Colonne di San Marco e San Todaro (Columns of St. Mark and St. Theodore), Venice

Standing at the edge of the lagoon, between the Doge’s Palace and the Marciana Library, rise two columns that look like they’ve seen everything—and decided not to comment. One is crowned by the winged lion of Saint Mark, the other by Saint Theodore of Amasea, or Saint Tòdaro, Venice’s first heavenly bodyguard before Mark took over the job...

How these statues arrived here is part history, part lagoon-side gossip. Legend says they were hauled in from the East as trophies of war and raised in 1127 by a man named Niccolò Barattieri. Hoisting them into place was no small feat, and the Republic paid him in a very Venetian currency: permission to run a gambling table right between the columns—conveniently overlooking the water. Gambling was banned everywhere else, so this narrow strip briefly became the city’s most official loophole. The privilege ended when Barattieri died.

Further on, the story gets better. Apparently, there were meant to be three columns. One didn’t survive the unloading process and slipped straight into the lagoon mud, where it still supposedly lies, sulking. Its size and weight convinced everyone that recovery was more trouble than it was worth—a decision Venice has made more than once...

By the 18th century, luck ran out entirely. The gambling stopped, and the space between the columns became the stage for public executions. The condemned faced the square, backs to the water, delivering a final performance to the crowd. The result was a superstition that stuck. Even today, many Venetians refuse to walk between the columns. After all, when a place has hosted saints, gamblers, and executions, a little caution feels reasonable...