubble-built mole and anchored off the sandy beach - with the village behind - in about 4m of water.
Alix and I visited Methoni in 2004 on our post-flotilla road trip with Greek-Brummie Suzie and Danish Bente. But I was pretty ignorant of history back then (even though I had my Cadogan guide, which I still have). I just remember it being a lovely place with an extensive walled-town, filled with piles of archaeological rubble and swathes of autumnal wild-flowers. But now, in 2022, I had read so much more about this place, that I was positively bursting to return and explore with fresh eyes. I certainly wanted to spy our first Lion of St Mark.
Methoni was effectively at the edge of the Byzantine empire, and was also a nest of pirates that bothered passing merchants such as the Venetians and Genoese. As a result, in 1125, the Venetians landed and razed Methoni. But they also coveted the location. As we learned earlier in Season Two (in ‘La Serenissima’)
“Venice needed a long necklace of ports between it and the Black Sea, the Levant and Egypt. These included major islands such as Crete, which became a full-blown colony. The ports would be needed to re-water, make repairs and to share intelligence on trade and the location of hostile ships and pirates. Like the British Empire, it relied on naval power to keep all these disparate ports stitched together”.
So, when the Byzantine empire was being cut up and shared out after the sack of Constantinople, Venice knew what she did and didn’t want. She was happy for the Frankish knights to have land in which to create their fairy-tale fiefdoms, but she wanted the strategic ports such as Modon and Coron.
She was slightly late to claim her prizes, however, and needed to wrest them gently from Geoffrey de Villehardouin in 1207 by treaty. (Geoffrey had sailed to Syria on the Fourth Crusade – most probably on a Venetian ship - and missed the sack of the capital. Anxious to grab some land, he had sailed west but got caught in a storm and landed in Methoni by chance. He realised that the local Greeks were no match for his few mounted knights, and he went on to capture most of the Peloponnese!)
Both Modon and Coron (Greek Koroni) were able to provide shelter and to re-supply the galleys. The two ports became the 'Eyes of the Republic’, as most shipping would have to pass by. On their way east, the Venetian ships would collect water and provisions, and silk (from the worms on the mulberry bushes) and wine to trade. On their return, they would load bacon which supplied nearly all of Venice. The Venetians paid the local Greek horsemen to provide land defences, but they insisted that the Greeks shave their beards to distinguish them from their hirsute brethren.
But then came the Ottomans, as described in ‘Who were the Ottomans’ earlier this season:
“From Constantinople, the Sultan completed his conquest of the old Greek-speaking world, including the Peloponnese in 1460. Its Venetian-controlled ports were taken in later years: Koroni and Methoni (1503); and Nafplio (1540). Cyprus was captured in 1570. Mehmed II’s share of captured slaves – one fifth - was sent to repopulate the capital.”
Alix and I spied ‘Money Penny’ anchoring up not far from us. We met up again with Al and Judith, and their new on-board guest, Wendy, and we decided to visit the Venetian castle together. We flubbered to the beach and dragged the dinghies up onto the golden sand and walked up to the village square, eyeing up the local tavernas for some later refreshment.
The Venetians had ruled the roost here for 300 years, and I was ridiculously excited to spot our first Lion of St Mark on one of the outer walls, albeit it was so eroded that it look a bit of imagination to imagine its wings and its big front paw raised to rest on the gospel of St Mark. To enter, we crossed a long, multi-arched bridge (to replace the old timber affair, and built by the French after the War of Independence). The walls would have enclosed quite a decent settlement including a large piazza with a purple granite column, public buildings and probably a church or two.
Then, in 1500, the Sultan and 100,000 Janissaries (professional Ottoman soldiers) besieged the castle and cut of all supply lines. According to my Cadogan: [Alix: you sound a bit like Michael Portillo]
“Five Venetian supply ships slipped past the Turks' blockade. …the besieged were so thrilled by the arrival of food and munitions that they forgot to man the walls. The Turks noticed and stormed Methoni, and beheaded every male over the age of ten, until the waves ran red with blood. When word reached Venice that Methoni had fallen, the ruling Council of ten burst into tears.”
The Ottoman’s needed people (to tax if nothing else) so transferred in new subjects from elsewhere in the Peloponnese. Although the Venetians recaptured the port briefly in 1686, its history is essentially Ottoman until the Greek Revolution started in 1821. The Ottomans converted the church to a mosque with a minaret, and built the tower on the end of the low rocky headland, which would have housed the garrison, served as a lighthouse and been the last refuge in case of siege.
In fact, the entire castle served as a refuge for the Muslim population of the area during the War of Independence. In 1825, the Egyptian leader Ibrahim Pasha had based his Turkish-Egyptian army here, only to surrender in November 1828 to the French expeditionary force, following the decisive naval Battle of Navarino the previous year.
Anyway, we five visiting inhabitants of the castle had been without supplies for an hour or so, so a unanimous decision was made by our council to walk back to a shady taverna for a light lunch. And a large beer for Al. [Alix: and Richard!!!]
History to one side, the site is absolutely beautiful in Spring, just like it had been in the Autumn of 2004. Instead of parched, baked earth and dead, brown vegetation, the landscape was a riot of colour. There were daises, poppies and acres of Jerusalem sage. There were even onions growing in profusion. If you are ever passing by, although it feels like the end of the earth, it is well worth an hour of your life to stop and enjoy it.
