Chapter 198

“So we don’t need to worry about Croton. The real question is whether Theonia will accept our conquest of Crimisa and allow us to become their ally, is that it?” This was the question that truly gnawed at Cleanor.

“I don’t know…” Timasion thought for a moment, but he could not be certain. “Any other city-state would likely refuse to accept such a thing, a city taken by force. After all, they are all Magna Graecians, and they are wary of us foreign mercenaries. But Theonia is different. Davos and his men used this very method to gain their current position. If we want to succeed, we have no choice but to take the risk. If we wanted safety, we should have stayed in the Theonian League.”

At that moment, it was Timasion who seemed to find his resolve, while Cleanor, with success so near, began to be plagued by doubt. “I hope Agasias and the others can persuade Davos.”

“If Croton truly sends a relief force, we can pretend to be Theonian troops tomorrow and buy some time,” Timasion said, gritting his teeth. Having already deceived Theonia once, a second time hardly mattered. He pointed at the chaos in the streets below. “But no matter what Theonia decides, or whether Croton sends aid, we must first do what needs to be done. We must take the entire city, secure the populace, send out scouts to the south, and prepare our defenses. This chaos must end, and quickly.”

“Give the order to forbid looting and killing, on pain of death,” Cleanor said with a bitter, helpless smile. “But that is Davos’s way. That is what he did in Persia. We cannot learn from him. Besides, we lost over two hundred men taking the walls, and many more are wounded. We have to let them vent. Timasion, do not provoke them. We must do this slowly.”

“To be honest,” Timasion said with a sigh, “in Persia, we used to laugh at Davos’s methods. We called him a fool. Only today do I realize that we were the true fools. I… I have to admire the man. He always thinks so far ahead. When we are settled, we must impose strict military discipline.”

He immediately sent heralds to find the company captains and have them rally their men. He and Cleanor, with their personal guards, then went to the acropolis and shouted terms of surrender.

The Crimisans’ reply was a defiant roar: “Never!”

The standoff lasted until late afternoon.

As the mercenaries surrounding the acropolis grew in number and began to prepare their siege engines, the eyes of the defenders filled with a growing despair. The final assault was imminent. Many began to weep. Antaoris and the other leaders, their faces grim, prepared to die with their city.

Just then, a commotion erupted from the supposedly quiet enemy camp.

***

“The Croton army is at the north gate?! How is that possible?” The news struck Cleanor like a bolt of lightning. He refused to believe it.

“Our scouts to the south… they saw no sign of a Croton army,” Thorax stammered, his face a mask of confusion and panic.

“Chieftain, it’s true! It’s true!” cried the captain of Timasion’s personal guard, who had been left to defend the north wall. “The Crotoniates are forming up outside the city! They are about to attack!”

Timasion, barely holding on to his composure, had no reason to doubt his most trusted man. A moment’s thought, and his face went pale. “Damn it! We were careless. They must have come by sea, just as we did.”

“How many?” Cleanor asked, his voice tight with fear, praying for a number he could bear.

“At least four or five thousand…” The guard captain’s words shattered their last hope. All eyes turned to Timasion.

In this moment of crisis, Timasion asked a single question. “Brothers, do we retreat?”

“I… I…” Cleanor stared at the acropolis before them. He wavered for only a second, then his face contorted in a furious, desperate snarl. “We are not the men of Crimisa! We can hold the walls against them! If we can just hold out until tomorrow… just until tomorrow! Timasion, you said it yourself! To become the masters of Crimisa, we had to take the risk! A risk with our very lives! Even if I die, I will not go crawling back to the Theonian League for them to laugh at me!”

“Nor will I!” Thorax roared, his face a savage mask. “It is only death. What is there to fear? We can hold the walls against them!” His words spoke for the majority of the captains and soldiers.

“Yes! We will fight them to the last man!” the others roared in agreement.

Timasion hesitated no longer. He looked at the men before him, his voice ringing with a newfound power. “Cleanor! Thorax! All of you, go and gather the men still scattered through the city! Get them to the walls, now!”

“Yes, Chieftain!”

“Pasax! Take two hundred men and watch the acropolis. If the Crimisans dare to emerge, kill them all!”

“Leave it to me, Chieftain!”

“The rest of you, with me to the north gate! Let the Crotoniates have a taste of our steel! We will not let them take our city!” Timasion roared, his fists clenched.

“HOOAH!” the mercenaries howled, their fighting spirit rekindled.

***

Timasion was a brilliant commander. Even after his initial plan had failed, he had remained calm, outmaneuvered his enemy, and taken the city in the shortest possible time. But he was, at his core, a common soldier. His eyes, blinded by envy and ambition, saw only that Crimisa, a weak and neutral city-state, was a prize within his grasp. He lacked the statesman’s ability to see the larger picture, the complex web of relationships between the cities of Magna Graecia, and especially, Croton’s attitude toward its smaller neighbor.

Before the rise of Theonia, Croton had paid little attention to Crimisa, partly due to its treaty with Athens, and partly because Thurii had posed no real threat. But after their defeat at the hands of the Theonian League, the situation had changed dramatically. Theonia had taken Nerulum, brought Laos into its alliance, and opened a land route connecting the eastern and western coasts. Theonia was growing powerful and prosperous with terrifying speed, and Croton was growing uneasy. They began to see the nascent power to their north as a grave threat, and Crimisa, as a buffer state, suddenly became strategically vital. For the past six months, Croton had been working to tighten its grip on the smaller city.

That was why Crimisa’s first thought had been to appeal to Croton for aid. And it was why Croton’s first reaction to the news of an attack from the north was, “The Theonians have finally begun their advance.” The Croton council had approved the sending of a relief force almost instantly. And, suspecting it might be the Theonians, even though the messenger had reported only two thousand enemies, they had cautiously dispatched an army of ten thousand citizen-soldiers.

Timasion, assuming the entire Croton force was to the north—for an army of five thousand was already a massive relief force for a city-state—had sent almost all his men to defend the north, east, and west walls. He never imagined that a second fleet had entered the mouth of the River Umbrian, stormed the nearly deserted port, and landed five thousand Croton soldiers who quickly seized the south gate. They easily overwhelmed Pasax’s two hundred men, linked up with the defenders in the acropolis, and began to attack northward.

The mercenaries, vastly outnumbered and caught in a pincer attack, were doomed. The news that a huge Croton force had broken through in the south shattered their morale. Timasion and Cleanor were helpless.

When the Crotoniates charged from the south, the mercenaries offered only a token resistance before they broke and fled.

From the wall, Timasion watched as his men were herded and slaughtered like cattle, just as they had done to the people of Crimisa only hours before. The wrath of the Furies had fallen upon them with terrifying speed. A bitter desolation filled his heart.

“Timasion, we have to go! We can break out to the north!” Cleanor cried.

Timasion shook his head. He looked to the north and a strange, serene smile touched his lips. Davos… in the end, it is I who have lost this contest.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he drew his sword and slashed it across his own throat.

Cleanor had no time for grief. He and a few of his men used grappling hooks to escape over the wall, hoping to slip away in the chaos. But the people of Crimisa, burning with hatred for the men who had looted their homes and killed their kin, pursued them relentlessly. The Crotoniates, determined to see the job through, also joined the hunt. The mercenaries were surrounded. A few managed to escape, but most were either killed or captured. Cleanor and Thorax, finally cornered, threw down their weapons and surrendered, only to be beheaded by the enraged Crimisans.

From the interrogation of the prisoners, the Crotoniates and Crimisans learned the truth: these savage enemies were mercenaries from Asia Minor and Ionia, veterans who had once fought alongside Davos, the Archon of Theonia, in Persia. They had been living in Theonia for two months, and this attack on Crimisa was their own, independent act.

Though Theonia appeared to be uninvolved, the generals and council members of Croton saw a perfect pretext. Unless they were willing to accept a long-term peace with Theonia, they could not allow it to continue its meteoric rise. It was a threat that had to be dealt with. The only way was to strike now, while Theonia was still young, and destroy this upstart league before it grew too powerful.

In a council dominated by the war party, the resolution passed with ease. Even Lysias, the leader of the moderate faction, did not strongly object. He, too, had come to see the threat that Theonia posed.