The Rise Of An Empire In Ancient Europe-Chapter 130: Amendolara Welcomes You

That fateful day, the citizens of Thurii descended upon Konogorata’s estate like a storm-driven mob. Their wrath was relentless. One of his sons was slain in the chaos, a daughter suffered unspeakable violation and chose to take her own life, many of his loyal clansmen and slaves bore grievous injuries, and nearly all of his family’s wealth was stolen in the frenzied looting.

The morning after, Konogorata, unable to rise from his bed due to his injuries, summoned a household slave to deliver a letter to the city hall. The letter bore his resignation as general—a desperate attempt to quell the rising tide of fury. Yet the citizens were not appeased. Fearful that Konogorata might someday retaliate for their deeds, they continued to gather in furious protest outside the city hall, their cries echoing through the streets as they demanded swift justice.

By noon, the city assembly was convened under pressure. The mob’s will dominated the agenda, and the first proposal was laid bare: Konogorata’s exile. Ostracons were marked en masse with the word "agree," and the decision was made. Thus, the man who had guided Thurii through the turbulent aftermath of the Peloponnesian War, shielding the city from Spartan vengeance for its Athenian sympathies, was exiled under the very system of ostracism conceived by Athens.

The assembly’s second task was to elect a new council of nine generals. Neonsis rose as the new chief general, while Bourkos was chosen for his pivotal role in hiring Juleios’s mercenaries. Ansitanos, who had defended Konogorata during the protests, was rejected by the assembly, his stance costing him dearly.

Upon hearing the news at his battered home, Konogorata sighed deeply. Though the law allowed him to return to Thurii after ten years, he resolved never to step foot in its streets again. That same afternoon, with the consent of his wife, children, and loyal clansmen, he began packing. He sold his home and lands at a pittance, preferring a swift departure over lingering in a city that had turned against him.

During those final hours, only Ansitanos dared visit him, offering words of consolation that did little to mend Konogorata’s shattered spirit.

The next morning, Konogorata and his retinue—comprised of family, clansmen, and nearly a hundred loyal slaves—departed Thurii. They carried their meager belongings on carts, their expressions heavy with sorrow and resignation. As they passed through the city, a gathering of citizens jeered and hurled insults, their bitterness unabated. Some threw stones and debris, further humiliating the departing group. Konogorata lay in a cart, his injuries confining him, yet his face remained impassive as he met the venomous gazes of the crowd.

The retinue quickened their pace, heads bowed in fear, while Konogorata, battered but unbroken, stared into the sea of hateful faces. A flicker of irony crossed his mind. Years ago, he had orchestrated the exile of Athenian citizens using the same methods. Now, he found himself sharing their fate. The irony was as bitter as it was poetic.

He recalled the Archicrodax family, who had faced a similar fate after Thurii’s founding. He thought of the Sybarites—once rulers of these lands, now exiled or massacred in the throes of history.

"Is this the nature of Greek democracy?" he mused silently, his thoughts clouded by disillusionment.

His reflection was interrupted by the voice of his youngest son, Dicaiocrates, calling out, "Father, look! Neonsis is there!"

Konogorata turned his weary gaze toward the city gate. There stood Neonsis, his figure framed against the sunlit stone, watching the procession leave.

A veteran of political intrigue, Konogorata had no doubt about the true architect of his downfall. Yet as he met Neonsis’s eyes from afar, he felt no anger, only a peculiar detachment.

He watched silently until the gates of Thurii receded behind him. Turning to face the road ahead, his expression darkened.

"Neonsis has unleashed the beast of public opinion to destroy me," he murmured. "But such a beast cannot be tamed. In time, it will turn on him."

Dicaiocrates, puzzled by his father’s cryptic words, asked innocently, "Will they exile him too, then?"

Konogorata offered a faint, bitter smile. "Who can say?" He patted his son’s head and, with a hint of tension in his voice, added, "Let us go. As planned, we make for Amendolara."

By the time Konogorata’s group reached the Saraceno River, dusk had begun to fall. On the opposite bank, Juleios, the youthful consul of Amendolara, stood waiting. Flanking him were several elders of the Senate and a squad of armed guards.

Upon seeing them, Konogorata ordered his slaves to bring his cart to the forefront. As they crossed the river, Juleios’s voice rang out, clear and welcoming: frёewebnoѵēl.com

"Lord Konogorata, Amendolara is honored by your presence! Upon hearing of your departure from Thurii, our Senate convened an emergency session and has unanimously decided to grant you Amendolaran citizenship. Do you accept this honor?"

Konogorata, despite his exile, retained his Thurii citizenship by law and could have returned after a decade. He needed only temporary refuge. Yet, hearing Juleios’s words, the burden in his heart lightened. With visible relief, he replied, "I am deeply honored to become a fellow citizen under your leadership, Lord Juleios."

His clansmen, who had feared rejection even after the recent alliance between Thurii and Amendolara, sighed audibly in relief.

Aware of the delicate political climate, Juleios had ensured there would be no ostentatious fanfare for Konogorata’s arrival. Such restraint prevented tensions with Amendolara’s older citizens, who might resent the presence of a political exile.

As they began their journey up the hill to Amendolara, Juleios outlined the city’s provisions. "There are vacant houses within the city that your family can use temporarily. I recommend purchasing a property soon, as prices are favorable. As for your clansmen, they will need to rent for now, as they are not yet citizens."

Konogorata nodded thoughtfully. "I understand the city-state has enacted a new immigration law. Do you believe my clansmen qualify to apply for citizenship?"

"Of course," Juleios replied. "But they must undergo an observation period of two years, during which they must adhere to our laws and customs. Afterward, they may become probationary citizens, gaining partial rights. Full citizenship, with land allocation, requires an additional two to three years."

Konogorata was stunned. "Five to six years to become full citizens?" he exclaimed.

Juleios nodded firmly. "Land ownership is a sacred right in Amendolara. We cannot grant it lightly."

Konogorata was incredulous. A city as small as Amendolara granting land to new citizens was unheard of. Yet Juleios’s calm conviction left no room for doubt.

When they reached the hill’s base, Konogorata paused to observe the Lucanian slaves laboring diligently. His expression grew complicated.

Juleios, noticing his gaze, remarked, "Hope is a powerful motivator. Even those who were once our enemies can be made allies when given a chance to share in our future."

"Hope?" Konogorata echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Juleios turned to him, his eyes gleaming with resolve. "Why must Greeks and Lucanians be destined to slaughter each other? Why not coexist, building something greater together?"

Konogorata stared at the young consul, his expression a mixture of shock and awe.

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