A visit with the last known descendant of the last Byzantine Emperor
In 1453, the Ottomans conquered and sacked Constantinople, the seat of the Byzantine Empire which had existed for 1,000 years. The emperor, Constantine XI Palaeologus, died defending the gates, but some of his family and entourage escaped.
The royal refugees first decamped to Mystra, the Byzantine stronghold on the northern flanks of Mount Taygetus in the far south of Greece, not far from ancient Sparta. Mystra then fell to the Ottomans in 1460 and, as local legend has it, the emperor’s descendants escaped over the mountain to seek refuge in the Mani peninsula, south of Taygetus, trading the splendor of court life for a meager existence among the olive trees, stones and goats.
Here they pass out of memory. All is rumor and conjecture. Or maybe……
Even in ancient times, Mani was a place to hide if you were running from political persecution, or just the long arm of the law. Driving over the high mountain pass on the way from Kalamata to Kardamyli, you can see how easy it would be to get lost up there. It’s no doubt a place where the proverbial bodies are buried.
In his excellent book Mani, Patrick Leigh Fermor (more on him in another post), talks about meeting a fisherman in the town of Kardamyli — Evstratios Mourtzinos — who the locals believed could trace his line all the way back to Constantine XI. If true, that meant the blood of Julius Caesar actually ran in his veins.
Today Strati’s only son, Giannis Demetrius, still lives in Kardamyli where he makes the best olive oil you’ll ever taste, as well as other local, 100% organic products including olives cured in sea water, hand-picked capers, herbs, soaps and more. All artisinally made and sold from his ramshackle place on the road across from a mini mart.
I met Giannis on a previous trip and try to say hello whenever I’m passing through. His encyclopedic knowledge of Mani, its history, culture and people is pretty special, and I’ve learned a great deal from him as I try to unpack my family background — my grandparents came from the region.
Last trip we didn’t connect but this time he was home, thank goodness. After five years the guy recognized me and even asked after my wife and daughter.
I bought a bunch of his stuff including the outstanding olive oil, which he carefully packed in bubble wrap so it would survive the trip home.
When we were saying our goodbyes he looked at me and said, “you’re coming back right? Come back and I’ll buy you a coffee.” I’m here for a few more days so why not?
I mean really, how often do you get to have coffee with someone who might actually be a descendant of the last Byzantine Emperor and, by extension, Julius Caesar?
