Casting Through Ancient Greece
Casting Through Ancient Greece
100: Sicily, The Hard Road Ahead
A shocked city, a careful army, and a plateau that decides everything. We follow the tense weeks after Athens’ first win outside Syracuse, when momentum gave way to method. Nicias, often branded cautious, makes a hard strategic choice: pause late in the season, refill the coffers, request cavalry, and prepare for a siege that can actually hold under pressure. Meanwhile, Syracuse hears Hermocrates at last. His blunt case—discipline over bluster, reform over blame—shrinks a muddled command, tightens training, and sends envoys to Corinth and Sparta to turn a local crisis into a panhellenic cause.
The political map of Sicily comes into sharp focus as Camarina keeps a careful distance, Naxos and Regium quietly help Athens, and both sides court allies who can tip supplies, harbors, and morale. Then the war’s center of gravity jumps across the sea. Alcibiades escapes and arrives in Sparta with insider detail and a plan to exploit Athenian overreach. His advice sparks two decisive moves: dispatching Gylippus to steady Syracuse and fortifying Decelea to bleed Attica. Intelligence, timing, and audacity reshape the conflict more than any single skirmish could.
Through winter 415–414 BCE, the Athenians work with rare clarity. Catana becomes an operating base; ships are refit; scouts trace Syracuse’s walls and water. The conclusion is simple and stark: win the Epipolae Heights or lose the siege before it begins. Spring brings speed. A quiet sail, a rapid landing, and Lamachus’ night march seize Euryelus, the gateway to the plateau. Engineers mark lines. Syracuse counters. For a moment, the expedition reaches its high watermark, the city nearly within an encircling wall. But with Gylippus on the horizon and a reformed Syracuse ready to contest every trench, the hard road truly begins.
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Our failure was not from the strength of the enemy, but from our own folly. Let us learn from the experience and reform. Not tomorrow, but today, before the danger grows. Hermocrates addressing the Assyricusan Assembly in Thucydides' History of the Peloponnesian War. Hello, I'm Mark Sellick, and welcome back to Casting through Ancient Greece. Episode 100, Sicily, the hard road ahead. The first weeks of the Athenian presence in Sicily had already shown how quickly expectations could shift. In our previous episode, we examined how Syracuse initially reacted to the sudden arrival of the Athenian armada, moving from hesitation and uncertainty to a more confident posture as the Athenians failed to act decisively on landing. We also looked at the Athenian strategic position in these early days, the early political maneuverings of Alcibiades, and the impact of his unexpected recall to Athens. With his flight from the fleet, Nicius and Lamarcus were left to steady an expedition already beginning to strain under unclear objectives and divided leadership. We then followed the Athenians as they sought to regain the initiative. Their first major action, the deception at Catana, succeeded in drawing the Syracusan army out of position and allowing the Athenians to land near Olympion. There, the first clash of the campaign unfolded, made all the more difficult by a sudden storm that struck the field. While the weather disrupted both sides, it especially hindered the Syracusan cavalry, blunting what should have been their greatest advantage. In the end, the Athenians won the encounter, raising a trophy to mark the victory. Yet the battle also revealed how far they remained from delivering a decisive blow. With this early engagement conducted, both sides were now forced to reassess their situation. For Syracuse, the defeat made clear that the Athenians were not paralyzed by the loss of Alcibiades, nor as hesitant as early skirmishers had suggested. For the Athenians, the victory brought relief, but also reinforced the complexities of waging a campaign so far from home, with limited cavalry, growing logistical demands, and a command structure narrower than originally intended. In this episode, we move into the critical weeks that followed this first clash. Syracuse begins to confront the reality of the threat facing it, taking steps to reform its military leadership, and strengthen its defenses. These internal adjustments will prove central to the city's resilience in the coming months. Meanwhile, the Athenians must now consolidate their position on Sicilian soil, securing a permanent base, establishing reliable supply, and determining their next strategic moves, all becoming pressing concerns. The initial hope of a swift, bold strike against Syracuse gives way to the more methodical demands of a sustained campaign. These developments mark a shift in the Sicilian expedition, from early manoeuvres and political uncertainty into a more structured and enduring phase of conflict. The choices made during this period will shape the direction and character of the struggle that lies ahead. As we saw last episode, Athens had now fought its first battle against Syracuse and had pulled off a victory. Although triumphant, they had failed to inflict a decisive defeat in the war, as the Syracusans were able to retreat back within their walls. Further to this, Nicius would fail to push the advantage and any potential momentum that had been gained from this victory. If Nicius was to push the Syracusans, it would need to be through a siege of the city. However, although much criticism of Nicius' caution has been written about, Thucydides, who is our main source, gives us some reasoning that could help explain this failure to follow up, and not just be down to the cautious nature of Nicius. The main factor that would see the Athenian army return to Catana would be due to how late it was in the campaigning season. They were probably not in a position to be able to commence a siege of Syracuse, given the drain on resources this would have, especially during the harsher weather months. As we have seen, the Athenians were already in a tough spot over the lack of money and friendly assistance within Sicily. They still needed to establish themselves a strong base and build up their resources for a decisive campaign. The promised funds from Segesta that had failed to materialise were already having a toll on the Athenians' campaign. Another factor that appears to have been some bearing on the return to camp was the lack of Athenian cavalry. The initial battle had shown Nicius that Syracuse held an advantage in this area, which made marching the Athenian army on open ground very dangerous. This, if left unchecked, would cede to the Syracusans the initiative of strategic and tactical movement. Thucydides would tell us that upon the Athenians' return to Catana and Naxos, Nicius would have a request sent back to Athens for cavalry reinforcements, while also seeking cavalry from their allies within Sicily. If the Athenians did not increase their cavalry arm, they would find themselves hard pressed to lay siege to Syracuse. This type of action required the building of trenches and walls, which would see many detachments working on these tasks, rather than one united army in the field. These detachments would find themselves vulnerable while carrying out these works to sudden Syracusan cavalry raids. So basically, if Athens looked to take the initiative, they required cavalry to neutralise this advantage that the Syracusans currently had. Other writers have pointed out that this oversight in the Athenian cavalry arm as being the biggest initial failure of the Athenians in Sicily. It has been pointed out that Nicius, before the departure of the expedition, had been in charge of assembling the forces needed. During one of the assemblies, Nicius even highlighted the strength of the Syracusans. He would say The thing in which the Syracusans most surpass us is their possession of many horse. However, Nicius would not arrange any sizeable cavalry force. Though I am of the opinion that this failure to bring a sizable cavalry contingent from Athens was not an oversight, but more a calculated decision. Even though that it would be a calculation that would hurt the Athenians in the long run. If the Athenians took their own cavalry in large quantities, this would have been a huge burden on the space on the ships and on the resources for the upkeep of the horses on the journey. It seems Nicius may have come to the conclusion that it was far better to rely on recruiting larger contingents of cavalry when arriving in Sicily. For Stardus, this would have been far more cost effective than bringing their own. While the Athenians were not well known for their cavalry, however, the Sicilian cities were. But for this strategy to be successful, the Athenians would need to ensure that they had reliable allies waiting for them in Sicily. And as we have seen, this aspect around who they could count on doesn't seem to have been thoroughly investigated before arriving. As we have seen, this overarching miscalculation in securing allies would play out in the hesitant nature of Nicius' command and Athens' first season in Sicily. Before Nicius and his Athenians could attempt to continue with any offensive actions, they needed to regroup, resupply, and await reinforcements, especially in the form of cavalry. The Athenians' victory in the first engagement outside Syracuse did more than shake the city's confidence. It created a moment in which Hemicrates finally stepped forward and was heard. For years he had been warning that Athens was not a distant irritation, but a looming threat. Only now in the wake of the defeat did the assembly give him his full attention. When the Syracusans returned from the field, discouraged and unsettled, the assembly fueled quickly. The blame fell, as it often did in Greek cities, on the commanders, but as frustration spilled across the crowd, Hermicrates rose and seized the moment. Thucydides gives us a clear sense of the tone. Hermicrates did not flatter his audience, he confronted them. He told the Syracusans that their defeat had not come from a lack of courage, but from a lack of preparation, poor discipline, and most of all, from their refusal to take the Athenians seriously. The enemy, he argued, was competent, determined, and methodical. Athens had not sailed to Sicily on impulse. They were here to stay unless Syracuse matched their seriousness. What made his speech so powerful was that it blended hard truth with practical direction. He urged the Syracusans to reform their command structure, not merely to punish the current generals, but to prevent future mismanagement. He called for the election of a more limited board of generals, capable of sharing responsibility and coordinating more effectively, and for the city to begin drilling and organizing like a polis that truly faced a long war. And the assembly listened. For the first time, Hermocrates' warnings did not sound like pessimism, they sounded like clarity. The Syracusans dismissed their old system fifteen commanders, which had led to much confusion, and appointed three new generals, Hermocrates among them. That decision marked a turning point in the city's approach to the entire conflict. Under his influence, Syracuse shifted from complacency to readiness. They began improving the discipline of their hoplites, tightening their coordination of their cavalry, and strengthening their fortifications. Diplomatic missions were dispatched to Corinth and Sparta, another recommendation aligned with Hermocrates' strategy. The crucial transformation was psychological. Hermocrates' speech gave the Syracusans a new frame for understanding the war. Athens was not an insolent intruder. They were a skilled, organized imperial power, and would not be driven off by bluster or confidence alone. Syracuse needed to match them in discipline and preparation, not just numbers. So while the defeat outside the city walls provided the shock, it was Hermocrates who supplied the direction. His speeches channeled the city's anger, fear and frustration into a new strategic posture, one that would shape the entire course of the struggle to come. With Syracuse and confidence shaken and Hermicrates now guiding the city's response, the next step became unavoidable. Syracuse had to look beyond its own walls, and beyond the island itself, if it hoped to counter the Athenian invasion. The realization did not arrive all at once, nor with panic, but through the clear eyed recognition that Athens was not waging a raid. It was attempting a conquest. The Syracusans could reorganize their command, drill their troops, and strengthen their defences, but alone these measures would not be enough. Athens, after all, had come backed by a powerful navy, deep resources, and the prestige of an imperial power used to projecting force far from home. So the Syracusans began to prepare the diplomatic response. The decision was made that envoys would be sent to those who had motive and means to intervene. First to Corinth, whose rivalry with Athens was long and bitter, and then through Corinth's influence to Sparta, the one power that Athens feared above all others. These would not be pleas for rescue, but arguments built on shared interest. If Athens secured Sicily, its ships and its grain roots would grow stronger still. And the balance of power in the Greek world would shift in ways dangerous to both Corinth and Sparta. The arrangements that would follow would take time to unfold. Corinth would agree to assist, dispatching ships of its own, and urging Sparta to act. And Sparta, albeit cautious at first, would eventually send a commander whose arrival would change the entire course of the war, a figure we will explore in more detail later, Golippus. But all of that lay just ahead. For now the Syracusans had taken the crucial step of widening the conflict, transforming a local struggle into a question of panhellenic rivalry. The Athenians had brought an empire to Sicily, Syracuse would now set out to bring an empire to its own defense. Hemicrates' concerns extended beyond the assembly and reorganization of Syracuse in command. Even as the city steadied itself after the first defeat, he knew the Athenians were fighting on more than one front. Their hoplites and cavalry were only part of the threat. The rest lay in the ability to win friends, or at least sympathetic neutrals among Syracuse's neighbors. And no neighbor mattered more at this moment than Camerina. Camerina lay close enough to Syracuse to be either a shield or a doorway. Though normally an ally, its history with Syracuse was complicated. Destroyed by Syracuse and hands, rebuilt by outside powers, and always wary of falling under its neighbour's shadow. The Athenians understood this perfectly and were already working to turn the wariness to their advantage. Hermicrates recognized the danger. If Camarina lent Athens, even quiet support, a harbour, a staging area, or simply diplomatic cover, Syracuse would find itself strategically exposed on its own doorstep. Worse, it would signal to the rest of Sicily that the Athenians could present themselves as protectors of the smaller cities against Syracuse and overreach. So Hermicrates set out for Camarina. His mission was not bluster but reassurance that Syracuse sought allies, not subjects, that the Athenians came not as liberators, but as empire builders, and that the security of every Sicilian city depended on resisting the Athenian pressure together. In this way, the struggle for Sicily widened, from the battlefield to the political landscape. Even as Syracuse hardened its defenses, Hermocrates was already fighting the quieter battle, the one for Sicilian unity, or at least Sicilian neutrality, and in cities like Caramina, the outcome of that battle would prove just as decisive as anything fought with spear and shield. Camerina's reply was cautious, even delicate, exactly what Hermocrates feared, though perhaps not surprising given their history. He was received politely, and the danger that Athens posed acknowledged, and reaffirmed their friendship with Syracuse, but beneath the courtesies lay a clear message they would not be drawn into the war unless the danger came directly to their own gates. They reminded Hermocrates that their city had suffered for being caught between larger powers before, and they would not risk this again lightly. Camerina would remain friendly, but not committed. They would not harbour Athenian troops, nor openly support the enemy, but neither would they rush to Syracuse's aid unless compelled by necessity. In other words, Caramina chose cautious neutrality. Their priority was preserving their own security, not gambling at on early stages of a war, whose outcome was far from certain. For Syracuse it was a frustrating answer, not betrayal, but not the firm alliance Hermocrates had hoped to secure. The diplomatic battle for Sicily was clearly going to be uncertain, as the fighting in the field. Yet even though as Sicily became a theatre of military and diplomatic manoeuvring, events far from the island were beginning to reshape the war in ways neither Syracuse nor Athens could yet foresee. For at this very moment the man who had helped design the Sicilian expedition, and whose recall had been intended to steady Athenian politics, was no longer in Athenian hands. Alcibiades had slipped through his guards and vanished. What followed was not the flight of a disgraced general seeking obscurity, but the deliberate repositioning of a man who still believed he could bend the war to his will. Instead of returning to Athens to face trial, Alcibiades turned his course westward, sailing not towards safety but towards opportunity, toward the Peloponnese, where he knew the Spartans would be eager to hear from a defector with intimate knowledge of Athenian plans. His escape marked a turning point. The Athenians had intended to bring him home in chains. Instead, he was about to arrive in Sparta as a guest, or perhaps more accurately as a weapon. For Alcibiades carried with him the one thing Athens could not afford to lose, insight into its own vulnerabilities, and a personal grievance powerful enough to ensure he used that knowledge against the city he had once championed. And so, while the Athenians pressed forward in Sicily and Syracuse struggled to steady itself, a new threat to Athenian strategy was quietly taking shape across the sea. Alcibiades was now free, embittered, and heading straight for the Peloponnese. The Spartans, long rivals of Athens, received him with cautious curiosity. Here was an Athenian of high rank, intimately familiar with the strategies, weaknesses, and dispositions of the city that now threatened their allies in Sicily. In Sparta, Alcibiades wasted no time. He warned the Lacedaemonians that Athens was overstretching itself, committing vast resources to a campaign on the far side of the sea, and leaving its own territories vulnerable. He revealed the scale of the Sicilian expedition, the composition of the Athenian forces, and crucially the strategic weaknesses in Athens' own defensive arrangements. But Alcibiades did more than emulate facts. He offered guidance. He counseled the Spartans to act decisively, to send a commander to Sicily to support Syracuse, to fortify Decalia in Attica, and to exploit Athens momentary overreach. His argument was not merely opportunistic, it was compelling because it combined precise intelligence with an intimate understanding of Spartan interests. The Spartans listened. The advice of Alcibiades, coupled with their own assessment of the threat Athens now posed, led them to take unprecedented steps. They dispatched Gilippus to Sicily, a general chosen for his skill and energy, to bolster Syracuse's defence. Simultaneously, they began preparing the occupation of Decalia. A move that would strike at the very heart of Athens' land resources, threatening crops, silver mines, and lines of communication. In one stroke, Alcibiades had transformed the Athenian problem in Sicily from a distant campaign into a war with consequences, reaching deep into the Athenian homeland. The man whose recall had been intended to stabilize Athenian politics was now a catalyst for a strategic reversal. A reminder that the Peloponnesians could exploit not only their own. Alsawadi's turn against Athens was not the act of a petty, spiteful man. To reduce it to political revenge would be to misunderstand both the man and the context in which he acted. This is the Presents a figure deeply attuned to risk and opportunity. Athens, far from the secure base of power he had once commanded, had become a place of mortal danger. Recall meant trial, trial meant almost certain ruin, and Alcibiades' boldness always leaned towards the audacious, the dramatic and the consequential. Yet survival alone does not explain his choice. Alcibiades saw a change to reshape the strategic balance of the war itself. The Sicilian expedition tied Athens' hands and stretched its resources thin. By fleeing to Sparta and offering his knowledge, he could both protect himself and transform Athens' greatest strength into its vulnerability. In advising the Spartans to fortify Decalia, to aid Syracuse, and to challenge Athenian overreach, he became not merely a defector, but a decisive actor on the stage of the Peloponnesian War. And there was the personal dimension too. Alcibiades was acutely concerned with prestige, influence and legacy. Exile insecurity was intolerable. He sought to remain central to the drama of Greek politics, to be feared, admired, and consequential. His defection offered him precisely that, a position from which he could manipulate the course of events at the highest level, turning Athens' own plans against her. In short, Alcibiades' betrayal was a product of survival, strategy and ambition, woven together with a personality that thrived on risk and influence. It was calculated, auditious, and deeply consequential, far more than mere spiteful towards political rivals. The Spartan reaction to Alcibiades was not simple enthusiasm. At first there was a deep suspicion. Sparta was a society built on austerity, discipline, and mistrust of flamboyant outsiders. Alcibiades represented everything they distrusted, clever, cosmopolitan, rhetorically gifted, and marked by the luxuries of Athenian elite culture. But the clarity of his proposals and the timing were impossible to ignore. The Sicilian expedition was already raising alarm among the Peloponnesian allies. Corinth, in particular, had been pushing Sparta to act, fearing the consequences of an Athenian victory in the west. Alcibiades' advice connected those concerns with actionable strategy. The Spartans, usually slow to adopt new ideas, now found themselves convinced by a man who had once been their enemy. Thucydides portrays this as a moment of almost reluctant acceptance. Sparta did not trust Alcibiades, but they recognized the truth in what he said. And so they acted. They agreed to send Gallippus to Sicily, a decision that would alter the course of the expedition. They resolved to build the fort at Declea, launching a sustained occupation of Athenian territory, something they had never attempted before, and they increasingly coordinated with Corinth and the Western Greek cities on a more aggressive unified policy. The man the Spartans would send, Golippus, was a Spartan of a somewhat unconventional background, the son of Cleandridus, a Spartan official who had once been exiled for accepting Athenian bribes. Though this lineage placed a faint shadow over Golippus' standing in the rigid societal hierarchy of Sparta, it did not prevent him from raising through the ranks, as a capable and committed commander. In many ways, he embodied the austere virtues the Spartans prized, endurance, discipline, and a talent for imposing order on chaotic situations. He was not a figure of political prominence within Sparta, but he was precisely the sort of officer the Ephors could dispatch to distant theatres, reliable, self-controlled, and effective. What made Guilippus particularly valuable in the Sicilian context was his readiness to think and act beyond the narrow conservatism often associated with Sparta's command. He appreciated the wider strategic stakes of the conflict and understood, as Alcibiades had impressed upon the Spartan authorities, that allowing Athens to consolidate power in Sicily would shift the balance of the entire Greek world. His mission was therefore not merely one of aid but strategic counterweight, to stiffen Syracusan resistance, to unify the fractured Sicilian response, and to introduce disciplined, coherent leadership into their war effort. When he eventually set sail for Sicily, he carried with him the potential to transform the struggle, not through overwhelming force, but through the injection of Spartan method and resolve into a situation that desperately needed both. This was a turning point in the war, and Alcibiades was its catalyst. There is a deep irony in this moment. Alcibiades, who had once stood before the Athenian assembly, urging the city towards ever greater ambition, now stood before the Spartans, urging them to strangle that same ambition at its roots. He had gone from architect of the Athenian aggression to architect of Spartan counter-strategy, shaping the war from both sides. And Sparta, often portrayed as cautious and slow moving, demonstrated that when confronted with compelling intelligence, especially from someone who had been at the very heart of Athenian policy, they could move with remarkable decisiveness. In many ways this chapter reveals as much about Sparta as it does about Arcibiades. Their willingness to adopt his advice shows that beneath the conservative exterior lay a real capacity for strategic adaption, when the right voice delivered the right message at the right moment. As winter settled over Sicily in late four hundred fifteen BC, the Athenians found themselves at an important juncture in the campaign. The early clashes outside the walls of Syracuse had shown that the city was far from helpless, yet the Athenians still held the initiative, and so, rather than pressing the attack in unfavorable conditions, Nicius and Lamarcus turned their attention to the work that would determine the success of the coming spring, the steady preparation for a siege. This winter was not a lull, it was a period of consolidation, organization, and quiet but decisive movement. The first priority was firming up their base at Catana. The Athenians had used the city as their initial point of entry into Sicily, but now it needed to function as a reliable operations hub. Over these months the fleet was anchored securely. Supply chains were established and materials were gathered for what everyone knew was coming, a large scale siege effort directed at Syracuse. Katana became the beating heart of the expedition. From there timber was collected, craftsmen were employed, and provisions stopped. Everything the Athenians would need for extended operations was moved into place. It was not dramatic work, but without it the campaign would not continue. Parallel to the logistical preparations, the Athenians spent the winter attending to diplomacy on the island. Their aim was clear, ensure that Syracuse remained isolated. Naxos held firm in its support, providing both moral and practical assistance. Regium across the strait continued to allow Athenian shipping unhindered movement, vital for bringing in supplies from the wider Aegean world. The exiles of Leontini, longstanding enemies of Syracuse, remained valuable allies for local intelligence and political influence. But not all was straightforward. Camarina, positioned strategically to the south, remained hesitant, and Syracuse, alarmed by the Athenian presence, was working equally hard to court support. The balance of Sicilian politics was delicate, and both sides knew that alliances gained or lost now could shape the struggle to come. Still, by winter's end, the Athenians had ensured that Syracuse stood without a firm coalition behind her. Much of the winter was also spent in careful reconnaissance. Mikius in particular recognized that the coming siege would hinge on intimate knowledge of the terrain around the city. Athenian officers, engineers, and scouts moved through the countryside, observing Syracuse's walls, water sources and natural defenses. All of this pointed towards an overriding strategic truth. The key to the siege lay on the heights of the Epipole, the rugged plateau that overlooked the city. If the Athenians could gain and hold that ground early in the spring, they could begin their encircling wall before Syracuse mounted an effective response. If they failed, the entire expedition could bog down in a prolonged and costly struggle. Thus the winter months became a race conducted quietly, planning how to seize the heights before the Syracusans understood what was coming. The Athenian navy, though still in good condition, required steady upkeep. Winter offered time for necessary repairs, hulls were scraped free of sea growth, rigging and fittings were replaced, and the crews used the period to drill for the more confined naval operations that would later be required inside the great harbour of Syracuse. This was also a period when morale remained relatively high. The Athenians had not yet suffered any major reverses, and the soldiers retained confidence in both their commanders and their prospects. Inside Syracuse, winter brought growing alarm. The Athenians were not idle, nor had they withdrawn to the safety of Katana. Instead, their presence was constant. Supply ships came and went unchallenged, troops patrolled the countryside, and rumours circled that the Athenians were preparing a massive siege works that would cut the city off entirely. For the Syracusans, such consistent activity projected a sense of Athenian determination and capability. Hermocrates and others urged that delay only favoured the enemy, and that decisive action would soon be required if Syracuse was to prevent the noose from tightening. By the final weeks of winter, Athenian plans were firm. As soon as the weather allowed, the army would move south. The intention was to make a landing near Syracuse, seize the Apopoli Heights, in a rapid stroke, and begin construction of an encircling wall that would close the city by land and sea. In retrospect, this winter stands as the last moment when the expedition moved with cohesion, clarity, and quiet confidence. The Athenians had a plan, the resources to enact it, and commanders still in agreement about the path ahead. The spring campaign would reveal just how quickly fortunes could shift. For now though, in the winter of four hundred fifteen into four hundred fourteen, the Athenians were preparing meticulously for the decisive turn to come. Before we move into the siege itself, which we'll be covering in our next episode, it's worth pausing to look more closely at the ground on which the next phase of the campaign would unfold. For all the movement of armies and fleets, and for all the speeches and political manoeuvrings that had taken place, the fate of the entire expedition would come down to a single piece of terrain, the Epipole Heights. The Epipole formed a broad elevated plateau lying in the northwest of Syracuse. In many ways it was the natural battlefield that shaped the city's landward approaches. Rising above the lower ground and running along the back of the Syracuse and Peninsula, the plateau offered a clear view over the surrounding countryside and commanded every route by which an attacking army might approach. Anyone who held this high ground possessed the tactical vantage from which to dominate the terrain below. Most crucially, the Epipolae provided the only practical ground on which a besieging army could conduct its works. The lowlands closer to the walls were uneven, broken, and in places marshy, utterly unsuited to the rapid, continuous fortifications the Athenians needed. On the heights, however, the land was firm, level, and broad enough to allow an encircling wall to take shape. Without the Epipola, the Athenians simply could not hope to enclose Syracuse. With it, the idea of isolating the city became not only possible, but dangerously close to reality. This is why both sides viewed the plateau as decisive. If the Athenians held the heights, they could now draw their lines downward towards the sea, cutting Syracuse off from the countryside and tightening the noose around the city. And once a wall had been anchored on the plateau, the Syracusans would find it nearly impossible to break through, for they would have to fight uphill against defenders who possessed the superior position. The defenders on Opipolae saw everything, moved more easily, and fought on ground perfectly suited to a hoplite formation. But the reverse was equally true. If Syracuse could occupy the heights or later win them back, they could disrupt Athenian construction, build counter walls, and strike at the besiegers before their city could be completely cut off. In short, the control of Epipolae did not just influence the siege, it dictated whether a siege could happen at all. The westernmost point of the plateau, known as the Eurylius, served as a natural gateway to the heights. This was the position the Athenians would target in their daring night march. Understanding whoever seized Aurelius first would possess the key to the entire campaign. And so as we return to the narrative, keep this landscape firmly in mind. The battles and desperate engineering duels that followed all revolved around this single stretch of elevated ground. For in Sicily, as Thucydides makes clear, strategy was written into the very shape of the land. As spring arrived in four hundred fourteen BC, the Athenians put into action the plans they had shaped over the winter months. The long period of preparation was over. Now came the crucial moment, the advance on Syracuse, the attempt to seize the heights of Epipolae, and the beginning of what they hoped would be a rapid and decisive encirclement of the city. Everything depended on speed, surprise, and seizing the key ground before the Syracusans could respond. When the weather turned favorable, the Athenians embarked their forces for Catana, and sailed south along the coast. Their destination was a stretch of shoreline north of Syracuse, where they could disembark quickly and in strength. The fleet moved quietly and efficiently, a testament to the winter's preparations. Upon landing, the Athenians wasted no time. Hoplit formed up, light troops spread out to screen the advance, and engineers positioned themselves to survey the approaches. Nicias and Lamarcus understood that hesitation could allow Syracuse precious time to organize its defense. With the landing secure, the army marched inland towards the city. Syracuse lay ahead on a peninsula, flanked by the great harbour and the long slopes leading up to the Apole. The Athenians avoided moving too close to the walls. They were not yet ready for an open battle. Instead they aimed to position themselves on the high ground that controlled the battlefield. The Syracusans, now fully aware that the Athenians were on the move, prepared to resist. They deployed forces outside the city, but cautiously. Their earlier defeat had instilled a measure of respect for the Athenian hoplites and their leadership, still shaken by the internal divisions, focused on buying time rather than risking a decisive engagement. This tension, Athenians moving deliberately forward, Syracusans, watching yet uncertain, set the stage for one of the most daring moments of the campaign. To seize the heights of the Apolae, the Athenians opted for a bold maneuver, rather than assault the plateau in daylight, where the Syracusan forces might contest the climb. They launched a night march under the command of Lamarcus. The route was steep, narrow, and unfamiliar, yet it offered the best chance of catching the Syracusans unprepared. Thercydes hints at the difficulty of the ascent. The terrain was rugged, dotted with rocky outcrops, and easily to defend if met by an organized enemy. But the Athenians moved quickly and in close order, guided by local allies familiar with the paths. Their objective was the Eurelius, the westernmost point of the plateau, a natural gateway to the high ground overlooking the city. And they reached it. The climb, though tense and exhausting, went unopposed. When dawn broke, the Athenians stood atop the Apole, possessing the very position that would allow them to impose their will on the battlefield. Once on the Apole, the Athenians fortified their position with a remarkable speed. Engineers set to work marking the lines of the first wall. Troops fanned out to secure the immediate approaches. Syracusan forces attempted to mount a counterattack, but the Athenians holding the superior ground and still fresh from their successful ascent repelled them. This moment represented the strategic high watermark of the expedition. With the Pole secured, the Athenians could now begin the construction of their walls. If completed, would choke the Syracusans by land and sea. The city would be trapped and its fate largely sealed. But the Athenians did not yet know how fiercely Syracuse would resist, or how profoundly the arrival of Gallippus would change the balance. For the moment, though, victory seemed within reach. The heights were theirs, the initiative was theirs, and the siege was about to begin. As we leave the campaign on Sicily at this moment, the Athenians stand in a position that is promising, yet far from secure. Their initial clash outside Syracuse had shown that the Syracusans, though spirited, were not yet a match for the Athenians' discipline in the open field. But battles alone were never going to determine control of this theatre. The true contest lay in shaping the ground, physically, politically, and psychologically. In the weeks that followed, the first engagements, both sides sought to impose their vision on the landscape. The Athenians moved with determination on the Apollo Heights, recognizing the mastery of this elevated plateau was essential for any successful siege. From there they could dictate the rhymes of the campaign, anchoring their lines of walls while denying Syracuse the room to manoeuvre or break out. The Syracusans, meanwhile, learned quickly from their early missteps, probing for opportunities to disrupt the Athenian advance, harassing their working parties and beginning to build counter-fortifications of their own. Yet the struggle was not only geological or tactical, political currents were already shifting beyond Sicily. Alcibiades' flight to Sparta had reconfigured the strategic picture, injecting into the conflict a man who understood Athenian methods intimately and who wasted no time in urging the Spartans to act decisively in Sicily. In this he would soon find a willing partner in the Spartan officer Melippus, an outsider to the Sicilian quarrel, but one whose arrival would echo across the campaign. For now, however, both armies on Sicily remained locked in a tense preparation phase, each aware that the larger confrontation was coming. The Athenians pressed forward with the siege lines, confident that time, engineering, and naval supremacy would bring Syracuse to heal. The Syracusans, though, unsettled, were far from resigned. Their leaders knew. That if they could delay, disrupt, fracture the Athenian plan, salvation was possible. And so we pause on the brink of this great siege itself. In our next episode, we will follow the unfolding of the struggle, the Athenian drive to encircle the city, the Syracusan attempts to break free, and the dramatic arrival of Gallippus, whose presence would challenge the assumptions of both sides and redefine the course of the war on Sicily.