“I propose,” Davos announced, his tone solemn, “that the day of the wedding be henceforth designated as Amendolara’s Festival of Marriage, a sacred celebration in honor of the goddess Hera. Let it be a day that reminds our citizens of the suffering this city has endured and the new life it has been granted. Let it impress upon them the importance of marriage and family. In this way, we shall forge a stronger, more unified citizenry.”

The depth of his foresight took Cornelius by surprise. This was the thinking of a man who was genuinely invested in the long-term well-being of Amendolara. With a heart full of sincere admiration, he nodded. “My Lord Archon, I believe all the citizens will rejoice to have such a wonderful festival!”

“Yes, we all agree! A festival for Hera and for marriage!” the other old citizens voiced their support, and the approval of the new citizens was, of course, a given.

At that moment, Hylos rose to his feet, a look of concern on his face. “My lord, what arrangements shall be made for the soldiers who do not find a wife?”

Davos was prepared for this question. He gestured for Cornelius to answer.

Cornelius’s expression turned grim. “Before the war with the Lucanians, Amendolara had four thousand citizens. Now… fewer than five hundred remain, and there are over a thousand widows. This means that in more than two thousand households, both husband and wife have perished. There are… more than enough empty homes to settle the new citizens. Of course, if the original owner of a house left behind children or elderly parents, we hope that the new citizen will take responsibility for their care…” As he finished, a glint of tears appeared in his eyes. A wave of sorrow washed over the other old citizens.

Davos fixed his gaze upon the new citizens, his voice ringing with command. “It is not a hope, it is a requirement! When you accept the inheritance of the former owner—his land, his property—you also accept the duties he left behind!”

“You have our word, my lord! We will make sure the men take care of the old and the young!” Hylos was the first to pledge, and the other officers quickly echoed his support. Amyntas even went so far as to shout, “If any man takes a house but refuses to care for the family within, I’ll beat him to death myself!”

Davos nodded. “Good. I expect all of you officers to supervise your men closely in this matter. Furthermore, the Senate will enact a law to ensure compliance.” He turned to Antonios. “This will be the Censor’s duty. Antonios, if you discover anyone violating this law—neglecting or, gods forbid, abusing the orphans and the elderly—you are to report it to the Senate at once. We will strip him of his citizenship and cast him out of Amendolara!” The severity in his voice sent a chill through the hall.

“I will carry out my duties with diligence,” Antonios promised, his expression grave.

The old citizens nodded in silent approval, deeply appreciative of Davos’s unwavering commitment to protecting the most vulnerable.

“Very well,” Davos said, his tone softening as he sought to ease the tension. “Let us now turn to the matter that is foremost on everyone’s mind.” A smile returned to his face. “The Senate will pass a law guaranteeing every new citizen a minimum of five Mou of land. Of course, some of you may be fortunate enough to marry a good wife and inherit a larger estate, while others may receive less. Do not worry. I will have the Quaestor, Mersis, conduct a detailed survey of every citizen’s land holdings. In the future, as we acquire new territories, priority will be given to those who initially received less, until all are equal. Are you satisfied with this arrangement?”

“Satisfied!”

“It is just!” the men roared, their voices thick with emotion.

By now, the meeting had stretched on for nearly two hours, and the night was late. But the spirits of the men were higher than ever, and this encouraged Davos to broach a final topic—one he had long contemplated but had never found the right moment to introduce. He took a deep breath, strode once more to the center of the chamber, and addressed the assembly.

“Gentlemen, to be a citizen of a city-state is to hold the right to participate in all of its political affairs. To take up arms and defend that city-state is his duty. But it is, in fact, also his right. For, except in the most extreme circumstances, it is impossible for a freeman or a slave to join a city’s army. Only a citizen has the right to fight for his city. Therefore, military service is itself a political right.”

Every man in the hall, old citizen and new, nodded in agreement.

“However, to govern a city-state is no simple task. Constructing public facilities costs money. Repairing the city’s defenses and equipping its soldiers costs money. Aiding the populace in times of disaster costs money. Even going to war—if it is a short campaign of four or five days, the citizens may carry their own rations. But for a longer campaign, the city must purchase provisions. This is to say nothing of hiring wagons, ships, and laborers. All of this costs money. Furthermore, our public officials currently serve without salary, contributing to the city out of a sense of duty. In the future, as our domain expands and their duties become more onerous, they will have little time to tend to their own farms and pastures. Their income will fall below that of an ordinary citizen. This is unjust. If such a state of affairs continues, I fear no one will be willing to serve in public office. Therefore, for a city-state to develop in a healthy manner, it is imperative that its treasury is full!”

For most of the new citizens, who came from humble origins, the complex machinery of a city-state was a revelation, and they listened with rapt attention. The old citizens found themselves impressed; that this young Archon, so new to his office, could grasp the fundamental problems of governance so profoundly did much to assuage their fears about his inexperience. Cornelius, however, felt a nervous twitch in his eyelid. He had the distinct premonition that something momentous was about to happen.

Davos continued, “The revenues of Amendolara are meager, for reasons Cornelius has already explained. This poverty stifles our growth. And in the future, when we have conquered more land and more people have joined our city, will they fight for Amendolara with the same desperation that we have? I think not. For their price of entry will have been too low, their rewards too easily won. They will not cherish what they have not bled for!”

“Well said!” the old citizens shouted, their resentment over Davos’s new immigration law finally finding a voice.

Davos understood their feelings perfectly. A cold smile touched his lips. “Therefore,” he declared, his voice booming, “I propose that a land tax of one percent be levied annually upon all citizens of Amendolara who own land!”

The words struck the assembly like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. A stunned silence fell, which was instantly shattered by an explosion of furious noise, as if a hornet’s nest had been kicked over.

Cornelius’s limbs went rigid. Catastrophe! he thought.

“Did I hear you correctly?” Stromboli asked, his voice trembling with disbelief. “You want to levy a land tax on citizens?!”

That was the polite reaction. Scombras, the fiery old nobleman, stormed forward, pointed a shaking finger at Davos’s face, and screamed, “Are you even a Greek?! Do you not know that it is a sacred tradition of the Hellenes that a city-state never imposes a land tax upon its own citizens?! Has your lust for money driven you mad? If this is how you mean to rule as Archon for Life, how are we to survive?!”

Though the new citizens had their own misgivings about the proposal, they would not suffer anyone to insult their revered leader. A group of platoon commanders, led by Matonis, surged forward and shoved Scombras back. “Hey, old man! Is that any way to speak to the Archon?!”

“I will say what I please!” Scombras shrieked, his face crimson with rage. “You ignorant country bumpkins have no idea of the dire consequences of a land tax!”

This was too much for the hot-blooded young officers. “What did you say?! Say that again, and I swear I’ll beat you!” they roared, shoving the old man again.

Scombras’s frail body could not withstand the force of these battle-hardened soldiers. He collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. Cornelius and the other old citizens rushed to help him, while others began screaming at the officers. The hall descended into chaos.

“Quiet! All of you, be quiet!” Davos, now genuinely alarmed, threw himself into the fray to separate them.

Finally, the two factions were pulled apart. Scombras continued to mutter curses under his breath, but one glare from Matonis was enough to silence him.

It was Mersis who broke the tense standoff. “A one percent tax is very little!” he argued. “In Persia, as we all know, the land tax is over ten percent!” As the new Quaestor, his primary concern was filling the treasury.

“That is Persia!” Stromboli shot back. “Greece has no tradition of levying land taxes on its citizens!”

“The kings of the heroic age certainly did.”

“That was hundreds of years ago! This is an age of democracy! The Archon Davos himself swore in the public square that he would not be a king. I believe,” Stromboli said, his eyes fixed on Davos, his quiet voice laced with menace, “that if you attempt to impose a land tax, every citizen will rise against you.”

Davos surveyed the room. The new citizens, out of respect for his authority, remained silent, but their expressions were troubled. The old citizens wore their outrage openly. Only Mersis was truly on his side. He smiled. “You have all become so agitated before I have even finished my proposal. Be calm, and hear me out. My proposal is this: all citizens who have resided in Amendolara from before today shall be exempt from this tax on the lands they currently possess. This shall be a reward for their status as descendants of the city’s founders and for their contributions to Amendolara over the past two hundred years. Furthermore, when the treasury allows, we will mint a series of ‘Founder’s Silver Clasps’. Every old citizen will receive one, to be kept in perpetuity and worn upon his chiton on all great public occasions, so that future generations will know of their family’s ancient heritage and glory.”

The effect was instantaneous. The old citizens were stunned into silence. Scombras, who had been sputtering with indignation, snapped his mouth shut. Every one of them drew himself up, their chests swelling with pride. This is honor! they thought. They had been forced to accept these mercenaries into their city, and the bitter pill of their diminished status had been hard to swallow. But now, Davos was offering them a way to forever display their primacy, their unique identity as the city’s true progenitors. Compared to such an honor, what was a tax—especially one they would not even have to pay?

“Agreed!” Scombras was the first to shout.

“This is unfair!” Matonis roared, his voice full of outrage. “You’re not taxing them, but you’re going to tax us?!”