Chapter 63

Burkos seemed to notice Davos’s confusion. “The city of Thurii is about twenty miles from the mouth of the Crati River,” he explained.

“Ah,” Davos said. “If Thurii is at war with the Lucanians, why are there still so many ships coming here to trade?”

“The Lucanians have no navy, so they can’t cut off Thurii’s sea lanes. And the greater the war, the greater the need for supplies. These merchants are all here to make a profit.” As they were speaking, the fleet came to a stop.

The lead ship continued on alone, soon blending in with the sea of white sails ahead.

About an hour later, the lead ship returned and drew alongside Burkos’s vessel. A man climbed aboard.

“Burkos, you’re finally back!” the newcomer said, approaching with a wide grin. “I was starting to think the Lucanians had scared you into moving back to Greece!”

“Even the biggest coward in the city didn’t leave, so how could I?” Burkos joked, pulling the man into an embrace.

“Was your journey successful?”

“Is Thurii alright?”

They both spoke at the same time, then broke into laughter.

“Seeing you so relaxed, the city must be safe,” Burkos observed.

“You know how it is. The barbarian Lucanians have no skill in engineering. They can’t build siege engines, nor can they build ships. They only managed to destroy the villages and farms outside the walls. Fortunately, it was autumn, and the wheat had already been harvested. Then, during the winter, a plague broke out in their camp, and they were forced to retreat back to the mountains in the north, leaving only a small garrison at Amendolara.”

“Wait, did you say a plague?” Burkos asked, his face a mask of horror.

“The Lucanians murdered thousands of Thurian citizens and piled their bodies outside our walls. Zeus was angered and sent a punishment down upon them. But we, the people of Thurii, were not harmed in the slightest!” the man declared, his voice a mixture of righteous anger and pious pride.

Burkos quickly offered a prayer of praise to Zeus.

The man continued, “Now that the weather is warming, they are beginning to move south again. Thankfully, Tarentum has sent reinforcements.”

“As the founders of the defensive alliance in Magna Graecia, they should have sent aid long ago!”

“You can’t blame them. They had just finished repelling an attack from the Messapians. As soon as they could, they sent fifteen hundred hoplites and fifty cavalry, led by Archytas himself.”

“Which Archytas?”

“Which Archytas do you think? The son of Histiaeus, the former magistrate of Tarentum. The one they all call a genius!”

“Speaking of geniuses, I have one right here,” Burkos said, pulling Davos forward. “Let me introduce you. This is Davos of Thessaly, a commander of the Greek mercenary army that marched through Persia!” Burkos announced formally. Then, gesturing to the newcomer, he said, “Davos, this is my good friend, a general elected by Thurii for this year—Polyxexis.”

“Senator Polyxexis, it is an honor,” Davos said, giving a slight bow.

“Welcome,” Polyxexis replied with a curt nod, before turning back to Burkos. “What did you just say? An expedition through Persia?”

Burkos saw his friend’s dismissive attitude and immediately launched into a grand retelling of Davos’s and his army’s incredible feats. As he spoke, the look in Polyxexis’s eyes transformed, becoming fervent and intense. “Truly unimaginable!” he exclaimed, turning back to Davos. “For someone so young, you have accomplished something extraordinary! To lead your soldiers out from the heart of Persia, surrounded by thousands of enemies! It’s… wow!”

“It was the result of all my brothers fighting together. Many of them died on the road home,” Davos said with sincerity.

“I invited Davos’s army to Thurii so they could use their vast combat experience to help us defeat the Lucanians!” Burkos interjected, taking the opportunity to provide a preemptive justification for the high price he had paid.

“You have come at the perfect time. We are just now planning our counter-attack against the Lucanians,” Polyxexis said to Burkos. “I came to tell you that the council of senators has agreed to let your fleet disembark at the simple dock by the river mouth. Davos is to lead the mercenaries to the old city of Sybaris and make camp there.”

“What?! Camp in the ruins of Sybaris?!” Burkos’s face went pale. He pulled Polyxexis aside and hissed, “Are you all mad?! Have you forgotten the treaty Thurii made with Croton when our city was founded? The site of old Sybaris is not to be disturbed! Why do you think Thurii wasn’t built on the ruins of Sybaris in the first place? It’s a better location, with a better harbor!”

“Every citizen of Thurii knows this,” Polyxexis said with a shrug, distancing himself from the decision. “But it was Kunogelata who insisted on it, and the other senators agreed. The mercenaries you hired before have already been camped there for nearly a month.”

“Kunogelata again! First, he drove out the Athenians, and now he wants to provoke Croton! Does he want to see Thurii destroyed?” Burkos said, his voice thick with fury.

“It’s not as serious as you make it sound. Decades have passed, and Thurii has always honored the agreement. The weeds in Sybaris are taller than a man now. We are in the middle of a war; it’s only a temporary camp. Besides, Croton has no time to worry about this. They are in a fierce war with the Bruttians. Where else would you have these mercenaries camp? Between the last group and this one, you must have four or five thousand men. Their camp will take up a huge amount of space. Right now, besides that wasteland, every piece of ground around Thurii is either farmland or a village.”

“But you said the farms and villages outside the city were destroyed,” Burkos pointed out.

“After the Lucanians retreated, everyone returned to their homes and began to rebuild. If they all crowded into the city, it would cause problems sooner or later. As for the fields, the farmers have already sown the new wheat crop. Otherwise, there would be no harvest this year.”

“What happens when the Lucanians return?” Burkos asked worriedly.

“That’s why we are planning how to defeat them.”

Burkos stared at Polyxexis in silence for a long moment, then said with a final, sarcastic bite, “It seems our senators are quite united these days, their courage fully restored. Have they all forgotten how pathetic they were last year?”

Polyxexis’s face flushed with embarrassment, and he could not find a word to say.

***

Because a channel had been cleared beforehand, Burkos’s fleet entered the river mouth smoothly. Disembarking, however, was more troublesome, as there was only one simple dock.

Burkos, Davos, Philesius, Axistes, and the guard detail were the first to step ashore. Standing on the soft earth, their bodies, long accustomed to the rolling of the sea, felt unsteady.

Philesius bent down and scooped up a handful of soil. He crumbled it between his fingers, and ignoring the pungent, fishy smell, brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, an expression of pure bliss on his face, as if he were holding a delectable feast and not a clump of mud. He held his hand out to Davos. “It’s black!” he said, his voice filled with excitement.

Davos understood his meaning perfectly. Before Burkos could turn to see what was happening, he said with a sigh of admiration, “This is truly a fertile land.”

“Of course it is!” Burkos said with pride. “The Sybarite Plain is watered by the Crati and several other rivers. It’s not only rich and well-watered but also flat and vast. It’s the best land in the entire region. How else do you think Sybaris became so legendarily wealthy?”

The group walked away from the riverbank. After a short distance, they saw a field of crumbling walls and broken stones amidst the tall weeds. This was the site of old Sybaris.

Davos stopped in front of a large stone. Though it was covered in moss and lichen, the smooth surface, fine texture, and deep red color were still visible, marking it as a piece of high-quality marble. He looked around and saw many more such stones, hidden in the grass, half-buried in the earth.

He knew that Greece and Italy produced mostly white marble; red marble, which came primarily from Africa, was naturally far more expensive. He had seen few stones like it in the cities they had passed. “Such fine stone,” he remarked, his tone casual as he turned to Burkos. “Why didn’t Thurii use it when they built their city?”