Praexinas did indeed see that the Tarentine naval squadrons that normally patrolled the nearby waters were absent from the great harbor. Nevertheless, he brazenly continued to plead his case before their Senate, begging them to send even just a few warships to Thurii. He was gambling that Croton, already at war with Theonia, would not dare to provoke Tarentum. Therefore, even a small Tarentine naval presence on the Theonian coast would serve as a powerful deterrent and secure their shoreline.

But no matter how he pleaded, the Tarentine Senate stood firm. His mission was a failure.

No sooner had Praexinas returned to the port of Thurii than the Croton fleet arrived. Theonia’s sea trade routes were severed, and panic gripped the port. Olivas and a large contingent of patrolmen rushed to help Marigi maintain order.

When Davos learned of Tarentum’s decision, he fell into a thoughtful silence. “As I recall,” he said to his scribe, Aristocrates, “that Spartan envoy paid a visit to Tarentum, did he not?”

“He did, my lord. Aristelas reported that the Spartan had hoped to persuade Tarentum to abolish its alliance with us and lead the opposition against us, but the Tarentine Senate refused.”

“And yet, his visit had its effect,” Davos sighed, a cold smile touching his lips. So, Tarentum wishes to sit on the mountain and watch the tigers fight. Very well. In the end, this is a war we must win on our own.

“Go to Aristelas,” he said. “Tell him it is time to draw in the net on that Croton spy.”

“At once, my lord.”

***

The closing of the port was something Tratus had anticipated. He had already arranged with a Croton fast-boat to retrieve his intelligence from a specific stretch of beach at the mouth of the River Crati each night.

He was in the middle of writing his report when the door to his room was smashed open, and four or five men burst in. In his panic, he clutched the papyrus scroll in his hand. “Who are you—?” he began to shout, but he was thrown to the ground, his fist pried open, and the scroll, which he had not yet had time to destroy, was snatched from his grasp. The color drained from his face.

“This afternoon, approximately ten thousand fully armed men mustered in the military camps of Thurii,” a clear voice said from above him. “The port is now garrisoned by a thousand hoplites. We have heard that the citizen-soldiers of Amendolara are on their way to Thurii, and from Nerulum—” The voice paused. “Tratus, I must admit, your powers of observation and arithmetic are quite impressive. The intelligence you have been sending to Croton is remarkably accurate. It is no wonder they sent you here. You have been in Thurii for half a year. I wonder, what is your impression of our city?”

Hearing those words, Tratus’s heart sank. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that he had been under surveillance all along.

When he was hauled to his feet, he saw a slender, elegant, middle-aged man standing before him, regarding him with a look of keen interest.

“What do you want with me?” Tratus asked, his voice a dry whisper.

The man said nothing, but took an object from one of his subordinates and held it before Tratus’s eyes. It was a small, crudely carved wooden knife.

Tratus’s eyes widened in horror. He began to struggle violently. “What have you done with my child?” he screamed. “You have my child, don’t you? He is only seven years old! By Hera, I beg you, spare him! Spare him! I will do anything!” He pleaded, his voice breaking, until at last, he was sobbing uncontrollably.

“Your wife and child are still in Croton,” the man said, his face a cold mask. “But they are being watched by my people. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Aristelas, intelligence officer to the Archon, Lord Davos.” (Though Davos had promised him the position, he was still technically a freeman, not yet a public official.) “I offer you a choice. Work for Theonia. If you refuse, not only will you die, but your ailing wife will perish for lack of funds, and your son will be sold into slavery. If you agree, you will become a preparatory citizen of Theonia. We will do everything in our power to extract your wife and son and have the League’s physicians treat her illness. You know that our doctors are superior to those of Croton.” Aristelas paused. Tratus’s head was bowed, his expression a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. “Life or death,” Aristelas said, his voice low and hard. “The choice is yours.”

***

At dusk, the Strategos Protos of Croton, Milon, received a secret dispatch from Thurii: This afternoon, Thurii began to muster its citizen-soldiers. Approximately four thousand men from within the city have assembled in Victory Square. The villages outside the city are still mobilizing; no large forces have yet entered Thurii. A thousand soldiers have been sent to garrison the port, and numerous cavalry patrols have been dispatched along the coast. No armies from Amendolara or Nerulum have yet arrived.

Over the past six months, through Tratus’s intelligence and the debriefing of the released prisoners, Milon had gained a considerable understanding of Theonia and had grown wary of its power. He had made his preparations. After annihilating the mercenaries at Crimisa, he had immediately begun to mobilize for war. This time, to ensure a decisive victory, Croton and its dependency, Asprostum, had mustered every man they could: twenty thousand from Croton, and three thousand from Asprostum. Their ally, Syritum, a great city in its own right, had suffered the most grievous losses in the last war, but burning for revenge, it had scraped together another two thousand men. Trion, which bordered the lands of the Bruttians, had sent a thousand, an offer Croton did not refuse this time. Only Caulonia’s offer of aid was rejected. To the south of Caulonia lay Croton’s mortal enemy, the alliance of Locri. Though Locri had been quiet in recent years, Croton knew it watched the north with a covetous eye. If Locri were to strike while Croton was engaged with Theonia, it could easily take Caulonia, then the undermanned Syritum, and threaten Croton’s own undefended rear. The watch on Locri could not be relaxed.

At the same time, the decisive battle with Theonia had to be fought as soon as possible, before its armies could fully assemble. And so, in a departure from the usual slow, deliberate preparations of a Greek city-state, Croton acted with remarkable speed. Not only did it complete its own mobilization in a single day, but it also urged its allies to march with all haste.

In fact, the news of the war between Croton and Theonia had been met with great joy in Locri. Its council had dispatched an envoy to Theonia, but Croton had blockaded the northern land routes, and its warships now patrolled the eastern coast of Magna Graecia from Cape Alice northward. The Locrian envoy was forced to change course, planning to sail southwest to Sicily, then northeast to Tarentum, from where he would make the long, circuitous journey by land.

***

Davos was in his residence, analyzing Croton military intelligence with his legion commanders and planning their strategy, when Aristocrates entered and whispered in his ear. Davos nodded. “Let them in.”

He turned to his commanders. “Brothers, Xanthipparis and Tolmides are here.”

The room, which had been buzzing with debate, fell silent. Xanthipparis and Tolmides hurried in, their faces etched with worry. They stopped short, surprised to find so many men gathered there.

Davos smiled. “I was just about to send for you, but you have saved me the trouble. We were just beginning to discuss our strategy for dealing with the Crotoniates. Come, tell us your thoughts.”

Xanthipparis and Tolmides exchanged a look. Then, they dropped to one knee. “Lord Davos,” Xanthipparis began, his voice filled with apology, “and all our old comrades. We are… we are truly sorry. We have brought war to Theonia and trouble upon you all. Timasion and Cleanor… they were meeting with the other mercenaries so often, and they kept asking for our opinion. We thought they only wished to leave. We never imagined… We—”

“The actions of Timasion and the others have nothing to do with you,” Davos interrupted, his voice firm and serious. “Every man has his own mind, his own desires. You and the other mercenaries chose to stay. That means you accept the ways of Theonia, you wish to live here, you wish to become citizens. So come, fight with us. The great army of Croton is at our doorstep. This is your test. With your valor, you will silence the doubts of others. You will prove to the people of Theonia that we were not wrong to trust you. You will show them your resolve to defend this land with your lives, and they will, in turn, open their arms to welcome you.”

“Davos is right! Xanthipparis, Tolmides, let us fight together and defeat the Crotoniates! And let us avenge Timasion and the others!”

“It is good! At last, we will fight together again!”

Amyntas, Antonios, and the others all voiced their enthusiastic welcome, and a great weight was lifted from the hearts of the two old mercenaries.