The Rise Of An Empire In Ancient Europe
Chapter 79 The Battle of Thurii (Part 1)

Chapter 79: Chapter 79 The Battle of Thurii (Part 1)

The sun rose over the Sybaris Plain, casting golden rays across a landscape that seemed to tremble with anticipation. The Crathis River gleamed like a silver ribbon, its calm waters a stark contrast to the storm of war brewing on its banks. The Greek coalition forces moved westward in three great columns, their lines stretching across the plains like a massive serpent, undulating with the rhythm of marching feet.

The signals for attack and retreat, uniform across the city-states, were issued with precision. Yet, subtle changes in Thurii’s deployment were evident. The entirety of their cavalry had been reassigned to Archytas, a decision that solidified his bond with Juleios, who expressed his gratitude repeatedly.

Bourkos, standing nearby, observed the scene with a mix of admiration and concern. He had come to appreciate Juleios’s tactical brilliance, but he could not fathom why the young leader had chosen to extol the Pythagorean school in such a setting. Did he not understand the disdain many city-states held for this enigmatic group, especially beyond Tarantum? Their philosophies, veiled in mysticism, had often alienated them. Bourkos feared that this allegiance might cloud Pheres and Kounogolata’s perception of him.

Despite Bourkos’s silent worries, the pre-battle meeting concluded swiftly. Juleios mounted his horse and rode back toward his unit, his sharp gaze scanning the forces arrayed around him. The Tarantine reinforcements under Archytas were a sight to behold—strong, youthful warriors clad in bronze and leather, their round shields gleaming in the sunlight. They marched with an air of ease, chatting and laughing, their confidence almost palpable. In contrast, the Thurian citizen-soldiers appeared weathered and subdued. Many were older men with streaks of gray in their hair, their movements slower, their expressions lined with worry.

As he rode alongside Bourkos, Juleios’s keen eyes caught an unsettling detail. He pointed toward the rear of the Thurian formation. "What’s this? I see soldiers wearing leather armor... and some without armor at all! And there are so many of them. This can’t be right. Your numbers exceed 4,000."

Bourkos replied with a hint of pride. "Those are freemen and foreigners living in Thurii. The Citizens’ Assembly passed a resolution: any freeman or foreigner who fights in this war will be granted Thurian citizenship if we win. This idea was inspired by your earlier suggestion. With their inclusion, our forces now number 6,000."

Juleios’s unease eased somewhat. "I hadn’t realized Thurii had so many freemen."

"This is only a fraction," Bourkos admitted. "Most of them are still waiting, undecided. Perhaps after today’s battle, they will find their resolve."

The coalition forces moved forward steadily, their long columns glinting in the sunlight as they followed the Crathis River. Scout cavalry darted back and forth, their reports relayed quickly to the generals.

A messenger galloped toward Juleios. "General Phrynis orders your forces to halt and form ranks here."

Juleios nodded, turning to his trumpeter. "Sound the halt!"

The clear call of the bugle echoed across the plain, and the mercenary column ground to a halt with practiced precision.

"Form ranks!" Juleios commanded.

The brass horn sounded again. The mercenaries moved like a well-oiled machine. The head of the column pivoted right while the rear advanced, their formation shifting seamlessly from a marching line to a battle-ready phalanx. Squads formed the backbone of Juleios’s forces, their combat units arranged with meticulous care.

On the far right, Captain Kapus and his first heavy infantry unit took their position, linking with Thurii’s central forces. Their task was critical: to ensure no gaps opened between the flanks. On the far left stood Captain Amintas and the third heavy infantry unit. The bold and fiery Amintas was chosen for his ability to inspire his men in the face of overwhelming odds. Supporting him were two light shield units, tasked with fending off enemy skirmishers and stabilizing the flank.

Juleios’s forces stood four ranks deep, a departure from the traditional eight. Depth had been sacrificed to extend the line, but he placed his trust in the discipline and resilience of his mercenaries to withstand the Lucanians’ numbers.

To the center, the Thurian formation slowly coalesced into order. The shouts of officers and clamor of soldiers created a cacophony that carried across the field. Drakos’s mercenaries held the front, their disciplined ranks a stark contrast to the citizen-soldiers behind them. Freemen filled the rear, forming a depth of over ten ranks. On the right, Archytas led his Tarantines with precision, their phalanx eight ranks deep. His cavalry flanked the far right, their polished armor reflecting the sunlight.

Finally, the lines were set. Priests of Apollo stepped forward, bearing the deity’s statue. They chanted hymns and spilled sacrificial blood, their voices rising to the heavens in a plea for divine favor. Soldiers bowed their heads in prayer, seeking protection and strength. The Tarantines invoked Poseidon and their hero Phalanthus, while the mercenaries, hardened by years of strife, whispered prayers to Ares and Zeus. Yet among Juleios’s men, Hades was revered above all, a reflection of their leader’s victories won against impossible odds.

The quiet reverence was broken as scouts returned with reports of the Lucanian advance. Their coalition’s vanguard appeared on the horizon, shimmering like a golden tide. Armor and weapons looted from Greek armies adorned their warriors, their ranks a disconcerting mirror of the phalanx they sought to face.

Kounogolata gasped, his voice laced with unease. "Just as Juleios warned, they’ve equipped themselves with our arms and armor. This could prove disastrous!"

Phrynis remained unshaken. "Their equipment may mimic ours, but they lack the training and discipline of a true phalanx. They’ve abandoned their strengths, which may well work to our advantage."

Messengers relayed his calm orders: "Hold position. Let the soldiers rest. The Lucanians are still forming their lines. There is no need to act in haste."

"Damn the sun," muttered Matolis, one of Juleios’s mercenaries. "The glare off their armor is blinding. How are Epitenes and Zipites supposed to aim their javelins?"

Olivers chuckled. "Perhaps the Thurians should ask Apollo to hide the sun. Isn’t he their protector?"

Epitenes grinned, joining the banter. "Or we could ask our leader to have Hades turn day into night. That would solve the problem nicely."

The mercenaries laughed, their camaraderie unshaken despite the looming threat. Around them, officers reviewed their plans with Juleios, their voices calm yet purposeful. The Lucanians’ approach was imminent, but Juleios’s men faced it with the steady resolve of those who had seen battle many times before.