Chapter 74

“Shut your mouth, Persian! When your wife and child were in the baggage train, I made sure they were treated well!” Mersis retorted angrily.

“Mersis, are you really only having those dozen or so prostitutes… entertain clients?” Crystoia asked, her face flushing as she pressed him with a serious expression.

Mersis knew he couldn’t hide the truth. He had no choice but to admit, “There are some other women… the soldiers who captured them were killed in battle, so they lost their protectors. They are unwilling to do the dirty, exhausting labor, and influenced by the other prostitutes, they saw this as an easy way to earn money. After all, our food supplies are prioritized for the soldiers. They are just trying to survive…”

“Then why don’t you set them free?” Crystoia demanded.

“Set them free? Where would they go? They are hundreds, thousands of miles from their homes. They can never go back. It is better for them to stay in our camp than to be captured by the city-states and tribes along the way and become slaves all the same. At least here, they can live a little better,” Mersis said with an air of false compassion.

“These are the sins committed by our soldiers,” Davos said with a long sigh. He wrapped an arm around the saddened Crystoia. “Mersis, there is no need to force them anymore. I have a solution. We will provide them with food, free of charge. When we find a place to settle in Magna Graecia, we will marry them to the soldiers. In the future, our soldiers will no longer engage in plunder, because we will no longer be mercenaries.”

“General, you are truly benevolent!” Mersis said, hastily offering his praise before making a quick exit. He couldn’t bear to face Crystoia’s accusing gaze any longer.

***

As the days passed, the news from the west grew more worrying. The Lucanian camp in the mountain pass expanded day by day, while the number of Thurians working the fields on the north bank of the Crati dwindled. More than ten days later, when Lucanian scouts were spotted on the outskirts of Thurii itself, a wave of panic swept through the city’s populace. The generals in the bouleuterion knew the Lucanian attack was imminent. They had to prepare.

And so, Burkos, entrusted with a mission, took a boat to the simple dock at the mouth of the Crati River—a classic Greek habit, to take a boat whenever possible rather than walk.

Once ashore, Burkos noticed that this area was significantly more populated than other parts of the Sybarite Plain. People walked in twos and threes along a wide, well-compacted dirt road that led to a large earthen enclosure.

“What is that?” Burkos asked Molas.

“It’s the marketplace the mercenaries built, the one I told you about.”

Molas had mentioned it before, but Burkos hadn’t paid it much mind. Now, his interest was piqued. Since he had to pass it anyway to get to the mercenary camp, he decided it wouldn’t take much time to have a look.

Even before they reached the entrance, the bustling roar of a crowd filled their ears. Standing at the gate were two beautifully dressed and strikingly pretty women. They stood gracefully, and though their features were clearly not Greek, they spoke the language with a gentle and pleasing cadence. “Honored guest, welcome! Is this your first time here?”

Molas couldn’t help but nod repeatedly.

“If you are here to sell goods, there is a wooden hut just inside the entrance. That is our market administration office. You can speak with the person in charge there to select a stall, though it requires a small fee.”

“What is the fee?” Burkos asked quickly.

“One obol per day.”

The price was very cheap. But for this band of mercenaries to be using Thurian land to make money! Burkos felt a flash of anger.

“However, all the stalls are currently full. You will have to come back tomorrow.”

This ramshackle place was in such high demand? Burkos was astonished. He decided to test them. “If I were to offer more money, could you squeeze a stall in for me?”

“Honored guest,” the woman said patiently, “the small fee we collect is not for profit. It is to maintain order in this market. The services we provide are worth far more than one obol. We only hope that the stallholders will make good use of their space and earn far more than one obol every day.”

A modern person hearing this speech would find it very familiar, but Burkos and Molas were completely dumbfounded.

The woman continued, “If you are here to buy, there is a wooden plaque hanging on the door of the administration office with a few small requests we have for all our customers. We hope you will abide by them. If you encounter fraud or have a dispute during a transaction, you can seek help at the administration office. They will be happy to help you resolve the matter.”

Burkos and Molas had traveled far and wide and seen a great deal, but they had never heard of a market in any Greek city-state that was so considerate of its merchants and customers. With intense curiosity, they approached the administration office.

It was a simple wooden hut. A large window had been cut into the wall facing the market, and several people were sitting at the window, politely answering questions from inquiring customers.

“Greetings! Is there any issue we can help you with?” a dark-skinned, slender Egyptian man asked Molas, who was peering into the hut through the window.

Molas was about to give a noncommittal reply when someone inside the hut called out, “Lord Burkos, welcome!” A middle-aged man with brown hair, a long beard, and a hooked nose pushed the door open and greeted him warmly.

“You are?” Burkos asked, finding his face somewhat familiar.

“I am Marigi, the Commissioner of Commerce under General Davos,” Marigi announced, immodestly bestowing upon himself the title Davos had promised him.

Burkos didn’t pay much attention to the title. He first corrected him, “No, please do not call me ‘lord.’ I am just an ordinary citizen of Thurii.” Then, he asked with curiosity, “You are Persian?”

“Yes,” Marigi replied, not only unembarrassed but with a hint of pride.

“You certainly have people from every race here,” Burkos remarked. He then pointed to some objects on the counter inside the “window.” “What are these weighing scales for?”

“If a customer feels that the goods they have purchased are underweight, olive oil or fish, for example, they can bring them here to be weighed. If a discrepancy is discovered, our staff will find the seller and penalize them. In serious cases, their stall will be revoked, and they will no longer be allowed to trade in this market.”

“Hmm, not bad. A clever idea,” Burkos said coolly. Though he felt the mercenaries had no right to punish anyone on Thurian soil, he decided it was a matter best discussed with their commander. “Has such a thing happened?”

“Only once. After the penalty was enforced, it has not happened again,” Marigi said, watching him carefully.

“This plaque of yours,” Burkos said, pointing. “‘No spitting or littering. Sellers must keep their stalls tidy.’ Why emphasize this? I have never seen such a requirement in any city-state market I have visited, not even in the Agora of Athens.” This was what interested Burkos the most.

“This was General Davos’s suggestion,” Marigi said gravely. “He said, ‘A market is a crowded place, which means it is also a place where garbage and sewage run rampant. An excess of garbage not only creates a foul stench that makes people uncomfortable, but it also attracts swarms of flies and mosquitoes. This will affect everyone’s mood for trading, and most importantly, it can lead to the outbreak of disease!’”

“Is it really that serious?” Burkos asked, surprised.

“The Commander is the Hades’ Favored One of Hades. His words, of course, cannot be ignored. We not only remind our customers, but we also have ten slaves who clean the entire market without interruption. I can say that although our market is simple, in terms of cleanliness, it is cleaner than the market of any city. We put in so much sweat and effort, which is why we collect that tiny little fee,” Marigi added, subtly justifying their policy.

Burkos breathed in the relatively fresh air and looked down at the tidy, level ground, a thoughtful expression on his face.