Hannibal: Clouds of War (44 page)

By the time that Quintus had roused the others, and the three had started climbing on to the house’s roof, men’s voices were audible outside. Pera, who had gone up first, reached down for Marius. You miserable fucker! thought Quintus. I save your hide and
this
is how you repay me?

A fist banged on the door, and a voice demanded: ‘Open up, in the name of Epicydes!’ The old fisherman, who was watching, indicated with his hands that he would take his time responding to the summons.

Marius crouched on the tiles and shoved out a hand. Quintus took the grip and scrabbled up the wall with his feet. One of the tiles half lifted from its position as he clambered up, and he cursed under his breath as it dislodged, fell to the floor of the yard and smashed into fragments.

Quintus and Marius looked at each other. Would the old man have time to clear up the broken tile? If not, things boded ill for all of them.

Pera beckoned from the outer edge of the roof. Then, without a word, he jumped.

The friends followed as fast as they could. The alley beyond was tiny and filthy but fortunately the drop was less than the height of two men.
Thud. Thud.
The mud softened the sound of their fall.

‘Which way?’ demanded Pera, his voice agitated.

‘Right, sir, until we reach the temple to Athena.’

Pera turned and was gone.

‘The prick is shitting himself,’ pronounced Marius with a grin.

‘I don’t think he’s realised the danger we were in until now,’ said Quintus, also amused. His own fear was far more manageable knowing that Pera was terrified.

They took a moment to listen. Metal hobs clashed off the concrete floor, telling them that the soldiers had entered the house. Marius tugged at Quintus’ arm, but he resisted. Knowing whether the fallen tile had caused suspicion or not was vital.

‘What’s this?’ The angry cry needed no explanation.

‘We can’t stay in the boat,’ Quintus muttered to Marius as they loped off. ‘They’ll come for us, sure as the sun rises in the east.’

‘I’ve got a knife, but you don’t even have that. What the fuck do we do?’

Instinct made both men slow as they came to the end of the alley. Running would draw attention. Quintus scanned the square beyond, which was dominated by the shrine that the old man had mentioned. It was as busy as he’d expect for the time of day. Stallholders proclaimed the quality of their wares; gossiping housewives walked together in twos and threes, inspecting what was on offer. Slaves carrying baskets of shopping walked behind the richer ones. Hawkers of everything from statuettes of the goddess to good-luck charms worked the crowd, smiling and bowing. A pair of cripples – soldiers who’d been injured in the defence of the city? – held up beseeching hands from their positions near the temple steps. Fresh blood glistened on the altar in the centre of the square. A small crowd watched as two acolytes manhandled a dead goat off it. A grey-bearded priest spoke with the merchant who’d paid for the sacrifice that had just taken place.

There was no sign of Pera.

‘The fucker’s gone and left us,’ said Quintus.

‘Maybe he thought we’d look suspicious walking together.’

‘I suppose.’ In Quintus’ mind, however, this was proof of Pera’s cowardice. ‘I can’t see any soldiers.’

‘Nor I.’ They set out across the square.

‘How in Hades’ name did the bastards know where we were?’ asked Marius.

‘Someone must have talked.’

They chewed on the rancid fat of that for a moment. The danger they had been in until that point was as nothing to what it would be in the hours that followed. Epicydes would ransack the city to find them, and all of the conspirators. ‘The boat is our best bet,’ said Quintus. ‘Our only bet,’ he added grimly.

‘But what then?’ hissed Marius as they headed in the direction of the fishermen’s jetty. ‘I can’t sail, or swim. Can you?’

‘I can swim, but I’ve never sailed.’

Marius mouthed a curse.

‘Come on. It’s our best chance,’ urged Quintus. ‘If necessary, I can help you.’

‘If Pera can’t swim, he’ll order you to help him instead.’

‘I’ll leave the cocksucker to sink.’ Waking him up had repaid the debt, Quintus decided.

Marius gripped his arm in gratitude.

They began to see parties of soldiers everywhere as they threaded their way through the streets – far more than usual. Quintus tried to tell himself that it was nothing more than coincidence but that idea was crushed when he saw one of the men whom they’d recruited being dragged from his house.

‘I’m innocent, innocent, I tell you!’ shouted the captive.

‘Not according to what Attalus says,’ retorted the officer in charge.

Quintus’ head turned at the name. Had Attalus found out that he hadn’t been included in the conspiracy and betrayed it out of pique? Panic flared in Quintus’ guts as his captors headed in their direction. If the prisoner saw them, and said as much as a single word—

He shoved Marius into a street-side restaurant.

‘This is no time to eat,’ snarled Marius, but his outburst was quelled by Quintus’ warning look. They took a seat at a nearby table and ordered soup from a serving girl. Quintus told Marius in an undertone what he’d seen.

‘You mean this is Pera’s fault?’ Marius said indignantly. ‘We should have left the stupid bastard behind.’

‘Let’s concentrate on getting out of here,’ warned Quintus, but he still felt a stab of pleasure at Marius’ solidarity. They kept an eye on the street as they waited. To their relief, the soldiers and their prisoner moved on without halting.

The soup appeared and they shovelled it down. Quintus slapped a coin on the counter and they set off again, studying the crowds with apparently casual eyes. Although they saw more soldiers, the friends spotted no other conspirators, which allowed them to pass unrecognised. They didn’t see Pera. Quintus hoped that the centurion had been taken captive, that he would never see him again. Sweat drenched him as they neared the little gate in the wall that gave on to the jetty. He could sense the same tension in Marius. If the guards here had been alerted – by Pera, or by their own side – they were dead men. In silent consensus, they stopped by Arethusa’s spring, a source of fresh water since antiquity. The place was a hubbub of householders coming and going with buckets. It was easy to pretend to be two passers-by, slaking their thirst.

‘What do you think?’ whispered Marius.

Quintus stared as he raised his cup, provided by an old crone in return for a copper. There were four soldiers by the gate, the usual number. That was good. So too was the fact that their spears were leaning against the wall. They didn’t look any more alert than normal, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a trap. Then one of the guards wandered out through the gate, saying that he was bursting for a piss. The most senior of the soldiers, a man whom Quintus knew by sight, didn’t stop him. ‘They don’t know anything yet,’ he said, explaining. ‘I’d bet my life on it.’

‘That’s what you
are
betting, and mine with it,’ retorted Marius sourly, but he didn’t argue further. ‘What’s our story for going to the boat at this hour?’

‘The old man found a leak last night. He wants us to take a look and sort it out if we can.’

‘That tale isn’t out of the realms of possibility, I suppose. And some of the guards know us by sight at this stage, which is something.’

‘Let’s hope that Pera hasn’t already ballsed it up for us by spinning a different yarn.’

Marius frowned. ‘What if they don’t believe us?’

‘We will have to kill them all,’ Quintus grated, ‘quietly enough that the men on the walls above don’t hear us. Then we stroll to the boat. If Pera’s there, he’s there. If not, there’s no point waiting for him. We can force a fisherman to sail us across the harbour.’

‘Jupiter’s hairy arse,’ muttered Marius. ‘I’m not even going to think about the catapults.’

‘Good,’ said Quintus, trying also not to imagine what it would be like helping Marius swim to safety. ‘Come on.’

‘If I don’t make it but you do—’ Marius began.

‘Shut up!’

‘Let me finish. Tell Urceus that I
did
screw a Syracusan girl.’

Quintus felt a smile push its way on to his lips. ‘Very well. But you can tell him yourself.’

‘With the gods’ help. I’ll have to admit that I was lying afterwards, though, or else Vulcan will hammer my cock to a pulp.’

Any trace of humour fell away as they approached the entrance, a narrow affair that was actually a tunnel protected by a gate at each end. Soon Quintus’ pulse was hammering so fast that he worried it was audible. The fourth guard hadn’t returned, which left three. The most senior was squatting on his haunches, playing dice with one of the others. The last man was the one monitoring who came and went. He eyed Quintus sourly, which wasn’t any different to his normal manner. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘The chief found a leak in the boat last night,’ mumbled Quintus, mimicking the Syracusan accent as best he could. ‘He wants us to sort it out.’

‘Ha! He sends you to do the dirty work while he sleeps, is that it?’

‘Pretty much.’ Quintus hawked and spat.

‘It’s always the same old story.’ He rolled his eyes at the senior guard. ‘On you go.’

Quintus felt overwhelming relief. He nodded his thanks and together, he and Marius stepped towards the tunnel that led through the wall to the jetty.

‘Just a moment,’ said a voice, and Quintus’ fear resurged. He half turned, saw the senior guard getting to his feet. Quintus warned Marius with his eyes. ‘Yes, sir?’ he asked humbly.

‘Bar their path, you damn idiot!’ barked the senior guard at the man who’d let Quintus by. ‘When their friend went through a little while back, he was going on about renewing the sail. Someone’s telling lies!’

‘I’ll take the leader,’ said Quintus in Latin to Marius. He leaped for the spears leaning against the wall. Grabbing one, he used it to skewer the senior guard through his padded cuirass. While he was doing that, Marius was stabbing the second man to death. Together they dispatched the last soldier before Quintus finished off his first opponent with a thrust to the neck.

The fight took barely fifty heartbeats. The instant that it was over, Quintus became aware of being watched. Every single person by Arethusa’s spring was staring at them in complete shock. ‘Shit! They’ll alert the men on the walls. Let’s go.’

‘Look,’ growled Marius.

Quintus’ heart sank. A group of soldiers had appeared on the other side of the fountain. There were far too many to fight. ‘Go!’

They barged into the tunnel, spears in hand. The narrow space echoed to their pounding feet and heavy breathing. It was perhaps thirty paces to the far side. Before they reached it, however, a shape loomed in the entrance. The last guard, thought Quintus.

‘Pericles?’ called the man. ‘Is that you?’

‘Yes,’ Quintus replied from behind a hand. He readied his spear. Great Jupiter, do not let the new soldiers shout out, he asked silently.

‘You’re in a damn hurry. Have you got the shits?’ asked the guard with a snigger.

Quintus ran him through and pushed past. Marius stabbed him again for good measure. He fell, gurgling on his own blood. Quintus glanced back down the tunnel. No one was visible – but he could hear raised voices. ‘It’s a shame that we can’t seal the outer door.’

‘That’s the least of our worries,’ replied Marius, shoving him onward.

They emerged on to the rocks that sprawled below the base of the walls. The jetty poked out at sea level, a rickety arrangement of planking with ten or more fishing vessels tied up to it. A couple of fishermen were pottering about on their boats, and on the old man’s craft, Quintus spotted Pera. With him was another figure, who appeared to be untying the mooring rope.

‘Fucking Pera,’ Quintus said.

‘The piece of shit isn’t waiting for us!’

‘We can still make it!’

They scrambled down the rocks and thumped on to the planks, which swayed beneath them. ‘Sir!’ Quintus called out in a low voice. ‘Wait!’

When Pera saw them, he muttered to the fisherman – a man Quintus didn’t recognise – who pulled the last of the rope into the boat.

Quintus had no breath to curse, but rage filled him that Pera would desert them so deliberately. They began to sprint, with Quintus in the lead. He had covered half the distance when there was an almighty crack from behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he was horrified to see Marius half disappear through a hole in the rotten timbers. He skidded to a halt, noticing soldiers emerging from the tunnel.
Fuck!

Quintus glanced at the boat. It had only moved a length away from the jetty; the fisherman hadn’t yet run up its sail. They might still catch it by swimming. He lay down and reached down towards Marius, swearing because of the splinters in the broken planks. ‘Grab my hand!’

‘I’m hurt,’ groaned Marius as Quintus hauled him up.

‘Up, up on your feet. We can look at you on board,’ said Quintus. His gaze slid down below Marius’ waist. So much blood and bone poking through the skin was really bad news, especially now that they needed to swim. His eyes lifted; he saw the soldiers already at the end of the jetty. He tried to grab Marius, but his friend pushed him away. ‘Leave me.’

‘No!’ Quintus made another effort to pick him up, but there was nothing wrong with Marius’ arms. He resisted fiercely.

‘I’m done, Crespo! If you don’t go, we’ll both die. Where’s the point in that?’

Quintus wanted to weep, but Marius was right. The first soldier was no more than twenty paces away.

‘Get me up on my feet. I’ll hold them back so that you can jump.’

Quintus’ throat was closed with emotion. All he could do was nod. With an arm around Marius’ shoulders, he managed to lift his friend upright. Marius roared with pain as he tried to stand on his injured leg. He took a deep breath, fixed Quintus with his eyes. ‘Give me your spear.’

‘Here.’

‘Save yourself. Pera will pull you on board if you get to the boat. Go!’

‘I will.’ Quintus gripped Marius’ arm hard. Then he turned and fled.

‘Come on, you stinking Greek arse-humpers!’ he heard Marius shout in Greek. ‘One Roman is worth ten of you any day!’ The Syracusan soldiers roared abuse in reply.