Chapter 128

The squad-level training was brief, and with Ctippus’s help, Alcinous quickly found his place within the unit.

Soon after, the squads merged into their company formations for the next phase of drills. Here, Alcinous and the other recruits had to begin internalizing a more complex set of tactical commands and flag signals. What drum rhythm corresponded to what marching speed? Which bugle call meant advance, which meant retreat, and which meant charge?

Beyond the sounds, they had to constantly watch the company flag. If the flag dipped forward, they were to advance, quicken their pace, or charge in that direction. If it pointed backward, they were to fall back, conduct a slow withdrawal, or execute a full retreat. A flag waved in a constant circle meant to halt, rest, hold a defensive position, or prepare for orders. They were also drilled on rapidly transitioning from a marching column to a battle line, compressing into a dense phalanx, and then just as quickly breaking back into columns for swift movement. There were even more complex maneuvers, such as the second and third sections holding the center in a defensive line while the first and fourth sections executed a flanking attack.

Next came the battalion-level exercises. The intricate tactical signals gave way to a focus on large-scale formation changes. For example, the “Fish Scale Formation”—Davos’s term for what was essentially the Roman checkerboard formation—had to seamlessly coalesce into a solid, gapless phalanx while on the move, and then dissolve back into the checkerboard. They practiced rotating the ranks, with the rear lines moving up to relieve the front, as well as pivoting the entire phalanx left and right while maintaining its tight integrity.

Finally, the entire army assembled for a grand drill. This involved not only the formation changes they had already practiced but also coordination with other battalions and troop types. In one maneuver, the light infantry battalion advanced from the rear, flowing through the gaps of the heavy infantry’s Fish Scale Formation to establish a skirmisher line at the very front. After making mock-throws of their javelins, they would swiftly retreat back through the gaps, at which point the Fish Scale Formation would instantly close into a solid phalanx. In another, a sharp, urgent bugle call would signal an attack from the cavalry on the flanks. Though the cavalry currently consisted of barely more than a dozen riders, Davos had already incorporated tactical space for them. As they charged with lances lowered, the light-shield bearers from the Seventh Battalion, who had previously fallen back behind the phalanx, would rapidly move up to support them. Armed with wooden shields and long-handled, reverse-bladed sabers, they followed the cavalry in a loose formation as the heavy infantry phalanx pressed forward in a slow, inexorable advance.

These novel methods of attack and defense were unlike anything Alcinous had ever seen, leaving him both wide-eyed with awe and struggling to keep up with the constantly changing commands. But with his squad leader Ctippus and his new comrades constantly giving him reminders, he managed to avoid any serious blunders. The other new recruits were in the same boat, and gradually, they all began to find the rhythm of the training.

***

By the time the drills concluded, it was still early. It was May, and the sun lingered long in the sky.

Just then, Archon Davos ascended a temporary wooden command platform.

A wave of excitement rippled through the exhausted soldiers.

Davos got straight to the point. “Brothers, what comes next?!”

“OLIVE BALL!!!” they roared in a single, thunderous voice.

“After our last practice session, are all of you familiar with the rules?”

“YES!!!”

“Then let’s get started!!!” someone shouted from the ranks.

“Alright, same as last time. We’ll set up four fields. The first matchups will be the First Squad of the First Company of the First Battalion versus the First Squad of the First Company of the Seventh Battalion, the First Squad of the First Company of the Second Battalion versus the First Squad of the First Company of the Third Battalion, and so on. Each game will last for the duration of four hourglasses. The team with the higher score wins; the loser is eliminated. The winners will prepare for the next round…”

Just as the soldiers were eagerly awaiting the order to begin, Davos held up a hand and continued, “I am now announcing a new rule. Each participating squad must include five Lucanian slaves.”

The announcement was met with a stunned uproar.

The senior officers—Capus, Drakos, Hieronymus, and others—had been notified of this in advance. They understood that this was the Archon’s first major effort to begin integrating the Lucanians into their society.

No one dared to refuse Davos’s command. And so, forty Lucanian slaves, led by a man named Bagulos, were brought onto the training field.

Moments earlier, Bagulos and the others had been dressing stone blocks when Alexis had suddenly assembled them. He called out forty names, with Bagulos at the head of the list, and announced that they were the hardest-working slaves of the day. As a reward, they would be allowed to join the citizen-soldiers of Amendolara in a game of olive ball.

As most of the Lucanians did not understand Greek, Bagulos had to translate. An anxious murmur spread through the slaves; they feared it was a Greek trick, a pretext to harm the forty who had been chosen. It took Alexis swearing a solemn oath to the gods that they would all be returned safely before nightfall to quell their fears. Even so, they were filled with trepidation as they were led into the military camp to stand before the Greek soldiers.

For a moment, most of the soldiers were just as unsure of what to do. But Olivas, the platoon commander of the elite First Squad of the First Company of the First Battalion, acted decisively. He strode forward and swiftly picked Bagulos and four other powerfully built Lucanian slaves for his team. His action broke the spell, and in a flash, the remaining thirty-five slaves were claimed by the other teams in the first round of matches.

Davos gave a brief explanation of the game’s rules, with Bagulos once again translating for his countrymen. Then, with only a partial understanding of what was happening, Bagulos and his four companions were officially integrated into Olivas’s squad.

The olive ball field was a flat patch of grass, approximately one hundred meters long and fifty meters wide, marked out with lines of lime powder. White lines were drawn every ten meters, and to prevent them from being scuffed away during the intense play, wooden poles were staked into the ground where the lines intersected at the sidelines.

Per Davos’s design, company captains could only serve as their team’s coach, while section leaders were required to act as the quarterback. The coach’s role was to devise strategies based on their team’s strengths and the opponent’s weaknesses, but the quarterback was the heart of the team on the field. He had to adapt the strategy on the fly in response to the shifting dynamics of the game and lead his men to victory. Davos had engineered the game this way to hone the leadership and command abilities of his officers. He believed that, of all the modern sports from his previous life, olive ball most closely resembled ancient warfare, with its brutal clashes at the center and swift flanking maneuvers. The game not only built the soldiers’ strength, speed, and agility but also fostered teamwork and unit cohesion. Most importantly, it trained his captains and section leaders to think calmly and make correct, rapid decisions in the heat of intense competition. This was immensely beneficial for the army as a whole, for Davos knew that the true power of the systematic, complex, combined-arms military he was creating (though it currently lacked cavalry) depended heavily on the capability of its low- and mid-level officers.

The game began with a draw of lots to determine the opening possession.

Olivas was lucky and won the first offense. His “coach,” Antonios, began laying out the first play. “Bagulos, you five are new and don’t know the game yet. Stay on the sidelines and learn by watching.”

Bagulos nodded, a wave of relief washing over him. It seems it really is just a game.

The serious, focused expressions on the faces of the surrounding soldiers were infectious, and the five Lucanian slaves soon found themselves caught up in the atmosphere.

“You, you, you, and you… you’re on the starting lineup,” Antonios said, pointing to his players. “After they kick off, focus on receiving the ball. As soon as you have it, don’t hesitate. Pass it immediately to Olivas. Olivas, you get the ball to the big guy. Let him run with it and test their strength. The rest of you, block for him!”

Just then, a whistle blew. The referee, Drakos, urged the players onto the field. The rules stipulated that battalion commanders would serve as referees. Since there were four fields, four were needed. However, as Epitenes, the commander of the Seventh Battalion, was also acting as a company captain, the cavalry captain, Laedes, stepped in to take his place.

The soldiers removed their helmets, greaves, sabers, and anything else made of metal. For protection, they wore only their linen cuirasses. To tell the teams apart, they tied strips of linen, dyed red for one team and blue for the other, tightly around their torsos. With the five slaves, each squad now numbered fifty-five men. Only eleven could be on the field at a time, but olive ball was an incredibly draining sport, and the soldiers were already tired from a full day of training. Constant substitutions were necessary to maintain their combat effectiveness.

At Drakos’s signal, the game began.

The hourglass was flipped, and the sand began to flow.

Epitenes’s team kicked the ball deep into the opposing half and immediately charged forward.

Antonios noticed with a frown that his opponent had put all five of their slaves on the field right from the start. Are they trying to use the slaves’ greater stamina to disrupt our offense? he wondered. He decided to watch how the first play unfolded before making any adjustments.

One of his soldiers leaped into the air and had just caught the ball when the opposition was already upon him. The tackler, though also wearing a linen cuirass, was unmistakably Lucanian.

The ball-carrier hesitated, and that split-second of distraction was all his opponent needed. He was tackled hard, though he managed to fall to the ground and protect the ball beneath his body.

A groan of disappointment went up from Antonios’s sideline, while the other team cheered loudly. Several of their players ran up and slapped the Lucanian tackler on the back in encouragement.

The first chance to attack was wasted. According to the rules Davos had established, the offense had three chances to advance the ball ten meters, the distance between two wooden poles. If they succeeded, they were granted another three chances. If they failed, possession turned over to the other team.

Olivas, however, was not worried. He grinned and shouted, “Xenothemis! Did you spend too much energy with your wife last night? Your hands and feet are so soft you can’t even get a pass off!”

The rest of the team roared with laughter.

“Alright, brothers, that’s enough!” Olivas’s voice hardened. “On this next play, let’s show them the might of the strongest squad in the entire army!” (According to a regulation Davos had written into the Articles of War, the numerical designation of “First” was not merely a number but a reflection of ability and honor. The First Battalion was the strongest in the army, the First Company the strongest in the battalion, and the First Squad was therefore the strongest not only in its company but in the entire military.)

The soldiers let out a collective bellow, their spirits renewed.

The two teams lined up on the mark where the last play had ended. In the center, they locked horns, bracing for the impact. On the flanks, one side was poised to receive the ball and sprint, while the other was ready to intercept them.

The whistle blew.