Kunogelata, Cornelius, and the other more sagacious senators remained silent, watching the proceedings. No one else stood to answer.

Davos continued, his voice steady. “Now, look to the north of Nerulum. The land is entirely controlled by the Lucanians. There are several large towns—Grumentum, Pixous, Potentia, Galaguso—with a total population, I am told, of over one hundred thousand, many times our own. Though they may fight amongst themselves now, if a Greek force were to occupy their traditional lands and threaten their security, would they not unite against us? Even if we were to defeat them in open battle, they would simply melt away into the mountains, where we could not follow. We would only succeed in making them hate us more. They know every mountain, every river. They would change their tactics, launching raids against our citizens as they farm and herd, ambushing our supply lines and trade caravans. The lands of Nerulum cannot support a large population. We would be few, and they would be many. We could not conquer them; they would devour us. What, then, should we do?”

Davos saw a few men who looked as if they wanted to speak. He let out a cold laugh. “Some of you might say, ‘But what of Laos? They will help us!’ Yes, Laos is our ally. But if we, the leaders of this alliance, must repeatedly beg them for military and material support, they may aid us at first. But over time, do you not think they would begin to look down upon our strength and entertain other ideas? Do not forget, Avenogis is not a pure-blooded Greek, and he has never before cooperated with us. We cannot stake our hopes on his unwavering loyalty to a treaty.”

He paused, giving the senators a moment to consider his words. “Therefore, our only option would be to constantly send grain and soldiers from Thurii and Amendolara to Nerulum. Leaving aside the treacherous mountain roads and the immense cost of war, does it make any sense to pour the Alliance’s precious manpower and resources into a city that yields no return? Especially with the powerful city of Croton at our backs, waiting for its revenge.”

“Then why should we attack Nerulum and provoke the Lucanians at all?” Burkos asked, beginning to have second thoughts.

“All of you here should remember well that the Lucanians have invaded Thurii many times before,” Alexis stood to answer. “Though they have suffered a defeat this time, their population is vast. If we do not strike and weaken them now, they will surely recover their strength and invade us again. It is far better to keep them at bay beyond our borders than to allow the fires of war to burn on our own lands and destroy the fields and homes we have worked so hard to build.”

“And can using Lucanians truly help us pacify Nerulum and solve the difficulties the Archon has described?” Scombrus asked, rising to his feet.

A barely perceptible smile touched Davos’s lips. “First, Vesba and his people are Lucanians. After we conquer Nerulum, their presence will help to calm the city’s inhabitants. The Lucanians, too, have their rich and their poor. We will seize the stubborn rich and the warriors and make them our slaves. We will distribute their confiscated herds to the poor. And we will form a mixed council of Greeks and Lucanians to govern the city. At the same time, the Lucanian confederacy is made up of strong and weak tribes. There are tribes, like that of Vesba, who have no desire to live in a city but are forced to wander the mountains to survive, driven by war and hardship. We can open markets on the borders of Nerulum and use our pottery, ironware, and other goods to attract these poor, small tribes to trade their livestock, pelts, and game. When necessary, we can offer them our aid. Over time, they will grow to trust us. In this way, we will not only promote our own trade and supply our garrisons, but we will also weaken the strength of the Lucanian confederacy.

“You will surely ask me,” Davos’s voice grew louder, “why would the Lucanians ever trust us Greeks and wish to draw close to us? Because Vesba and Bagulos will be there. They will be involved in the administration of every affair. In the eyes of the other Lucanians, they will still be worshiping Lucanian gods and preserving Lucanian traditions. They will still be true Lucanians. But they will also be citizens of the Thurii-Amendolara Alliance, dressed in fine clothes, drinking good wine, and living in comfortable homes. Their way of life will become an object of envy, and in the end, it will lead other Lucanians to wish to join our Alliance as well!”

“But if we send Bagulos and these other Lucanians, who have been with us for only half a year, back to their familiar lands, what if they betray us?” Stromboli asked.

“If we grant them citizenship, if we grant Vesba and Bagulos seats in our Senate, if we treat them as we treat our own, and allow them to live within a civilization far beyond anything the Lucanians could ever achieve—this brilliant and glorious culture that our ancestors created through generations of toil and wisdom—then I firmly believe that they will be assimilated by us, not we by them!” Davos declared, his voice ringing with passion. “Of course, there is a small possibility of betrayal. But I believe it is a risk worth taking! For if we fail, we lose only a thousand or so slaves and a delay in our plans to advance into Lucania. But if we succeed, we will gain the vast lands of Lucania and a population of over one hundred thousand people. With all that, will we still have to worry about Croton? No! Croton will become but a small stone in the path of our Alliance, one we can easily kick aside! And beyond it, a much wider world will await us!”

His final, impassioned words sent a thrill through the senators, and they began to murmur excitedly amongst themselves.

Davos seized the opportunity to announce a temporary recess. He then approached the two City Administrators, Kunogelata and Cornelius, hoping to win their open support for his proposal.

“I have listened carefully to your plan for pacifying Nerulum with the help of Vesba and Bagulos’s people,” Cornelius said, setting aside his personal feelings. “I believe it is worth a try.”

“Lord Davos,” Kunogelata asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice, “would the situation truly be so dangerous and difficult without the help of these Lucanians?”

“One must always plan for the worst,” Davos replied, “to strive for the best.”

Kunogelata considered this for a moment and then nodded in agreement.

When the session resumed, with the guidance of Kunogelata and Cornelius, the majority of the senators voiced their approval. Davos’s proposal was passed: Bagulos would lead nearly a thousand Lucanian warriors to join the army. Upon the successful capture of Nerulum, all of them would be granted full citizenship in the Alliance, and both Vesba and Bagulos would be given seats in the Senate.

A few senators, led by Polycletus, lamented what they called “an unprecedented shame for a Greek city-state.” The sacred council hall, they moaned, would be “defiled by the filthy stench of barbarians.”

But the majority paid their mutterings no mind, their thoughts already filled with visions of the immense gains to be had in Lucania.

***

When Philesius stepped through the gate of his home, he was greeted by a clamor from the courtyard. The house allocated to him had a central atrium, which his wife, Delia, had planned to plant with apple and fig trees. Philesius had no objections, but his adopted son, Melisander, had protested. He wanted to turn the courtyard into a training ground, so he could practice his fighting skills at any time. In the end, his doting mother had agreed.

From the sounds, Philesius knew that Melisander was sparring again. He walked along the colonnade and saw his son facing his friend, Alcinous. The young man’s family lived in Amendolara, so his presence here could only mean one thing: tomorrow’s expedition.

The thought of the coming campaign sent a fresh wave of anxiety through Philesius. He still could not believe that Davos had appointed him as the commander of the expedition to Nerulum. From his time as a mercenary until now, the number of times he had held independent command could be counted on one hand. Living in the shadow of Davos’s dazzling brilliance, he felt an immense pressure.

He leaned against a pillar, lost in thought, his eyes gazing absently at the two young men dueling in the courtyard.

“You’re back,” his wife Delia’s gentle voice came from behind him. “I made this drink today. I added some dates to it, so it should be a little sweeter. Quench your thirst.”

She handed him a cup of the warm liquid—it was nearly early winter now. “For dinner tonight,” she said with a bright smile, “I made your favorite baked cod, a lamb stew, and barley porridge, and there is bread… Alcinous is staying the night, so I made a bit more than usual.”

Philesius took a sip of the drink. “It’s been a while since we had a guest. It’s good to have some life in the house.”

Delia bustled off to the kitchen to finish her preparations, directing a female slave as she set the table. Philesius watched her, a sense of gratitude welling up inside him. He had made the right choice. Delia might be a little older than him, but she was a good, hardworking, and virtuous Greek woman, and she managed their household with perfect order.

The sparring match in the courtyard finally came to an end. “Alcinous,” Melisander said, still not ready to admit defeat, “you only beat me because you’re two years older and stronger than me. When I’m a man grown, I won’t lose to you again!”

“By the time you’re a man grown, who knows how many real battles I’ll have fought in!” Alcinous retorted, not backing down. He turned and saw Philesius standing by the courtyard. “Lord Philesius!” he called out respectfully.