Hannibal Enemy of Rome (36 page)

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 Carthage, 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.

Wrapped in Quintus’ cloak, Hanno sat watching the yellow-orange flames and thinking of the people he held most dear in the world. His father. Sapho and Bostar. Suniaton. Hanno paused before adding two more individuals to the list. Quintus. Aurelia. How many of them would he ever see again? Sadness, his constant companion since the storm, washed over Hanno in great waves. In all likelihood, he would never be reunited
with his family. They were probably with Hannibal’s army in Iberia by now, with every chance of being killed. Although it was his greatest desire to find them, doing so in the midst of a war would be virtually impossible. Finding Suniaton was perhaps his best hope, Hanno realised. If, by some stroke of luck, this came to pass, he would leave, never to see Quintus or Aurelia again. That conclusion brought even more pain. All he could wish for was a reunion with his loved ones in the next world. This bleak insight was the last thing Hanno remembered as sleep drew him into its embrace.

Dawn found Hanno in a better frame of mind. There was much to be grateful for. Despite what he had been through, he was no longer a captive. Moreover, Quintus had a greater chance of freeing Suniaton than he did. If the attempt was successful, he and his friend had a reasonable chance of making it to the coast, and finding a ship bound for Carthage. Never give up hope, Hanno thought. Without it, life is pointless.

He spent the morning practising with his gladius and scanning the slopes below for movement. It was nearly midday when Hanno spotted a lone figure on horseback. His heart leaped in his chest at the sight. There was no way of knowing who it was, so he withdrew into the cover granted by a clump of juniper trees some fifty paces from the hut. With bated breath, Hanno waited as the rider drew nearer. From its broad shoulders, he judged it to be male. There was no sign of any dogs, which pleased him. It increased the likelihood that this was not someone sent to track him down.