CHAPTER 196: CHAPTER 196 – THE ASSAULT ON CRIMISA

Although the Thurii Alliance ultimately did not impose any harsh punishment on Crimisa, and the city was once again restored to a neutral state, its generals and councilors remained ill at ease. Croton, despite its defeat, had not lost its strength; meanwhile, every merchant who had visited Thurii marveled at the astonishing speed of the Dionian League’s development.

One side was humiliated by its first defeat in years, the other had once suffered the burning of its city—between these two powers, another war was inevitable. This was the unanimous judgment of Crimisa’s leadership. And for Crimisa, caught squarely between Croton and Dionia, such a conflict would spell disaster.

After Castellon joined the Dionian League, the Dionians built a grand road linking it directly to the city, granting it generous trade privileges. Within just half a year, Castellon’s commerce had flourished. The Crimisans, though envious, were unwilling to secretly extend olive branches toward Dionia. After all, Crimisa lay closer to Croton, and for years had lived under Croton’s influence. Whether emotionally or in terms of interests, the people of Crimisa leaned toward Croton.

Thus, when the council received a cavalryman’s urgent report—that countless soldiers had been sighted crossing the northern marshes—panic set in. Some councilors argued they should first verify the situation.

But the chief general, Antaoris, dismissed their hesitations. He insisted they continue sending out scouts to investigate while at once dispatching messengers to Croton to request aid.

"Gentlemen!" he cried, "these men are armed to the teeth, coming from the north. Whether they are Dionians or others, they have trespassed into our land without permission. Their ill intent is beyond doubt! Crimisa has yet to recover from the last defeat; we have no more than a thousand citizens fit for battle. By the time we confirm their identity, the enemy may already be at our gates! If we wait until then to send for help, it will be far too late. I would rather request Croton’s aid and later apologize if it proves a mistake, than risk losing the home passed down to us by our forefathers because of hesitation!"

Antaoris’s words convinced the majority.

Half an hour after sending riders south, scouts returned with alarming news: around two thousand heavily armed soldiers, mostly heavy infantry, were marching rapidly toward Crimisa carrying tall ladders. They had even killed a Crimisan cavalryman who tried to question them.

These were no allies—they were enemies. The councilors no longer doubted. There was no time to praise Antaoris’s foresight. They had already ordered the citizens to don armor and ready shields and spears. Now they proclaimed a general state of war: every man able to fight was commanded to the walls.

Crimisa, a small town without notable products and with only modest port trade, had little to its name. Even so, Antaoris and the other generals, mindful of Thurii’s earlier lessons, rushed to the harbor and immediately granted citizenship to nearly five hundred young, strong freemen, demanding they join the defense.

As Crimisa braced itself for war, the mercenary army advanced until it was only two hundred meters north of the city. Timasion and his men could clearly see the shadowy figures lining the battlements.

"It seems the Crimisans are prepared," said Cleandrus with a note of disappointment. His last hope of a surprise assault evaporated.

Timasion’s expression did not change. In a low, steady voice he declared, "If a surprise attack is impossible, then we storm the city!"

He ordered a halt to let the men rest while he, Cleandrus, Toricos, and the other captains hastily planned the assault.

The walls of Crimisa rose barely four meters high, defended by only a three-meter moat. There were no stakes, no traps. Compared to the fortified cities they had taken in Asia Minor under Thibron, Crimisa’s defenses were laughable. Even with the battlements crowded with citizen soldiers, Timasion and his officers doubted they could withstand the mercenaries’ assault. From what Timasion knew, Crimisa had enjoyed decades of peace. In the brief clash half a year earlier, when they fought alongside Croton against Dionia, the Crimisans had been slaughtered like sheep.

To Timasion and his captains, numbers meant nothing: citizen-soldiers without training, without spirit, were no soldiers at all.

When the preparations were complete, Timasion strode to the front ranks and roared:

"Brothers! The two months we spent in the Dionian League—you will never forget them! You left that land to follow me here because you were not satisfied! Why should Dionian mercenaries have everything while we have nothing?! Now—" he pointed at Crimisa’s walls—"our chance is here! Take this city, and we too shall be nobles! We too shall be masters!"

The mercenaries pounded their round shields with spear shafts, unleashing furious roars. Their pent-up frustrations of the past two months burst forth, mingled with hunger for victory and dreams of a better life.

The thunder of their voices carried to the walls, chilling the hearts of the Crimisan defenders.

General Euricpus, overseeing the defense, grew anxious. To steady his people, he shouted:

"Citizens! The enemy are no more numerous than us! We have walls and a moat—they cannot harm us! Croton’s reinforcements are already on their way!"

Hearing this, the Crimisans’ fear eased slightly.

"Attack!" Timasion, seeing his men’s fervor, wasted no time.

The horns blared. Cleandrus led his force to assault the western wall, while Timasion advanced on the north.

The heavy infantry marched in loose groups of five or six, carrying long ladders. Light infantry trailed far behind. When they came within bowshot, the heavy infantry raised their round shields overhead and advanced crouched beneath them.

Arrows rained from the walls, but the mercenaries pressed on, calm and methodical. Reaching the moat, they set their six-meter ladders across as bridges. Many fell into the water when ladders broke beneath them, yet the arrows killed fewer men than the river crossings did.

Watching the enemy’s skilled maneuvers and composure, Euricpus felt dread. "They are veterans!" he thought. "This will not be easy." He bellowed: "Quick! More stones! More logs! More jars of oil—bring them up now!"

Once the heavy infantry crossed, they raised their ladders against the walls. Some left ladders across the moat for the light infantry.

Crimisan defenders frantically hurled stones and logs, poured flax oil, and cast down torches. Flames burst up, mercenary casualties rising sharply...

Meanwhile, as Crimisa and the mercenaries clashed, Davos had just received shocking news: Timasion had not gone to Syracuse, but had instead marched on Crimisa.

Along the eastern coast of Magna Graecia, sea traffic was constant. When over forty empty ships were found stranded on the shore, curious merchants investigated—and discovered their captains and sailors bound and abandoned in the grass.

Once freed, they returned at once to Thurii, lodging their complaint with the patrols.

Davos, upon hearing, flew into a rage. As guarantor for Timasion’s men, the seizure of the merchant ships and the death of fifteen sailors was an outrage already. But what angered him more was Timasion landing over a thousand mercenaries between Castellon and Crimisa—what was he plotting?!

It took little thought to guess: Crimisa! The audacity! These mercenaries dared to set their sights on Crimisa itself. And to think Davos had even felt a pang of guilt when they departed! Cursed Timasion had deceived them all.

While berating his own carelessness, Davos considered the consequences: whether or not Crimisa fell, the mercenaries’ action would shatter the delicate balance between Dionia and Croton. The League had to prepare at once.

But convening the Senate troubled him. His political opponents would surely seize upon this incident. Though it would not harm him directly, it was undeniably his mistake. He sighed: rulers must never allow personal sentiment to cloud judgment. If he had not relented to Agasias’s plea, none of this would have followed. A bitter lesson—one never to be forgotten.

"Aristocrates," Davos ordered, "summon Philesius, Agasias, Hieronymus, Capsus, Antonios... bring them here at once!" He needed to confer with his fellow former mercenary elders.

On Crimisa’s walls, the fighting raged.

"Chief! Our men are climbing up!" cried one soldier.

Timasion’s spirit surged. Peering over his shield, he saw a man scramble onto the battlements.

But a storm of spears thrust at him. He raised his shield, lost his footing, and was shoved backward. The fall, from only four meters, was cushioned by corpses below. He staggered upright, dazed and unguarded. A stone crashed upon his helmeted head. He collapsed again—this time not rising.

Seeing this, Timasion shouted: "Bring Exaechius and the light troops closer! Give our heavy infantry more support!"

The herald hesitated. "Chief... they are lightly armed. If they advance, the archers will cut them down..."