Chapter 124

When Axistes found Izam, both he and his wife were covered in dust from the fields. Izam, of course, recognized Axistes. He knew him as a secretary to the “miraculous Archon,” Davos, a man who often came to the ranks to deliver the Archon’s orders and was a familiar face to many. The moment Axistes called out to him from the edge of the field, Izam dropped his tools and ran over.

Axistes could not help but smile at this unconventional Ducetian. “I say, Izam, why are you working yourself to the bone in the fields? And dragging your wife along with you?”

“The first city-wide military drill is in two days,” Izam explained, wiping the sweat from his brow with his damp tunic. “I heard the training will be incredibly strict, and afterward, the Archon is going to teach us an interesting new game! I have to get this farm work finished so I can devote all my energy to the training.”

“Not bad,” Axistes said, his tone a mix of jest and sincerity. “You’re already starting to look the part of a real farmer. More of a proper Greek than most of us Greeks!”

Izam laughed, taking it as a compliment. “The work is easy enough. It’s fetching water that’s the real trouble. I have to waste an entire slave just to haul it.”

“I heard Lord Davos has instructed Alexis to gather the carpenters to build something called a ‘water wheel’,” Axistes said in a low, slightly boastful voice. “Once it’s built and placed by the river, it will be able to lift the water from the Sinni directly to fields at higher elevations, like yours.”

“Oh? Such a magical device exists? What does this ‘water wheel’ look like?” Izam asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Lord Davos said it’s shaped roughly like a wheel. For the details, you’ll have to ask him yourself,” Axistes said with a shrug, admitting he didn’t know much more.

“How could I dare to ask the Lord Archon himself?” Izam said with a reverent awe. He had seen Davos often when he had first served as a guide for the mercenaries. Back then, he had simply been curious about this young man who had become a leader at such a tender age. But as the army under Davos’s command won victory after victory, the man’s stature had grown in his mind. Then there were the persistent rumors that he was “favored by the gods,” and some even whispered that Davos was the mortal scion of Hades himself. For Izam, a Ducetian from a more superstitious culture that held a deeper reverence for the divine, this cast the young leader in a truly awesome light. That was why, back in Byzantium, when Davos had called for volunteers to follow him to Magna Graecia, Izam had not hesitated, even though it meant traveling thousands of miles from his homeland. He was certain that no harm could come to one who followed a “son of the gods.”

“Well, now you have your chance,” Axistes said with a grin. “Lord Davos wants to see you.”

“Truly?!” Izam asked, his face a mask of joyous surprise.

“Of course it’s true! Do you think I would dare to use the Lord Archon’s name in jest?” Before Axistes had even finished, Izam let out a whoop of joy. Without wiping his face or brushing the dirt from his clothes, he shouted a few words to his wife in Lucanian and then took off at a full sprint towards the city of Amendolara.

***

“Izam, we meet again! I hear the Senate has assigned you a house and land, and that you have taken a wife. How are you settling in? Are you accustomed to our ways? No tears of homesickness, I hope?”

Davos’s warm and personal greeting immediately put the nervous young man at ease. He excitedly recounted his experiences of the past few days, and Davos listened patiently. When he was finished, Davos said, “You see? Greeks, Ducetians, Lucanians… we can all live together in harmony, like one big family. Is it not so?”

“Yes, Lord Archon!” Izam said, emboldened. “From what I have heard, many of my comrades who married Lucanian women say they have found good wives. Though they do not yet speak much Greek, and do not know how to weave, or bake bread, or command slaves… they are trying hard to learn. And they are not afraid to help their husbands with heavy labor. And… their way of expressing affection is very passionate. At night, they are very bold in trying…”

Though his words had veered into the vulgar, Davos simply roared with laughter. “It’s true! Our Greek women are too traditional and conservative. The two sides should definitely learn from one another!”

Seeing how approachable Davos was, Izam grew bolder. “It is only that… the Lucanian women miss their families very much. They hope their kin will be freed soon.”

Davos’s happy expression did not change; this was a development he was glad to see. “Rest assured, the city is not mistreating their relatives. They are being well cared for. As long as they abide by our agreement, they will be freed when their term is complete. And if they perform well, that term can be shortened. You can go back and tell your wife, and have her tell the other Lucanian women, that in a short time the city will arrange for them to visit with their families.”

“I will, Lord Archon,” Izam nodded.

“I have called you here today because I wish to ask if you are willing to undertake a mission,” Davos said, his tone finally turning serious. He looked Izam in the eye. “We need to understand the situation in the Lucanian territory, but right now, we are completely blind. I need someone to infiltrate their lands and gather intelligence. Axistes has recommended you.”

“I am willing to go,” Izam replied without a moment’s hesitation.

Davos was surprised by his swift reply. “This is a very dangerous mission,” he cautioned. “It could cost you your life. Are you sure you do not wish to reconsider?”

“I am sure,” Izam said firmly. Though he was drawn to the vibrancy of the outside world, the strict regulations of the army had always made him feel ill at ease. He missed the freedom of running through the mountain forests, the thrill of silently stalking his prey. A golden opportunity was now laid before him. “However, Lord Archon, please grant me some time to prepare.”

“There is no rush. Take all the time you need. If you return successfully from Lucania, I will establish a mountain reconnaissance team, and you will be its captain. And while you are gone, I will have Crystoia look after your family and see to any difficulties they may have.”

Davos’s promise and his personal care filled Izam with both gratitude and excitement. “Lord Archon, you have my word!” he declared. “I will successfully uncover the situation in Lucania and I will return! Please save the position of reconnaissance captain for me!”

“Good.” Davos was pleased. He liked subordinates with confidence. He had been considering the formation of a reconnaissance team for several days. The mountainous terrain of the Italian peninsula severely limited the effectiveness of cavalry scouts. A team of mountaineers, capable of easily traversing the peaks and observing from hidden positions, would be of far greater help to his army.

***

Bagulos was leading his kinsmen in the construction of the new warehouses and inns for Amendolara. They were divided into several groups: one felling trees, another dressing stone, a third tamping the foundations. A dozen of the city’s artisans were on site, some directing the Lucanian slaves in their work, others taking measurements.

Alexis, the Aedile, and Heraclides were at the construction site, supervising the progress and consulting a set of blueprints.

Heraclides was an apprentice of the great master of engineering, Hippodamus of Miletus. As a young man, he had followed his teacher to participate in the design and construction of the city of Thurii. His greatest regret was that he had not stayed, for he would have then become one of its founding citizens. But he had returned with his master to Athens. Later, when the political enemies of Pericles accused his mistress, Aspasia, of accepting bribes during the construction of the Parthenon, Hippodamus had somehow been implicated. His master was imprisoned, and he was exiled from Athens. Disheartened, he had returned to his hometown. But then the Peloponnesian War had broken out, his home was engulfed in the conflict, and his life became one of hardship.

Twenty years later, he had fled his Spartan-occupied homeland with his wife and son, seeking refuge in the relatively peaceful lands of Magna Graecia. He came to Thurii, the city he had helped to build. But the Thurii of that time was no longer the fledgling city that had been desperate for immigrants and talent. The council refused his request for citizenship. Penniless, Heraclides was forced to settle in the port district, where he remained for over two decades. He and his son survived by building houses and repairing walls for others. He slowly gained a measure of fame and saved a little money, but he was still a freeman living on sufferance, without land or status, his home a crowded, damp shack. He was an old man now, his wife having died of illness years before. He had few desires left for himself. His only regret was for his son, the younger Heraclides, who had inherited all of his skill and deserved a brighter future.

As he fretted day and night over his son’s prospects, a stranger had one day entered the crude wooden hut he shared with others. The conversation, which had taken place only a few days ago, was still fresh in his mind.

“Who is Heraclides?”

“I am. Who are you?”

“I heard you were an apprentice of Hippodamus and that you helped build the city of Thurii.”

“That is true. I do not lie.”

“Are you willing to accept employment from Amendolara, to supervise a number of construction projects? The pay is fifty silver drachmas a month.”

“What sort of projects?”

“That I do not know. The Aedile of Amendolara, Alexis, will tell you when you arrive. He also told me to give you this message: ‘If you do your work well and prove you have true architectural talent, he will recommend you to the Archon Davos to be made a citizen of Amendolara.’”

Instantly, he had heard the gasps of envy from the people behind him.

Note: Hippodamus of Miletus was a close friend of Pericles and the most famous architectural planner of ancient Greece. The port of Athens, the Piraeus, was his handiwork.