Hannibal: Fields of Blood (25 page)

Macerio’s gaze had fallen away. ‘Yes, sir.’

Despite his dressing down, Macerio’s words had remained hanging in the air.

The centurion knew it too. He had glanced at each of them in turn. ‘Macerio is a cheeky prick, but he’s right. You might be killed if you go up there again. I can tell you one thing for nothing, though. It’s down to the triarii now. If they can’t help us to break past those bastards, we’ll all die anyway. Twenty years of war have taught me one thing, and that’s to recognise when a master tactician is on the field. There’s one here today, and sadly, it’s not Flaminius. The ambush was pure fucking genius. It won the battle at a stroke. We’re just trying to get our arses out of here before it’s too late.’

They had stared at him numbly, none prepared to answer. Which was worse: certain death by charging at the enemy again, or certain death in an hour or two by being overwhelmed by Numidians or Gauls? Remembering the heads he’d seen dangling from the harness on Gaulish horses at the Trebia, Quintus had known which he’d prefer. ‘I’ll go, sir.’

‘Me too,’ Rutilus had added.

When the injured Urceus had insisted on going as well, the others had been shamed into volunteering. Corax hadn’t berated them for their lack of enthusiasm; he’d nodded and smiled. ‘Good. Make this your best effort, boys, and I swear to you that we’ll get out of here.’

Fire had flared in their eyes then – weaker than before, but present all the same.

Gods, but they’d needed every last part of that fire, thought Quintus wearily. The Balearic slingers had long since found their range. Their bullets hit their targets more often than not, or so it had seemed. The front man had gone down before they’d gone twenty steps, his forehead smashed in. Only fourteen velites had come within javelin range of the Libyans. There had been eleven of them by the time they’d launched one volley, and just eight when they’d heard the
crash
of the first saw point hitting the enemy line. At that stage, Quintus had seen no shame in taking to his heels. He had sprinted to the back of the nearest formation of legionaries and squirmed into the rearmost rank. Rutilus, Urceus and two others had joined him soon after, but that had been it. How many of the twenty velites attached to Pullo’s century remained alive, he had no idea.

It had seemed the most natural thing in the world to grab the scutum of a fallen hastatus. Rutilus did the same. For close-quarters fighting, its size and weight made it far superior to their own light shields, which they discarded. There had been little initial need to use them, however, for which they were both relieved. The repeated attacks on the enemy had sapped Quintus’ strength, and he had been grateful to pound along behind the mass of legionaries as they pushed through the broken phalanxes. On the other side, the officers had rallied the men for a moment, and then charged the slingers. The Balearic warriors had taken one look at the bloodied and battered Romans before running for their lives. Few soldiers could stand up to armoured infantry, least of all skirmishers.

After that, the advance had slowed, as the physical toll of their efforts struck home. Quintus had hated Corax then, because they had been allowed the briefest of rests before the centurion had ordered them to continue uphill. Yet it had been the right decision. Their formation had been the only one thus far to succeed in breaking through the enemy line. If they’d stayed, they would have died. So they had slogged through the hills for at least a mile, until there was no sign of the enemy. Corax had ordered a halt then, just as men began to drop with exhaustion. The site, a small exposed hilltop, gave them a bird’s-eye view of what was happening by the lake. It wasn’t pleasant viewing, but once he’d made Urceus as comfortable as possible, Quintus could not tear his eyes away from it. Rutilus stood beside him, also transfixed.

‘Most of them have been driven on to the shore,’ announced a voice by his elbow.

Quintus glanced around, surprised to see Corax. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said with a sigh. ‘They’re being hounded by Gauls and Numidians alike.’

‘Poor bastards,’ said Rutilus.

‘Their lines were broken long ago; the units will all be mixed up with one another. Most of their officers are probably dead or injured. They’re surrounded, confused, panicked.’ Corax scowled. ‘Fuck it all. There’s nowhere for them to go but into the lake.’

Quintus peered down at the battlefield again. Was it his imagination, or was there a strange tinge to the shallows near the fighting? He blinked in horror. No, the water
was
turning red. His overwhelming thirst vanished for a moment. Even if he’d been able to drink his fill from the lake at that very instant, he wouldn’t have. ‘What will happen to them, sir?’

‘To the ones down there? They’re dead meat. Nothing we can do about it either. Going back down there would get every one of us killed, double quick.’

Quintus and Rutilus exchanged a sober but relieved look. If a man such as Corax said it was all right not to play the hero, then who were they to argue? Quintus prayed that his father was safe – that the cavalry hadn’t had time to pass through the pinch point before the ambush began. And at least Calatinus wasn’t present.

‘What we’ve got to concentrate on is not letting the same thing happen to us. My guess is that the guggas will be after us as soon as they can get organised.’

‘Ready to leave when you are, sir.’ Rutilus stuck out his chin.

An approving look. Corax eyed Quintus’ scutum. ‘How do you like the feel of that?’

‘It’s heavy, sir, but I can manage it.’ Another silent prayer, this time one of thanks that his arm had fully recovered.

‘And you?’ The centurion looked at Rutilus.

‘Same, sir.’

‘Picked them up from lads who’d gone down, eh?’

Quintus nodded.

‘Did you have to use them?’

‘No, sir. We were at the back,’ Quintus replied, expecting Corax to tell them off twice over.

‘It was good thinking to arm yourselves with them. Those little round things you velites carry aren’t worth the steam off my piss when you’ve got to slug it out with other infantry. Hang on to them for the moment.’

Quintus and Rutilus grinned in surprise. ‘Yes, sir!’

‘You and your mates did well earlier too,’ said Corax in a tone of gruff approval. ‘It’s no easy thing to keep running up a slope with those bastard slingers raining death down on you. Keep that type of behaviour up, and you’ll both make hastatus sooner rather than later.’

‘Thank you, sir!’

‘Make the most of this break. We’re leaving soon. We need to get as far from here as possible by sunset.’

‘Will we make it, sir?’ Quintus asked.

‘If the gods wish it, yes.’ With a tight nod, Corax moved off.

Quintus’ pride had been stirred by the centurion’s praise, but his final words had turned it to ash in his dry mouth. He could see the same emotion writ large on Rutilus’ face. He lifted his gaze to the heavens, searching for inspiration. Surely the gods wouldn’t let them survive the hell they’d just been through only to see them slain by other Carthaginian troops? After a moment, he looked down, angered by the absence of a sign.

‘The damn gods never answer. Never,’ whispered Rutilus. ‘Even when you need them most.’

‘I know.’ Quintus felt bone-weary. ‘We’ll just have to soldier on.’

Chapter VIII

Capua

‘AURELIA.’

She clamped the pillow tighter against her head. Go away, she thought miserably. Mother has only sent you because she knows I won’t talk to her.

‘I know you’re in there,’ said Gaius.

Despite the pillow, Aurelia could hear every word he said.

‘Open the door. Please, Aurelia.’

With a sigh, she lifted her hand away from her head. ‘What do you want?’

‘To talk.’

‘Mother sent you,’ she accused.

‘She did ask, yes, but I wanted to talk to you too. I’m worried about you.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘No, you’re not.’ He knocked again. ‘I won’t go away until you let me in.’

She lay on her bed for a moment longer, before she got up and lifted the latch. Perhaps he could lift her mood.

‘You’ve been crying,’ he said, entering.

She wiped her reddened eyes. ‘What do you expect? Hannibal has defeated our armies yet again. Thousands of our soldiers have been killed. If Flaminius was killed, it stands to reason that Father and Quintus could have been slain too. And I’m – I’m supposed to be getting married?’ Her tears began again in earnest.

‘Come here.’ He took her in his arms, which is what she’d wanted him to do since the night at her house. But not in these dreadful circumstances. Aurelia didn’t fight him, though – she needed all the comfort she could get.

Three days before, a letter from her father granting his permission for her to wed Lucius had arrived. Aurelia had expected that. What she could never have envisaged was reading that Quintus had recently disappeared en route from Flaminius’ camp to Capua. Fabricius’ assertion that every effort was being made to find him had done little to ease her or her mother’s distress. It was too easy to assume that Quintus was dead, killed in a fall from his horse, by bandits or by an enemy patrol. Two days later – the previous morning – their lives had been turned upside down a second time when the shocking details of the battle at Lake Trasimene had reached Capua. Atia’s face had gone grey when she’d heard; she’d spent much of the time since on her knees at the temple to Mars. Gaius had been training on the Campanian plain, unaware, but the normally ebullient Martialis had been reduced to a brooding silence. Aurelia had been devastated. Deep in her gut, she knew that her father was among the thousands of dead. He had given his blessing to her betrothal, and then he had been killed in battle. It was as if the very gods were laughing at her.

‘The news from Trasimene was dreadful,’ Gaius began, which made her sob even harder, ‘but from what I’ve heard, most of our casualties were taken by the legionaries. Flaminius didn’t send any cavalry ahead of the vanguard, so they hadn’t passed through the narrows by the lake. From the moment that the fighting began, the press was so great that they couldn’t join in. When the tide turned, they were able to ride away without any difficulty.’

She pulled away, incredulous. ‘When did you hear this?’

‘Only this afternoon. I spoke with a second rider, who’d arrived from Rome. The Senate sent him with advice for the city’s leaders.’

She needed him to say the words. ‘So you’re saying that Father might be alive?’

He kissed her on the forehead. ‘He’s probably planning your wedding as we speak.’

‘The gods be thanked.’
How could I have doubted them?
She managed a wan smile. ‘Have you told Mother?’

‘Yes. She said that I should be the one to tell you.’

Then Aurelia thought of Quintus, and her misery resurged. ‘What about my brother?’ she whispered.

‘Just because he disappeared doesn’t mean he’s dead.’

‘Why would he not come home, though?’

‘I don’t know, Aurelia, but he must have had a good reason. Quintus is no coward, you know that. He wouldn’t do something like this on a whim.’

‘I know. But what could his reasons have been? A girl?’

‘They’d been marching for weeks. He wouldn’t have had the time to get to know any.’

They gazed at each other, thinking the same thing.

In an effort to distract herself from how close Gaius was, Aurelia voiced the thought first. ‘Could it have been to do with Hanno?’

‘I don’t see how it could have been. How would he ever make contact with Quintus? They’re in opposing armies.’

‘And even if he did, what would make Quintus run away?’ She shook her head in frustration. ‘It doesn’t make any sense.’

‘But thinking about it logically has cheered you up a little.’ He gave her an affectionate squeeze. ‘Quintus will reappear sometime, never you fear.’

‘Thank you, Gaius.’ Aurelia smiled ruefully, feeling better than she had for many hours. Why can’t Lucius be more like you? she thought, looking up at him in admiration. Her head moved a fraction towards his. He didn’t move away, and her breath caught in her chest. She dropped her gaze until all she could see was his nose and lips. A fingersbreadth closer. Still he didn’t pull back. His breath was warm on her face. Gods, but she had never wanted to kiss someone so much. Their lips brushed, sending a jolt of energy through every part of her.

‘Who did you say was here?’ Carrying in from the courtyard, Atia’s voice was loud with displeasure.

The slave’s reply was pitched too low to be discernible, but by then the magic had vanished. They moved apart awkwardly, not looking at each other.

‘Show him in. He’ll only wait outside if I don’t see him,’ Atia ordered.

Gaius frowned. ‘Who could that be?’

‘Phanes,’ spat Aurelia.

‘Who?’

‘He’s a moneylender.’

‘What would someone like that want with your mother?’

Gaius would find out sooner or later, she thought. Besides, what did it matter if he knew? Quickly, she filled him in on what her mother had told her.

‘Why didn’t your father ask mine for help? Or your mother?’

‘Could you, in a similar situation?’ she challenged.

‘It’s not easy to ask a friend for a loan, I suppose,’ he admitted.

‘I want to hear what he has to say.’

‘I don’t suppose that Atia will be too appreciative of that idea.’

‘What she doesn’t know won’t harm her,’ replied Aurelia as she padded to the door and peered outside. Her mother was facing the tablinum door, waiting for her unwanted visitor. Aurelia watched for a few moments. Phanes eventually appeared, accompanied by Martialis’ major domo. Atia greeted him in a cold voice; she made no move to welcome him further into the house, forcing the Greek to stand in the doorway. Aurelia wanted to stamp her foot. Her bedroom was too far away to be able to hear a word. She slipped out, ignoring Gaius’ hiss of dismay.

The courtyard had been designed in typical fashion, with statues and plants – vines, olive, lemon and fig trees – throughout. Using these as cover, Aurelia darted forward until she was close enough to eavesdrop. A glance behind her revealed that Gaius had accompanied her. She crouched down behind a large statue of Jupiter Grabovius, an Oscan version of the god revered by Romans, one whom Martialis also worshipped. Gaius crowded in behind her; she relished the feel of his chest against her back.