Holy Forty Martyrs Church, Veliko Tarnovo

Listen first. Below you, the Yantra River runs over its stones, low and steady. Above you, the walls of Tsarevets Hill rise against the sky. And here, at the bottom of the valley, stands a long church of pale stone and red brick. The air near the water feels cooler. The ground is flat, which is rare in this city of cliffs and staircases. This is the Holy Forty Martyrs Church, and it sits in the old Asenova quarter, between two fortified hills.

The location matters. In the Middle Ages, this valley was the heart of the Second Bulgarian Empire. Tsarevets held the royal palace and the patriarch's church. Trapezitsa, the hill across the river, held more churches and the homes of nobles. Down here, along the riverbank, lived merchants, craftsmen and monks. This church was part of a large monastery, often called a lavra, a word for a major monastic community. So you are standing in what was once a busy religious centre, not a quiet corner.

The church as we know it was rebuilt in 1230 by Tsar Ivan Asen the Second. He built it to give thanks for a single battle. That year, at Klokotnitsa, his army defeated Theodore Komnenos, the ruler of Epirus, a rival Byzantine Greek state. The victory made Ivan Asen the strongest ruler in the Balkans for a time. Why dedicate the church to forty martyrs? The battle took place on the feast day of the Forty Martyrs of Sebaste. The tsar read this as a sign, and he honoured them here.

The story of those martyrs is worth knowing. According to Christian tradition, they were forty Roman soldiers in the fourth century, in what is now eastern Turkey. They refused to give up their faith. As punishment, they were forced to stand naked on a frozen lake through a winter night. The tradition says one soldier gave up and ran to a warm bath nearby. A guard saw this, took off his own clothes, and joined the others on the ice. In Bulgaria, their feast in March is still remembered as a turning point toward spring.

Now look inside for the columns. This is the first surprise for many visitors. The church holds stone columns that carry written inscriptions, and these are among the most important historical documents in Bulgaria. One column, often called the Asen Column, records Ivan Asen's victory at Klokotnitsa. The text is in Old Bulgarian. In it, the tsar describes how far his power reached, from sea to sea. It is a royal announcement carved in stone, placed where everyone in the church would see it.

The second surprise is older still. Other columns here date from the First Bulgarian Empire, centuries before this church was built. One carries an inscription of Khan Omurtag, a ruler of the early ninth century. It is written in Greek, which was the language of written records for the early Bulgarian state. These columns were brought here from elsewhere and reused. Ivan Asen seems to have collected them on purpose. By placing old royal stones next to his own, he linked his new kingdom to the earlier Bulgarian rulers.

The church also became a royal burial place. In 2007, archaeologists excavating here found a grave with a gold ring. Many researchers believe it belonged to Tsar Kaloyan, who ruled at the start of the thirteenth century. Kaloyan is remembered for his wars against the Crusaders after they captured Constantinople. Other graves of the ruling family and the nobility have also been found inside and around the church. So the floor beneath your feet covered the dead of an empire for a long time.

One more grave has a story that crosses borders. Saint Sava, the first archbishop of the Serbian church, died in Tarnovo in the 1230s while returning from a journey to the Holy Land. He was buried here, in this church. His body did not stay long. The Serbian king soon asked for his relics, and they were taken back to Serbia. Still, for Serbian visitors, this church carries a special meaning. It shows how closely the medieval Balkan courts and churches were connected.

The centuries after were hard on the building. Tarnovo fell to the Ottomans in the late fourteenth century. During Ottoman rule, the church was turned into a mosque, as happened to many churches across the region. Its wall paintings were covered or damaged. Over time, the monastery around it disappeared. Then, in 1913, a strong earthquake struck the region and badly damaged the structure. What you see today is the result of long excavation and restoration work, and the church reopened to visitors in the 2000s.

The building has one more chapter, and it belongs to modern history. In 1908, Bulgaria declared full independence from the Ottoman Empire. Prince Ferdinand chose to make the announcement here, in this church in the old capital, and he took the title of tsar. The choice was deliberate. By speaking among the columns of the medieval rulers, the new state claimed their legacy. In a single building, you can stand between the ninth century, the thirteenth century and the twentieth.

As you walk around, look at the walls. The outside uses the mixed style common in medieval Tarnovo, with bands of stone and brick laid together. Inside, small fragments of wall painting remain in places. They are faded, but you can still find traces of colour, faces and robes. The long shape of the church is unusual. It feels more like a hall than the compact domed churches found elsewhere in the city. Take a moment to notice how light enters through the windows.

When you step back outside, turn toward the hills. From here you can follow the line of the Tsarevets walls along the ridge. Across the river, Trapezitsa rises with its own excavated church foundations. The old stone houses of the Asenova quarter climb the slopes around you. Picture the valley eight centuries ago, filled with bells, traders and the sound of the same river. The layout of the land has barely changed, even though the empire is long gone.

Before you leave, stand still for one more moment near the entrance. Feel the cool air coming off the Yantra. Look again at the brick and stone above the doorway. A tsar built this church to remember a battle, and later generations used it to announce a new country. Today it holds quiet visitors and old inscriptions. As you walk back toward the bridge, listen for the river once more... it was here long before the church, and it is still running.