Volume 5: The Hegemon of Southern Italy, Chapter 55: The Completion Ceremony of the Temple of Hades (Part 1)

“Traditional Greek city-state temples are like lofty nobles, sitting around waiting for the people to donate gold and silver to build sacred treasuries, yet rarely taking the initiative to help the struggling citizens. But the priests and holy maidens of the Temple of Hades I envision should use the people’s donations to aid the poor, help the sick who cannot afford treatment, listen to the doubts and troubles of the alliance’s citizens, and guide them with words to dispel their confusion… Additionally, the annual ceremony freeing slaves should be presided over by the temple… Pleisinas, if the Temple of Hades can provide so much help to the people of Daonia, how could they not feel grateful and worship it!”

Davos’s words seemed to open a window for Pleisinas. This approach, so different from traditional temples, gave him a glimpse of the bright future of the Temple of Hades. His heart stirred with excitement, but he found himself at a loss for words.

“Elysium is the paradise that Hades built in the underworld, and his temple should be paradise on earth, a refuge for the people’s souls! In time, we will build a Temple of Hades in every Daonia city, uniting people from all lands and races around it. Then what could the Daonia Alliance possibly fear!” Davos’s enticing voice rang clearly in Pleisinas’s ears. “Pleisinas, would you be willing to help me accomplish this great endeavor and serve as High Priest of the Temple of Hades?”

Pleisinas met Davos’s expectant gaze, weighed the matter briefly in his mind, then nodded firmly. “I am willing.”

…

Canios followed Avinogis to Thurii and lodged at the inn south of Victory Square. This sizable inn, built with funds from the Alliance Senate, was specifically for hosting foreign guests. Usually, rooms were plentiful, but now it was packed to capacity.

Generals, prominent senators, and citizens from the South Italy Alliance cities—Caulonia, Trina, Scylletium, and Croton—had all been invited to attend the ceremony. If not for people like Amykles of Castron staying temporarily at the homes of Kynogoratas and Cornelius, the Lucanian tribal leaders of Nerulum and Grumentum lodging separately with Vespa, Hemon, and others, and Avinogis of Laüs and his party even staying directly at Davos’s home—thus lightening the burden on the officials in charge—the inns of Thurii would surely have been insufficient.

At that moment, the inn’s hall buzzed with activity. The distinguished guests, though from different cities, all belonged to the same alliance. Since they rarely had the chance to gather like this, they took the opportunity to visit each other, strengthen ties, and discuss current affairs…

As an outsider, Canios received polite reception from the Daonia side, but his request to immediately meet with Davos was not well received. The officer in charge told him, “Magistrate Davos is busy preparing for tomorrow’s celebration. He will not have time to see you until after tomorrow.”

Though he envied the lively banter of others, Canios and his men stayed quietly in their room, having heard that the envoy from Pyxous had also arrived in Thurii, to avoid any confrontation. It was only after tasting Thurii’s unique cuisine that Canios’s anxiety momentarily eased.

On the morning of July 25, 398 BC, the citizens of Daonia, their families, freemen, and even slaves converged on Thurii from all directions. With the help of over a thousand Daonia citizen soldiers maintaining order, they gradually entered the city center.

In a short time, every courtyard, house, and even rooftop was packed with people. Stretching as far as the eye could see, it was a vast sea of humanity, a magnificent sight—except for the large open space of Victory Square, which remained untouched.

Canios was arranged to sit on the left steps of the platform at the front of the square. He learned that the envoy from Pyxous was seated on the right. The careful arrangement of the Daonia reception staff spared him the awkwardness of an unexpected encounter, allowing him to calmly appreciate the ceremony.

“Oh, so many people! Daonia is quite bold—if a riot breaks out, it would be a disaster!” someone beside Canios said worriedly.

“If a riot happens, so much the better—Daonia would be finished!” another person said loudly, with schadenfreude.

Canios and others turned to look at him.

“Eutydemus, how did a Crotonian like you get into the Council? If a riot breaks out here, do you think we could escape!” someone who recognized the speaker retorted loudly.

“Why escape! Isn’t this the dedication ceremony of the Temple of Hades? Wouldn’t it be perfect for everyone to go meet Hades together!” Eutydemus seemed unafraid of death.

“So the proud Crotonians have resorted to verbal mockery to vent their frustration after defeat!” another person taunted immediately.

Eutydemus’s face changed color instantly.

Canios paid no attention to the verbal jostling beside him. Instead, he carefully observed the square’s surroundings. Logically, with so many people, it should have been very noisy. But the people sat or stood, remaining as quiet as possible, rarely moving around. Perhaps they had been warned in advance by the Alliance. But for Greeks, who valued self-expression and freedom, such behavior was astonishing! When Calios had entered Thurii yesterday, he had noticed this, and now it reinforced his impression.

Just then, the clear sound of war trumpets blared in unison, announcing the start of the ceremony. People stopped talking of their own accord, their curious gazes focusing on Victory Square.

Hundreds of men in Greek armor entered the square. Then Pleisinas led ten male “heralds” and fifty women, all dressed in pure white robes, walking solemnly onto the platform.

Daonia’s atmosphere was relatively open. Outside the square, many citizens had brought their wives and daughters to watch the ceremony. But having dozens of women appear together in public, especially on such a sacred occasion, was unprecedented. Even the priestesses of Hera or Aphrodite’s temples were never so numerous. So not only the common people but even the honored guests from allied cities at the front of the square began to murmur among themselves.

The orderly war trumpets sounded again throughout the city, and silence returned around the square.

Pleisinas’s high-pitched, sonorous voice rang out: “In the first year of the ninety-fifth Olympian Games, in the Persian kingdom a thousand miles away, a group of Greek warriors accepted the recruitment of the philhellene Persian prince Cyrus the Younger, preparing to overthrow the cruel Persian King. Yet after a great battle, their employer fell, and the mercenary leaders were deceived and captured by the Persians. The entire mercenary army fell into despair. But great Hades did not abandon them…”

As Pleisinas finished speaking, a dozen lyre players at the foot of the platform began to pluck their strings. The fifty white-robed women on the platform opened their mouths, and ethereal singing swept across the venue like a gentle breeze.

Calios shivered, feeling the hairs on his skin stand on end. The traditional hymns of Greek temples could not compare to the harmonies trained with modern bel canto. Bathed in the beautiful, harmonious song, it felt as if even the soul was cleansed.

Everyone else, like Canios, was completely entranced by the singing. In the mournful chant, they too were moved by the weight of the story.

On the field, the soldiers used exaggerated gestures to show weeping, helplessness, and despair. Only one person lay on the ground in the center, motionless.

Then, the singing gradually faded to silence, and the soldiers on the field began to fall asleep…

Just as the people felt a sense of loss, a high-pitched song rose again, like lightning splitting the night sky, lifting the audience’s spirits.

From a passageway emerged a man—tall, robust, with long black hair and a thick black beard. He wore a black robe, carried a Bident in his hand, and walked with a majestic air toward the center of the square…

Someone in the crowd exclaimed, “Hades?! I know he’s Hades!”

A small stir rippled through the crowd. More people fixed their eyes on the field, already captivated by this novel performance.

“Hades” walked to the center of the field, stood beside the man who had been lying motionless, and brandished his Bident as if wielding divine power…

The singing faded again. “Hades” exited, causing many in the crowd to turn their heads to follow him.

“Dong! Dong!…” A crisp drumbeat sounded in the silent square. The lying man sat up, began to wake the others, waved his arms to encourage them. Finally, all gathered around him. Someone placed a helmet adorned with a red crest on his head, formed ranks before him, and under his leadership, they trudged forward…

Seeing this, anyone among the audience who had heard of Magistrate Davos’s legendary past now vaguely understood: the strikingly prominent figure at the front was surely playing the role of Davos from his expedition to Persia.

“Davos seems to have forgotten—he wasn’t the only mercenary commander in Persia,” complained Tolmides, who was also watching the ceremony from the sidelines.

“Yesterday, Davos came to me specially and explained that it was necessary for the performance. He hoped I would understand,” said Xanthiparis with a shrug, looking fairly calm.

“Fine, this is Daonia. He calls the shots!” Tolmides said helplessly. “Still, this kind of performance is quite interesting!”

The drumbeat quickened from sparse to dense, interspersed with war trumpets.

“Whoa!!!” Amidst the audience’s continuous gasps, ranks of soldiers emerged from the passageway—cavalry, infantry, archers. They wore robes, carried long shields, and formed loose formations. Under the command of a general in gleaming scale armor, they advanced on the Greek mercenaries in the square…

“They’re ‘Persians’!” someone in the crowd shouted involuntarily.