Chapter 117

With Capus’s promotion, his former position as Centurion of a company in the First Brigade became vacant. Davos proposed that the twenty platoon commanders within that brigade be considered candidates, with the final choice being made by a vote of the soldiers themselves. The result was something of a surprise to Davos: Matonis was elected. The reasons were twofold: first, he was fiercely protective of his men, which had earned him their devotion; second, his ferocity in battle had earned him their respect.

The Second Brigade was composed of the mercenaries brought by Drakos, Sextus, and Adrianx. As Drakos’s contingent was the largest and he had a reputation for dogged courage, he was given command as the brigade’s Chiliarch. Sextus and Adrianx were appointed as Centurions of the First and Second companies of the brigade, respectively.

The Third Brigade was the most diverse, comprising men from the former sixth and seventh heavy infantry companies of Davos’s original army (mostly soldiers who had joined during the campaign in Byzantium), original citizens of Amendolara, the newly freed slaves from the baggage train, and a small contingent of men from Drakos’s forces. Hieronymus, who had once been a mercenary general in Persia, was appointed Chiliarch, in what was essentially a restoration of his former rank. Agasias was made Centurion of the Third Brigade’s First Company.

Next was the Seventh Brigade, the light infantry formation. Epitenes was appointed its Chiliarch, concurrently serving as Centurion of the First Company. Tspites was made Centurion of the Second Company, and Alphens the Third. In total, the brigade numbered over six hundred men.

Finally, there was the cavalry detachment, commanded by Laedes.

Davos also laid down strict regulations for the helmets of his officers. The crest of a Platoon Commander’s helmet was to be white; a Centurion’s was to be red; a Chiliarch’s was to be purple; and that of the Legion Commander was to be an interweaving of red, white, and purple. He also decreed that all officer crests were to be aligned from front to back, for the sake of uniformity and battlefield command. Of course, this was only a regulation; the state treasury had no funds to pay for the modifications, so the officers had to cover the costs themselves.

Despite this, the moment the decree was issued, the officers rushed to pay for the alterations. They sent to the armories of Heraclea and Thurii—for in the nascent state of Amendolara, there were no such shops—to have their helmets modified. For a soldier, this was a matter of honor. In his past life, Davos had watched films and television shows and had assumed the tall crests on the helmets of ancient Western commanders were merely for ostentation, a beautiful but impractical way to signify rank. But after more than half a year of campaigning, he had come to understand their profound necessity. In the heat of a prolonged battle, formations could easily break down. When soldiers became separated from their unit, lost in the chaotic forest of men, they needed a way to find their leaders. In addition to the military standard, the tall, vibrant crest of an officer served as a beacon, a rallying point around which order could be restored and fighting strength renewed. It also allowed messengers to easily locate commanders on the battlefield to deliver new orders. It served the same function as the rank insignia of later ages, but in an era of cold steel, a mark on a man’s shoulder would be invisible amidst the dust and chaos of the battlefield.

***

At dawn, the citizens and freedmen of Amendolara assembled in the public square, all in full armor. The freedmen, having just been released from bondage, had no money to purchase their own equipment. But after the defeat at Thurii, in order to keep Davos’s army in the field to pin down the Lucanians, Thurii had gifted them over a thousand full sets of arms and armor. And after annihilating the Lucanian confederacy, the mercenaries had stripped nearly ten thousand sets of shields, spears, and armor from the bodies of the dead and the ruins of their burned camp. This plunder, of course, belonged to the mercenaries collectively, not to the state armory of Amendolara.

The officers had fiercely debated how to distribute these spoils of war. The general consensus was to sell everything and divide the money equally among the soldiers. Davos, however, had proposed an alternative: to establish a weapon shop in Amendolara’s market, to be run by soldiers who had been disabled in battle. This armory would repair and sell the captured equipment, and its profits would go into a fund to support all soldiers, present and future, who were wounded or maimed in combat.

The proposal had met with the officers’ unanimous and enthusiastic approval. When the soldiers later learned of it, they were overcome with gratitude for Davos. After all, no man could guarantee he would emerge from the next battle unscathed, and the existence of this disability fund lessened their fears.

Thus, a large armory was quickly established in the market, bearing a proud new sign: “The Legion.” Its inventory was vast. Recognizing that a full set of heavy infantry equipment—valued at four to six hundred drachmas—was prohibitively expensive, the armory also offered the option to rent. Even the rental fee was not a small sum, but the freedmen willingly paid it, for they knew the truth: only by joining the army and fighting in its campaigns could they swiftly become citizens and acquire land. To be a soldier was an honor for a citizen, and for a freedman, it was the surest path to raising his status in the city-state.

But where was the money for the rental fee to come from? The freedmen did not have to worry for long. They soon discovered that a bank named “Crystoia” had opened in the market, offering loans at an astonishingly low interest rate (compared to the prevailing rates in other Greek cities). And everyone knew that Crystoia was the wife of the Archon Davos. These freedmen, who had traveled a thousand miles with the army, knew the character of their leader. Without hesitation, they took out loans from her bank. And so, the first loans issued by the Bank of Crystoia were made.

***

As the soldiers arrived in the square, they found their squads and fell into formation under the command of their Decanus. The squads then merged into platoons, the platoons into companies, forming small phalanxes, which then marched to their designated positions within their brigade. Though the process was slow, it was not chaotic. In the end, three great, orderly squares of men stood upon the plaza.

Only the Third Brigade was still getting organized.

On the platform, Philesius saw Davos frown slightly and quickly explained, “My lord, the composition of the Third Brigade is the most complex. The freedmen, in particular, have never had any military training, and the original citizens of Amendolara have not been rigorously drilled either, so—”

Davos cut him off. “I understand. Hieronymus has a heavy responsibility. I heard he had to request a number of veteran soldiers from the First Brigade, and that even the good-natured Capus got angry with him over it.”

“Yes, my lord. Hieronymus is anxious to bring his men up to standard. He is a very conscientious man,” Philesius explained diplomatically.

Davos smiled. “A soldier must have that fighting spirit—a seriousness about his work and a refusal to accept defeat. I am confident Hieronymus will have the Third Brigade caught up in no time.” He then asked, “Have the Lucanians arrived?”

“They have,” Philesius said, pointing to a small hill on the southeastern edge of the square. He added worriedly, “My lord, there are eight or nine hundred of them. If they were to cause a disturbance—”

“Then it would be a perfect opportunity,” Davos said dismissively. “The soldiers in the square could annihilate them on the spot. I do not think Vesba and his son are so foolish. Besides, many of their own women are now the wives of our citizens, and most of them have come today to cheer for their new husbands.”

Davos glanced at the distant hill, then gave the order. “Sound the drum.”

A drummer struck the great drum before him in a steady, rhythmic beat.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

At the sound, the soldiers in the square began to stomp their feet in place, making final adjustments to their lines. Soon, all four brigades stood in perfect formation, their footsteps falling as one.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

The monumental, synchronized sound shook the mountainsides, sending birds scattering into the sky and wild animals fleeing in terror. It was like the roar of thunder from the heavens, a sound so powerful the very earth seemed to tremble with it.

Cornelius and the other old citizens were so stunned their faces went pale. “Is this… is this the army that struck terror into Persia and annihilated the Lucanians?” they murmured. “Truly… truly it is unlike any other.”

The Lucanians on the hill were a silent, ashen-faced mass.

But from the sidelines, the women and children cheered wildly.

Davos felt the tremor in the ground beneath him and quickly raised a hand, signaling for it to stop. The drummer struck the drum twice more, then ceased. The square fell silent, so abruptly it was as if the great noise had never happened. One of the freedmen felt a tickle in his throat and let out a small cough, only to be silenced by a fierce glare from the veteran Decanus next to him.

On the platform, Davos took two steps forward. “Brothers!”

From below, a single, unified roar answered him: “DAVOS!”

“Have these last few days of happy life been good to you?”

“YES!”

“I only fear that a life grown too soft will soften your feet and weaken your arms, so that you can no longer wield your shields and spears!”

A wave of bawdy, knowing laughter rolled through the ranks.

“Many of you followed me in the wars in Persia and won great renown! You followed me to Magna Graecia and defeated the Lucanian confederacy, earning glorious merit! Now, you are all citizens of Amendolara. This is a new beginning! From this day forward, you will guard Amendolara, you will develop Amendolara, you will expand Amendolara, and you will create an immortal legacy for your children and your children’s children!” Davos’s voice was a clarion call, filled with passion and promise.

The soldiers raised their spears to the sky, roaring in a frenzy of excitement.

“HAIL!”

“HAIL!”

“HAIL!”

“You are not a soldier. What are you so excited about?” Stromboli grumbled, seeing Antikles, standing next to him, raise his one remaining hand and cheer along with the soldiers and the other excited onlookers.

“This is a true army! This is the army we in Amendolara have longed for!” Antikles cried, his eyes shining. His gaze fell upon his own maimed right arm, and his expression dimmed. “A pity I can no longer march with them to war…”

Stromboli, after all, had been old neighbors with Antikles and their families were close. He held back his usual caustic remarks. “Weren’t you the one who hated these outsiders for stealing your post as Captain of the Patrol?”