Pliska

Imagine a vast flatland, with endless wheat fields stretching towards the horizon. A dusty road cuts straight through fields and small hills. A group of riding warriors, skilled and proud, are coming back from patrolling duty. The horses are tired, the men are dirty and sweaty. Their chainmail and leather armours do not shine, made for war and not for beauty. Their swords, however, are sharp, and the reflexive bows can start spitting deadly arrows in a heartbeat. Slowly, a city emerges from the quivering hot air. The towers seem to be soaring above the ground, then the city walls appear and bind them to the earth. Fires start burning in the horsemen's black eyes, they spur on the steeds and fly cheeringly towars the city.

This is Pliska. The first capitol of the First Bulgarian Kingdom. The name derives from the protobulgarian word "Plyuska", meaning "the city in the field". Founded in 681 by Khan Asparukh, it was located about a day's horsemarch from the Byzanthinian border. This was not only a capitol, but a starting point for future war campaigns as well. The lack of nearby mountains ensured a great visibility range, thus omitting every possibility for a surprise attack. The walls of the inner fortress were nearly 3 meters thick and 12 meters tall, and the outer city was surrounded by moats and ramparts. In 892, the King organised a pagan revolt against the newly integrated Christianity and was dethroned. The capitol was moved to Preslav.

Near Pliska lie the ruins of the biggest basilica in Europe. Contrary to the popular definition of the word, synonimous to a cathedral, basilica actually means "a church with a marketplace". There were only three such churches in Europe - one in Rome, one in Kiev and one in Pliska.

The huge nave could contain hundreds of piligrims, while other hundreds could make their purchases on the market. On the picture to the left, the market is just outside the two leftmost arches and it too was covered. The two lateral aisles contain stone sarcophaguses, the resting places of honoured, yet unknown people. Outside the northern aisle there were living quarters for the clergy and a huge well. Thus only a perimeter wall is missing in order for this complex to become a fully secluded and independent monastery.

The roughcast of both the city and the basilica is unique. More than thirty years of analyses could not determine its ingredients or how it was able to withstand fire, destruction and time for more than a millennium. It is known that it consists of sand, small stones, crushed bricks and... some kind of milk. Only a direct hit with another stone can break it. I have tested it myself. In comparison, modern mortar can be scraped away with as little as a fingertip. So, even though today the city in the fields is nothing more than playground for the sweeping winds, its walls have not yet revealed their secrets.