The story
Take a moment to look out across the glassy surface of the Argolic Gulf. There, anchored like a sturdy stone ship in the middle of the harbor, is the Bourtzi. It is perhaps the most photographed monument in Nafplio, a Venetian masterpiece that seems to float effortlessly between the blue of the sea and the blue of the sky.
But as you stand here on the waterfront of the Old Town, with the salt breeze on your face and the gentle lap of the waves against the quay, know that this fortress has a history far more isolated and shadowed than its picturesque silhouette suggests. Built in 1473 by the Italian architect Antonio Gambello and finished by Mariano Barbieri, the Bourtzi was originally designed to protect the city from pirates and naval invaders. In those days, Nafplio was a vital maritime prize, the "Gibraltar of the East."
To secure the harbor, the Venetians devised a clever defense: they would stretch a massive metal chain from the fortress all the way to the city’s pier, effectively locking the port at night. This is why the harbor was once known as Porto di Cadena, or the Port of the Chain. However, the castle's most haunting era began after the Greek War of Independence in the 19th century.
During this time, the Palamidi fortress, looming high on the cliff behind you, served as a grim prison for revolutionaries and criminals alike. Executions were a frequent necessity of the state, but there was a significant social problem: the executioners themselves were pariahs. They were men paid to take lives, and as a result, the superstitious and pious citizens of Nafplio refused to let them live within the city walls.
No neighbor would share a street with a man of death; no merchant wanted to trade for their blood-stained coins. Exiled by stigma, the executioners were forced to live out there, on that tiny islet. They were the Bourtzi’s only residents, living in a different kind of solitary confinement.
They would only row to the mainland when a death sentence was to be carried out, moving through these very streets under a heavy cloud of silence and fear before retreating back to their watery cage. It wasn’t until the 1930s that the Bourtzi finally shed its dark reputation. In a radical transformation, it was converted into one of Greece’s first luxury boutique hotels.
Today, it stands as a quiet monument to Nafplio’s layered past. As you continue your walk along the waterfront, watch how the light hits those weathered stone walls. It is a reminder that even the most beautiful landmarks often carry the silent weight of a city’s secrets.