The Rise Of An Empire In Ancient Europe
Chapter 74 Observations at the Mercenary Market (Part I)

Chapter 74: Chapter 74 Observations at the Mercenary Market (Part I)

"Persian, shut up! When your wife and children were in the baggage camp, did I ever mistreat them?!" Melsis roared, his voice echoing with frustration and anger. His expression was a mix of indignation and defensiveness as he glared at the man in front of him.

"Melsis, are you truly just letting these dozen women... receive clients...?" Cristoia’s voice quivered as she spoke, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and shame. She lowered her eyes but quickly looked back at Melsis, her gaze steady, determined to get the truth.

Melsis sighed heavily, realizing the truth could no longer be concealed. He hesitated before admitting, "There are also other women. These are widows—women whose husbands, the soldiers who protected them, died in battle. Left without their pillars of support, they refused to take up dirty or physically taxing labor. Influenced by some others in the camp, they believed that selling themselves was an easier way to earn a living. Let’s face it: our food supplies are prioritized for the soldiers. They had to survive somehow..."

Cristoia’s eyes widened with a mixture of pity and disbelief. "Then why don’t you let them go? Release them, Melsis!" she demanded, her voice sharp.

"Release them? Where could they go?" Melsis countered, his tone turning defensive. "These women are hundreds, maybe even thousands of miles from their homelands! They can’t return. And if they try, they’ll be captured by the city-states or tribes along the way and enslaved just the same. At least here, within our camp, they can live a slightly better life..."

He softened his tone, adding in a feigned display of compassion, "We are their only chance of survival."

Cristoia clenched her fists. "That doesn’t justify it! This is all the fault of the soldiers, their sins!" Her voice trembled, and her eyes brimmed with tears.

Juleios, who had been silently observing the exchange, let out a deep sigh. He gently placed a comforting arm around Cristoia, pulling her closer. "Melsis," he said, his tone firm yet measured, "there’s no need to force them into this anymore. Here’s what we’ll do: we’ll provide these women with food for free. Once we find a place to settle down in Magna Graecia, we’ll marry them off to the soldiers. And from that point forward, our soldiers will no longer plunder or take captives. We will no longer be mercenaries."

Melsis nodded reluctantly. "Leader, you are truly merciful." But he quickly excused himself, eager to escape Cristoia’s accusatory gaze.

As the days turned into weeks, the news coming from the west grew increasingly unsettling. Reports trickled in that the Lucanians’ camp at the mountain pass was expanding rapidly. At the same time, fewer and fewer Thurii citizens were venturing into the Sybaris Plain north of the Crathis River to work. Anxiety gripped the city as the tension mounted.

Finally, one fateful day, Lucanian scouts were spotted on the outskirts of Thurii. The sight of the enemy’s advance triggered a wave of panic among the townspeople. The generals of the city council convened urgently, recognizing that an attack was imminent. Preparations had to be made, and every moment was precious.

In the midst of this tense atmosphere, Bourkos was entrusted with an important mission. Setting sail down the Crathis River, he arrived at a rudimentary dock near the river’s mouth. The Greeks, as was their custom, preferred traveling by boat whenever possible, avoiding the inconvenience of walking.

When Bourkos stepped ashore, he noticed an unusual liveliness in the area. Unlike the deserted expanses of the Sybaris Plain, this part of the land seemed to be teeming with activity. Small groups of people walked briskly along a well-trodden dirt road, their conversations punctuated by laughter and the occasional shout. The wide, compacted road stretched ahead, leading to a large, enclosed earthen structure.

"What is that?" Bourkos asked Moras, his companion for the journey.

"It’s the mercenary market I told you about," Moras replied with a faint smile.

Bourkos frowned. He had dismissed Moras’s earlier mention of this so-called market as trivial, but now he was curious. Since it was on the way to the mercenary camp, he decided it wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look.

Before they even reached the market’s gate, the cacophony of voices spilled out, filling the air with vibrant energy. At the entrance stood two young women, their vivid attire catching the sunlight. Their features were exotic, distinctly non-Greek, but their Greek speech was melodious and polite.

"Welcome, honored guests! Is this your first visit to the market?" one of them asked, her voice warm and inviting.

Moras nodded, somewhat taken aback by the greeting.

"If you are here to sell goods," the woman continued, "you’ll find a wooden cabin just inside the gate. That is our market management office. You can speak to the staff there to arrange for a stall. There is, however, a small fee."

"How much is the fee?" Boukos asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Just one obol per day," the woman replied with a smile.

Bourkos frowned. While the fee seemed modest, the idea of mercenaries profiting from Thurii’s land infuriated him.

"But," the woman added, "all the stalls are currently occupied. You’ll have to return tomorrow."

"This shabby place is that popular?" Bourkos muttered in disbelief. Testing his luck, he asked, "What if I offer more? Could you make room for me?"

The woman’s demeanor didn’t waver. "Honored guest, the fees are not about profit. They are to maintain the order of the market. The help we provide to stall owners far exceeds the value of one obol. We hope every stall owner makes good use of their space and earns much more than the fee."

Her explanation left Bourkos and Moras momentarily speechless. In all their travels across Greek city-states, they had never encountered a market so meticulously organized.

"If you are here to buy," the woman continued, "please take a moment to read the wooden board hanging on the management office door. It outlines a few simple rules for our guests. If you encounter any disputes or feel deceived during your purchases, you can report the matter to the management office. Our staff will assist you promptly."

Intrigued, Bourkos decided to explore further. The management office was a modest wooden building with a large open window facing the market. Behind the window, several staff members greeted visitors warmly and answered their questions with patience and politeness.

"Greetings! How can we assist you today?" a dark-skinned Egyptian staff member asked Bourkos with a respectful nod.

Before Bourkos could reply, a voice from inside called out, "Lord Bourkos, welcome!" A man with brown hair, a hooked nose, and a thick beard stepped forward, his expression alight with recognition.

"You are...?" Bourkos asked, struggling to place the familiar face.

"I am Marigi, the business officer under Leader Juleios," the man replied proudly.

Bourkos waved off the formalities. "Please don’t call me ’Lord.’ I am just an ordinary citizen of Thurii." Then, glancing at the weighing scales displayed prominently, he asked, "What are these for?"

"If a customer feels they’ve been shortchanged—perhaps they believe their olive oil or fish is underweight—they can bring their purchase here for verification," Marigi explained. "If their claim is valid, the vendor is penalized. Repeat offenders lose their stalls and are banned from the market."

Bourkos raised an eyebrow. "Has this actually happened?"

"Only once," Marigi admitted. "After the penalty, it never happened again."

Bourkos nodded thoughtfully. His attention shifted to a wooden board displaying a list of rules. "No spitting or littering? Vendors must keep their stalls clean? I’ve never seen such rules in any market—even Athens’ Agora!"

"These rules were suggested by Leader Juleios," Marigi explained solemnly. "He believes markets, being crowded spaces, are prone to filth and disease. Cleanliness is essential not just for comfort but also for preventing illness."

Bourkos breathed in the relatively fresh air and studied the orderly surroundings. Though he felt conflicted about the mercenaries’ presence, he couldn’t help but be impressed by the market’s discipline and organization.