Hannibal Enemy of Rome (58 page)

To his surprise, the pair obeyed. White-faced, they waited for him to speak.

Quintus ignored his instincts, which were screaming at him to search for his father. He had two men’s lives in his hands. For the moment, they had to be the priority. ‘Let’s head for the
intervallum
,’ he said. ‘That’s where everyone will be headed. We can fight the whoresons on a much better footing there.’

‘But we’re both barefoot,’ said Cincius plaintively.

Quintus bridled, but if he didn’t let the others equip themselves with caligae from nearby corpses, frostbite beckoned. ‘Go on, then. Pick up a
scutum
each as well,’ he ordered. A shield was vital.

‘What about a mail shirt?’ Calatinus tugged at a dead legionary. ‘He’s about my size.’

‘No, you fool! We can’t afford the time. Swords and shields will have
to do.’ Twitching with impatience, he waited until they were ready. ‘Follow me.’ Keeping an eye out for Gaulish warriors, Quintus set off at a loping run.

He led them straight to the intervallum, the strip of open ground that ran around the inside of the camp walls. Normally, it served for the legion to assemble before marching out on patrol or to do battle. Now, it allowed the bloodied survivors of the covert attack to regroup. Many had had the same idea as Quintus. The area was packed with hundreds of milling, disorganised legionaries and cavalrymen. Not many were fully dressed, but most had had the wits to pick up a weapon as they fled their tents.

Fortunately, this was where the discipline of officers such as centurions came into play. Recognisable even without their characteristic helmets, there were calm, measured figures everywhere, shouting orders and forming the soldiers into regular lines. Quintus and his companions joined the nearest group. At that point, it didn’t matter that they were not infantry. Before long, the centurions had marshalled a large force together. Every sixth soldier was issued with one of the few torches available. It wasn’t much, but would do until the attack had been contained.

At once, they began sweeping the avenues and tent lines for Gauls. To everyone’s frustration, they had little success. Their desire for revenge could not be sated. It appeared that as soon as the alarm had been raised, the majority of the tribesmen had made their getaway. Nonetheless, the search continued until the entire area had been covered.

The worst discoveries were the numerous headless bodies. It was common knowledge that the Gauls liked to gather such battle trophies, but Quintus had never witnessed it before. He had never seen so much blood in his life. Enormous splashes of red circled every corpse, and wide trails of it ran alongside the Gauls’ footprints.

‘Jupiter above, this will look like a slaughterhouse in daylight,’ said Calatinus in a hushed voice.

‘Poor bastards,’ replied Cincius. ‘Most of them never had a chance.’

An image of his father sleeping in his tent made Quintus retch again. There was nothing left to come up except bile.

Calatinus looked concerned. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ Quintus barked. Forcing down his nausea, he carefully scanned each body they came across. He begged the gods that he would not find
his father. To his immense relief, he saw none who resembled Fabricius. Yet this did not mean a thing. They had covered but a small part of the camp. Only when daybreak came could he be sure.

The centurions kept every soldier on high alert for what remained of the night. The sole compromise they would make was to allow each makeshift century in turn to go to their tents and retrieve their clothing and armour. Fully prepared for battle, the legionaries and cavalrymen then had to wait until dawn, when it became clear that there would be no further attack. The men were finally allowed to stand down, and were ordered to return to their respective units. The cleaning-up operation would take all day. Disregarding this, Quintus went in search of his father. Miraculously, he found him in his tent. Tears came to his eyes as he entered. ‘You’re alive!’

‘There you are,’ Fabricius declared, waving at the table before him, which was laid out for breakfast. ‘Care for some bread?’

Quintus grinned. Despite his father’s nonchalance, he had seen the flash of relief in his eyes. ‘Thank you. I’m famished. It’s been a long night,’ he replied.

‘Indeed it has,’ Fabricius replied. ‘And more than a hundred good men are gone thanks to those bastard Cenomani.’

‘You’re certain that’s who it was?’

‘Who else could it have been? There was no sign of the gate being forced, and the sentries on the walls saw no one.’

Realisation struck Quintus. ‘That’s why they were so surly yesterday!’ Seeing his father’s confusion, he explained.

‘That clarifies a great deal. And now they’ve fled to the Carthaginian camp. No doubt their “trophies” will serve as an offering to Hannibal,’ said Fabricius sourly. ‘Proof that they hate us.’

Quintus tried not to think of Licinius’ headless corpse, which he’d found in the wreckage of their tent. ‘What will Publius do?’

Fabricius scowled. ‘Guess.’

‘We’re to withdraw again?’

His father nodded.

‘Why?’ cried Quintus.

‘He thinks it’s too dangerous on this side of the Trebia. After last night, that’s hard to argue with.’ Fabricius saw Quintus’ anguish. ‘It’s not just
that. The high ground on the far bank is extremely uneven, which will stop any chance of attacks by the Carthaginian cavalry. We’ll also be blocking the roads that lead south through Liguria to the lands of the Boii.’

Quintus’ protests subsided. Those reasons at least made sense. ‘When?’

‘This afternoon, as it’s getting dark.’

Quintus sighed. The very manner of their retreat seemed cowardly, but it
was
prudent. ‘And then we sit tight?’ he guessed. ‘Contain the Carthaginians?’

‘Exactly. Sempronius Longus is travelling here with all speed. His forces will arrive inside a month.’ Fabricius’ expression grew fierce. ‘Hannibal’s forces will never stand up to two consular armies.’

For the second time since the Cenomani attack, Quintus had a reason to smile.

‘There you are. Your mother’s been worried. She thought you’d be here.’

At the sound of Elira’s voice, Aurelia turned. The Illyrian was framed in the doorway to the stable. All at once, she felt very childish. ‘Is Gaius still here?’

‘No, he’s gone. Apparently, his unit is to be mobilised soon. He said that you would be in his thoughts and prayers.’

Aurelia felt even worse.

Elira came closer. ‘I heard the news,’ she said softly. ‘Everyone did. We all feel for you.’

‘Thank you.’ Aurelia threw her a grateful look.

‘Who’s to know? Your father may well be alive.’

‘Don’t,’ Aurelia snapped.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Elira quickly.

Aurelia forced a smile. ‘At least Quintus is still alive.’

‘And Hanno.’

Aurelia shoved away the pang of jealousy that followed Elira’s words. Mention of Hanno inevitably made her think of Suniaton. She hadn’t taken him any food for four days. He’d be running out of provisions. Aurelia made her mind up on the spot. Seeing Suni now would cheer her up. She squinted at Elira. ‘You liked Hanno, didn’t you?’

Twin dimples formed in the Illyrian’s cheeks. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘Would you help him again?’

‘Of course,’ Elira answered, looking puzzled. ‘But he’s gone, with Quintus.’

Aurelia smiled. ‘Go to the kitchen and fill a bag with provisions. Bread, cheese, meat. If Julius asks, tell him that they’re rations for our foraging trip. Fetch a basket too.’

‘What if the mistress wants to know where you are?’

‘Say that we’re going to look for nuts and mushrooms.’

Elira’s face grew even more confused. ‘How will that help Hanno?’

‘You’ll see.’ Aurelia clapped her hands. ‘Well, get on with it then. I’ll meet you on the path that leads up to the hills.’

With a curious glance, Elira hurried off.

Aurelia hadn’t been waiting long before Elira came hurrying through the trees towards her. A small leather pack dangled from one hand, a cloak that matched her own from the other.

‘Did anyone ask what you were doing?’ Aurelia asked nervously.

‘Julius did, but he just smiled when I told him what we were doing. He said to be careful.’

‘He’s such an old woman!’ declared Aurelia. She looked down and realised that she’d come out without her dagger or sling. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. We won’t be gone for long. ‘Come on,’ she said briskly.

‘Where are we going?’ asked Elira.

‘Up there,’ replied Aurelia, waving vaguely at the slopes that loomed over the farm. Abruptly, she decided that there was no further need for subterfuge. ‘Did you know that Hanno had a friend who was captured with him?’

Elira nodded.

‘Suniaton was sold to become a gladiator in Capua.’

‘Oh.’ Elira didn’t dare to say more, but her muted tone spoke volumes.

‘Quintus and Gaius helped him to escape.’

The Illyrian was visibly shocked. ‘Why?’

‘Because Hanno was Quintus’ friend.’

‘I see.’ Elira frowned. ‘Has Suniaton got something to do with where we’re going now?’

‘Yes. He was injured when they rescued him, so the poor thing couldn’t travel. He’s much better now, thank the gods.’

Elira looked intrigued. ‘Where is he?’

‘At the shepherd’s hut where Quintus and Hanno fought the bandits.’

‘You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?’ said Elira with a giggle.

Aurelia’s misery lifted a fraction and she grinned.

Talking animatedly, they walked to the border of Fabricius’ land. The fields on either side were empty and bare, lying fallow until the spring. Jackdaws were their only company; flocks regularly flew overhead, their characteristic squawks piercing the chill air. Soon they had entered the woods that covered the surrounding hills. The bird cries immediately died away, and the trees pressed in from all sides with a claustrophobic air that Aurelia did not like.

When Agesandros stepped out on to the path, she screamed in fright. So did Elira.

‘I didn’t mean to scare you,’ he said apologetically.

Aurelia tried to calm her pounding heart. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded.

He raised the bow in his hands. An arrow was already notched to its string. ‘Hunting deer. And you?’

Aurelia’s mouth felt very dry. ‘Looking for nuts. And mushrooms.’

‘I see,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t stray too far from the farm on your search.’

‘Why not?’ asked Aurelia, trying desperately to sound confident.

‘You never know who might be about. Bandits. A bear. An escaped slave.’

‘There’s little chance of that,’ Aurelia declared boldly.

‘Maybe so. You’re unarmed, though. I could come with you,’ the Sicilian offered.

‘No!’ Instantly, Aurelia regretted her vehemence. ‘Thank you, but we’ll be fine.’

‘If you’re certain,’ he said, stepping back.

‘I am.’ Jerking her head at Elira, Aurelia walked past him.

‘It’s a bit late for mushrooms, isn’t it?’

Aurelia’s step faltered. ‘There are still a few, if you know where to look,’ she managed.

Agesandros nodded knowledgeably. ‘I’m sure.’

Aurelia’s skin was crawling as she walked away.

‘Does he know?’ whispered Elira.

‘How could he?’ Aurelia hissed back.

But it felt as if he did.

Many days passed by, and it became evident that there would be no battle. As Fabricius had said, no commander would choose to fight unless he could select the time and place. Publius’ refusal to move from the high ground and Hannibal’s unwillingness to attack his enemy’s position produced a stalemate. While the Carthaginians roamed at will across the plain west of the Trebia, the Romans stayed close to their camp. Hannibal’s cavalry now severely outnumbered their horsemen. Patrols were so risky that they were rarely sent out. Despite this, Quintus found it hard to remain equable about their enforced inactivity. He was still suffering nightmares about what had happened to Licinius. He hoped that in battle he could purge himself of the disturbing images. ‘I’m going crazy,’ he told his father one night. ‘How much longer do we have to wait?’

‘We’ll do nothing until Longus arrives,’ Fabricius repeated patiently. ‘If we marched down to the flat ground today and offered battle, the dogs would cut us to pieces. Even without the difference in cavalry, Hannibal’s army outnumbers us man for man. You know that.’

‘I suppose so,’ Quintus admitted reluctantly.

Fabricius leaned back in his chair, satisfied that his point had been made.

Quintus stared gloomily into the depths of the brazier. What was Hanno doing at this very moment? he wondered. It didn’t seem real that they were now enemies. Quintus also thought of Aurelia. When would his recently composed letter reach her? If Fortuna smiled on them both, he might get a reply within the next few months. It was a long time to wait. At least in the meantime he was serving alongside his father. His sister, on the other hand, was not so lucky. Quintus’ heart ached for her.