“When you surround an army, leave an outlet free. Do not press a desperate foe too hard.”
Sun Tzu, The Art of War
In the year 1303, the Great Catalan Company of the East entered Constantinople at the request of Byzantine Emperor Andronikos II Palaiologos. Their mission: to support the crumbling empire in its struggle against the rising power of the Ottoman Turks and other Anatolian beyliks.
This feared army of Almogàvers—battle-hardened Catalan mercenaries—was led by Roger de Flor (born Rutger von Blum, known in Byzantium as Rontzerios). Roger had already earned military fame during the War of the Sicilian Vespers, serving under the Crown of Aragon.
The Almogàvers were brutally effective. Their guerrilla tactics and fearsome discipline devastated Turkish forces across Asia Minor. But their success soon made them a liability. Once the Turkish threat was mostly contained, the Catalan Company was increasingly seen as a destabilizing force within the empire.
Roger de Flor, was loyal, but had grown too powerful. As tensions rose, co-emperor Michael IX Palaiologos—son of Andronikos II—plotted to eliminate him.
In 1305, Roger was invited to Adrianople under the pretense of planning a new campaign. Bound by honor and ignoring his wife’s advice, Roger accepted.
There, during a banquet hosted by Michael IX, he was treacherously assassinated by Alan mercenaries in Byzantine service. His body, according to chroniclers like Ramon Muntaner, was dismembered.
Cut off from any hope of reconciliation or return, the Catalan Company now resembled the Greek mercenaries of Xenophon’s Anabasis: stranded in a hostile land, surrounded by enemies, and with only their discipline and resolve to guide them.
The Almogàvers gathered in assembly to decide their fate: surrender, flee, or avenge their fallen captain. They chose revenge.
Their response was brutal. In what became known as the Catalan Revenge (La Venjança Catalana), the Company launched a devastating campaign across Thrace and Greece.
They razed towns, looted churches, and left a scorched trail that shocked both allies and enemies. For generations, the Katallanoi were remembered in Greek lands as ruthless, near-mythical invaders. The term itself became synonymous with terror.
But the key to their success was not just their savagery—it was a deliberate act of will. The Almogàvers chose revenge not just out of honor, but because it was also their best strategic option: to preserve the prestige of their Company, to protect the gains they had already accumulated, and to survive in a land where retreat now meant annihilation.
Once committed, they knew there could be no mercy. The only path was forward. Any hesitation would have destroyed them.
In one critical moment – it is said, likely before or during the Battle of Gallipoli – when they faced a Byzantine-led coalition including Genoese and French forces, they made a decisive move: they burned their ships.
They had the option to retreat by sea. But by destroying that path, the Almogàvers forced themselves into a binary choice: victory or death.
As The Art of War teaches, soldiers with no way out fight with unmatched ferocity. Sun Tzu warns commanders to always leave the enemy an escape route—because an enemy with nothing to lose is the most dangerous foe.
We can’t be certain what mercy, if any, the Almogàvers might have expected from their enemies—or whether escape was truly viable. But the psychological impact of burning their ships was real. Even the possibility of retreat can erode discipline. The illusion of a safer path can sap the will to fight.
By eliminating that illusion, the Almogàvers secured a victory that turned an unplanned and treacherous campaign into a historic conquest.
They would go on to seize the Duchy of Athens in 1311 after defeating Walter of Brienne at the Battle of Halmyros. Later, they founded the Duchy of Neopatras. These territories remained under the dominion of the Crown of Aragon and the House of Barcelona for nearly a century.
Their deeds were immortalized in the Chronicle of Ramon Muntaner, and their name remains in the pantheon of Catalan glory.
The lesson: Victory demands the courage to eliminate your escape routes
There is a teaching here that transcends history. When faced with a task of enormous cost or a decision clouded by uncertainty, the best path forward may be to eliminate the possibility of turning back. Only then can one summon the clarity, resolve, and ferocity to see it through.
If we leave the door open—even slightly—to giving up, we risk sabotaging ourselves. This holds true for life’s most consequential choices, whether by nations, companies, or individuals. Even for something as trivial as a New Year’s resolution.
When we take a bold gamble, sometimes the best way to follow through is to create conditions where retreat is no longer an option. In that moment, the will to power thrives, and so does victory.