Impressions of the Mercenary Market (Part 2)

“I truly admire Commander Davos,” Mariji said sincerely. “He’s not only skilled in directing battles but also has keen ideas about commerce! He gave me a lot of valuable advice. For instance, at the market entrance, I originally planned to station two fully armed soldiers as guards. The commander said, ‘That won’t do—it’ll scare off customers coming to buy and sell. We need to consider how the customers feel.’ So it ended up as you see now, and judging by the customers’ reactions, it’s working out well… haha… Oh, and these weighing scales were also his suggestion. There are plenty more like that. The reason this market has become so lively in just twenty days is mostly thanks to him! I think even if he weren’t a mercenary, with his talents he’d definitely become a great merchant!” Mariji’s words came from the heart.

“Yes, quite unexpected,” Bourkos replied perfunctorily, his mind elsewhere.

He turned and walked deeper into the market, and Mariji hurriedly followed, acting as a guide.

Moving along with the crowded flow of people, the first stall was naturally the mercenaries’ own, so it was very spacious. It displayed a wide array of strange and peculiar objects as well as delicate gold and silverware, all neatly categorized… Many people stopped here to look, examine, and ask about prices.

“Mesis!” Mariji called out.

The fat man directing slaves to move goods behind the stall looked up and immediately said with an air of superiority, “Mariji, have you come to congratulate me?! I’ve sold quite a bit of merchandise today!”

Before Mariji could answer, he spotted Bourkos and forced a smile onto his face. “Bourkos, you’ve come to do some shopping too. Perfect timing. I have a fine item here—guess what it is?” As he spoke, he held up a glinting, dazzling object: a thin silver cord with tiny, gossamer-like gold leaves strung in the middle, forming an inverted triangle, from the tip of which another silver cord emerged…

Mariji’s eyes narrowed as he heard Mesis shout, “Mariji, don’t you say a word!”

“What is that thing?” Morras asked curiously.

Seeing everyone crowding around with curiosity, Mesis put on a lecherous grin and said mysteriously, “This is a gift from Cyrus the Younger to his most beautiful beloved concubine. It was specially crafted by the best Persian goldsmith for Cyrus the Younger—a marvelous item meant to provide that kind of pleasure! Guess where Cyrus the Younger’s beloved concubine wore it?”

“Could it be… down there…” someone ventured uncertainly.

“Correct! Looks like you have experience!” Mesis said, eliciting a round of ambiguous laughter from the crowd.

“They say that every night, Cyrus the Younger’s beloved concubine wore it while being with him… well… When Cyrus the Younger died in battle, his concubine was captured by the King of Persia, and this object was left behind in the camp, where one of our soldiers found it.” Mesis held up the gold chain, flashing it before everyone. “Take a sniff… it might still bear the scent of Cyrus the Younger’s beloved concubine! I wanted to keep it for myself, but unfortunately, I have no wife. Think about it, everyone—if you buy it and take it home, you can experience the pleasures of the Persian royal court with your wife or lover!”

After hearing this, even Bourkos felt a flicker of temptation.

One of the bystanders already shouted, “How much? I’ll buy it!”

Bourkos looked and recognized him—a merchant from the city-state of Scylletium.

“Not expensive, not expensive. Look how exquisitely made this thing is! And it’s all pure gold—quite heavy too!” Mesis bounced the gold chain in his hand, producing a low, jingling sound. “The bottom price is… hmm… fifty darics.”

“I’ll give fifty-five darics—it’s mine!” the Scylletium merchant shouted.

“I’ll give sixty darics!” another person called out.

“Hey, I called it first!”

“But I offered a higher price!”

“Sixty-five darics!”

…

Mariji hadn’t expected that Mesis could turn a relatively uncommon item of Persian aristocratic household use into a royal artifact and make such a huge profit. But he didn’t want to warn Mesis—if Cheiristoya ever heard about this, it probably wouldn’t leave a good impression of him.

Seeing Bourkos pushing his way out of the crowd, he quickly followed.

“I see merchants from other city-states coming here to trade,” Bourkos remarked.

“Yes, quite a few. From Tarentum, Scylletium, Caulonia, Croton, and others.”

Upon hearing “Croton,” Bourkos’s eyelids twitched.

Just then, Morras pointed to a dozen burly men ahead and said, “These men are soldiers from your camp, right?”

Mariji glanced at them and replied, “They might be warriors from a neighboring mercenary camp.”

“I see quite a few soldiers coming to the market to buy things. Looks like your soldiers are very wealthy,” Bourkos joked.

Mariji gave a perfunctory smile. “We’re mercenaries—we don’t even know if we’ll see tomorrow after today ends. When we have money, we naturally want to enjoy ourselves.”

At this, Bourkos’s expression darkened slightly, and he sighed. “Yes, in these troubled times, no one has it easy.”

Mariji said nothing. In truth, the soldiers in Davos’s camp were not in such a state of mind at all. Davos had inherited and expanded upon Menon’s practices; he had strengthened the role of the baggage camp. During wartime, the soldiers deposited most of their valuables with the baggage camp for safekeeping, and even had to specify in the baggage camp’s registry who would inherit their property in the event of their death. That way, after they fell, their belongings could be handed over to their heirs… and so on. Moreover, if a soldier urgently needed money and didn’t have enough, he could borrow from the mercenary commander Davos. As long as the request was reasonable, Mesis of the baggage camp would deduct the loan from the soldiers’ monthly wages, with no interest involved… These camp practices not only reduced the soldiers’ worries and allowed them to fight with full commitment but also curbed army vices like gambling, usury, and reckless spending.

Mariji was certain that most of the soldiers splurging money in the market were definitely not from Davos’s camp. Furthermore, the number of soldiers allowed to leave camp each day was limited—only two per squad, and they had to return to camp on time, or face military discipline.

Mariji had witnessed firsthand the efforts Davos had made to change this army, the many criticisms he had endured, moments when the army nearly disbanded—but he never backed down and ultimately saw it through. Now these soldiers could follow military regulations; most of their time was spent on the training ground, building camp facilities, or going to the baggage camp to check how much their savings had grown. From their intense yet calm eyes, one could sense that this was no ordinary mercenary force.

Mariji had seen the Spartan army led by Chirisophus—a rigorously disciplined killing machine, but lacking passion for life beyond fighting. He had also seen the Persian army, vast in numbers but undisciplined and lacking conviction, especially the auxiliary troops. But Davos’s army possessed both the bravery and discipline of Spartans and the belief in fighting to the death for a better chance at survival—and on top of that, they had a miraculous commander. What if Davos commanded not two thousand men, but twenty thousand or thirty thousand? This pleasant speculation was one of the reasons Mariji had stayed…

“I notice you’re selling all sorts of things in this market!” Bourkos’s voice interrupted Mariji’s thoughts.

“There’s even a blacksmith’s shop!”

“That’s just a small shop that takes orders. Thurii won’t let us into the city, but we still need to repair and buy weapons,” Mariji defended.

“And that clay pot seller?”

“We can’t drink water or cook soup with our bare hands, can we?”

“A cloth shop?”

“The soldiers’ clothes haven’t been changed in half a year. We can’t have them wearing armor even when they’re not fighting, can we?”

“And that stone shop?”

“We can’t build our camp with just timber—the key positions need stone for solidity.”

“And that ship chandler?! Don’t tell me this mercenary army of yours is planning to build a fleet!” Bourkos’s face reddened with anger as he shouted, “You’re robbing! You’ve robbed Thurii’s market and stolen Thurii’s wealth!”

Mariji lowered his head and argued quietly, “The volume of goods bought and sold isn’t that much—”

Note: Scylletium: a city-state in Magna Graecia, south of Croton.