Volume 5: The Hegemon of Southern Italy, Chapter 72: Another Heavy Blow

The battle lasted four hours. In the end, Tarentum lost fifteen warships, including four triremes and four troop transports; the combined Metapontum-Peucetii fleet lost twenty-three warships, including seven triremes. Ultimately, the Metapontum-Peucetii navy voluntarily withdrew, while the Tarentine navy, busy rescuing fallen soldiers, had no mind to pursue—they only wanted to leave these unfamiliar waters as quickly as possible and reach Brundisium to complete their reinforcement mission.

Just as the sea battle raged, the Metapontum-Peucetii alliance had already learned that Tarentum was about to reinforce Brundisium by sea. Disregarding their exhaustion, they launched their largest assault on the city. Twenty thousand allied soldiers carried scaling ladders and pushed siege towers, wave after wave, storming Brundisium’s walls…

After two grueling days of battle, the Tarentine defenders numbered only a few hundred, and only the city’s freemen joining the defense on the walls kept them going until today. Facing an enemy surging like a tide, the inexperienced freemen panicked…

…

When the Tarentine navy arrived at the port of Brundisium and had just disembarked their soldiers without yet assembling them into formation, the city of Brundisium was breached. Defeated soldiers, freemen, and their families fled in panic to the harbor, trying to find any plank or boat to escape this fallen city as quickly as possible. The reinforcing soldiers also sensed danger and demanded to reboard and leave. Everyone scrambled to get onto the ships, while behind them the routed troops and families wailed and begged for rescue. The entire harbor and docks were a dark, surging tide of humanity, utter chaos, with many people falling into the sea in the crush…

Faced with this scene, the naval commander was momentarily at a loss, allowing his ships to rescue people. But the pursuit of the Metapontum-Peucetii alliance made those desperate to flee shove and fight each other to climb aboard, causing two warships to capsize from overloading.

Only then did the naval commander realize the danger and urgently order the fleet to leave the docks. During this process, fights broke out between soldiers and sailors, causing several more ships to fail to get clear of the docks.

By this time, the Metapontum-Peucetii soldiers had already arrived. They lunged like wolves at the Tarentines, who were trembling with fear, and slaughtered with spears and swords those who had already raised their hands in surrender. The flowing blood soon reddened the harbor’s surface…

The Tarentine navy’s soldiers, sailors, and survivors on the ships could not bear to witness this tragic scene and fled the harbor in haste. But their ordeal was far from over. They were soon intercepted by the previously defeated Metapontum-Peucetii combined fleet. Though Tarentum had more ships, the fleet, laden with civilians, lost speed and maneuverability, becoming target practice for the enemy ships to ram.

During the fierce engagement, Tarentine warships were capsized, and the people who fell into the sea had no ships to rescue them—the sailors had all been terrified by the slaughter in the harbor and only wanted to go home. The roles of attacker and defender reversed. In the end, Tarentum’s remaining forty-five warships and some troop transports disengaged from the battle.

However, the victorious Metapontum-Peucetii fleet still gave chase…

On the fourth day after Polydorus had requested aid from Daonia, the Metapontum-Peucetii alliance, having retaken Brundisium and rested briefly, advanced in force westward. By afternoon, they again surrounded Manduria. Panic gripped all of Tarentum, and messengers begging for help were sent to Daonia one after another…

On the morning of the fifth day, the Daonian relief force finally set out.

It was already early September, and the morning weather was turning cool.

The soldiers of the First and Second Army Corps bid farewell to their families and assembled in Victory Square in formation.

After the roll call, Commander Davos announced the departure.

The entire army first marched toward the northwest of the city to the foot of the Temple of Hades hill, where they knelt devoutly and prayed.

Inside the temple, a bronze bell rang long. Chief Priest Pleisinas, leading dozens of male and female temple priests, sang the Hymn to Hades for the soldiers and bestowed blessings upon them.

In other city-states, they might also perform divination for good or ill before an expedition, but Davos had abolished this procedure. He believed that war was a matter of life and death for the alliance, and victory depended on strength, rigorous training, and careful planning—not on nebulous divine favor. He did not want his men to develop such a bad habit.

After the prayers, the entire army turned east, exited the city gates, and marched directly to the port of Thurii. The soldiers’ families and citizens lined both sides of the road to see off the expedition.

What made Polydorus sigh was that very few families wept and tried to keep their soldiers from going. The women blessed their men for safety while also encouraging them to win glory. Other citizens were more envious of the departing soldiers’ good fortune, claiming with defiance that they would do even better if given the chance.

“Daonians love war!” Polydorus forgot who had first said this to him, but now it seemed truly extraordinary. Involuntarily, he glanced at the commander of this army beside him, Davos. This twenty-year-old young man displayed a composure and gravity beyond his years. No wonder—with a warlike leader, the Daonians had risen as they had today!

But with the enemy bearing down in overwhelming numbers, the strength of the Daonian army actually gave Polydorus some reassurance. The Daonian army was reliable!

Hundreds of cargo ships crowded the harbor: Daonian, Tarentine, Metapontine, Heraclean, and even ships from Castron…

Under the guidance of the harbor officials, the troops orderly entered the various docks and, under the command of squad leaders and platoon leaders, boarded the ships in sequence. Everything was well organized.

The passenger ship carrying Polydorus was the first to leave the dock, for he had to return to Tarentum first to notify the Senate to prepare for the arrival of the Daonian relief force.

Traveling with him was Antonios, who needed to coordinate with Tarentum on matters such as the Daonian army’s entry into port, accommodation, and grain supply. This task should have fallen to Philistos, but since Davos was leaving Daonia, someone had to remain in Thurii to guard against unforeseen events. Philistos, as the second-in-command of the army, was naturally the most suitable choice. Since Philistos could not go, and the two corps commanders—Capus and Drakos—were men who only knew fighting and were poor communicators, Davos could only assign Antonios, the First Battalion commander of the First Legion, to handle the liaison. In truth, Alexis, the Second Battalion commander, was also suitable, but Davos felt that compared to the somewhat aloof Alexis, Antonios was more diplomatic.

On this same passenger ship were some special personnel from the Daonian army, such as the legion engineers. Since the Daonian army’s camp site in Tarentum had been determined in advance, the engineers would go ahead to survey the terrain and plan how to construct the camp, its size, tent layout, the width and depth of the trench, and so forth, so that the moment the army arrived in Tarentum, work on building the camp could begin immediately.

The soldiers stepped onto the swaying decks, stowed their helmets, linen cuirasses, round shields, greaves—each weighing several tens of pounds—along with their thrusting spears and javelins against the gunwales, and then waved goodbye to their relatives and friends on shore.

Ship after ship sailed out of the harbor.

A strong northeast wind blew over the Gulf of Taranto that morning. All ships lowered their sails, catching the wind and heading straight east. Waves occasionally slapped the hulls from the rear flank, splashing spray that wet the soldiers’ clothes but did nothing to dampen their spirits.

“I hear the people of Tarentum are very wealthy. This time we help them defeat those barbarians, will they give us enough silver coins to thank us for our rescue?!” a new recruit said excitedly.

“Fool, do you know how many soldiers we’re sending to Tarentum this time? Fourteen thousand! That doesn’t even include the cavalry battalion, the engineering camp, the medical camp… Even if Tarentum gives us several dozen talents, after deducting what goes into the army corps fund, how much is left for each man?” Another soldier dismissed his naivety. “You’d better kill a few more barbarians and accumulate some battle credit, so the alliance can allot you a few more plots of land!”

“Speaking of fighting, it really pisses me off! The Third Corps is so lucky—first they seize Asperustum, then they take Grumentum. Why do they always get to fight?! Just because most of them are Lucanians! We barely got sent south to rescue those city-states, and before we could even start fighting, the Locrians sued for peace. Tell me, isn’t that infuriating! This time we go to Tarentum, I hope those barbarians don’t imitate the Locrians and make us go on another wild goose chase!” Another soldier’s words resonated with those around him and stirred up their worries.

“Relax, the Messapians are not like the soft Locrians. I hear they are extremely fierce. Tarentum has never gotten the better of them. Otherwise, with all this time, Tarentum would have founded several subordinate states nearby long ago. And this time the Messapians allied with the Peucetii and beat Tarentum repeatedly. Their morale is high—maybe they even intend to wipe out Tarentum. There’s no way they’ll negotiate peace with us,” said a soldier familiar with Tarentine affairs.

“That’s great! Defeating the Messapians will show how formidable we Daonians are. We’ll become heroes and save Tarentum!” a soldier proclaimed loudly, drawing excited cheers from the others.

“I hear the women of Tarentum are quite beautiful. When we become heroes, can we marry one of them?” someone joked, only to be shoved by another: “Stop dreaming, Pesialus. Those Tarentine citizens are arrogant. They’ve always looked down on people from other cities of Magna Graecia. Do you think they’d marry their daughters to what they see as ‘farmers’ like us?”

“Is that really true, Sitalcis?” Pesialus asked curiously.