Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

  Moaning with pain, the warrior extended both his hands upwards, palms extended.

  Sapho lifted his gaze to the chieftain, whose face registered stunned disbelief. ‘Well?’ he asked simply.

  Eventually, the chief managed to compose himself. ‘I apologise for insulting Hannibal, your leader. The Ausetani accept these generous gifts, with thanks,’ he muttered with bad grace. ‘You and your companions are free to go.’

  ‘Excellent,’ replied Sapho with a broad smile. ‘Your son will be coming with us.’

  The chief jumped to his feet. ‘He needs medical attention.’

  ‘Which he will receive in plenty. We will leave him in the care of the best surgeon in Emporiae. You have my word on that.’ Sapho leaned on his sword slightly, eliciting a loud moan from the huge warrior. ‘Or I can end it right here. It’s your choice.’

  The chieftain’s lips peeled back with fury, but he was powerless in the face of Sapho’s resolve. ‘Very well,’ he replied.

  Only then did Sapho glance at his father and Bostar. Both gave him fierce nods of encouragement. Sapho found himself grinning like an idiot. Against all the odds, he had redeemed the situation, won his father’s approval and his brother’s admiration. Inside, though, he knew that the Ausetani would have to be defeated before this particular passage to Gaul was safe.

  Chapter XII: Plans

  A BOOT IN the ribs woke Hanno the next morning. Grunting in pain, he opened his eyes. Agesandros was standing over him, flanked by two of the largest slaves on the farm. Hanno knew them for dumb brutes who did whatever they were told. Sets of manacles hung from their ham-like fists. Confusion and dread filled Hanno. Quintus’ and Fabricius’ absence hit home like hammer blows. This had to be more than coincidence. ‘What was that for?’ he croaked.

  Instead of answering, the Sicilian kicked him again. Several times.

  Protecting his head with his hands, Hanno rolled into the foetal position and prayed that Aurelia would hear.

  At length, Agesandros ceased. He’d made no effort to remain quiet. ‘Gugga son of a whore,’ he snarled.

  Through squinted eyes, Hanno looked up. He was alarmed to see the Sicilian clutching a dagger in one hand and a small purse in the other.

  ‘I found these under your pathetic pile of possessions. So you would steal money and weapons from your owner?’ Agesandros thundered. ‘Probably cut all our throats in the middle of the night too, before running away to join your scumbag countrymen in their war against Rome.’

  ‘I’ve never seen those things before in my life,’ Hanno cried. Immediately, an image of Agesandros lurking in the atrium came to mind. That’s what the Sicilian had been doing! ‘You bastard,’ Hanno muttered, trying to sit up. He received a kick in the face for his troubles. Sprawling back on his bedroll, waves of agony washed over him. Blood filled his mouth, and a moment later he spat out two teeth.

  Agesandros laughed cruelly. ‘Fit him with manacles,’ he ordered. ‘Neck as well as ankles.’

  Dazed, Hanno watched as the slaves stepped forward and fastened the heavy iron rings around his flesh. Three loud clicks, and he was back to where he’d been in the slave market. As before, a long chain extended from the metal band around his neck. With a brutal tug, Hanno was jerked to his feet and towards the door.

  ‘Stop!’

  All eyes turned.

  Still in her nightdress, Aurelia stood framed in the doorway to her room. ‘Just what do you think you are doing?’ she screeched. ‘Hanno is a household slave, not one of the farm workers, to do with as you please.’

  The Sicilian bowed extravagantly. Mockingly. ‘Forgive me, my lady, for waking you so early. After hearing of the news in your father’s letter, I became concerned about how this slave would react. I worried that he was planning to do you and your family harm, before escaping. Unfortunately, I was correct.’ He held up the evidence. ‘These clearly aren’t his.’

  Horrified, Aurelia’s gaze shot to Hanno. She flinched at the sight of his bloodied face.

  ‘Someone planted them among my things,’ Hanno muttered, throwing Agesandros a poisonous look.

  Understanding at once, Aurelia started forward. ‘You see?’

  The Sicilian chuckled. ‘He would say that, wouldn’t he? Every gugga’s a liar, though.’ He jerked his head at the two hulks. ‘Come on. We have a long journey ahead of us.’

  ‘I forbid you,’ Aurelia shouted. ‘Do not move another step.’

  The slaves holding Hanno froze, and Agesandros turned. ‘Forgive me, my lady, but in this instance I am going to override your authority.’

  Atia’s voice cut in like a whiplash. ‘What about mine?’ she demanded. ‘In Fabricius’ absence, I am in charge, not you.’

  Agesandros blinked. ‘Of course you are, mistress,’ he replied smoothly.

  ‘Explain yourself.’

  Agesandros held up the knife and purse once more and repeated his allegations.

  Atia looked suitably horrified.

  ‘What would Fabricius say if he found out that I had left such a dangerous slave on the premises, mistress?’ the Sicilian asked. ‘He would have me crucified, and rightly so.’

  You clever bastard, thought Hanno. Make your move when you only have two women to intimidate. Fabricius was far away, and who knew when Quintus would return?

  Atia nodded in acceptance. ‘Where are you taking him?’

  ‘To Capua, mistress. Clearly, the dog is too dangerous to sell as an ordinary slave, but I’ve heard of a local government official who died there recently. The funeral is in two days, and the man’s son wants to honour his father’s passing with a gladiator fight. A pair of prisoners are to fight each other to the death, and then the survivor is to be executed.’

  Atia’s lips thinned. ‘I see. Will my husband be out of pocket?’

  ‘No, mistress. For an event like this, I’ll get far more than we paid for him.’

  Tears of impotent rage ran down Aurelia’s cheeks. Frantically, she racked her brains. What could she do?

  Atia crossed to give Aurelia a hug. ‘Don’t fret. He’s a slave, dear,’ she said. ‘A murderous one too.’

  ‘No,’ Aurelia whispered. ‘Hanno wouldn’t do something like that.’

  Atia frowned. ‘You’ve seen the evidence for yourself. The only way we can confirm the Carthaginian’s guilt is have him tortured and see what he says. Is that what you want?’

  Defeated, Aurelia shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Fine. The matter’s closed,’ her mother said firmly. ‘Now, I’m going for a bath. Why don’t you join me?’

  ‘I couldn’t,’ whispered Aurelia.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ said Atia. She turned to Agesandros. ‘Better get going, hadn’t you? It’s a long way to Capua.’

  The Sicilian flashed an oily smile. ‘Yes, mistress.’

  With a satisfied nod, Atia disappeared from sight.

  Hanno, meanwhile, was in a daze. Agesandros must have been planning this ever since Quintus and Aurelia rescued me, he realised. Waiting for the right time.

  His horror was only to grow.

  ‘I forgot to say.’ Revelling in the moment, the Sicilian looked from Hanno to Aurelia and back. ‘The other fighter is also a gugga. A friend of this shitbag, I believe.’

  Hanno’s stomach lurched. It seemed too much of a coincidence to be true. ‘Suniaton?’

  Agesandros revealed his teeth. ‘That’s his name, yes.’

  ‘No,’ cried Aurelia. ‘That is so cruel.’

  ‘Quite apt, I thought,’ said Agesandros.

  Hanno’s relief that Suni was alive vanished. Blinding fury consumed him, and he lunged forward, desperate to close with Agesandros. Within three steps, he was pulled up short. The slave holding the chain attached to his neck had simply tightened his grip. Hanno ground his teeth in rage. ‘You will pay for this,’ he growled. ‘I curse you for ever. May the gods of the underworld act as my witness.’

  There were few who were not afraid of such powerful oaths, and
Agesandros flinched. But he regained control quickly. ‘It’s you who will be visiting Hades, along with your friend. Not me.’ Clicking his fingers at the slaves, he stalked to the front door.

  Hanno could not bear to look at Aurelia as he was dragged away. It hurt too much. The last thing he heard was the patter of her feet on the mosaic, and her voice calling for Elira. Then he was outside, in bright spring sunshine. Walking to Capua, where he would fight Suniaton to the death. Hanno stared at Agesandros’ broad back, begging all the gods for a lightning bolt to strike him down on the spot. Of course, nothing happened.

  The last remnants of Hanno’s hope disappeared.

  It returned within a matter of moments. They had not even reached the end of the lane before shouts and cries rang out behind them. Agesandros spun around, and his eyes widened. Without even looking at Hanno, he sprinted back towards the farm buildings. In slow motion, Hanno turned to see what was happening. To his amazement, tendrils of smoke were rising from one of the granaries. Aurelia, he thought, exultantly. She must have started a fire.

  There was no way under the sun that Agesandros could have done anything but return. Aurelia had bought him some time. How would that be enough? Hanno wondered, desperation tearing at his soul.

  It was several hours before the blaze was brought under control. Roaring like a demon, Agesandros supervised as every slave on the farm ferried water to the grain stores. Even Hanno had his manacles unfastened for the task. Hurling the contents of their buckets on to the flames, the slaves ran to the well and back, over and over again. Aurelia and Atia watched from a distance. Horrified expressions adorned both their faces. There was no sign of Elira.

  The Sicilian let no one rest until he was happy that the fire was dying down. Despite himself, Hanno felt a grudging admiration for Agesandros. Covered in soot from head to toe like everyone else, he looked exhausted. The granaries’ stone construction had helped, but the supreme effort the overseer had exacted from everyone was the main reason that the blaze had not spread to more of the farm buildings.

  By the time the last of the flames had been extinguished, the afternoon was over. There was no question of walking to Capua that day. To Hanno’s relief, the Sicilian didn’t bother beating him further. His manacles were replaced, and he was locked into a small cell that adjoined Agesandros’ quarters. In pitch darkness, Hanno slumped to the floor and closed his eyes. He was absolutely parched with thirst, and his belly was growling like a wild beast, but Hanno doubted that any food or drink would be forthcoming. He could only try to rest, and hope that Aurelia had another trick up her sleeve.

  Hours passed. Hanno dozed fitfully, but the cold and his manacles prevented him from sleeping properly. Nonetheless, he dreamed of many things. The streets of Carthage. His two brothers, Sapho and Bostar, training with swords. Hannibal’s messenger visiting by night. Fishing with Suniaton. The storm. Slavery and his unlikely friendship with Quintus and Aurelia. Bloody war between Carthage and Rome. Two gladiators fighting before a baying crowd. The last images were horrifyingly violent. Covered in sweat, Hanno jerked upright.

  Desolation swamped him. After all his requests to be reunited with Suniaton, this is what it would come to. They would die together to commemorate the death of a crusty Roman official. Frustration and rage filled Hanno by turns. Alone in the darkness, he prayed that Agesandros stayed to watch the fight. When he and Suniaton were handed their weapons, they could make a suicidal attack on the Sicilian. Gain some retribution before they died. His plan was implausible, but Hanno hung on to it for dear life.

  Some time later, he was startled by the sound of a key entering the lock. Surely dawn had not come yet? Hanno backed fearfully away from the door, raising his hands against the arc of light that spread into the room. To his utter surprise, the person who entered was none other than Quintus, clad in a heavy cloak. He was clutching a bunch of keys in one hand and a small bronze lamp in the other. A sheathed gladius hung from a baldric over his right shoulder.

  Hanno was stunned. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Helping a friend,’ replied Quintus simply. Placing the lamp on the floor, he tried a key on Hanno’s fetters. It didn’t work, but the second one did. A moment later, he had also unlocked the iron ring around his neck. Quintus grinned. ‘Let’s go.’

  Hanno could scarcely contain his joy. ‘How did you know to come back?’

  A wry smile tugged Quintus’ lips upwards. ‘You can thank Aurelia. The instant you had left, she sent Elira to find me. Next she set a fire in the granary.’

  Hanno was still confused. ‘But the keys,’ he said. ‘There was no time to make an impression of them.’

  ‘These are the originals,’ replied Quintus. He saw Hanno’s bewilderment, and explained. ‘I commended Agesandros on his excellent work by giving him a jug of Father’s best wine. The fool was delighted. What he didn’t know was that I had laced it with enough papaverum to knock out an elephant. I simply waited until he had drunk it and fallen asleep. Then I took his keys.’

  ‘You’re a genius. So is Aurelia.’ He grabbed Quintus’ arm. ‘Thank you. I owe you both my life for the second time.’

  Quintus nodded. ‘I knew that Agesandros was lying about you planning to kill us. If you wanted me dead, you wouldn’t have come back to save me at the hut. Besides, I know you would help me in a similar situation.’ He moved towards the door. ‘Now, come on. Dawn is not far off. Aurelia is at the pens, feeding the dogs scraps to keep them from barking, but she can’t stay there for ever. She said to say that you would be in her prayers.’ He didn’t mention his sister’s tears. What was the point? Hers was an impossible fantasy.

  Sad that he would not see Aurelia, and unaware of Quintus’ emotions, Hanno followed him outside. The farmyard was deserted, and the only audible sounds were Agesandros’ loud snores. Within a hundred paces, they had left the buildings behind. Along the lane, the cypress trees stood tall and threatening, their branches creaking in the slight breeze. A crescent moon hung low in the sky, reminding Hanno of Tanit and home. And Suniaton. Suddenly, the immense relief he had felt at Quintus’ appearance began to ebb away. He might be free, but his friend was not.

  Quintus stopped when they reached the shadow of the trees. He lifted the baldric over his shoulder and handed the gladius to Hanno. ‘You’ll need this.’ Next, he proffered his thick woollen cloak and a leather satchel.

  Hanno muttered his thanks.

  ‘The bag contains food for several days, and twenty-five didrachms. Make your way to the coast and take passage to Syracuse. You should be able to find a merchant ship there which can take you to Carthage.’

  ‘I’m going nowhere without Suniaton,’ said Hanno.

  Quintus’ face changed. ‘Have you gone mad?’ he hissed. ‘You don’t even know where he is being held.’

  ‘I’ll find him,’ Hanno answered stolidly.

  ‘And get yourself killed into the bargain.’

  ‘Would you leave Gaius behind if you were in my shoes?’ Hanno demanded.

  ‘Of course not,’ Quintus retorted.

  ‘Well, then.’

  ‘Stubborn bloody Carthaginian. There’s no telling you.’ Quintus scowled. ‘Going to Capua on your own is tantamount to committing suicide. I can’t let you do that. Not after all the trouble I’ve gone to. Can you find the shepherd’s hut where we fought the bandits?’

  Hanno stared at Quintus, not understanding. ‘I think so, yes.’

  ‘Head up there and wait for me. I’ll see about finding Suniaton later.’

  The immensity of Quintus’ offer sank in. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

  ‘I know.’ Quintus regarded him solemnly. ‘But you are my friend.’

  A lump rose in Hanno’s throat. ‘Thank you. If I can ever repay this debt, I will. You have my word.’

  ‘Let us pray that I never have need to call on you.’ Quintus pushed him towards the hills. ‘Go.’

  With a lightness in his heart that he had not felt since leaving Ca
rthage, Hanno ran off into the darkness.

  Hanno made his way to the hut without difficulty, reaching it less than two hours after sunrise. He spent the climb marvelling at how he’d escaped Agesandros’ clutches for the second time. Of course it was solely thanks to Quintus and Aurelia. Yet again, Hanno was forced to admit that Romans were capable of great kindness. They were not all the deceitful monsters described by his father. His charitable feelings did not last long. Hanno only had to think of Flaccus and his tale to remember the incredibly harsh conditions imposed on Carthage at the end of the last war, and the arrogant manner with which Rome had treated her over Saguntum. Even the genial Martialis didn’t like the Carthaginians. ‘Typical guggas,’ he’d said.

  He calmed himself with thoughts of how a Roman – Quintus – was at this very moment trying to free Suniaton, a Carthaginian condemned to die. His ploy didn’t last long. As the hours dragged by, Hanno found it ever harder not to head for Capua. His promise to Quintus was what made him stay. He busied himself by repairing the hut, which had been left damaged after the fight. First Hanno collected every piece of fallen wood he could find. Then, using some old but serviceable tools he found lying inside, he sawed and chopped the timber into suitable lengths. He was no carpenter, but the construction was straightforward. All he had to do was study the undamaged sides, and copy them. It was undemanding yet rewarding labour and, as the sun set, Hanno stood back and admired his handiwork.

  Worry was niggling away at him, however. He could no longer ignore the fact that Quintus would not return that day. Did this mean that his attempt had failed? Hanno had no idea. He pondered his options for some time, concluding that it was too dangerous to return to the farm. Agesandros would be on the lookout for trouble. Nor was there any point in making for Capua. Hanno knew no one there, and if he didn’t manage to find Quintus, he would have no idea what had transpired since the morning. His only choice was to stay put. Slightly more at ease, Hanno lit a fire in the hut’s stone-ring fireplace, and wolfed down some of the olives, cheese and bread he found in the satchel.