Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

  Suniaton blocked his path. ‘We’ve got better things to do. Like making money,’ he cried, shoving forward a bulging bag of almonds. ‘Carry that.’

  ‘No! You’ll eat them all anyway.’ Hanno pushed his friend out of the way with a grin. It was a standing joke between them that his favourite pastime was getting covered in ash and grime while Suniaton would rather plan his next meal. He was so busy laughing that he didn’t see the approaching group of soldiers – a dozen Libyan spearmen – until it was too late. With a thump, Hanno collided with the first man’s large, round shield.

  This was no street urchin, and the spearman bit back an instinctive curse. ‘Mind your step,’ he cried.

  Catching sight of two Carthaginian officers in the soldiers’ midst, Hanno cursed. It was Sapho and Bostar. Both were dressed in their finest uniforms. Bell-shaped helmets with thick rims and yellow-feathered crests covered their heads. Layered linen pteryges hung below their polished bronze cuirasses to cover the groin, a