Volume 3: First Croton War, Chapter 44: After the Victory

The Patrol Captain of Castron waited long for the cavalry to return, but the noise from the Croton camp seemed to have died down. Suspicious, he personally led ten horsemen out of the south gate, crossed the pontoon bridge, and rode west through the not-too-large grove. Everything appeared normal—Alpuens’ light infantry had already hidden the bodies of the previous scouts and erased all traces—until they rounded the bend of the Trionto River, laboriously climbed a high slope, and a shocking sight met their eyes: on the broad flat ground where the Crotonese had camped, everything was in chaos—collapsed tents, scattered weapons, horses and pack animals running and whining everywhere, and worst of all, dense corpses, grievously wounded soldiers writhing in pain, and the blood-soaked crimson earth. In the center of the camp stood many fully armed soldiers, surrounding even more disheveled men, and from that encirclement they were continuously marching out rows of prisoners with hands bound behind their backs, strung together in chains…

Terrifying fear gripped the Patrol Captain’s heart: had the Crotonese been defeated?!

Seizing the moment before these fearsome, unknown enemies could spot him, he frantically turned his horse and galloped at full speed back toward the city of Castron…

“Legion Commander, the Castron cavalry have returned to the city.” Laedes came to report.

“Asiastes, order the Seventh Battalion and the Lucanian Battalion to lie in ambush in the grove. It’s very likely that Castron… no, Melanthius will give us another great gift! Laedes, continue to closely monitor Castron’s movements!” Davos gave the command.

“Yes!” Laedes departed with the order, and Asiastes sent messengers to the north.

After a while, Davos asked Asiastes again: “How long ago did the messenger go to inform Mesis’ cavalry to set out?”

“About half an hour… Legion Commander, there are too many things in the baggage area! During the attack, some pack animals were wounded and others scattered, so now we lack enough beasts to carry all the supplies.” Asiastes said with slight concern.

Davos smiled faintly and pointed at the prisoners squatting on the ground under threat of spears not far away: “Aren’t those ready-made ‘pack animals’? Let them carry the supplies all the way back to Thurii. It doesn’t matter if they walk slowly—it will wear them down. These Crotonese, who’ve undergone long athletic training, can still serve some purpose.”

“Ah, why didn’t I think of that! Legion Commander, you always come up with good ideas!” Asiastes praised loudly with an exaggerated gesture.

“Asi, if only your ability to act could grow as strong as your talent for flattery!” After such a great victory, Davos was in high spirits and joked with Asiastes for a while, then said: “Come, let’s go see the soldiers—they are the heroes of this victory!”

Thus, within the frightened and sorrowful gaze of the prisoners, a gleaming golden banner slowly approached in the distance. Beneath the banner, a general wearing a distinctive helmet crest of purple, white, and red appeared on the battlefield, and those ruthless, fierce-faced enemies immediately let out thunderous cheers:

“Davos!”

“Davos!”

“Hail!”

“Hail!”

The clever ones among the Croton prisoners immediately connected: this general was likely Davos, the magistrate of Amendolara whom they had insulted beneath the walls of that town, and these enemies were the owners of the buildings they had burned down there. Back then they had mocked the cowardice of Amendolara’s citizens, and now they trembled under the spears of those same “cowardly” enemies…

…

Amykles, the chief general of Castron, received the urgent report from the Patrol Captain and was greatly shocked. He immediately sent men to notify Melanthius and his subordinates.

Melanthius was sound asleep in the inn with a high-class courtesan when he was forcefully awakened and was extremely displeased. But upon hearing the officer’s anxious report, he was jolted wide awake. Clinging to hope, he said: “Maybe the enemy broke into our camp, and the soldiers captured them…”

Timaras shook his head with great concern: “The men of Castron say that ‘the banners carried by those fully armed soldiers, though blurry from a distance, have a unique shape and pattern—definitely not the banners of Croton!’ Melanthius, we must go rescue them!”

“…Ah… ah, you’re right, you’re right…” Melanthius had never imagined that at the height of his triumph and victorious return, he would suffer such a sudden blow. He could not suppress his panic: “Quick! Quick! Come with me to find Amykles and have him dispatch all the citizens of Castron to follow us at once for the rescue!”

Amykles certainly could not fully agree to Melanthius. He had to first ensure Castron’s safety, yet he dared not refuse Melanthius’ request and offend Croton, especially since some Castron soldiers were also trapped in the camp. So he hastily assembled seven hundred citizen soldiers, to be led by Melanthius and his officers for the rescue.

Melanthius marched toward the camp with burning urgency. Timaras advised caution, but Melanthius said: “According to the Castron report, the enemy is fewer in number. Their victory was likely due to a surprise attack. They are still in the same place now, trying to turn all our soldiers into prisoners. Our sudden assault will catch them off guard, and at the same time, it will stir up resistance among the surrendered soldiers. With pressure from inside and out, the enemy will be defeated! I will make these thugs who dared to invade Croton pay a heavy price!” Melanthius was like a gambler who had lost everything, hoping to stake it all on one last big bet and win back all he had lost.

As his troops marched in column through the forest, they were violently attacked by the Amendolara light infantry lying in ambush. Epithenis led the light infantry, raining down arrows, sling stones, and javelins, causing heavy casualties. As the already dispirited Castron soldiers fell into chaos, the Lucanians, wielding Greek daggers, charged into the enemy ranks like tigers among sheep…

“Legion Commander, the Croton relief force has been routed! Aside from a few who fled back to Castron, the rest are either dead or captured!” Laedes reported excitedly as he returned.

Davos nodded, showing little joy. It was a well-prepared ambush, and victory came easily.

Seeing his calm expression, Laedes added: “Those Lucanians also captured two Croton generals—Melanthius and Timaras!”

“Oh!” Davos smiled slightly, not because they had captured the enemy commander, but said: “The Lucanians have performed another great service. They can have another half-year reduction in their sentence.”

When the Lucanians cut the Castron column into several segments, years of military experience told Melanthius that defeat was inevitable.

He immediately turned to flee, but the Lucanians seemed to have marked him. After suffering a few casualties, they overpowered him, then dragged him roughly—pulling and hauling—until he was finally brought before Davos.

“Melanthius, we finally meet.” A young, calm voice sounded in his ear.

Melanthius struggled to lift his head. His handsome face had been scratched and scarred by stones and sand during the dragging; blood blurred his vision. He blinked hard: an unfamiliar young face appeared before him.

“Who are you?”

“Davos, the magistrate of Amendolara.”

“Amendolara? Davos?” Melanthius’ mind, still dazed from the repeated blows to his head, slowly registered, then his eyes widened: “Amendolara?! Amendolara!! You are so despicable—without declaring war, you sneakily attacked us! You violate the traditions of the Greek city-states, defile the honor of the Greeks, and Magna Graecia will surely punish Amendolara!”

“Olympic champion, you are too self-absorbed!” Davos sneered. “When your army entered the territory of Amendolara without permission and burned our buildings, war had already begun. As for the sneak attack, I vaguely recall an athlete’s saying: ‘The victor proves his strength through action; the loser can only cover his weakness with excuses.’ Am I right?”

Melanthius hung his head in defeat. After a long pause, he whispered a request: “I hope you will treat me and the soldiers well. Croton will pay Amendolara sufficient ransom.”

“Whether you are treated well is not for me to decide.”

“Then… by whom?”

“The surviving people of Thurii!”

When Mesis arrived at the Croton camp and saw the mountains of supplies, he was overjoyed. But soon he was troubled, because these wagons could not cross the river by fording.

Davos said confidently: “That’s easy. We cross at the ferry.”

So the soldiers of Amendolara and the citizens who had come packed up everything of value in the Croton camp—including the weapons, armor, and linen tunics worn by the dead enemies—then formed a long column and marched eastward. Passing through the forest, they could see the city of Castron on the north bank of the Trionto River.

Davos could even hear the frightened shouts of the enemy on the walls. Jokingly, he said to Mesis: “You said we didn’t have enough pack animals? You can borrow some from Castron.”

Mesis actually sent men to request pack animals.

From the walls, Amykles, the chief general of Castron, and the others watched: fully armed Greek heavy infantry marched ostentatiously along the south bank, escorting with their spears and shields the dejected, bloodstained prisoners bent under heavy loads and stumbling along, along with cheerful citizens in civilian clothes and baggage trains laden with supplies… This long column bypassed the city and headed straight for the ferry. Every Castron man looked both tense and puzzled, but there was no anger or greed—they had lost most of their citizen soldiers, and now their defensive strength within the city was insufficient. Who would dare provoke this fearsome army?

“Where… where are they from?” asked a council member nervously.

Amykles watched the direction of the column below the walls and said uncertainly: “They’re going north—likely… the men of Amendolara.”

“Could they be those mercenaries who defeated the Lucanians?!” General Gorgias widened his eyes.

“Very likely!” Amykles, with Gorgias’ remark, became more certain of his guess: “Maybe only they would dare to defeat the mighty Crotonese!”

“They… they’ve sent someone!” someone cried out, voice trembling.

Everyone on the walls, from soldiers to generals, grew tense.

“We are citizens of Amendolara. Magistrate Davos requests that you lend us one hundred pack animals. After we finish transporting our goods, we will return them!”

The messenger’s voice was clear as it reached the walls. The people looked at one another.

Davos! That legendary hero who had saved Thurii! The magistrate of Amendolara! Amykles gave a bitter smile: this man had now saved the Thurians a second time, but had also brought disaster upon Castron.

On Castron’s walls, after a brief discussion, the general and council members actually agreed. It was not because of Davos’ good reputation for keeping promises, but rather as Amykles said: “Amendolara has annihilated and captured Croton’s large army. The situation in northern Magna Graecia is bound to change greatly. We need to act cautiously. Moreover, many citizens of Castron may have become prisoners of Amendolara. Leaving a good impression with them will make future negotiations easier.”

At dawn, the few Thurians who had already woken up saw the Amendolara citizens who had been helping them gather and begin crossing the pontoon bridge heading south. They felt startled and uneasy: were the Amendolara men abandoning them?

By noon, all the awakened Thurian citizens, some freemen, and slaves faced the empty camp, their helplessness and despair reaching a peak. They threw themselves on the ground and wailed loudly. They could not believe the words of Cornelius, Strombopoli, and a few others who tried to persuade them that “Amendolara is fighting Croton’s army and has already won.” Some, emotionally overwrought, even cursed loudly.

Just then, someone shouted in terror: “Look! Look! An army is coming!”

The Thurians hurriedly turned their heads. A mighty and imposing force, led by a peculiar banner they had never seen before, was marching with brisk steps across the pontoon bridge toward them.

“That is our army! The army of Amendolara! They return in victory!” Cornelius, the City Administrator of Amendolara, who had previously opposed the war against Croton in the Senate meeting—though the resolution had passed and he had harbored hidden unease—now cheered with abandon like a child.

Kynogoratas stared blankly at the approaching Amendolara army. In his mind, only one thought echoed repeatedly: “The Amendolarans have won! They actually won!! They defeated the mighty Croton army!!!”

The Thurian citizens were skeptical.

Soon, as the front of the column stepped onto the north bank of the Crati River and drew closer, they saw that under that strange banner, at the head of the column, walked none other than the young, gentle magistrate of Amendolara, Davos! He was fully armed, but without his helmet, smiling broadly and waving to them. The blazing sun shone on his gleaming armor, radiating the most brilliant light, like a god.

Then, sharp-eyed citizens noticed: following close behind Davos’ horse was a pedestrian, hands bound behind his back, completely naked, being dragged and stumbling forward. Whenever he moved too slowly, a guardsman’s spear left a wound on his body. How could that man look so much like the demon Melanthius, who had ordered the burning of Thurii?! Could it be that the Croton army had truly been defeated by Amendolara?

There was no doubt. Behind the vanguard, they saw Amendolara soldiers holding spears, escorting other young and middle-aged men, also naked, carrying heavy loads, staggering along. The line stretched south as far as the eye could see…

The Thurian citizens stared at this unbelievable sight, tears streaming down their faces. They wept, laughed, shouted, threw debris at the Croton soldiers, and some even rushed forward to strike them, all acting like madmen…

Davos stood on a temporary wooden platform, watching the Thurian citizens quickly gathering, young and old. His expression was solemn but his voice intense as he said loudly: “People of Thurii! In these past days, the Crotonese have occupied your homes, you have lost relatives, lost your dwellings, and wept helplessly among the ruins! But the gods have not abandoned you. They have sent your neighbor—the brave men of Amendolara—who feared no strong enemy and defeated those demons who destroyed Thurii! They have sent the good people of Amendolara to selflessly help you who lack food and clothing! The dark night will pass, and the light is before you! If you have no home, we can build new and more comfortable houses! If you have no city, we can rebuild a stronger one! If you have no temples, we can create even grander temples! Thurians! Wipe away your tears, straighten your backs, join hands with the Amendolarans, and together we will build a home without foreign invasion, a better homeland!”

The Thurians’ tears flowed again. They cheered and worshipped Davos, the hero who had twice saved Thurii, as if he were a god.

Davos ordered that the captured senior Croton officers, led by Melanthius and Timaras, be brought onto the wooden platform and left to the Thurian citizens to decide their fate.

The Thurians’ cheering reached a crescendo. They surged forward, venting their fury with stones, clubs, fists, and teeth. Soon the Crotonese were a bloody mess, too horrible to behold, but the Thurians did not stop, even when their enemies had fallen to the ground, gasping for breath…

Watching this bloody scene from the side, Antistanos sighed: “From now on, Thurii will probably be different…”

Kynogoratas pointed at Davos, who stood at the edge of the platform watching the Thurians carry out their executions, and said gravely: “Not probably—Thurii will definitely be different!”

Antistanos fell silent…

This volume ends here. To find out how Davos will settle the homeless Thurian citizens, whether he will take the Sybaris Plain into his possession, the impact of this great victory on Magna Graecia, and whether the defeated Croton will launch a greater war… see the next volume: The Daonia City-State League.