Thus, in this new village largely populated by reserve citizens, Agilas was elected without contest. He was one of the mercenaries who had followed Davos to Thurii. During the annihilation of the Lucanian coalition, his left leg was severely injured, leaving him with a permanent limp after he recovered. When the Thurii-Amendolara Alliance was formed and Davos came to console the wounded soldiers, Agilas made a request: he hoped to exchange his allotted plot of land in Amendolara for one on the south bank of the Crati River. His initial intent was simply to stay as far away as possible from his hale and hearty comrades to avoid being reminded of his own misfortune.
With the influx of people and the extensive development of farmlands on the Sybaris Plain, new villages sprang up like bamboo shoots after a spring rain across the flat, fertile land. Initially, the dozens of new households viewed Agilas as a stern, unapproachable man. However, under the supervision of the notary sent by the Senate, Agilas was easily elected village chief. It was only then that everyone realized he was a veteran mercenary who had braved death alongside Davos—the God’s Favored One of Hades, the benevolent Archon, the undefeated general. Their gazes immediately turned respectful, even reverent.
Agilas was a diligent man. Since he had become the head of a village, he felt compelled to fulfill his duties: maintaining order, mediating disputes, educating villagers on morals and customs, inspecting crop planting, reminding villagers to attend military training, supervising military service and tax payments, recording population growth, preventing epidemics… He managed everything, big or small.
Every morning at dawn, he would get up, leaning on his cane to visit every corner of the village. Sometimes, dragging his injured leg, he would even jump into the mud with the villagers to repair irrigation ditches.
Months passed, and the entire village sang his praises. When they met him, their faces showed heartfelt respect, which allowed him to rediscover the meaning of his existence and struggle.
After the war between Croton and Theonia began, the adult men of the village went to fight. Spring was the sowing season, and labor was clearly insufficient. Although every household had slaves, agriculture was different from industry and commerce; with limited land and yield, too many slaves would only waste money and food. When labor was truly tight, one could rent slaves to get through the busiest periods, so each household typically kept only one or two domestic slaves. Agilas made a special trip to the Thurii Senate, registered properly, and brought back 30 city-state slaves to help with the farm work for the whole village.
Aside from the disabled Agilas, the entire village consisted of women, the elderly, children, and slaves—mostly able-bodied male slaves. Yet Agilas wasn’t worried about unrest. The laws of the alliance stipulated that every year on the anniversary of the Theonia City-State Alliance’s founding (October 30th), a group of hard-working, well-behaved city-state slaves would be granted freedom in front of the Temple of Hades. This was a reward for their obedience and a display of Hades’ benevolence. Since the promulgation of this law, the enthusiasm of city-state slaves had soared, doubling their efficiency.
As for rural domestic slaves, it wasn’t easy for a farmer to own one, and they relied on them heavily. Naturally, they cherished them, often treating slaves like family. Over time, the emotional bond would strengthen, and domestic slaves would enjoy greater freedom. If the master was wealthy enough to pay the redemption fee required by the alliance, many domestic slaves could gain freedom before their master’s death. Often, these freed slaves would return to their master’s home as hired workers to continue helping with household affairs.
With the help of slaves, the village’s spring plowing was completed successfully. In his spare time, Agilas would use his experience as a veteran to comfort the women and elderly who worried about their relatives on the battlefield.
One day, the waterwheel drawing water from the riverbank malfunctioned. Agilas rushed to Thurii City early in the morning to find someone to repair it. After finally scheduling a time with a skilled carpenter, he hurried back home.
As soon as he opened the door, the household’s female slave greeted him. “Madam is sleeping now. She hasn’t vomited today.”
Only then did Agilas relax. Having fought on battlefields for most of his life, he had expected to die in the wilderness or live out his days in loneliness. He never imagined that after following Davos to Magna Graecia, he would become a citizen, receive land, marry, establish a family, and now expect a child. This was truly the grace of Hades!
When the doctor first told him the news, he had danced with joy and immediately used his savings to buy a female slave specifically to care for his pregnant wife.
“Master, please have some water.” The slave girl obediently presented a wooden cup of water.
Though parched, Agilas didn’t drink immediately. “Is it boiled?” Greeks were accustomed to drinking raw water, but the skilled physician Herpus had repeatedly called for citizens in public to drink “heated and boiled water,” insisting it reduced illness. Agilas was no stranger to this; during the march in Persia, Davos had strictly required the same of his mercenaries. For the sake of his unborn child, he needed to take care of his health.
The slave girl nodded, and only then did he drink with peace of mind.
Bang!
The door was suddenly shoved open with a loud crash, and a half-grown boy burst in.
Agilas glared, about to scold him.
The boy gasped out, “Uncle Agilas, I was picking seashells by the sea just now… I saw… I saw a big ship stop on the beach. A lot of people got off, and they all had weapons!”
Enemy!! Agilas was instantly alert. He turned to the slave girl and said, “Go to the fields quickly and call Bomis [the male household slave] back. Then immediately support Madam and head north. Wait for me at the square in Thurii City!”
“Understood, Master!” The slave girl ran out of the courtyard.
“Child.” Agilas remembered this boy was named Patroclus, usually mischievous and often beaten by his father—a burly Thracian. “When you saw those people, was anyone else on the beach?”
“Just me.”
Agilas thought for a moment and asked, “Can you ride a mule?”
“I’ve secretly ridden other people’s cows and mules many times.” The clever boy clearly realized the situation was urgent and spilled his secrets without fear of scolding.
“You know the village to the south, the one very close to us?”
“I know it. I’ve even fought with the kids from that village.”
“Uncle wants you to ride my mule and rush there to notify them. Tell them Agilas said, ‘The enemy is coming, evacuate immediately!’ Can you do that?”
“I can!” The boy nodded vigorously.
“Good lad!” Agilas stroked the boy’s head in praise. Suddenly remembering something, he took out the village chief’s seal issued by the Thurii City Administrator from his chest and shoved it into the boy’s hand. “If they don’t believe you, show them this.”
“Mm.” The boy nodded again.
Agilas immediately led the grey mule out of the livestock pen in the yard. The boy jumped onto the mule’s back with ease.
“Remember, child, after delivering the message, rush to the wooden bridge over the Crati River and wait for us!” Agilas instructed.
“Got it, Uncle.” The boy shook the reins, and the grey mule trotted out of the courtyard gate.
Seeing the boy’s skilled movements, Agilas felt half his worry dissolve. As one of the original mercenaries, he shared a similar mindset with most of his comrades: they had built this alliance with blood and sweat, and they had a responsibility to defend it, not just look after their own villages.
Agilas took a reluctant look at his house, then strode out the door, limping as he ran toward the village square to ring the bronze bell and summon the villagers to evacuate immediately.
Agilas led the slaves, supporting the elderly and young, out of the village. Not long after they left, thick smoke rose behind them…
The women cried out and wept for their burning village…
Agilas remained calm. Based on his past experience with pillaging, he judged that the enemy wouldn’t chase them out of the village immediately. So, he kept urging the villagers to speed up, though his fists were clenched tight: My first new home in the alliance, destroyed just like that!
***
“This morning, three villages in Thurii were destroyed and fifteen people killed, yet we haven’t caught a single enemy! Philesius, you have to think of something! If this goes on, Victory Square will be filled with homeless people, and the entire populace of the alliance will panic! Will the citizen-soldiers at the front still have the heart to fight?!” Kunogelata said anxiously. As the Administrator of Thurii, he couldn’t bear to see the newly prosperous city suffer disaster again.
“Don’t worry, Lord Kunogelata. Sit down and let’s discuss this slowly,” Cornelius comforted him, then explained on Philesius’s behalf. “To be honest, the Crotoniates are cunning too. They use small warships to land sporadically on the coasts of Thurii and Castellum. It’s just a few dozen sailors armed with bows and javelins. The able-bodied citizens of our villages have all gone to war; otherwise, how could they succeed so easily! As soon as these sailors see our troops arrive, they flee back to their ships immediately. We can’t catch them even if we want to! There are only three battalions in the city. We have to defend the port of Thurii and also look after Amendolara. We really don’t have enough hands!”
“But the problem must be solved as soon as possible!” Kunogelata huffed. “If we don’t have enough hands, we can consider using those freedmen!”
“Using the freedmen is indeed a good idea, Lord Kunogelata!” Philesius, who had been deep in thought, chimed in. “Tens of thousands of freedmen have nothing to do at the port. Over time, that breeds trouble. Yesterday, some freedmen even ran to the military camp saying they had no food and asking the soldiers for charity.”