Volume 6: The Meeting of Two Heroes, Chapter 4: The Crotone Doctor

Lycasus closed the door and hung a wooden sign on it that read "Out, Not Seeing Patients."

"Hey, Nicostratus, you're going out?!" The butcher from across the street waved a boning knife and shouted loudly.

Nicostratus snorted and ignored the butcher. He had always believed that it was this butcher's daily loud hawking that kept wealthy people from coming to his clinic. He had thought about moving the clinic several times, but the housing prices inside Croton weren't low, and the houses he could afford were in even worse locations. So he had never been friendly to this rude neighbor.

"How long will you be gone?!" The butcher was already used to the doctor's attitude and, when he didn't get a reply, continued shouting even louder.

Clever Lycasus saw his teacher's face darken and quickly answered for him: "About twenty days, Uncle Cus."

"That long!" The butcher exclaimed. "What if we get sick while you're away?"

Nicostratus's face twitched a few times, and he couldn't help turning back to shout, "Then try not to get sick until I come back!"

"Whether I get sick or not isn't up to me—it's the gods playing tricks!" the butcher complained.

Nicostratus didn't want to deal with him anymore and strode forward.

"Doctor Nicostratus, where are you going for so long?" another person asked.

This time Nicostratus stopped, because the question came from a bread shop merchant, one of his few important customers who always paid generous medical fees.

"To Thurii," he answered seriously.

"Thurii? You've been invited to treat someone, right?" The merchant noticed Lycasus carrying a medical bag and said proudly, "Our medical skills in Croton are famous throughout Magna Graecia! Daonia just has a bigger territory and is good at fighting. In other respects, it's far behind Croton with its long history!"

His words struck a chord with the butcher: "You're absolutely right! Those northerners are really just a bunch of refugees. What culture or city-state traditions do they have?"

Daonia's influence in Magna Graecia grew stronger every year, making the common people of the once-powerful Croton feel increasingly失落. Out of sour grapes, they always liked to compare their city's advantages with Daonia's and then mock the Daonians to gain some psychological satisfaction.

Nicostratus made a few perfunctory remarks and quickly walked out of his neighborhood.

"Ignorant," he muttered softly under his breath once he was alone.

The rise of Croton's medical tradition began a hundred years ago with Democedes. This native of Croton had aspired since youth to become the best doctor in the Mediterranean. He traveled to various city-states to study medicine, and after completing his training, he practiced in Athens, earning a large fortune thanks to his skill. Later he went to the island of Samos to treat its tyrant, but just then the Persians attacked Asia Minor, and Samos fell. He became a prisoner and was taken to Susa. It happened that the Great King Darius fell ill, and Democedes cured him, thereby escaping imprisonment and serving the royal court—though he was not allowed to return to Greece.

After five or six years in Persia, he deeply missed his homeland thousands of miles away.

One day, Darius’s queen, Atossa—daughter of Cyrus, the founder of the Persian Empire—developed a lump on her breast. No one could cure her, and she suffered greatly. Hearing of Democedes' exceptional medical skill, Atossa decided to give the Greek a try and summoned him to the inner palace for treatment, promising to grant any request if he cured her.

In the end, Democedes restored Queen Atossa to health. At his request, Atossa suggested to Darius that Democedes could travel throughout Greece with Persian spies to gather intelligence, preparing for a future conquest of Greece.

Darius agreed, and Democedes swore he would return to Susa.

But once he left Persia, he seized an opportunity to escape the Persians' watch and fled back to Croton.

At that time, Persia was powerful but had not yet gone to war with mainland Greece, and it could not exert influence over the western Mediterranean thousands of miles away, so the matter was dropped.

Democedes opened a clinic in his hometown, took on many apprentices, and selflessly passed down his many years of medical experience and a blend of Greek and Persian medical knowledge. This greatly elevated the medical standard of Croton, establishing its doctors' preeminent position in Magna Graecia for a century.

But in recent years, the medical skill of Daonia had improved as rapidly as its alliance's power. It was said that some difficult diseases that Croton doctors could not solve were miraculously cured or improved by Daonian physicians. Some Greeks suffering from terminal illnesses who were not members of the Daonia Alliance tried going to Daonia's hospitals for treatment, and most returned home rejoicing. Thus, the reputation that "Daonian doctors are highly skilled and taught by the Lord of the Underworld" gradually spread...

As far as Nicostratus knew, many wealthy citizens of Croton had been going to Daonia's central city of Thurii for treatment in recent years. The Daonian doctors had also established an organization called the "South Italy Medical Forum," held every spring, inviting doctors from the Daonia Alliance and its allied states to gather in Thurii to discuss new medical discoveries and exchange techniques. Last year was the first forum. The conservative Nicostratus did not attend, but in conversations with colleagues who returned, fragments they mentioned about novel medical theories and methods learned from Daonia surprised him and set him thinking deeply.

Therefore, at the beginning of this year, when the Thurii hospital sent invitations to allied states, he could hardly wait to set off.

Originally, by taking a ship from the port, with a favorable wind, he could reach Thurii in half a day. But unfortunately, Nicostratus suffered from seasickness, so he had to travel by land.

Arriving at the north city gate, another doctor, Stasippus, was already waiting there. The three left Croton, stepped onto the soft dirt road, and headed north.

They reached the pontoon bridge over the Neto River.

During the second war with Croton, the pontoon bridge had been burned to prevent the Daonians from breaking through to the city walls of Croton. When it was rebuilt, for some reason the bridge deck was not only narrow but also less stable than before.

While crossing the bridge, Stasippus couldn't help complaining: "On the Crati River in Thurii, there's a real wooden bridge. It's wide, flat, and even allows boats to pass underneath. Compared to theirs, our pontoon bridge looks like something built by natives!"

Nicostratus said nothing. He remembered that last year Croton had held an Assembly specifically to discuss whether to invite the Daonians to help build a wooden bridge over the Neto River. Most of the proud Croton citizens opposed it, and the proposal failed. Nicostratus himself was among them. His thinking was the same as the majority: facilities like roads and bridges just had to be usable; the treasury should be spent on renovating public buildings like theaters, arenas, and temples, or even on distributing extra benefits to citizens during special festivals.

Because the gods blessed them, in recent years Magna Graecia had enjoyed good weather, bountiful harvests, and grain prices had risen due to frequent wars in the surrounding areas. After keeping enough for themselves, citizens sold grain on the market and made a small profit. So spring came early this year, and the energized citizens, along with their slaves, had already planted wheat seedlings in the fields early.

Walking on the Croton Plain, you could see green wheat fields as far as the eye could see. Slaves worked diligently along the ridges between fields.

Spring rains were frequent, making the road muddy. To avoid falling, Nicostratus and his group walked slowly. By afternoon, they finally left the territory of Croton.

When they trudged through the slippery mud, their feet aching, a flat, solid, spacious road appeared before them, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"Teacher Stasippus!" Lycasus, who had never left home before, shouted excitedly, "Is this the Crimissa–Aspromonte Avenue that you said Daonia built?"

"That's right." Stasippus glanced at Nicostratus. "Old friend, what do you think of this road?"

Nicostratus snorted, said nothing, and walked straight ahead until he found an empty stone seat among some pedestrians resting outside the pedestrian path. His waist was already a bit sore, and after walking that last stretch, he felt his back was about to break.

Lycasus, young and full of energy, saw the lively traffic of carts and carriages on the avenue. He even crossed the drainage ditch and tried to walk on the avenue itself, but almost got hit by a cart. The driver gave him a good scolding, and he awkwardly retreated back to the pedestrian path.

Nicostratus scolded him for a while before he calmed down. But after a moment, he tugged at Stasippus again and asked, "What is that cart for?"

Following the direction of his finger, a two-horse covered cart sped northward at a fair clip. Both sides of its canvas were painted with Daonia's emblem—"the Bident and the Three-Headed Dog"—and the other vehicles on the avenue deliberately moved aside to give way.

"That's a mail cart."

"Mail cart?"

"That's what the Daonians call it. It's specially used to deliver letters and parcels between towns. I heard there's a department in Daonia that handles this," Stasippus said.

"That's not a bad method—it's convenient for the citizens of the city-state," Nicostratus interjected.

"It'd be great if we had mail carts in Croton too! At least when delivering medicine to patients, we wouldn't have to run back and forth and waste time," Lycasus said enviously.

"Young man, that costs money," Stasippus sighed.