Byllis

Listen to the wind first. Up here on this bare ridge it runs through dry grass and low oak scrub, and it carries the smell of warm stone and wild thyme. Under your feet the ground is uneven, a mix of packed earth and pale limestone blocks. Below you, far down, a wide river valley opens in shades of green and grey. This is Byllis, and you are standing on the remains of an ancient city.

Byllis sits on a high plateau in the Mallakastër hills of Fier County, in southern Albania, close to the village of Hekal. The position is not an accident. From this height, the people who lived here could watch the valley of the Vjosa river, called the Aoös in ancient times. Roads, armies, traders and herds all moved through that valley. A city on this ridge could see trouble coming long before it arrived.

The city belonged to a people called the Bylliones. They were part of the wider Illyrian world, the family of tribes and communities that lived along the western Balkans in antiquity. Byllis grew into a true planned city around the fourth century before Christ. Its builders laid out streets in a regular grid and placed public buildings in a clear civic centre. So this was not a village that slowly expanded. It was designed, with intention, as a city.

Look around for the long lines of fitted stone. These are parts of the defensive walls that once wrapped around the whole plateau. The blocks are large and carefully cut, and many fit together without mortar. Stand close and run your eye along the joints. You can often see where newer repairs sit on top of older courses. The walls carry the work of several generations, each one patching and strengthening what came before.

Now find the theatre. It is the part of Byllis most visitors remember, and for good reason. The builders did not raise it on open ground. Instead, they cut it into the natural slope of the hill, so the seats follow the curve of the land. It once held several thousand people. Sit on one of the stone rows for a moment. Notice how the hillside frames the stage, and how the valley spreads out behind it like a painted backdrop.

Here is a detail many visitors miss. The theatre did not stand alone. It sat next to the agora, the open public square, and close to long covered halls called stoas. A stoa is a colonnaded walkway, a shaded place to meet, trade and talk. So the theatre, the market and the meeting halls formed one connected civic space. A citizen could buy goods, hear news and watch a performance within a few minutes' walk.

Take a moment to picture the noise of that square. Voices, footsteps on stone, animals, the calls of sellers. Today the loudest sounds are birds, insects and the wind. That contrast is part of the experience here. Byllis is quiet now, and often almost empty. You can walk through the heart of an ancient city and hear your own steps.

The story of Byllis did not end with its Illyrian and Greek-influenced years. Rome later brought this region under its control. Under Roman rule, Byllis became a colony, a settlement with a formal status inside the Roman system. The city stayed important as a regional centre. Its position above the valley still mattered, and it continued to collect people, trade and power from the surrounding countryside.

Then comes the second surprise. In late antiquity, Byllis became a Christian city and the seat of a bishop. Several early Christian basilicas were built here. A basilica, in this sense, is a long rectangular church with a central hall and side aisles. Their floors were covered with mosaics, small pieces of coloured stone set into detailed patterns. These mosaics are among the most valued finds at the site.

You may not see the mosaics at all, and that is deliberate. To protect them from sun, rain and footsteps, they are often kept covered with sand or protective layers. It can feel strange to know that fine artwork lies just under the surface where you stand. But this is how archaeologists keep fragile floors alive for the future. If one is uncovered when you visit, take your time with it.

Late antiquity was also a troubled period across the Balkans. Walls were rebuilt and strengthened as threats grew. Eventually, like many cities in the region, Byllis declined and was abandoned. Its people moved away, and the plateau slowly returned to grass and scrub. That long silence helped preserve it. Without a modern town on top, the ancient plan of the city remains easy to read.

Archaeologists have worked here for many decades, including joint Albanian and foreign teams. Each season adds new detail to the picture. As you walk, you will see the results: cleared foundations, exposed walls, and the outlines of rooms and streets. Much of the city is still unexcavated. The low mounds and scattered stones around you may hold buildings no one has studied yet.

Before you leave, walk to the edge of the plateau and look out over the valley once more. Follow the line of the river with your eyes. This is the same view the Bylliones guarded, the same view Roman officials and early Christian bishops saw. The fields have changed, and roads now cross the land. But the shape of the hills is the same.

As you head back, slow down a little. Notice the colour of the stone under the afternoon light, the sound of the grass, the distance between you and the next visitor. Byllis does not ask for much. It only asks you to look carefully, and to imagine a full city on this quiet ridge.