Cold Open

It’s October 7th, 1571, in the Gulf of Patras, off the west coast of Greece.

Don John of Austria watches from his flagship as the last of his fleet moves into formation, its oars sweeping back and forth like the beating wings of a giant bird.

His armada of more than 200 galleys flies banners from eight different nations across the Christian world. Each ship carries hundreds of sailors, oarsmen, and soldiers. This is the fleet of the Holy League, an alliance of Catholic powers that’s been assembled to fight off the advance of the Muslim Ottoman Empire.

Don John is 24 years old, with a finely groomed beard and mustache. He is a young admiral to command so many ships, but he is the half-brother of the powerful King of Spain, who insisted that John be placed in charge. Now, he must show that his half-brother’s faith in him is not misguided.

Across the bay, the Ottoman fleet rows into position. It was spotted at dawn, sailing out of the port of Lepanto. It is even larger than the Christian armada, but John is still eager for the fight.

John looks up as the wind suddenly turns. Now the Christians have the breeze at their backs, surely a sign of God’s favor. John checks one last time that the stragglers are in position and that his fleet is ready for battle. Then he gives the signal.

The flag of the Holy League is hoisted into the air. The blue and gold banner has been blessed by Pope Pius V himself and, at over 20 feet long, is visible to every ship in the fleet—as well as to the enemy.

As if in answer, a single shot rings out from the Turkish flagship. John does not hesitate to order his gunners to fire back in response.

As the smoke clears, John raises his sword and roars a battle cry that soon echoes through every ship in the fleet. The battle is about to begin.

For thousands of years, vast rowing boats have been the mainstay of navies all around the world, but this will be their last great battle before they are made obsolete by the more powerful and nimble ships of the Age of Sail. By the time the fighting stops, the Gulf of Patras will be littered with the wreckage of hundreds of galleys and tens of thousands of dead bodies. But the ramifications of the Battle of Lepanto will be felt far beyond this corner of Greece. The fate of nations and the course of European history will shift forever after this naval battle, on October 7th, 1571.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham, and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is October 7th, 1571: The Battle of Lepanto.

Act One: Rome

It’s May 20th, 1571, in the Vatican in Rome, five months before the Battle of Lepanto.

In a grand marble hall in the Papal Palace, Pope Pius V scratches his signature onto a vellum document, formally committing the church he leads to the new Holy League of Christian powers.

For Pius, this alliance is the greatest achievement of his papacy so far. Elected Pope five years ago, in 1566, Pius has always taken a firm line against the Catholic Church’s enemies. In Europe, that has meant fighting against the Protestant Reformation. But it’s the relentless expansion of the Ottoman Empire in the East that has Pius most worried. To many in Christian Europe, the invincible-seeming Ottoman armies inspire terror. The Turks have already conquered all of Greece, Anatolia, Mesopotamia, and Egypt, and on more than one occasion, they have nearly seized the Austrian city of Vienna. So from his first days as Pope, Pius has tried to convince the Christian powers of Europe to unite against this growing threat. And now, after five years of work, it is finally done.

Under the terms of the treaty Pius just signed, the Papal States are joining forces with seven other nations, including the mighty Spanish Empire, the great duchies of Italy, and the republics of Genoa and Venice. It's a grand coalition, but Pius regrets that more countries haven’t joined. Looking down at his draft of the treaty, he sees the blank spaces that have been left for other Christian nations. Ambassadors were sent to the courts of France, Poland, and Russia, but there was limited enthusiasm. France was too consumed by the internal conflict between its Protestant and Catholic citizens, and neither Poland nor Russia were interested in joining forces with the likes of Venice or Spain.

But as pens scratch on parchment around the hall, Pius thinks about how difficult it has been to get this far with just eight different nations. During negotiations, it became clear that many of the prospective allies held longstanding grudges against each other, and the main players all seemed to want different things from the new alliance. While Pius pushed for a Holy War against the Ottoman Empire, the powerful Spanish king, Philip II, wanted the League to help fight the Barbary pirates of North Africa. The more trade-minded Venetians, meanwhile, wanted to focus on protecting their vital interests in the Eastern Mediterranean.

And even now that the terms have been finally agreed, behind the official oaths of eternal brotherhood, doubts still linger. Pius casts a suspicious glance at the Venetian emissary in particular. During the lengthy treaty negotiations, the Ottomans besieged the Venetian island of Cyprus, and Pius discovered that Venice was secretly attempting to make a separate truce with the Ottomans. It was only once this failed that the Venetians fully committed to the League. So Pius still doesn’t trust them, and he has threatened Venice with excommunication if they betray this treaty. He can only hope that the Venetian merchants are more concerned with their souls than their profits.

Then, once the treaty has been signed by all the new allies, Pope Pius leads the chamber in prayer, beseeching God to bring this Holy League victory over the enemies of Christ. Then, a week later, Pius publicly announces the formation of the league in St. Peter’s Basilica. He proudly informs the congregation that this grand alliance of Christian nations will soon set off to relieve the besieged island of Cyprus. An enthusiastic hum echoes through the great church, because what Pius is describing sounds like a Crusade—and there hasn’t been one of those in over two hundred years.

The excitement in the air is undeniable. But as Pius leaves the Basilica for his private apartments, he keeps his true feeling to himself. He knows holding this precarious new alliance together will be even more difficult than assembling it. So, his best hope lies in speed. Even now, messengers are racing to both Venice and Madrid to urge them to hurry their preparations and send forces as quickly as possible.

Because Pius knows that if Cyprus falls and the Ottomans are victorious, they will only push further west from there. The Sultan will set his sights on more Christian lands. And he will never rest until Rome itself has fallen—or somebody stops him.

Act Two: Lepanto

It’s the afternoon of October 7th, 1571, in the Gulf of Patras, off the west coast of Greece, five months after the founding of the Holy League.

Don John of Austria’s throat is hoarse from shouting orders, and his sword is red with blood. His flagship, the Real, is in the thick of an enormous naval battle.

In the weeks after the Holy League was formed, the island of Cyprus fell to the Ottoman Empire. A large Ottoman fleet was then spotted moving through the waters off Greece. Its target was unknown, but the Holy League was determined to stop it nonetheless, and their combined armada was deployed to intercept the Ottomans. Now, the two fleets are gripped together in a fight to the death.

But in combat like this, it's more like a battle on land than between ships. There’s no room to maneuver, and the hundreds of galleys from each side are crammed so tightly together that a brave man could walk from ship to ship all the way across the Gulf. Muskets and cannons spit out flame. Crossbows launch deadly arrows whistling through the air. And up close, pikes, spears, and swords deal death across the line.

John bellows for his men to fire on the Turkish flagship, and a force of three hundred Spanish marines unleashes a volley of lead. They are a special detachment of Tercios, the elite soldiers of the Spanish Empire, who are especially trained for fighting at sea. It’s hard for them to miss at this close range, but the same is also true for their enemy. When the Turkish flagship, the Sultana, rammed the Real earlier in the battle, a detachment of Janissary soldiers jumped aboard and tried to seize the ship. The Spanish have fought them off so far, but the battle keeps shifting back and forth, and gun smoke chokes the air as blood and seawater wash across the deck.

The battle is so thick that Don John has no idea what's happening beyond his own ship. An admiral’s orders are given before the fighting begins, because there is rarely a chance to reach subordinates after. John can only pray that his commanders know their work. His entire world is now reduced to an island of two ships, the Real and the Sultana.

But after yet another devastating volley from the Spanish soldiers, John senses that their enemy’s morale is wavering. He shouts for swords, and his Tercios drop their spent guns and draw their blades. With a cheer, the Spanish rush down the deck toward the Janissaries. This is the third time John has tried a charge like this. Twice before, the Janissaries have rallied, held their ground, and forced him back. But this third charge breaks through. John hacks, thrusts, and stabs right alongside his men, and suddenly the Ottoman forces fall back. Some manage to climb back onto the Sultana. Others jump overboard into the water, willing to risk drowning just to escape the storm of swords on deck. And any Janissaries left on the Real are butchered where they stand, and Don John then urges his men onward—to take the fight to the Sultana. He jumps across the gap between the galleys himself, with his Tercios right behind him.

He finds that most of the Sultana’s soldiers are already dead, so the Ottoman flagship is soon captured. The Turkish commander is then killed, and Don John orders the body to be decapitated. Soon, the commander’s head is brandished on a pike alongside the banner of the Holy League, to the delight of the Christian fighters and the horror of the Turks.

John then wipes his sword clean. All around him, his men continue to secure the enemy flagship. And for the first time in over two hours, John can spare a thought for the rest of the battle. Looking beyond the Sultana, he can see the Turkish center is beginning to collapse. And the battle is now shifting decisively in favor of the Holy League.

But the fighting goes on for another four hours, until eventually, the Turkish fleet is almost entirely destroyed. A few dozen ships escape to flee back to the port of Lepanto, but nearly two hundred Ottoman galleys end the day either at the bottom of the Gulf or in Christian hands.

It’s a stunning victory for the Holy League, but in a way, the battle is the simple part. The Turkish fleet presented the Christian powers with a clear threat and a clear response. But without it, the old divisions that made forming the league so difficult will begin to pull it apart. Unlikely allies will become rivals once again. And the only winners will be the Ottoman Empire.

Act Three: Constantinople

It’s March 7th, 1573, in the Topkapı Palace in Constantinople, a year and a half after the Battle of Lepanto.

The Grand Vizier of the Ottoman Empire, Sokollu Mehmed Pasha, watches as his master, the Sultan, signs a peace treaty with Venice. Sokollu is thrilled with its terms. The Venetians have accepted the loss of the island of Cyprus and agreed to give the Ottoman Empire a huge payment for the right to trade with them again.

But it’s what this treaty doesn’t say that is most important to Sokollu. Just by signing the paper, the Venetians have destroyed the Holy League.

Despite the victory at Lepanto, the divisions within the Holy League were too great to overcome. The alliance began to unravel almost immediately after the battle, as each member disagreed on how to take advantage of their triumph. The Venetians wished to retake Cyprus. The Spaniards wanted to conquer Tunis or Alexandria. And Pope Pius believed the time was right to assault the Ottoman capital of Constantinople itself.

So, by the time the 1572 fighting season came around, the Holy League had not agreed on a new objective. What’s worse, they soon discovered that the Ottomans had already rebuilt their fleet. Suddenly, the famous victory the Christians had won at Lepanto seemed somehow hollow.

Little else was achieved before Pope Pius died in May 1572. And without the architect of the Holy League holding it together, the splits in the Christian alliance only widened. That’s when the Ottomans made their move.

The Empire’s chief minister, Sokullu Pasha, approached the Venetians, and the merchant republic eagerly opened talks. During the siege of Cyprus, Venice had been desperate to make peace with the Ottoman Empire to revive its trade routes to the east. And now that the Holy League was fracturing without Pope Pius, there seemed little point in Venice sacrificing trade to prolong an unwinnable war.

But by signing this treaty with the Ottomans, the Venetians have broken the central promise of the Holy League and effectively dissolved it. The alliance was made with the stroke of a pen, and now another has destroyed it.

So from this point on, for centuries, the Mediterranean will be divided in two. While Spain and its allies will hold the West, the Ottomans will cement their rule over the East, where they will steadily pick off the remaining Christian outposts. But despite the fears of Pope Pius, the Ottomans will never advance beyond Eastern Europe. Their aura of invincibility had been shattered, and their onward march west eventually stopped in its tracks, thanks in part to the stunning events of the Battle of Lepanto, when the Holy League won its first and most important victory on October 7th, 1571.

Outro

Next on History Daily. October 8th, 1969. The streets of Chicago are turned into a battleground as extreme left-wing group the Weathermen begins a series of violent protests.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Mollie Baack.

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Samuel Hume.

Edited by William Simpson.

Managing producer Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.