Cold Open

It’s dawn on May 7th, 1253, in Constantinople, the capital of the Byzantine Empire.

Sunlight glints off the city’s roofs and towers as the harbor stirs to life. Ships rock gently in their moorings, and crews shout to one another, readying their vessels to depart with the rising sun.

But one ship is still waiting on its final passengers. William of Rubruck and three companions hurry along the dock toward a ship at the far end of the harbor.

William is in his late thirties. He wears a plain robe and sandals, and carries a simple sack containing a few documents and prayer books. As a Franciscan friar, he’s bound by a vow of poverty. So, he’s bringing only what’s absolutely necessary, even as he prepares to a journey into the unknown.

William has been sent by King Louis IX of France to travel deep into the Mongol Empire and convert its notoriously fierce warriors to Christianity. It won’t be an easy task, but William is determined to serve both his king and his God.

William bounds up the gangplank, eager to begin his mission.

And with their passengers aboard at last, the sailors waste no time. The gangplank is hauled in. Lines are cast off, and the mainsail snaps taut as it catches the wind.

William stands at the stern, taking one last look at Constantinople. And then, he turns to face east—toward his destination and destiny.

Few Europeans have ever ventured into the heart of Asia before. William of Rubruck knows that his voyage will be long and dangerous. But he places his faith in God that he’ll return again someday, even though it may be years after he begins his journey into the Mongol Empire on May 7th, 1253.

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 May 7th, 1253: William of Rubruck’s Mongol Mission.

Act One: Setting Out

It’s late spring 1253, in the Black Sea, a few days after William of Rubruck and his companions left Constantinople.

William lies in his cabin, holding an important document that he hasn’t let out of his sight since they left port. It’s a letter of introduction from the King of France. And it makes clear that William is not an official French ambassador. He has no authority to negotiate on behalf of the king and no political agenda. Instead, he’s simply a Christian missionary, there to spread the word of God. Still, William hopes this letter will be enough to allow him access to the khans, the rulers of the Mongol Empire.

As the ship reaches the Crimean coast, William and his small party disembark and begin the next step of their journey, this time on carts pulled by oxen. The sea disappears behind them, and ahead lie the steppes of Asia—wide, flat plains that seem to stretch out endlessly in every direction.

The oxen are slow, the days are long, and their food must be rationed carefully. They drink whatever water they can find and keep pushing forward, hoping the hardship will prove worthwhile.

But beneath their exhaustion, there’s also fear. They’re approaching Mongol territory, and who knows what awaits them there. It’s been 26 years since the notorious Genghis Khan died, but his descendants have continued his legacy of conquest and destruction.

Still, William remains hopeful. He’s heard rumors that the Mongol rulers are considering converting to Christianity. There are even whispers that a great-grandson of Genghis Khan has already been baptized. If that’s true, and William can find him, that would be the perfect place for the Christian mission to begin.

Nearly three months after setting out from Europe, William reaches this great-grandson’s camp. His name is Sartaq, and his base sprawls across the steppe in a giant circle of tents, horses, and warriors. William is soon spotted by Sartaq’s scouts and sentries, but instead of being turned away, he is escorted to the center of the camp.

There, Sartaq himself receives William with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. He reads the letter from King Louis IX stating that William is here on a religious mission. But Sartaq is not sure whether to believe it. William could just as easily be a spy.

So over the next three days, William explores the Mongol camp and meets repeatedly with Sartaq and his lieutenants. But William soon discovers that the rumors circulating in Europe are wrong. Sartaq is not a Christian and has no interest in becoming one.

And uncertain what to do with William, Sartaq passes the problem to a more senior man. He orders William to go to his father, Batu Khan, who governs the northwestern part of the Mongol Empire.

Following Sartaq’s directions, William travels on until he finds Batu’s camp—and it’s even bigger and more imposing than Sartaq’s, which matches Batu's fearsome reputation. More than a decade ago, he personally led the Mongol conquest of this region. And from there, he pushed into Eastern Europe. That invasion only came to an end when news reached him that the supreme leader of the Mongols, the Great Khan, had died, and Batu was needed to help choose a successor.

So, this is clearly not a man accustomed to being challenged and talked down to by Europeans. But William does not hold back. He speaks forcefully about how the Mongols will only be saved if they convert to Christianity. But just like his son Sartaq, Batu is unmoved by William’s words, and he certainly won’t be converting. Even so, he’s intrigued by this strangely confident foreigner from a distant land. Batu tells William that he should go further east, deeper into the empire, to meet with Möngke Khan. It’s more than William could have hoped for, because Möngke is the Great Khan—the most powerful man in the entire Mongol Empire.

So four months after departing Constantinople, William and his companions mount fresh horses and set out once again. Five thousand miles lie ahead of them. Their route east takes them right across the great plains of Central Asia. Fall turns to winter, and the grass turns silver with frost. Days pass without seeing another soul on the road—only wild horses, frozen ground, and the relentless wind.

All the while, they’re hungry, exhausted, and pushed to their limits. But finally, they spot thin columns of smoke rising in the distance—it’s Möngke Khan’s camp.

William of Rubruck has reached the heart of the Mongol Empire. But what happens next will depend entirely on what the Great Khan makes of this poor Flemish friar who has crossed half the world to save his soul.

Act Two: The Friar and the Khan

It’s December 27th, 1253, in the Altai Mountains of Central Asia, seven months after William of Rubruck departed Constantinople.

The Great Khan’s encampment stretches across the frozen landscape. Thousands of fires flicker in the cold, their warmth drawing William forward. After weeks crossing empty plains, he and his companions have finally reached the center of the most powerful empire on Earth.

William is welcomed in by the Mongol sentries, but he isn’t allowed to see Möngke Khan himself. The letter of introduction from King Louis IX may have helped him get this far, but it carries no weight with the Great Khan. As a missionary, William can’t make any demands to meet with the Mongol leader like an ambassador could. So instead, he must wait until Möngke decides he’s worth speaking to. It’s an inauspicious start, and it hardly suggests that Möngke is eager to hear William’s message.

And when the summons does finally arrive, Möngke Khan studies William carefully. The Great Khan is not unfriendly, but he’s not naive either. Like Sartaq and Batu, he’s wary of William’s true motives. He worries that a spy may have slipped into his camp disguised as this holy man. But in the end, Möngke decides to do what the lesser khans did not. He takes William at his word and allows him to stay.

And over the next few weeks, William makes a surprising discovery. For all their reputation for conquest and violence, the Mongols are remarkably tolerant of religious differences. At Möngke’s court, Buddhists, Muslims, Daoists, and shamanists worship side by side. No single belief system dominates, and William and his companions are left free to practice their faith as well.

And as the winter dwindles and temperatures begin to rise, the entire camp packs up and begins its annual spring migration. The Great Khan Möngke plans to spend the summer at Karakorum, the walled capital of the Mongol Empire. And he invites William and his party to join him.

When William walks through this great city’s gates, he’s struck by what he finds. Back home in Europe, tales circulate that Karakorum contains palaces made of gold and precious gems, and that mythical monsters prowl the streets. Those stories have been clearly exaggerated. But even so, he’s impressed by what he sees.

He spots temples, markets, statues, and a grand royal palace. There are quarters for craftsmen and merchants from across Asia. And to his surprise, William even hears some familiar accents from Frenchmen who traveled east years earlier.

The more William sees, the more he realizes how incomplete his understanding of the Mongol world is. They are certainly capable of extreme violence. But their society is far more tolerant, organized, and complex than people back in Europe give them credit for.

So, William remains in Karakorum for months and begins to document his experiences. He writes about Mongol customs, their daily lives, and the way their community is structured. He notes down everything from how they eat to how they worship.

But he’s not the only one who is curious about different cultures. The Great Khan Möngke regularly hosts religious debates at his court. Bringing together leaders from different faiths, he asks them to defend their beliefs. William is drawn into these exchanges and is urged to argue why he believes that Christianity is the one true religion.

All the while, the Great Khan listens to all sides equally. He never shows preference for one faith over another, and he attends ceremonies from many different religions.

But William cannot accept such neutrality. To him, Christianity is not just one religion among many—it is the only route to eternal salvation. And the longer his message goes unheeded among the Mongols, the more frustrated he becomes. He begins openly challenging the other religious leaders in Karakorum. And he even comes dangerously close to criticizing the Great Khan himself for what William sees as an overly tolerant attitude.

Eventually, Möngke has had enough, and in July 1254, he asks William to leave Karakorum and return home. The Great Khan sends William on his way with a letter addressed to King Louis, urging the great lords and priests of Europe to visit Karakorum and pay homage to him. But Möngke does not invite William to return.

Instead, after spending months at the heart of the Mongol Empire in a land that few in Europe can even picture, William of Rubruck will return the way he came. But he will not go home empty-handed.

Act Three: Writing the Itinerarium

It’s June 16th, 1255, at a port on the Mediterranean island of Cyprus, almost a year after William of Rubruck left Karakorum.

William descends the gangplank of a ship and steps back onto solid ground. After traveling thousands of miles, he’s finally returned to the edge of Europe, just over two years after he first departed Constantinople. His journey has taken him across the Mongol Empire and back again. Now, he has one final goal—to find the man who sent him on his great mission, the French king, Louis IX.

William has been told that King Louis is here in Cyprus, holding court and preparing another attempt to retake the Holy Land. William can't wait to share his adventures. He may have failed to convert the khans to Christianity. But he has seen things few Europeans ever have before, and he’s brought back extensive notes on a way of life that is almost completely unknown in the Christian world. He wants to tell Louis everything.

But the French king isn’t in Cyprus. Louis has already sailed for France, and this news is a bitter disappointment. William asks for permission to follow the king back to Paris, but his superiors refuse.

Instead, they send him to the city of Acre, in the Holy Land. But he’s determined that this experience won’t be forgotten. So, he writes up the notes he brought back with them into a detailed account of what he saw—an extraordinary record of a journey into unknown lands.

This work becomes known as the Itinerarium and one of the first in-depth reports by a European from inside the Mongol Empire. Unlike the rumors and fearful tales he heard before he set out on his adventure, William’s account is grounded in reality. He describes the empire’s settlements, its culture, and religious practices in rich detail. And in doing so, he challenges long-held assumptions about Asia and its people.

Decades later, the explorer Marco Polo will become famous for his own travels through the Mongol Empire. But the Franciscan friar William of Rubruck got there first, when he set out on his journey east on May 7th, 1253.

Outro

Next on History Daily. May 8th, 1970. A month after the Beatles announce they are breaking up, the band releases their final studio album.

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 Alex Burns.

Edited by Scott Reeves.

Managing producer Emily Burke.

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