Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

‘You might outrank me still, brother, but Hannibal entrusted the vanguard to me, not you,’ Sapho said in a loud voice. ‘I’m sure that our general would love to hear why you countermanded his orders.’

‘Hannibal ordered you to kill any prisoners like this?’ Bostar muttered in disbelief.

‘He said I was to do as I saw fit,’ snarled Sapho. ‘Which I am doing. Now stand back!’ He was delighted when, with slumped shoulders, Bostar obeyed. Sapho looked down for a final time at the wall-eyed warrior, who tried to spit at him again. Inspiration seized Sapho and he drew his dagger. Kneeling down, he shoved the tip into the man’s right eye socket. With a savage wrench, he hooked out the eyeball. His victim’s courage disappeared and a shriek of pure agony ripped free of his throat. Wiping his bloody hands on the warrior’s tunic, Sapho stood. ‘I’m leaving him one eye so that he can watch the mightiest army in the world pass by,’ he said to the interpreter. ‘Tell him that.’ He glanced at Bostar. ‘Watch and learn, little brother. This is how enemies of Carthage should be treated.’ Without waiting for a response, Sapho jerked his head at the mahout. ‘Finish it.’

Full of impotent anguish, Bostar walked away. He was unwilling to watch. Unfortunately, he couldn’t block out the screams. What had his older brother become? he wondered. Why was Hanno the one who had been carried out to sea?

For the first time, Bostar allowed himself that thought without guilt.

Chapter XVI: Journeys

Naturally, the via Appia, the main road to Rome, led straight out of Capua. Not wishing to enter the town, Quintus first bypassed his father’s farm and then took a smaller, cross-country track that meandered through a number of hamlets and past countless farms to join the larger way some miles to the north. Quintus rode his horse. As a supposed slave, Hanno sat on the back of an irritable mule, which was also laden down with equipment. They travelled in silence for the first hour. Both had much to think about.

Quintus now felt confident of finding his father. He was sad to have left Aurelia behind, but that was the way of the world. Their mother would look after her well. However, Quintus felt uneasy. Once their objective – that of finding his father – had been achieved, Hanno would depart to join the Carthaginian forces. Did that mean that they were already enemies? Thoroughly unsettled by this notion, Quintus tried not to think of it.

Hanno prayed that Suniaton would be all right and that they would find Fabricius swiftly. Then he would be free. He asked to be reunited with his father and brothers. If they were still alive, of course. Hanno tried to be upbeat, and concentrated on imagining marching to war against the Romans. At once, however, another disquieting image popped up. Quintus and Fabricius would be serving in the legions. Unknowingly, Hanno had the same disturbing thought as Quintus, and buried it deeply in the recesses of his mind.

Not long after they had joined the Via Appia, they came upon a party of infantry marching south.

‘Oscans,’ said Quintus, relieved to have something to talk about. ‘They’re heading for the port.’

Hanno knew that the River Volturnus ran in a southwesterly direction past Capua to terminate at the coast. ‘To be transported to Iberia?’

Ill at ease again, Quintus nodded.

Hanno ignored him, focusing instead on the approaching group. Apart from Fabricius’ escort, he hadn’t seen many soldiers in Italy. These were socii, not regular legionaries, but such men would constitute up to half of any army that faced Hannibal’s. They were the enemy.

Some of the Oscans were bareheaded, but most wore bronze Attic helmets decorated in striking fashion with horsehair or feathers, which were dyed red, black, white or yellow. Their short wool tunics were also eye-catching, ranging from red to ochre to grey. Few wore shoes or sandals, but all had a broad leather belt covered in bronze sheeting, which was fastened with elaborate hooks. The soldiers were armed with light javelins and thrusting spears of different lengths; the rare men with swords carried the slashing kopis, a curved weapon originally used by the Greeks. The majority of their shields were similar to scuta, concave and ribbed, but smaller.

‘It wasn’t many generations ago that they were fighting Rome,’ Quintus revealed. ‘Capua has only been under Roman rule for just over a century. Many locals think it should reclaim its independence.’

Hanno goggled. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. It’s a favourite argument between Martialis and my father, especially when they’ve been drinking.’ Quintus frowned, wondering if his mother felt similarly. She’d never said as much, but he knew that she was fiercely proud of her heritage.