Hannibal: Clouds of War (3 page)

To his surprise, a convivial air reigned as the groups converged. Bostar introduced his companions, two phalanx commanders whom Hanno vaguely knew but whom Sapho hailed like long-lost comrades. The five men chatted about the usual sort of things: the weather, the state of their men’s fitness, how bad their rations were, whether there had been any reliable sightings of Roman forces, where the next enemy attack would be and so on. Everything was fine until Sapho mentioned, as he just had to Hanno, that his men needed to improve their fitness because of the amounts that they’d been drinking. At this point, Bostar pointed at Sapho’s belly and commented, ‘There’s a bit of extra flesh there, or my eyes are mistaken, brother.’

Sapho flared up like a bush fire. ‘What are you saying?’

Bostar, who was still lean as a hunting dog, shrugged. ‘You have a slight gut. Some exercise would do you some good too.’

Sapho’s eyes filled with suspicion. He swung from Bostar to Hanno and back. ‘You two have been talking behind my back, haven’t you? Laughing at me!’

‘No!’ protested Hanno truthfully.

‘We haven’t said a word,’ said Bostar with a trace of a smirk. Hanno cursed him for it. Now was not the time to rile Sapho further, over something so inconsequential. The two other officers already looked embarrassed – and less than impressed.

Of course Sapho homed in on Bostar’s expression like a fly to shit. ‘Then why the little smile, eh?’

‘We haven’t said a word to one another, Sapho, I swear it,’ said Hanno, annoyed at the way this was degenerating.

‘Really?’ Sapho’s mistrustful expression eased, but his face was full of rage as he turned on Bostar. ‘Just had to get a joke in in front of your friends, was that it?’

‘As if you wouldn’t do the same, if I were overweight!’ retorted Bostar.

‘Screw you!’ snarled Sapho. Before anyone could react, he’d stepped in and thrown a powerful punch to Bostar’s chin, snapping his head and body backwards.
Thump
. He went down on to the flat of his back. Sapho waded in, throwing kicks and stamping on Bostar with his studded sandals. ‘Always think you know better than me, don’t you?’ he shouted, spittle flying from his lips. ‘Well, you don’t!’

Hanno shoved himself between Sapho and the groaning Bostar. ‘Get off him!’

Sapho didn’t seem to hear. With superhuman strength, he pushed Hanno out of the way. The tiny delay had given Bostar a chance to get up, however. Roaring with anger, he flung himself at Sapho, arms outstretched, and caught him around the middle. The pair went sprawling on to the dirt, each raining punches upon the other. Hanno looked on in dismay. From the corner of his eye, he could see Bostar’s two companions and Mutt doing the same. His inaction lasted only a moment. This had to be stopped. As much as anything, it was a terrible example for the men to see officers brawling.

‘Help me separate them,’ he ordered Mutt. ‘You grab Bostar. I’ll go for Sapho.’ Hanno leaped in and grabbed one of Sapho’s flailing arms. With that grip he was able to heave his brother back, managing at the same time to seize his other arm from underneath. Hanno bent his elbows, securing his purchase on Sapho’s upper body. Sapho spat and cursed, but was unable to break free. That didn’t stop him aiming another kick at Bostar, who was lying helpless underneath Mutt. There was a groan from Bostar as the blow landed, and Sapho chuckled. ‘How do you like that, you filth?’

Hanno wrenched Sapho back several steps. There was a yelp of pain.

‘Gods, my shoulders!’

‘Good.’ Tightening his grip, Hanno dragged him back another pace or two. Sapho began to speak, but Hanno had had enough. ‘Shut your trap!’ He peered over Sapho’s shoulder. ‘Mutt?’

‘Sir?’

‘Have you got Bostar under control?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good. He’s to promise not to start fighting again. Then you can let him go. If he won’t, hold him down.’ Hanno moved his lips to Sapho’s ear. ‘This has to end. Do you hear me?’

‘I—’ Sapho began to growl.

‘No, Sapho, I won’t have it! You’re a grown man, and an officer, not a ten-year-old boy!’ There was no response, so Hanno squeezed with all his might, forcing Sapho’s arms upwards and back even further. Another hiss of pain from his brother. ‘Understand?’ demanded Hanno.

‘Fine. Yes,’ came the surly reply.

‘Bostar has agreed,’ said Mutt.

‘Release him.’ Hanno slackened his grip on Sapho, allowing him to step away. He moved to stand between his two brothers, still furious. Bostar was regarding him with surprise, and Sapho with smouldering anger. Hanno was so incensed that he didn’t care what either of them thought. ‘You’re both a disgrace to your rank and station! Senior officers, fighting like two drunks, and in front of common soldiers. Hannibal would have the pair of you flogged for this. I’ve a good mind to do the same myself.’ Their mouths opened in shock, but Hanno wasn’t finished. ‘Father might be gone, but that doesn’t mean he’s not looking down on you in disgust, the last of our family. He would have told you that our war is with the damn Romans, not each other. Isn’t it?’ He eyeballed them.

‘It is,’ mumbled Bostar after a moment.

‘Sapho?’

‘Yes, I suppose.’

‘Then start acting like a man, instead of a child!’

Sapho flushed, but did not answer back.

‘I want you both to take an oath that this quarrelling will end here and now,’ commanded Hanno.

His brothers looked unhappy. ‘And if I don’t agree?’ demanded Sapho.

‘As the gods are my witness, I will tell Hannibal,’ replied Hanno from between clenched teeth.

Bostar sighed. ‘I will swear.’

‘My little brother has all grown up,’ murmured Sapho.

‘What’s your answer to be?’ barked Hanno.

‘I will also swear,’ said Sapho mildly.

Hanno didn’t trust the look in Sapho’s eyes, but he had backed down. Hanno moved his fingers away from his sword hilt, where they had begun to stray. ‘Speak your oaths,’ he ordered.

One after the other, his brothers swore to all the Carthaginian gods that they would bury their feud forever. When they were done, both glanced at Hanno. They’re waiting to see if I am satisfied, he realised, shocked by the sea change in their relationship. A few moments before, he had been the youngest brother, lowest in the pecking order. Now he had acted as their father might have, and they had accepted it. ‘Fine.’ He glanced at Mutt. ‘We’ve wasted enough time here. Have the men form up again, ready to march.’

Mutt roared out a command. Sapho, Bostar and the two others quickly moved out of the way. Hanno began to feel proud of what he’d done. Whether the two would honour their promise remained to be seen, but the strength of their vow would prevent them from fighting, for the time being at least. He wondered if Sapho would seek revenge on him for the humiliation. If he does, I’ll be ready, he decided. As I have been for some time. ‘Forward march!’ he cried.

‘Hold!’ shouted a voice.

Thinking it was one of his brothers, Hanno continued to advance. Mutt and the rest followed.

‘HOLD, I SAY!’ repeated the voice.

Realising it was someone else altogether, Hanno ground to a halt.

A short distance away, a nondescript soldier threw back the hood of his cloak. He was one-eyed, broad-faced, bearded.

There was a universal gasp of amazement.

Hanno was first to react. ‘Attention!’ he cried, snapping upright. ‘Your general is here.’

His men stiffened to attention. His brothers and their companions did the same. Hannibal stalked over, his face a blank. Hanno began to feel nervous. It had always been their general’s habit to wander among his soldiers incognito, his purpose to assess their morale, their mood. Since Cannae, this practice appeared to have lapsed. Until now, thought Hanno. His certainty that he had acted in the correct manner wavered. Hannibal was liable to punish lapses of discipline severely.
Gods, what will he do?

Neither Bostar nor Sapho could meet Hannibal’s eye as he spoke. ‘I’ve been aware of the animosity between you for a long while, but I had no idea that it was this bad.’

‘Sir, I—’ began Sapho.

‘Quiet!’ Hannibal’s voice cracked like a whip.

Sapho subsided.

‘Sapho, the wild but courageous one. Bostar, also brave as a lion, but more dutiful.’ Hannibal’s gaze moved to Hanno, who squirmed beneath it. ‘The cub, usually the one to do as he pleased. The one who needed disciplining the most, or so I thought.’ He paced to and fro, letting the brothers sweat.

‘Under normal circumstances, this incident would have passed me by,’ Hannibal said at last. ‘But I was here, and I saw it.’

Hanno’s eyes flickered to his brothers’ faces. He wasn’t alone in holding his breath.

‘It’s a poor sign when two of my phalanx commanders brawl with each other like a pair of drunks outside a whorehouse.’

Hanno stared at the ground, acutely aware that he would have to accept whatever punishment was meted out to them – and him.

‘It seems to me that the vow Hanno forced you to take should be enough to keep the peace.’

Relief – and a little disbelief – all round, although none of the brothers dared to relax.

‘If we were not at war, I would strip you both to the ranks,
at the very least
.’ He glared at Sapho and Bostar, who both looked ashamed. ‘However, we
are
at war, and in a foreign land. Officers of your calibre are impossible to replace.’ He raised a warning finger. ‘Yet the matter cannot go unaddressed. Therefore, despite your oath, I am going to separate you. Permanently.’

All three exchanged worried glances, and Hannibal laughed. It was not an altogether pleasant sound. ‘I’ve had word that my brother Hasdrubal in Iberia needs experienced officers. Despite the shortage in my own forces, I am going to send him a few men. Bostar, you will be one of them. You will have to go by sea, because it would take too long to travel by land. The voyage will be dangerous in the extreme – I expect you know that. Two of the last three ships sent from Iberia have been sunk or taken by the Romans. Gods willing,
you
will make it. Once there you will do all in your power to help Hasdrubal and our other generals defeat the enemy.’

‘I will do my best, sir,’ said Bostar with a resolute nod.

‘Good.’ Hannibal rounded on Sapho, who flinched a little. ‘You, I will keep by my side. Don’t think that that means life will be easy. For a start, you and your phalanx will be on extended patrols for the next three months.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Sapho stolidly. ‘We will do all that is asked of us.’

Why did it have to be Bostar who was sent away? thought Hanno furiously. He might never see his favourite brother again. That idea was terrible to contemplate. Hannibal’s attention fell on him then, and Hanno forgot about his brothers. Where was he to be sent?

‘And so to you, youngest son of Malchus,’ said Hannibal.

A pulse hammered at the base of Hanno’s throat. Punishment would be forthcoming, of that he had no doubt.

‘Your father was ever a valiant servant of Carthage. His loss was a personal sorrow for you and your brothers, of course, but I too grieve for him still,’ said Hannibal.

‘Thank you, sir,’ Hanno replied. It helped to have his father’s sacrifice acknowledged. Bostar and Sapho also seemed pleased.

‘Malchus would be proud of you today. What age are you now?’

‘Twenty-three, sir.’

‘Young still. Your actions were impressive.’

Uneasy with the praise, Hanno shifted to and fro. ‘Th-thank you, sir.’

‘I have need of a trustworthy officer to undertake a dangerous mission. I had thought to send someone else, but what I have just seen has changed my mind. You will go instead.’

Hanno’s heart began to thump even faster. ‘Where, sir?’

Hannibal lowered his voice. ‘To Sicily.’

‘Sicily, sir?’ Hanno repeated, like a fool. Glancing at Mutt, his heartstrings tugged painfully. Mutt and his men felt like family. Besides, what use could he be without his soldiers? ‘Who will command my unit in my absence?’ he asked, stalling.

‘Why, Mutt here. Not as if he hasn’t done it before, is it?’

Panic flared in Hanno’s belly. Did his general know about his unauthorised leave of absence, before Cannae, when he had sought out Aurelia? His eyes went from Hannibal to Mutt, whose expression was as innocent as a babe’s, and back again.

‘The original officer who led your phalanx died in the crossing of the Alps. Mutt looked after them until I appointed you,’ said Hannibal.

‘Of course, sir.’ How could he have doubted Mutt? Hanno smiled as if he’d understood Hannibal’s meaning all along.

‘Come by my tent as soon as you’ve finished with your men.’

‘Very good, sir!’ Proud yet sad at what this meant, Hanno threw off a parade-ground salute.

‘As you were.’ Hannibal waved a hand in dismissal. Slipping up his hood, he walked off, just another ordinary soldier again.

‘So you two get special treatment while I have to stay in Italy.’ Sapho’s voice was sour.

‘You’re
staying
with the most important general in Carthage,’ retorted Hanno.

‘It’s as honourable to remain with Hannibal as it is to be sent overseas,’ added Bostar in a surprisingly conciliatory tone. ‘Hannibal values you. He’s said as much before.’

‘True,’ Sapho conceded, but the jealousy in his eyes gave the lie to his answer.

Sapho wouldn’t be happy whatever the outcome, thought Hanno. He felt a whisper of relief that he would soon be far away from his oldest brother, yet that emotion was mixed with a contradictory sadness that he would be parted from not just Bostar, Mutt and his men, but Sapho too. There was every chance that they would never see each other again.

‘We’ll have to get together before any of us leave. Offer a sacrifice to Father’s memory.’ He paused. ‘And then get royally pissed.’

Chapter II