Chapter 175

Hearing his words, Davos also fell into a thoughtful silence. Drawing on the vast knowledge from his past life, he asked tentatively, “Could we perhaps build a suspension bridge?”

“A suspension bridge?” Little Heracleides’s head snapped up, his eyes sharp with inquiry. He had learned to place great weight on Davos’s opinions.

And so, Davos explained the basic structure of a suspension bridge, as best he understood it himself.

Little Heracleides, already possessing a good deal of practical bridge-building experience, felt his eyes light up. He spent the rest of the journey in deep contemplation, often stopping at the edge of a cliff to gaze across the river at the rolling, forested hills on the other side. The land was not impassable; all that was needed was a bridge.

After some time, he approached Davos. “I believe it would be relatively easy to build a suspension bridge over this part of the Lao River, though of course, I must conduct specific experiments to be certain. The most critical material will be the rope. From what I have seen, we will need strong, resilient ropes at least fifty meters long to span the gorge.”

“Rope is not a problem,” Enanilous, the shipbuilder, interjected. “We need only lengthen the rigging used for our sailboats. I can guarantee it will be more than strong and durable enough.”

“A suspension bridge can only bear a limited number of people at one time,” Davos added. “We can simply build several of them.”

Little Heracleides nodded, his eyes once again fixed on the ground as he continued to turn the problem over in his mind.

As they marched, Davos’s own gaze was fixed on the surrounding terrain. He frequently spotted Lucanian herdsmen in the forests on the hills to their right. They seemed wary and nervous of such a large column, especially the fully armed soldiers of the First Legion. Some hid behind trees and rocks to watch them pass. When a sheep, startled, bolted from the forest and ran into the midst of the soldiers, its owner did not even dare to come and retrieve it.

“They must be the Lucanians of Nerulum, no? And the livestock they are herding must be leased from the League,” Davos asked with interest.

At his question, Vesba took the stray sheep from a soldier and walked to the edge of the forest, calling out to the herdsmen in the Lucanian tongue. He returned a short while later, having given the animal back, and the other senators gathered around, eager to hear what he had learned.

“Lord Davos, they are indeed people of Nerulum, but not all of them are Lucanians,” Vesba reported. “One was a Greek slave who belonged to Uther. He is free now, has married a Lucanian widow, and is a preparatory citizen of the League. Two others were Lucanian slaves who are also now preparatory citizens; one of them has married a Greek woman who was also a slave. The other herdsmen are from the small tribes that were oppressed by Uther. They, too, are all preparatory citizens.”

“And what is their attitude toward the League?” Scombrus asked.

Vesba glanced at him. “They are very grateful to the League for saving them. They say they feel free, now that they are citizens. They have only one complaint.”

“And what is that?” Scombrus pressed.

“They complain that the League will not allow them to lease more livestock,” Vesba said, his face a mask of solemnity as he tried to suppress a smile.

“They have high hopes, do they not?” Scombrus muttered. “There is only so much livestock to go around. If they take more, there will be none left for others.”

“And do they object to the five percent tax?” Masisacus inquired.

“Compared to what they paid before, this tax is almost nothing. Their only hope now is for their herds to bear many young, as all the offspring belong to them.”

“It seems Sextus and Bagulos are doing a fine job in Nerulum,” Davos said with a smile. “The people here are beginning to accept us.”

Even the senators who had previously opposed the integration of the Lucanians had to agree.

***

That afternoon, Davos’s party arrived at the city of Nerulum. It was somewhat similar to Amendolara, built on a small hill, though it was larger in scale and fortified with wooden walls. Here, the steep cliffs of the Lao River’s eastern bank gave way to a gentle slope, allowing easy access to the water. From this point northward, the ground rose in elevation, but the terrain became progressively more open, leading to the region between the headwaters of the Lao and Sinni rivers. The Lucanians called this area “the fertile land between the mountains.” Though it was not truly flat, it was a vast improvement over the surrounding highlands, and its soil was rich enough for farming. It had long been a gathering place for the smaller tribes, which was clearly why the Lucanians of Nerulum had chosen to build their city here.

That morning, Cxima had received a notice from the administrator’s office: Davos, the Archon for Life of the Theonian League, was to arrive. Along with the other young Lucanians, Cxima had enthusiastically volunteered to be part of the welcoming party. Between the rumors he had heard and the propaganda that had been spreading through the city, he was eager to see this renowned general, this legendary “son of a god.”

Though the wait was long, the sight of the approaching column re-energized the weary Cxima. He followed Sextus as they strode forward to greet them and finally laid eyes on the man at the center of the crowd. He was young, yet everyone around him treated him with a sincere respect that gave him an inexplicable aura of majesty. But his face was constantly wreathed in a kind smile, and he greeted each person he met with genuine warmth. Authority and gentleness formed a strange and compelling harmony in him.

“My lord, I have violated the orders of the Senate. I have made a mistake,” Sextus said, confessing his actions without reserve.

“No. It was we who did not understand the situation here,” Davos replied kindly, offering him his full support. “You have done a fine job. You have proven yourself to be an outstanding city administrator. That is the consensus of myself and the senators.”

“Thank you, my lord!” Sextus said, a great weight lifting from his shoulders. A slave sent by Philesius had informed him that the Senate was displeased with his massacre of the prisoners.

“Lord Davos, welcome!”

“Bagulos! You have completed the task the League entrusted to you with excellence. And I have fulfilled my promise. Look, not only have I brought your father and your people, but I have also brought a special guest. Can you guess who it is?” In contrast to his formal exchange with Sextus, Davos was much more relaxed with Bagulos, even teasing him.

“I cannot guess,” Bagulos replied, scratching his head with a foolish grin.

“Look behind you.”

“Ah… Andrea?!”

“A bit late to recognize her now. Andrea will surely punish you for having forgotten her!” Davos joked. At his words, Andrea shot Bagulos a sharp glare, though her face was already flushed a deep crimson. The men around them all laughed. “I had originally intended to hold your wedding here, but Andrea insists it must be at the festival of Hera in April. So you two will have to sort that out yourselves. I am afraid I can be of no more help!” His teasing drew another round of laughter.

“Lord Davos, greetings. I am Hermon,” a stout, middle-aged man said, stepping forward respectfully.

“Ah, I know of you!” Davos praised him loudly. “Sextus has written to me of you. He said you have been a great help to him in stabilizing the city and have solved many problems. Thank you for your service!”

“It was nothing. I am a citizen of the League, after all,” Hermon said, feeling a surge of pride that the number one man in the League knew his name.

“Indeed! It is good you see it that way. This League is mine, and it is yours. It belongs to the Greeks, and it belongs to the Lucanians!”

“You speak the truth, Lord Davos!”

Cxima listened, and without realizing it, he felt his own heart stir. He felt as if he, too, truly belonged to this League. Just then, Davos came to stand before him.

“Lord Davos! I am Cxima!” he said, stepping forward and offering a deep, respectful bow.

Davos returned the greeting with a Lucanian gesture. “You are Bagulos’s good friend, are you not?” he said cheerfully. “I have heard him speak of you. I, too, am his good friend. I wonder if I might have the chance to become your friend as well?”

“Of course! Of course!” Cxima replied, overjoyed.

Davos greeted each member of the welcoming party in turn, and then asked Sextus, “Why is Axistes not here?”

“The wait was rather long, so the Second and Fourth Legions started an olive ball game to pass the time. Axistes is refereeing.”

“Did I not have Izam tell you that there was no need to arrange such a large welcome party?” Davos chided him.

“They came of their own accord, my lord. They all wished to receive your praise,” Sextus quickly explained.

“Well, it seems the olive ball game is a greater attraction than I am,” Davos joked, dispelling his momentary displeasure. He looked in the direction Sextus was pointing. Not far from the north gate, a large circle of people had formed, and cheers and gasps periodically erupted from the crowd.

“The arena in Thurii has not yet been built, and yet you have already started the games here!” Davos said with a laugh.

“Indeed. The soldiers of the Second and Fourth Legions play every day now, and it always draws a large crowd of local spectators,” Sextus said, a hint of worry in his voice. “I only fear they are becoming too obsessed with the game and will neglect their duties.”

“Then you must admonish Bagulos and Drakos to keep their men in line,” Davos said with a nod. “But it seems the citizens here are quite fond of the game as well.”

“Lord Davos, we love the olive ball game!” Cxima interjected. “It is thrilling just to watch!”

“Do you know how to play?” Davos asked with interest.

“Bagulos said we are not familiar with the rules and should just watch and learn,” Uraza complained. “But we have already figured it out just by watching!”