Chapter 95

Vesba could never have imagined that events would take so many twists and turns.

Yesterday afternoon, when his envoy had arrived at the Sybarite Plain, the allied Lucanian army was already gone. Fearing an attack by the Greek army, the envoy had no choice but to retreat back to the city. Today, Vesba waited anxiously for news of the Lucanian army’s arrival, but none came. Then, in the afternoon, a scout returned with a frantic report: the Greek mercenaries had annihilated the allied Lucanian army at the Great Riverbed near the Tino River.

Vesba was stunned. A deep fear took root in him, and he wished he could flee from this terrifying mercenary army, to get as far away as possible.

With the powerful Lucanian tribes having suffered such a devastating blow, their control over the surrounding clans would surely weaken. If Vesba’s tribe returned to the Lucanian mountains, they would likely be free from oppression, at least for a time. But the thought of leaving empty-handed made his heart ache. The mountains of supplies they had captured in the city were a treasure his people, who had known poverty for too long, could not bear to abandon.

Then, another piece of information from the scout gave him pause: the Greeks had also suffered significant losses, at least a thousand casualties.

That’s right, Vesba thought, cursing his own foolishness. After a major battle, wouldn’t the Greeks need time to rest and recover? He ordered his tribesmen to begin packing their belongings and loading the supplies onto carts. They would prepare to leave but would transport the goods in batches, depending on the situation.

They worked for the entire afternoon. By nightfall, the tribesmen, exhausted from their labors, had all fallen into a deep sleep.

This single delay would become a small but profound regret for Vesba for the rest of his life. Yet, decades later, when his descendants and kinsmen spoke of this day, they were all endlessly thankful that they had not left at once.

***

In the dead of night, a full moon hung in the sky, casting a sliver of light upon the漆-black landscape.

The moonlight, like water, spilled silently across the Sybarite Plain. A long dragon of men snaked its way north along the coast, its movement completely silent. It crossed the Sybaris River, passed through abandoned vineyards, and forded the Saraceno River. Its pace did not slacken; instead, it grew faster and faster, until finally, after crossing the Sisno River, the entire column came to an abrupt halt.

Every warrior gazed at the shadowy silhouette of Amendolara under the moon, their hearts pounding with excitement.

Davos took a deep breath, calming himself, and then gave Hylos a sharp, decisive wave of his hand.

The assault had begun.

***

That night, Vesba had a wonderful dream. He dreamt that he had not left Amendolara but had lived there for many years. Every day he would inspect his teeming herds of cattle and sheep, wander through olive groves heavy with fruit, and drink sweet, fragrant wine.

“Paramount Chieftain, it’s a disaster! The Greeks have broken into the city!” A guard burst into his chambers in a panic.

“What did you say?!” Vesba jolted awake.

***

The next morning, Archytas, having just woken from his own sleep, received a strange piece of news from his guards: the mercenaries who had been camped next to them had vanished.

He immediately went to see for himself. Sure enough, their camp was completely empty.

A feeling of unease washed over Archytas. He rushed to Davos’s main camp next door. There were people here, but it was only Davos’s quartermaster corps, the medical staff, the wounded, women, and a large number of slaves (mostly the ones from Thurii). And all of them were packing up, preparing to leave.

Archytas strode forward and grabbed Mersis, who was shouting orders at the slaves. “Mersis, where are Davos and his soldiers?”

Mersis stammered, offering no reply, which only deepened Archytas’s suspicion.

Just then, a familiar voice came from behind him. “Archytas, my apologies. I am late and have made you worry.”

Archytas turned to see Davos, a wide smile on his face. He looked tired, but he was clearly in high spirits. “Where have all your soldiers gone?”

“I have good news for you,” Davos said, dismounting and handing the reins of his horse to Axistes. Then, with an air of complete calm, he announced, “We have retaken Amendolara.”

“When?” Archytas was flabbergasted.

“Last night.”

To take a mountain city in a single night?! Seeing the look on Davos’s face, Archytas knew he wasn’t lying. He knew that siege warfare was a massive challenge for any city-state’s army. Yesterday’s battle had already left him in awe of Davos’s grand ambition, his creative battle planning, his superb command, and his ability to unite disparate forces. But the fact that he had conquered a mountain fortress in a single night completely won over the battle-hardened general. He gave a wry smile. “Davos, you have once again accomplished an impossible task. It truly makes me envious.”

Davos laughed at his frankness. “In truth, we had the goddess of fortune on our side. The Lucanians’ defenses were lax, and they were completely unprepared.”

“Ah, I see,” Archytas said, curious to hear more. But Davos changed the subject, his tone becoming serious. “There is a matter on which I would like to gain your support, and that of Tarentum.”

“What is it?” Archytas asked, taken aback by his earnest expression.

Davos met his gaze and enunciated each word slowly and clearly. “We, the mercenaries, wish to become citizens of Amendolara.”

Archytas was stunned once more. “All of the mercenaries?” he asked, uncertain. “Are you serious?”

“It is the will of the entire army,” Davos declared, his voice booming with a tone that permitted no doubt.

Archytas’s face darkened with seriousness. His eyes swept over the room, noticing how Mersis, Axistes, and even the once-occupied guards had paused, their gazes fixed on him with desperate anticipation. Archytas quickly turned back to Davos. “It seems,” he said in a low voice, “that taking Amendolara was not a spur-of-the-moment decision.”

Davos did not answer directly. Instead, he spoke with great emotion. “Archytas, you were born a Tarentine nobleman and have lived a life of privilege. You cannot possibly understand the plight of us mercenaries, who wander from place to place, our lives and deaths not even our own to command. To have a home… that is their greatest desire.”

Archytas was silent for a moment. “Does Marcellus, the magistrate of Amendolara, agree to this?” he finally asked.

“He was gravely wounded the day the Lucanians took the city and died a few days later,” Davos said, his voice heavy. “The other magistrate, Gratibavlos… last night, as we assaulted the city, the Amendolaran citizens who were imprisoned in the Temple of Zeus on the summit launched their own attack against their Lucanian guards, led by Gratibavlos himself. A fierce battle broke out. By the time we reached them, Gratibavlos had already been killed in the fighting, along with several members of the city senate…”

Archytas stared at Davos, who met his gaze with a frank and open expression before continuing, “According to our count, there are only about a thousand surviving citizens in Amendolara, and their physical condition is poor. Nearly half of them are elderly, and many are wounded. Even if we were to leave, I fear they would be unable to maintain the city’s administration and daily work, let alone defend it.”

Archytas understood perfectly. Davos didn’t just want his mercenaries to become citizens of Amendolara; he wanted them to become its masters. Shocked by the sheer scale of his ambition, he tried to deflect. “You should first seek the opinion of Thurii. After all, Amendolara is their ally.”

“Archytas, let me be frank,” Davos said, pressing his advantage. “Thurii has suffered two devastating defeats and its strength is greatly diminished. I fear it no longer has the capacity to look after Amendolara. And though a weakened Amendolara is not wealthy, its strategic position is still important and will likely attract the attention of other powers. In our hands, at least, we can defend it. And we are willing to become a staunch ally of Tarentum, to maintain the security of this region and to ensure that Heraclea will never again be threatened by the native tribes.” He made the promise with solemn gravity.

The argument swayed Archytas. After all, Thurii’s performance in the war against the Lucanians had been abysmal, nearly bringing disaster upon the entire region. “I do not have the authority to decide if you can have Amendolara,” he said, his tone cautious but candid. “That requires the consent of the Tarentine Senate. I will immediately send a man by ship back to Tarentum. I hope you will also send an envoy with him to present your request to the Senate.”³

“Thank you, Archytas, thank you!” Davos said, his voice filled with emotion.

“My only regret is that you can no longer become a citizen of Tarentum,” Archytas said with genuine sincerity.

Davos was deeply moved. “But we will be allies,” he said quickly. “And who knows, perhaps one day we will fight side-by-side again.”

Without seeking the consent of the people of Amendolara, and without consulting their ally, Thurii, the fate of a city was decided in the midst of their conversation.