Kleitos beat a criss-cross path away from the ambush, for the most part taking alleys that led from one thoroughfare to another. With their masks removed, few people paid them any attention, but Hanno didn’t want to leave things to chance, so he wrapped Publius in the old cloak that Elira had been wearing. Kleitos’ circuitous route meant that he lost all sense of direction, and it wasn’t until they emerged on to a main artery that led to Epipolae, the western part of the city, that he regained his bearings. Kleitos rounded on Aurelia almost at once. ‘Why did you kill those men?’ he demanded in Latin. ‘They were guarding you, not taking you to your execution.’
‘What do you care?’ she shot back with more spirit than Hanno had expected.
‘They’re Syracusan, like me. I also knew the officer. There was no need for them to die. The urchins had them distracted.’
‘Agathocles didn’t just select me to be Hippocrates’ property. He forced me to lie with him. He wasn’t gentle either. Elira suffered the same from him, and from the soldier. What have you to say to that?’ Aurelia’s eyes blazed, and her face was distorted with fury.
‘I see,’ Kleitos said heavily. ‘I am sorry.’
But Hanno was glad that Agathocles was dead. ‘They can’t talk to anyone, which reduces the chances of us being found out.’
‘I suppose I never liked Agathocles much,’ admitted Kleitos with a shrug. ‘There’s not much we can do about it in any case. Let’s hope that Hippocrates has more things to worry about than seeking vengeance for this.’
Conversation ceased until they had reached the room that Kleitos had rented. He went on ahead, waving to them when the coast was clear so they could go up the rickety stairs without the inn’s landlord seeing them.
‘The less he knows, the better,’ said Kleitos to Hanno as he ushered them into the small, dingy space, which contained little more than two beds, a table and one chair. A chamber pot sat beside the tiny window that opened on to the street below. ‘It’s not much, but it will do.’
‘Thank you,’ Elira ventured in poor Greek.
‘Forgive me. I spoke sharply earlier,’ said Aurelia. ‘I’m very grateful for what you’ve done. This room might not be large, but it’s ours, and it’s not a prison. That counts for more than you could know.’
Kleitos inclined his head. To Hanno, he said, ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
Hanno gripped his shoulder. ‘My thanks, brother.’ In a whisper, he added, ‘We’ll need to bury or, better, cremate the child. D’you think that’s possible?’
‘Inside the walls? You never have easy problems to solve, do you?’ Kleitos sighed. ‘Leave it with me. We’ll talk later, or tomorrow.’
When Kleitos had gone, Hanno laid Publius on one of the beds. ‘We’ll arrange his funeral as soon as possible.’
Aurelia had grown calm again. ‘What then?’
‘I’m not sure. A lot depends on Hippocrates’ reaction.’ The best thing would be to stay here, he decided. Besides, where could they go? He had no friends in Sicily apart from Kleitos.
‘Can we not leave?’ she asked. ‘It’s well known that the Roman blockade is incomplete.’
He coughed. ‘It may well come to that, but we’d best stay where we are. For the moment.’
‘Because they’ll be looking for us?’
‘Partly that. And partly because Hannibal sent me to serve Epicydes,’ he said uncomfortably, before adding with even more reluctance, ‘… and Hippocrates.’ She didn’t reply, which added to his discomfort. Maybe she didn’t want to be with him, he thought. Maybe she desired nothing more than to be reunited with her husband, and to grieve over their dead child. He had to respect that. ‘Things will have calmed down in a couple of days. I’ll see about finding you a boat that can carry you to the Roman positions. They’ll make sure that you reach your husband,’ he said heavily.
‘Lucius is probably dead. Even if he isn’t, I have no reason to go back to him.’ She stepped right up to Hanno, and drew his arms one by one around her. ‘This is where I’ve wanted to be ever since you appeared outside our house near Capua.’
Hanno’s heart beat a staccato rhythm off the inside of his ribs. He was dimly aware of Elira retreating to the window to give them some privacy. He embraced Aurelia, breathing deep of her scent. ‘Oh gods above. It’s what I’ve wanted too. I’m just sorry that it had to be like this. With all that’s happened.’ One of her fingers came up and touched his lips, silencing him.
‘Hold me,’ she whispered. ‘When I’m here with you, I feel safe.’
Chapter XIII
NEWS OF THE two guards’ deaths, and Aurelia’s and Elira’s escape, reached Hippocrates soon after Hanno’s arrival at the barracks. Hippocrates was said to be incensed, but to Hanno’s relief, his anger hadn’t translated into much action. Patrols within the city were doubled for a short while, and a number of street urchins were captured and tortured, but that seemed to be it. As time passed, Hanno concluded that Bear and his cronies remained at large, or if they had been caught, that they hadn’t had enough information to incriminate either him or Kleitos. Aurelia and Elira remained safe in their room throughout.
By the third day, Kleitos judged it safe enough for Hanno to take Aurelia out of the city to cremate Publius. Kleitos had checked the duty rosters beforehand to ensure that the soldiers who had seized Hanno upon his arrival weren’t on duty. If stopped, the couple’s pretence was to be that they were man and wife, the boy their deceased son, and Elira a servant.
Aurelia had retained her poise since her rescue, but the moment that she, Hanno and Elira began their sad journey, it cracked. ‘If only Quintus could be here too,’ she whispered. Hanno stared blankly at her. ‘He’s here on Sicily,’ she said, dissolving into floods of tears, clutching the linen-wrapped shape that was Publius. Elira also began to weep. Hanno instinctively went to put an arm around Aurelia, but, worried that she would think it inappropriate, he stopped. It wasn’t long, though, before he did it anyway. She didn’t tell him to stop, so he walked alongside her, his arm around her waist. Feeling an unexpected depth of sadness, for he had never met the child alive, he supported her all the way. It felt odd that Quintus was stationed here on the island, but at least they would never meet. Hanno didn’t want to face that possibility, especially considering his feelings for Aurelia.
He needn’t have been worried about the guards, who took one look and waved them on. What he didn’t like was hearing the announcement, repeated several times as they walked through, that at the slightest risk of danger, the gate could be closed without notice.
Standing outside the walls, therefore, felt most disquieting. Hanno half expected to see an enemy patrol appear. Yet despite the siege, life here – and death – had achieved a kind of status quo since the failed Roman assault. From the vantage points on their fortifications, enemy sentries could see anyone who came along the road that led to the north, but their fear of the Syracusan artillery meant that they did nothing. It meant, too, that funerals were held as they always had been, among the innumerable tombs that lined the thoroughfare.
There were roadside stalls where religious trinkets, wood for pyres, animals for sacrifice and even hot food could be bought. Priests, orators and professional grievers offered their services. Musicians played dirges on flutes and lyres. A soothsayer in a greasy leather cap promised a good chance of favourable readings in the entrails of any animals he examined. Whores and other lowlifes congregated around the less well-kept tombs. It was similar in many ways to Carthage, although there were none of the ornamented masks that went into the afterlife with the dead. Hanno’s apprehension about where they were gradually eased. He, Aurelia and Elira were just three mourners in a crowd. No one paid them any attention, and the Romans weren’t going to either.
A few extra coins saw the pyre built, and tended by the son of the man who’d sold him the wood and charcoal. Before long, the heat from its flames forced them to retreat. Hanno and Elira stood a little distance back from Aurelia, who w
as so locked in her own world that she didn’t notice. They remained there for some time, the background noise of music, other mourners and the roving vendors filling the air.
‘Life can be so cruel,’ said Aurelia at last.
Hanno moved closer. ‘It can,’ he replied sombrely. ‘I have no children, but I can imagine that losing one must be terrible beyond belief.’
Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. After a moment, she said, ‘I wasn’t just talking about my little Publius. My mother died about two months ago. Right after that, Lucius was badly injured in Rhegium. The last I heard, he’d been unconscious for days. To lose one’s loved one is bad enough, but two – as well as one’s husband? And Quintus is probably no more than a few miles away.’
Hanno felt too awkward to talk about Quintus. He put an arm around her again. ‘I had no idea that your mother was dead. I’m sorry.’
‘It was a growth in her belly, on her liver, that took her. She wasted away in a matter of weeks.’
‘Atia was a good woman. Your father must be grieving still.’
A bitter laugh. ‘Of course! How could you have known? Father is gone too. He died at Cannae.’
‘Damn it, Aurelia, I’m sorry. My father was also killed that day.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘And your brothers?’
‘They survived, thank the gods. I left them in good health when I departed for Sicily.’
‘It is good that you have living flesh and blood.’ Her voice changed, becoming wistful. ‘Do you ever think of Quintus? He’s stationed on the island, you know. He might be close by.’
‘I have wondered whether he could be here,’ said Hanno, realising that his relationship with Aurelia meant that he could never now regard Quintus as an enemy. Had he truly ever done so? he wondered. ‘May the gods keep him safe.’
It took a number of hours to burn Publius’ body, and several more until the embers had sufficiently cooled. By this point, Hanno was keen to regain the safety of the walls. After so long at war, it felt foolish to remain in such an exposed position. Just because the Romans had never staged an attack along this route didn’t mean that they mightn’t try. Yet the sun had almost set by the time that they set out for Syracuse, Aurelia clutching an urn full of her child’s ashes. The area had already emptied, and they were among the last people to enter the city before the gate was closed for the night.
Life settled into an odd kind of routine as the heightened security over the soldiers murdered by Aurelia died down. She and Elira began venturing outside. They never went far, but, as they told Hanno, anything was better than being cooped up day and night. He visited once a day, often twice. Kleitos sometimes came with him. The urn and the makeshift shrine in the corner were reminders of what had gone before, but Aurelia’s mood remained if not happy then stable, and a touch less sad than it had been. Thinking that a distraction from their confined existence might help, Hanno bought a kitten one day, a mewling bundle of tabby fur. To his relief, both women fell in love with it at once. Aurelia named it Hannibal, after its habit of ambushing the back of their legs from around the corner of the beds. Hanno found this hilarious, and even Kleitos’ disapproval of the creature was half-hearted. Soon all of them were spending hours playing with Hannibal, getting him to chase a trailed length of wool, or to pat a ball of it around the floor. Hanno would admit it to few people, but caring for the tiny creature was a welcome break from his military routine.
He should have known it would never last. Since he’d joined Hannibal’s army, Hanno had learned never to take things for granted. Life was uncertain, but war was a different beast altogether: uncaring, unpredictable, and far more savage. But being in Syracuse and freeing Aurelia had lulled him into a sense of false security. It was a city under siege, but it was easy to forget that. Apart from the presence of soldiers on the streets, and the shortage of certain foodstuffs, life went on as normal. When news came three weeks later that Himilco, a Carthaginian general, had landed on the island’s south coast with thirty thousand soldiers, Hanno had to acknowledge reality. A day after that, a summons to the palace arrived. Despite what the order meant, his spirits rose. If there was ever going to be a chance for him to discover something of use to Hannibal, it would be now.
Hippocrates’ and Epicydes’ planned response to the Carthaginian landings changed everything. Hanno couldn’t deny that there was sense in sending some of their strength to join with Himilco. Breaking the siege would be made easier if a massive, friendly force were to attack the Romans’ rear while the garrison sallied forth to assail them from the front. Yet Hippocrates’ order to accompany him meant that Hanno would have to leave Aurelia behind. That mightn’t have been so bad – in terms of the task set him by Hannibal, it was good news – but Kleitos had also been chosen to go.
Troubled, he went to talk with Kleitos upon his return from the palace. ‘What should I do?’
Kleitos regarded him with lowered brows. ‘Leave her here.’
‘After all that she’s been through?’
‘She’s a resilient woman, and so is Elira. They’ve got each other. There’ll be no threat from Hippocrates, because he’s leading the expedition. If Epicydes even knows of her existence, I doubt he cares. What other dangers could there be, other than the normal ones of living in a city? We’ll pay the innkeeper to have someone keep an eye on them. That should be more than enough, my friend. She’ll scarcely even know you’re gone before you’re back again, having helped to drive Marcellus’ legions into the sea.’
‘What about taking her with us?’
Kleitos gave him a scornful look. ‘The only women who follow armies are cooks or whores. Usually, they’re both. There’s no place for them among the soldiers.’
‘I know, but—’
‘This will be no gentle stroll in search of an enemy,’ warned Kleitos. ‘The damn Romans could have troops anywhere in the hinterland. We’ll be marching at speed, and anyone who can’t keep up will be left behind. Imagine if that happened to Aurelia.’
Hanno was all too aware of the carnage that resulted if soldiers came upon ‘enemy’ camp followers. Aurelia’s status as a Roman noblewoman would mean nothing to battle-crazed legionaries. ‘Aye, you’re right,’ he said with a sigh.
‘She’ll be safe inside the city, never fear. Safer than she would be with us.’
Hanno nodded reluctantly.
What he hadn’t counted on was Aurelia’s vehement reaction when he told her.
‘I’m not staying behind. Nor is Elira.’ She listened as Hanno re-explained the dangers of accompanying an army on campaign. ‘I don’t care,’ she declared. ‘It’s worth the risks.’
‘You have no idea of the risks,’ retorted Hanno, frustrated.
‘I’m not going to hide in this room while you march off, to return gods know when, if at all.’
His temper flared. ‘I forbid you!’
She recoiled.
‘I’m sorry, Aurelia. I could wish for nothing more than for you to come, but it’s too dangerous. If there was no other option, then maybe we’d have to consider it, but there is another way. You can stay here with Elira, in relative safety. I’ll be back within a few months.’
Her chin wobbled, but she didn’t argue further. ‘Very well. You must swear to return. If you didn’t, I don’t know what I would do.’
‘I give you my oath,’ said Hanno, hoping that the gods were listening, and in good mood.
Aurelia seemed satisfied. She hooked her fingers around the back of his head and drew him close. ‘If you’re to be gone for some time, we should become better acquainted.’
Summer had arrived as they had left Syracuse, and with it had come blue skies, burning sun and baking heat. This was the fifth day of their march through the hilly region to the west and south of Syracuse, a fertile, beautiful area of vineyards and farms. Hanno had had little time to admire the scenery, however. His unit had been placed midway down the column of eight thousand men, and the great clouds of dust sent up by t
hose in front hid much from view. He wiped at the sweat that had trickled from under the felt liner beneath his helmet, and his fingers came away brown with moist dust. Was this what hell was like? he wondered. His throat was dry with thirst, his lips were cracked, and it felt as if he was cooking in his bronze breastplate. How good it would feel to be in Aurelia’s bed instead of here. But she was back in Syracuse, and he was here.
Thus far, there had been no news of Himilco’s force, which meant that their journey had to continue. It didn’t bear thinking about that once they had united with Himilco, the whole distance would have to be marched again, in reverse. At least there’d be some Carthaginian officers whom Hanno might know. Seeing some of his own kind would be a welcome change. He hoped that Hannibal would be pleased with the message that he’d sent via a Carthaginian trireme that was bound for southern Italy, telling him of the patrol, and their mission to join up with Himilco. Hanno hoped too that Himilco and Hippocrates got on with one another, or his job would prove a difficult one. Few things guaranteed defeat faster than commanders who argued.
It was fortunate that their cavalry had seen no enemy forces since their night-time departure from Euryalus, the westernmost fort in Syracuse’s defences. They never spent that long in the field, which concerned Hanno. How far did they ride from the column? he wondered. Nonetheless, his nervousness that they would be the victims of a Roman ambush had eased.
Every day had been the same. There was an inviting cool period in the early morning that lasted as long as it took them to rise and break camp. If near a stream or river, the soldiers drank as much as they could before setting out. The first couple of hours’ march were bearable, but after that came the hottest part of the day, a torment that had to be endured. The ball of fire that was the sun sapped men’s energy even as it burned their skin and drenched them in sweat.
At midday, there was a short but welcome halt, to force down some food and to drink a couple of mouthfuls of blood-warm water. This lifted their energy levels somewhat, and then there was the slog until they had reached the spot where their camp would have to be built. Built? thought Hanno with contempt. Their disorganised encampments weren’t built, they were more half assembled, like a wooden toy house abandoned by a child before it was finished. He had yet to see a defensive ditch completed, or for any order in the tent lines to exist. The slapdash arrangements were worrying, but his biggest concern every evening was that Hippocrates posted too few sentries. Hanno had mentioned it not once, but twice; Kleitos had backed him. The second time, Hippocrates had told them to shut their damn mouths, or he’d have them shut for good. That had been that. His prayers would have to suffice, Hanno decided. Keep the Romans a safe distance away, Baal Saphon. Let us have word of them only after we’ve united with Himilco.