Praefectus Praetorio
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Minnesota Moore and the Emperors' Treasure
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Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter 15 April 15, 2018
Dr. Barbara Moore greeted Dr. Giovanna Giubbini, Direttore Anziano of the Archivio di Stato di Venezia. Thanks to Geoffrey’s ubiquitous contacts in European Libraries, she was accorded an almost royal welcome by the Octogenarian curator of the State archives of Venice. Indeed, the courtly gray-haired gentleman made her think of how Dr. Chaucer would look in ten years – not bad, actually.
Ensconced in the stacks of the History of the Republic in the 12th century, Barbara couldn’t keep her mind from wandering back to her morning meeting with Harold Antonio.
Antonio flew to Venice from Minneapolis to meet her. It wasn’t clear, but Barb had the impression he piloted his own private jet. They met for rich coffee and incredible pastries at the historic Caffè Florian near her hotel. Barb was quite impressed by the man.
Dominating at 6’3”, a darkish compaction, with a strong face and firm handshake, he exuded Italian charm while speaking American English with something of a Boston accent. While he was not breathtakingly handsome, his looks and his manners created a very favorable first impression.
Harold managed to overflow with admiration and praise for Dr. Moore’s accomplishments without ever seeming fawning or sycophantic. He clearly was well read in Medieval History and had a complete grasp of the significance of the Emperors’ Treasure.
“Dr. Windar gave me a copy of your summary of the manuscript find. Is that OK with, you, Dr. Moore?” he asked, pulling a paper from his pocket. “If not, I will be glad to give you the only copy of I have.”
“No, no. That is quite alright. You are such a good friend to the University, that I’m glad to share this remarkable happening with you. Of course. complete confidentiality is needed.” Responded Barb. “Dr. Windar indicated you had further questions. I would be pleased to answer if I can.”
“You are too kind,” he said with a slight bow of the head. Barb thought that his manners and style could grow on you.
“And I do wish to thank you for your generous support of my project.”
“Oh that? Please think nothing of it. I feel privileged to be involved in a small way in such an important historical quest. But I also must confess that I have a personal interest.” Harold said with a slightly embarrassed smile.
“It is just that my family has old, historical ties to the Dalmatian Coast provinces of Venice. Diocletian’s palace and his “treasure” have been a piccola ossessione di famiglia for many generations. There is even a tale passed down that we have an ancestor who served the emperor in his palace and helped hide the treasure.” He laughed engagingly.
“You know how these silly things get passed down in a family. Silly, but representing deep feeling of connection.”
“Of course,” agreed Barb. “Even without a family connection, the whole story is a fascinating one. I will be glad to keep you up on our progress.”
“I will be so grateful, Dr. Moore.”
He asked a few questions about the project plans and how she hoped to find the key to the treasure. Barb responded openly, and was pleased to see his quick understanding. But she, of course, withheld the key parts of the manuscript concerning the mosaic room. After less than an hour total, he rose and apologized for taking so much of her time. He agreed to stay in touch and dropped on the table enough to pay the bill three times. He gallantly kissed her hand on leaving. As Barb watch him walk away, it occurred to her that this extremely wealthy man had flown from the US to Venice to meet her and had been satisfied with less than an hour of her time. She was very impressed and flattered. And she had to admit that, after getting to know him a little, he was very handsome!
The reason Barb’s thoughts had wandered back to the meeting with Antonio (other than the fact that he seemed ever more handsome as time had passed since their meeting), was the incredibly labyrinthine history of Croatia and the Dalmatian coast in the Middle Ages. Venetians, Byzantines, Hungarians, Croatians, Serbians, Bosnians, Franks. They had all ruled this land during the 10th 11th, and 12th centuries. Several ruled at multiple times as control passed back and forth as a result of larger European and Balkan events. The only islands of stability during this time appeared to be the monasteries who tried to stay above politics. Barb was convinced that they would be the heart of her research.
Late that afternoon, she spoke to Windar. As usual, the Dean started off talking money, which was usually a downer for Barbara. With a corporate sponsorship, he had achieved 100% backing for the project. Dr. Moore, of course was delighted. But the penny-pinching administrator then assumed a stern, scolding tone.
“I received a bill from your hotel in Frankfurt. The total came to just under 6,000 Euros! That’s got to be wrong!”
“You know me, Dean,” Barb cooed, “I never was good with numbers.” This was very true. She never received above a B- in high school or college math – the only grades she ever received below A. “Aren’t those Euro’s worth a lot less than a dollar? Someone told me its 12%, whatever that means.”
“Twelve percent more, Moore! This is an impossibly large charge. I’ll have the hotel send you a fully detailed folio so you can see where the error is.”
“Sure, Claus, whatever. I want you to know how very thankful I am to you for getting that funding. I really owe you a big one.”
This ameliorated his concern, for the moment. “How did you like Harold?’
“He is very impressive. Not conceited or arrogant, very well read on this region and the Medieval period. I liked him a lot!”
“He is very rich and handsome. Should Geoffrey and I be jealous?”
“Geoffrey doesn’t have anything to worry about. And you have zero basis for jealousy.”
“Ouch. You can be cruel Dr. Moore.”
“Only when you ask for it. So how is my team coming? I want to start moving as soon as possible.”
“The team is complete.”
“Wonderful. Who do I have?”
“Well you wanted a couple of smart but strong men in case you needed to move rubble. I got you Henry R and David P. Henry you know somewhat and his specialty in technology may be helpful if you want to use the side-seeking radar/sonar that I’m sending or any of the other scientific equipment. And he can lift a tank! And, of course, David knows the ancients backwards and forwards. If you have any obscure Greek or Latins inscriptions, he’ll translate them if anyone can.”
“Excellent. I like both of them.”
“Then there is Susan H. Your protégé. She can backstop you on any Modern European issues.”
“Yes indeed. She’s a better researcher than I am.”
“Modesty! Are you getting old and complacent, Dr. Moore?”
“No, but I appreciate that others can be very helpful.”
“Last member, I think you will thank me now. Messaline C. the French wunderkind!”
“Messa! She’s available! That is great.”
“I thought you would think so. Someone only 23 and almost completed her double PhD in European Languages and Medieval History! Her fluency in almost every language on the continent should prove invaluable while traipsing through the Balkans. Plus, she’s a top-class documenting photographer!”
“You’ve outdone yourself, Windar! Between the funding and this team! How can I every thank you enough! Wait – forget I said that. I know what you want you, lecher!”
“Hope spring eternal, Barb.”
“Hope is not the only part of you that springs eternal!”
“I’m only a man.”
“You’ll get over it. Both the disappointment and being a man! What’s the schedule?”
“I’m moving at light speed here. Dr. Moore. Messa will be arriving to join you at the Venice airport tomorrow. You two can do your side trip to Ravenna and then fly to Zagreb the next day. That is when the others will arrive in Zagreb with all the supplies and equipment”
“Perfect.”
“One thing, Moore. I think that Messa has a crush on you. Try not to hurt her feelings.”
“Don’t worry, Windar. Maybe I’ll give her something I won’t give you.” Said Barb laughing.
“Now I am jealous!” said Windar.
Dr. Barbara Moore greeted Dr. Giovanna Giubbini, Direttore Anziano of the Archivio di Stato di Venezia. Thanks to Geoffrey’s ubiquitous contacts in European Libraries, she was accorded an almost royal welcome by the Octogenarian curator of the State archives of Venice. Indeed, the courtly gray-haired gentleman made her think of how Dr. Chaucer would look in ten years – not bad, actually.
Ensconced in the stacks of the History of the Republic in the 12th century, Barbara couldn’t keep her mind from wandering back to her morning meeting with Harold Antonio.
Antonio flew to Venice from Minneapolis to meet her. It wasn’t clear, but Barb had the impression he piloted his own private jet. They met for rich coffee and incredible pastries at the historic Caffè Florian near her hotel. Barb was quite impressed by the man.
Dominating at 6’3”, a darkish compaction, with a strong face and firm handshake, he exuded Italian charm while speaking American English with something of a Boston accent. While he was not breathtakingly handsome, his looks and his manners created a very favorable first impression.
Harold managed to overflow with admiration and praise for Dr. Moore’s accomplishments without ever seeming fawning or sycophantic. He clearly was well read in Medieval History and had a complete grasp of the significance of the Emperors’ Treasure.
“Dr. Windar gave me a copy of your summary of the manuscript find. Is that OK with, you, Dr. Moore?” he asked, pulling a paper from his pocket. “If not, I will be glad to give you the only copy of I have.”
“No, no. That is quite alright. You are such a good friend to the University, that I’m glad to share this remarkable happening with you. Of course. complete confidentiality is needed.” Responded Barb. “Dr. Windar indicated you had further questions. I would be pleased to answer if I can.”
“You are too kind,” he said with a slight bow of the head. Barb thought that his manners and style could grow on you.
“And I do wish to thank you for your generous support of my project.”
“Oh that? Please think nothing of it. I feel privileged to be involved in a small way in such an important historical quest. But I also must confess that I have a personal interest.” Harold said with a slightly embarrassed smile.
“It is just that my family has old, historical ties to the Dalmatian Coast provinces of Venice. Diocletian’s palace and his “treasure” have been a piccola ossessione di famiglia for many generations. There is even a tale passed down that we have an ancestor who served the emperor in his palace and helped hide the treasure.” He laughed engagingly.
“You know how these silly things get passed down in a family. Silly, but representing deep feeling of connection.”
“Of course,” agreed Barb. “Even without a family connection, the whole story is a fascinating one. I will be glad to keep you up on our progress.”
“I will be so grateful, Dr. Moore.”
He asked a few questions about the project plans and how she hoped to find the key to the treasure. Barb responded openly, and was pleased to see his quick understanding. But she, of course, withheld the key parts of the manuscript concerning the mosaic room. After less than an hour total, he rose and apologized for taking so much of her time. He agreed to stay in touch and dropped on the table enough to pay the bill three times. He gallantly kissed her hand on leaving. As Barb watch him walk away, it occurred to her that this extremely wealthy man had flown from the US to Venice to meet her and had been satisfied with less than an hour of her time. She was very impressed and flattered. And she had to admit that, after getting to know him a little, he was very handsome!
The reason Barb’s thoughts had wandered back to the meeting with Antonio (other than the fact that he seemed ever more handsome as time had passed since their meeting), was the incredibly labyrinthine history of Croatia and the Dalmatian coast in the Middle Ages. Venetians, Byzantines, Hungarians, Croatians, Serbians, Bosnians, Franks. They had all ruled this land during the 10th 11th, and 12th centuries. Several ruled at multiple times as control passed back and forth as a result of larger European and Balkan events. The only islands of stability during this time appeared to be the monasteries who tried to stay above politics. Barb was convinced that they would be the heart of her research.
Late that afternoon, she spoke to Windar. As usual, the Dean started off talking money, which was usually a downer for Barbara. With a corporate sponsorship, he had achieved 100% backing for the project. Dr. Moore, of course was delighted. But the penny-pinching administrator then assumed a stern, scolding tone.
“I received a bill from your hotel in Frankfurt. The total came to just under 6,000 Euros! That’s got to be wrong!”
“You know me, Dean,” Barb cooed, “I never was good with numbers.” This was very true. She never received above a B- in high school or college math – the only grades she ever received below A. “Aren’t those Euro’s worth a lot less than a dollar? Someone told me its 12%, whatever that means.”
“Twelve percent more, Moore! This is an impossibly large charge. I’ll have the hotel send you a fully detailed folio so you can see where the error is.”
“Sure, Claus, whatever. I want you to know how very thankful I am to you for getting that funding. I really owe you a big one.”
This ameliorated his concern, for the moment. “How did you like Harold?’
“He is very impressive. Not conceited or arrogant, very well read on this region and the Medieval period. I liked him a lot!”
“He is very rich and handsome. Should Geoffrey and I be jealous?”
“Geoffrey doesn’t have anything to worry about. And you have zero basis for jealousy.”
“Ouch. You can be cruel Dr. Moore.”
“Only when you ask for it. So how is my team coming? I want to start moving as soon as possible.”
“The team is complete.”
“Wonderful. Who do I have?”
“Well you wanted a couple of smart but strong men in case you needed to move rubble. I got you Henry R and David P. Henry you know somewhat and his specialty in technology may be helpful if you want to use the side-seeking radar/sonar that I’m sending or any of the other scientific equipment. And he can lift a tank! And, of course, David knows the ancients backwards and forwards. If you have any obscure Greek or Latins inscriptions, he’ll translate them if anyone can.”
“Excellent. I like both of them.”
“Then there is Susan H. Your protégé. She can backstop you on any Modern European issues.”
“Yes indeed. She’s a better researcher than I am.”
“Modesty! Are you getting old and complacent, Dr. Moore?”
“No, but I appreciate that others can be very helpful.”
“Last member, I think you will thank me now. Messaline C. the French wunderkind!”
“Messa! She’s available! That is great.”
“I thought you would think so. Someone only 23 and almost completed her double PhD in European Languages and Medieval History! Her fluency in almost every language on the continent should prove invaluable while traipsing through the Balkans. Plus, she’s a top-class documenting photographer!”
“You’ve outdone yourself, Windar! Between the funding and this team! How can I every thank you enough! Wait – forget I said that. I know what you want you, lecher!”
“Hope spring eternal, Barb.”
“Hope is not the only part of you that springs eternal!”
“I’m only a man.”
“You’ll get over it. Both the disappointment and being a man! What’s the schedule?”
“I’m moving at light speed here. Dr. Moore. Messa will be arriving to join you at the Venice airport tomorrow. You two can do your side trip to Ravenna and then fly to Zagreb the next day. That is when the others will arrive in Zagreb with all the supplies and equipment”
“Perfect.”
“One thing, Moore. I think that Messa has a crush on you. Try not to hurt her feelings.”
“Don’t worry, Windar. Maybe I’ll give her something I won’t give you.” Said Barb laughing.
“Now I am jealous!” said Windar.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
The Venetian State Archives
Caffè Florian
It was opened on 29th December 1720 by Floriano Francesconi as “Alla Venezia Trionfante” (Triumphant Venice), although the clientele subsequently rechristened it “Caffè Florian” in honour of its owner.
Besides being the most famous coffeehouse, Caffè Florian was the only meeting place of the time that admitted women, which explains why Casanova chose it as his “hunting ground” in his continuing quest for female company.
Barbara at Florian, waiting forCasanova Antonio.
Later, at work in the Archives.
A timeline of rulers of Split.
There will be a quiz at the end of the class.
Caffè Florian
It was opened on 29th December 1720 by Floriano Francesconi as “Alla Venezia Trionfante” (Triumphant Venice), although the clientele subsequently rechristened it “Caffè Florian” in honour of its owner.
Besides being the most famous coffeehouse, Caffè Florian was the only meeting place of the time that admitted women, which explains why Casanova chose it as his “hunting ground” in his continuing quest for female company.
Barbara at Florian, waiting for
Later, at work in the Archives.
A timeline of rulers of Split.
There will be a quiz at the end of the class.
These Italian guys ... like a good wine ... just get better with age.
To a point ...
I knew that was coming ...
Well, it is a step above the Dorchester ... what did you expect?
Twelve percent ... that's nothing ... pocket change, right?
Wouldn't an equivalent French word be moore appropriate here?
Calling the kettle black ...
“One thing, Moore. I think that Messa has a crush on you. Try not to hurt her feelings.”
Who? Moi?
“Don’t worry, Windar. Maybe I’ll give her something I won’t give you.” Said Barb laughing.
Chew on that for awhile, Dean baby!
Barbara at Florian, waiting forCasanovaAntonio.
And not planning to pay the bill ...
Later, at work in the Archives.
Would you believe that Italian guy who just walked by reached out and pinched my tight little?
messaline
Crucified Amazon
... It was opened on 29th December 1720 by Floriano Francesconi as “Alla Venezia Trionfante” (Triumphant Venice), although the clientele subsequently rechristened it “Caffè Florian” in honour of its owner.
Besides being the most famous coffeehouse, Caffè Florian was the only meeting place of the time that admitted women, which explains why Casanova chose it as his “hunting ground” in his continuing quest for female company.
...
In Paris, we've "Le Café de Flore" where I've my reserved table , but, fortunatelly, without this "Casanova" that I dont like very well !
messaline
Crucified Amazon
.... Mmmmmmm ! He said : "You two ... " !!! ... and "Ravenne , Zagreb" ? I know some wonderful hostels here , with hugh bed and massage ( free, I do them myself ...
)
gif ........
View attachment 711369 .... Mmmmmmm ! He said : "You two ... " !!!
... and "Ravenne , Zagreb" ? I know some wonderful hostels here , with hugh bed and massage ( free, I do them myself ...
View attachment 711370 View attachment 711371gif ........
MMMMMMMM
Who is that behind you Messa?
messaline
Crucified Amazon
So, we always can say that we're French, Italians or anything else , that is called "the melting pot" ...
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
A well-traveled woman like you, Professor Moore, would know that a pinch on that tight little is de rigueur (di rigore) in Italy!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
messaline
Crucified Amazon
My translator says yes ...
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Editor: I have been informed that today's post will be a little delayed from recent times.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter 10 April 16, 2018
Dr. Moore met Messaline at the Venice airport the next morning. The pretty blonde French girl had been a special favorite of hers in the doctoral program. Mainly because she reminded her of herself at that age; full of energy and enthusiasm and incredibly quick. Messaline clearly hero-worshiped Dr. Moore and was immensely flattered to be invited on the project.
When Messa saw Dr. Moore waiting for her in the arrivals area, her face lit up and she rushed toward her, exclaiming,
“Oh! Professor?! J'ai tant de remerciements à vous faire pour m'avoir choisie pour vous seconder dans ce projet! Soyez sûre que, en aucun cas, je ne vous abandonnerai! Encore merci, merci beaucoup!”
“Say nothing of it Messaline,” replied a delighted Barb. “You have earned it! Let’s get your luggage and I can tell you of our plans for today.”
They would visit Ravenna.
Few non-students of History have heard of Ravenna. Rome was, of course the capital of the Empire for most of its history. But Rome was not a particularly defensible place and was separated from supply and escape by sea. Through the Republic and early Empire, the vaunted legions provided all the safety Rome needed from foreign raiders. It was like King Agesilaus of Sparta’s, stock response to anyone who questioned why Sparta lacked fortifications of any kind; Agesilaus would merely point at his soldiers.
However, by the late 4th century, the Germanic Goths were overrunning the Western Empire, invading even Italy. So, in 398, less than 90 years after Diocletian’s death, the Emperor Honorius first relocated his capital to Milan. However, the threat of the Barbarians, specifically the Visigoths caused him to relocate to Ravenna in 401. Ravenna seems to have been chosen due to easy sea access to the Eastern Empire and Constantinople as well as the defensive advantage of being surrounded by swamps and marshes (although, in fact, the city fell to attacking forces numerous times!).
Ravenna remained the capital of the Western Roman Empire for almost a century, off-and-on capital of Italy under the Gothic conquerors and the Byzantines for several hundred more.
Honorius’ reign was marked by great turbulence and great decline. He has the “honor” of being known as the Emperor when Rome was sacked by Alaric and the Visigoths in 410 (the first time this had happened in almost 800 years!)
When they arrived in Ravenna, Barb and Messa first went, like tourists, to see the basilica of Saint Apollinare Nuovo, consecrated in 504, with possibly the best display of Byzantine mosaics extant. Even with their familiarity with the history and reproductions of the mosaics, both were stunned into awed silence by the spectacular display.
Afterwards they went to see the sindaco (mayor), Giuseppe Martino. Again, Geoffrey’s influence had gotten there first, and the sindaco graciously offered them unrestricted access to the off-limits parts of Honorius’s palace.
They went straight to the triclinium to compare it with the one in Diocletian’s palace. Barb was a bit disappointed, but not surprised, to find that time and vandals has caused severe damage and removed anything of value. She noticed immediately a significant difference from Nickolas’ description of the palace at Split. There were inscriptions all around the top of the walls (those that remained). These were the usual descriptions of food gathering and praise of the Emperor.
The walls were badly damaged, but the outline of the depictions was still plain.
The floor was a mosaic of the ocean with the customary cornucopia of sea life. The walls had scenes of hunting, fishing, growing grain and grape culture. Barb, on a whim, tried to discern if Riesling grapes were shown. The damage and the commonplace display left her with no new insight into this mystery or that of the treasure.
Messa had brought a high-def digital camera for archival recording and took extensive and complete shots of that room and many others.
After a little more sight-seeing, the two historians returned to Venice in the convertible Alfa Romeo they’d rented, with Messa driving (Barb’s IDP was still revoked from the last accident in Oxford)). With the work in Ravenna finished, they could just relax and catch up. The day was warm so they drove with the top down, basking in the sun, and the wind in their hair.
Barb was reminded why she liked Messa so much. Not only was the girl smart and driven as Barb had been at that age, but he was very sweet and charming. Sensitive and caring about others, Messa was always very modest about herself. It had been a very enjoyable experience spending time alone with her in Ravenna. It was also a very pleasant drive. Barb couldn’t help but notice how pretty the French girl was in the warm sun with the wind whipping her hair. They drove straight to the airport and caught a flight to Zagreb.
Dr. Moore met Messaline at the Venice airport the next morning. The pretty blonde French girl had been a special favorite of hers in the doctoral program. Mainly because she reminded her of herself at that age; full of energy and enthusiasm and incredibly quick. Messaline clearly hero-worshiped Dr. Moore and was immensely flattered to be invited on the project.
When Messa saw Dr. Moore waiting for her in the arrivals area, her face lit up and she rushed toward her, exclaiming,
“Oh! Professor?! J'ai tant de remerciements à vous faire pour m'avoir choisie pour vous seconder dans ce projet! Soyez sûre que, en aucun cas, je ne vous abandonnerai! Encore merci, merci beaucoup!”
“Say nothing of it Messaline,” replied a delighted Barb. “You have earned it! Let’s get your luggage and I can tell you of our plans for today.”
They would visit Ravenna.
Few non-students of History have heard of Ravenna. Rome was, of course the capital of the Empire for most of its history. But Rome was not a particularly defensible place and was separated from supply and escape by sea. Through the Republic and early Empire, the vaunted legions provided all the safety Rome needed from foreign raiders. It was like King Agesilaus of Sparta’s, stock response to anyone who questioned why Sparta lacked fortifications of any kind; Agesilaus would merely point at his soldiers.
However, by the late 4th century, the Germanic Goths were overrunning the Western Empire, invading even Italy. So, in 398, less than 90 years after Diocletian’s death, the Emperor Honorius first relocated his capital to Milan. However, the threat of the Barbarians, specifically the Visigoths caused him to relocate to Ravenna in 401. Ravenna seems to have been chosen due to easy sea access to the Eastern Empire and Constantinople as well as the defensive advantage of being surrounded by swamps and marshes (although, in fact, the city fell to attacking forces numerous times!).
Ravenna remained the capital of the Western Roman Empire for almost a century, off-and-on capital of Italy under the Gothic conquerors and the Byzantines for several hundred more.
Honorius’ reign was marked by great turbulence and great decline. He has the “honor” of being known as the Emperor when Rome was sacked by Alaric and the Visigoths in 410 (the first time this had happened in almost 800 years!)
When they arrived in Ravenna, Barb and Messa first went, like tourists, to see the basilica of Saint Apollinare Nuovo, consecrated in 504, with possibly the best display of Byzantine mosaics extant. Even with their familiarity with the history and reproductions of the mosaics, both were stunned into awed silence by the spectacular display.
Afterwards they went to see the sindaco (mayor), Giuseppe Martino. Again, Geoffrey’s influence had gotten there first, and the sindaco graciously offered them unrestricted access to the off-limits parts of Honorius’s palace.
They went straight to the triclinium to compare it with the one in Diocletian’s palace. Barb was a bit disappointed, but not surprised, to find that time and vandals has caused severe damage and removed anything of value. She noticed immediately a significant difference from Nickolas’ description of the palace at Split. There were inscriptions all around the top of the walls (those that remained). These were the usual descriptions of food gathering and praise of the Emperor.
The walls were badly damaged, but the outline of the depictions was still plain.
The floor was a mosaic of the ocean with the customary cornucopia of sea life. The walls had scenes of hunting, fishing, growing grain and grape culture. Barb, on a whim, tried to discern if Riesling grapes were shown. The damage and the commonplace display left her with no new insight into this mystery or that of the treasure.
Messa had brought a high-def digital camera for archival recording and took extensive and complete shots of that room and many others.
After a little more sight-seeing, the two historians returned to Venice in the convertible Alfa Romeo they’d rented, with Messa driving (Barb’s IDP was still revoked from the last accident in Oxford)). With the work in Ravenna finished, they could just relax and catch up. The day was warm so they drove with the top down, basking in the sun, and the wind in their hair.
Barb was reminded why she liked Messa so much. Not only was the girl smart and driven as Barb had been at that age, but he was very sweet and charming. Sensitive and caring about others, Messa was always very modest about herself. It had been a very enjoyable experience spending time alone with her in Ravenna. It was also a very pleasant drive. Barb couldn’t help but notice how pretty the French girl was in the warm sun with the wind whipping her hair. They drove straight to the airport and caught a flight to Zagreb.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Honorius is remembered (slightly) in Britain. The people there appealed for help against the barbarians. He wrote to them, the “Rescript of Honorius”. The historian scholar Zosimus said, "Honorius wrote letters to the cities in Britain, bidding them to guard themselves."
Honorius died in 423 at age 38 of oedema (a fluid build-up under the skin), which used to be known as dropsy. He left no heir and the Western Empire was taken over by a cousin of the Eastern Emperor. Honorius’ reign would be totally forgettable if it hadn’t corresponded with the famous Sack of Rome.
Honorius consulting with his trusted advisers.
Honorius died in 423 at age 38 of oedema (a fluid build-up under the skin), which used to be known as dropsy. He left no heir and the Western Empire was taken over by a cousin of the Eastern Emperor. Honorius’ reign would be totally forgettable if it hadn’t corresponded with the famous Sack of Rome.
Honorius consulting with his trusted advisers.
Last edited:
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Ravenna collage
Arriving at Sant’Apollinare Nuovo
Why is Barb looking at Messa?
Arriving at Sant’Apollinare Nuovo
Why is Barb looking at Messa?
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Mosaic and frescos in triclinium
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
The drive back to Venice
