Volume 5: The Hegemon of Southern Italy, Chapter 122: Midday Recess at Dionia School

The Bruttian cavalry’s advance slowed, and once stalled, the horsemen became easier targets. Amid the dust, the riders grew terrified—they had to guard against the javelins hurled by the enemy while also watching out for their own fallen comrades tripping them up from ahead.

Seeing the cavalry behind them falling into chaos, those who had already charged forward had to turn back under their leader’s command and launch a charge against these Daonian light infantry to free their teammates from the predicament.

Epithenis quickly learned the news of the enemy cavalry’s approach. Instead of dispersing his soldiers, he led some of his peltasts to meet them head-on. He knew well that what made a cavalry charge fearsome was not the riders’ lances, but the galloping horses—crashing into light infantry with little armor meant broken bones or severe injury. A dense line of spears was the best way to stop cavalry, but the light infantry lacked that capability and had no time to prepare anyway.

Facing the Bruttian cavalry charging with ferocious momentum, he and these battle-hardened former Thracian peltasts calmly slipped their leather thongs onto their javelin shafts.

“Throw!” Epithenis roared, hurling his javelin with all his strength. The javelin flew flat and straight, burying itself deep into the neck of the lead horse.

The horse screamed in agony, throwing its rider off its back.

With that volley from the peltasts, horses and men crashed to the ground before them. They didn’t stop to watch the result; instead, they swiftly drew the reverse-blade knives from their belts, raised their leather shields in their left hands, dropped into a crouch with one knee on the ground, and—spotting the enemy horsemen already upon them—rolled left or right with agile movements. When they couldn’t dodge in time, they fell to the side, curled up, and used their leather shields to protect their heads and chests from trampling hooves. Seizing the chance, they slashed at horses’ legs with the curved edge of their reverse-blade knives, startling the animals and throwing the riders off.

…

While the Bruttian cavalry was stuck in this predicament, Tsipet’s unit had already engaged the Bruttian light infantry.

Arrows crossed in the air, thick as heavy storm clouds, and when they fell in showers on both sides, they took fresh lives.

After a few rounds, the Bruttian light infantry buckled first. After all, all of Daonia’s archers were concentrated on the left wing, and their numbers far surpassed what the Bruttians could muster with their evenly distributed light infantry.

But on the center and right wing of the Daonian battle line, the Bruttian light infantry could pour arrows freely at the Daonian soldiers, even closing to within fifty meters to hurl javelins.

The soldiers of the Daonia Army Corps raised a long wall of shields, using their thick bronze shields and iron helmets to block the enemy’s ranged attacks.

Meanwhile, the officers kept shouting: “Hold steady! Hold steady! Don’t rush!”—preventing the soldiers from impulsively throwing their javelins, which would both alert the enemy and disrupt the formation’s overall defense, leading to needless casualties.

Fortunately, as the Bruttian infantry drew closer, the light infantry had to retreat quickly, slipping through the gaps between the infantry lines and withdrawing to the rear. Otherwise, they would have been swept along by the heavy infantry to the front line, face-to-face with the heavily shielded and armored Greek heavy infantry.

The Bruttian infantry finally broke into a run. They roared, charging with long strides toward the waiting Daonian phalanx formations.

Compared to the aggressive, fire-like Bruttian warriors, the Daonian soldiers stood as calm as mountains. They gripped their javelins, eyes fixed on the distance to the enemy.

When the officers shouted: “Javelins!”

On the left, center, and right—across the long battle line stretching seven to eight *li*—dark clouds rose one after another.

The charging Bruttians, caught off guard, had hundreds and thousands of their warriors cut down by the sharp javelins in an instant. Yet the rain of javelins did not slow the Bruttian warriors’ advance. They stepped over the bodies of their fallen comrades, and their forward momentum only increased. So many Daonian soldiers had no time to throw a second javelin before the Bruttians slammed into the shield wall of the Daonian formation, smashing countless gaps into it.

The Bruttian warriors charged fearlessly into the breaches, trying to widen them. But the soldiers in the third and fourth ranks quickly raised their shields and advanced, using their spears to drive the enemy back.

For a time, shield clashed against shield, spear met spear, dust swirled, and the roar of battle shook the heavens…

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When the midday sun cast its shadow on the small sundial, Onatas, the teacher responsible for Greek language instruction, announced that the morning lessons were over.

As the children cheered, he said sternly: “Children, after you return home, I hope you will read Hesiod’s poem carefully, and preferably memorize it. As for the new vocabulary I taught, you must remember it. I will check tomorrow. Understand?!”

“We understand, teacher!” the students answered in unison.

“Especially you, Patroclus.” Onatas pointed to the boy sitting at the back and reminded him: “This time, put more effort into it. I don’t want to see you standing in the corner again tomorrow, understood?”

Patroclus lowered his head sheepishly.

The classmates around him burst into laughter.

Patroclus’s terrible performance in Greek class was a stark contrast to how quickly and accurately he solved problems in math class.

Onatas left the classroom, and the students cheered and rushed out.

Stiphlos grabbed Patroclus’s arm and urged: “Hurry! Hurry! We’ll miss out if we’re too late!”

The two dashed out of the classroom. As soon as they turned a corner, they heard “Ouch!”—a little girl had fallen to the ground.

“Hey, you two blind idiots?!” Cynthia cursed, then bent down and asked with concern: “Kydia, are you all right?”

“I… I’m fine,” Kydia replied weakly.

Cynthia pulled her up, then turned back to glare at the two boys. “Come here and apologize! Or don’t even think about leaving!” Despite being the youngest, Cynthia seemed to frighten these two normally hyperactive boys. They quickly bowed and scraped. “Sorry, Kydia, we were going to…”

“I’m fine. You’d better go buy your cream bread—you won’t make it if you’re late,” Kydia said without anger, gently reminding them.

The two boys, relieved, ran off quickly. As Patroclus ran, he couldn’t help glancing back at Cynthia, then quickly looked away.

Cynthia snorted: “Kydia, you’re too easygoing. If it were me, I wouldn’t let them off so easily!”

Kydia gave a gentle smile and brushed the dust off her clothes.

“Oh, right! Come to my house for lunch today—we’ll have real cream bread!” Cynthia suddenly remembered something and invited her. “When I left home this morning, my mother told me I absolutely had to bring you home for lunch!”

Kydia didn’t answer, but nodded shyly.

In the primary school of Thurii, the afternoon was usually reserved for physical education: boys did simple military training and practiced rugby or football, while girls ran, jumped, and played games. So the midday break wasn’t long.

Only children who lived in Thurii itself had time to go home for lunch; those from far away had to make do nearby. Fortunately, as the school’s influence grew—with more students, teachers, and guards—merchants and vendors saw a business opportunity. They set up shops in a designated area outside the school, selling books, paper, stationery, clothes, and food… The most famous was the small restaurant built here by Cheiristoya, the magistrate’s wife. She offered lunches to students at low prices. The students’ favorite lunch recently was the restaurant’s new cream bread. Every day, students—and even teachers—lined up to buy it; supply never met demand.

Cynthia and Kydia, classmates in the same classroom, quickly became good friends. The first time Cynthia invited Kydia to her home, Cheiristoya gave her a warm welcome. And when Cheiristoya learned that Kydia was the adopted daughter of Davos’s old comrade-in-arms, Alexis—a battalion commander in the First Army Corps and a senator in the Senate (Alexis had always lived in Amendolara and hadn’t moved to Thurii)—she eagerly invited Kydia to come for lunch every day. This warm hospitality also brought Cheiristoya closer to Cynthia, strengthening their mother-daughter bond.

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The delta between the Crati River and the Coseni River had originally been a settlement area for state slaves, as well as a storage and washing site for stone and copper ore. Not only was it a poorly policed, filthy environment, but every day large amounts of ore waste were dumped into the two rivers.

After Davos took control of Thurii, seeing this situation, he repeatedly discussed with Kynogoratas and Mariji how to manage the area.

In the end, they relocated the settlement of the Alliance’s public slaves next to the army camp north of Thurii’s main city. This not only moved them far from Thurii’s residential area but also put them under the camp’s watch—any abnormality could be suppressed immediately by the army. At the same time, the stone workshops were moved to the marketplace by the harbor, and the copper workshops were moved near the new commercial district built in Amendolara earlier this year, beside the Saraceno River. This gave them sufficient technical manpower nearby and good interaction with other workshops. Most importantly, the Crati and Coseni rivers—vital to the lives and health of thousands of Thurii residents—were no longer polluted.

Then Davos planned this emptied land as the cultural center of the entire Daonia Alliance. The Daonia School was established there, and the Daonia Academy—representing the Alliance’s highest level of science and culture—was under construction. It was already confirmed that Helpus, the director of the Thurii Hospital, would build a medical school within the academy; Mentotikels would move the Mathematical Academy there; and Antistanos planned to form a historical research group.

To ensure students and teachers could study and research in peace, Davos also had Little Heracleides build another wooden bridge over the middle reaches of the Coseni River, so the frequently passing ore-carrying carts could travel north of the delta. The two wooden bridges that carried pedestrians across the north-south route could not be closed for now, but Little Heracleides had already begun studying the possibility of building a real stone bridge directly between Thurii’s north and south city districts.