Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

At the front, Fabricius had no idea, or was choosing to ignore, what was going on. It was probably the latter, Quintus decided. These were some of the most experienced men in his command. Yet they were unhappy. Why had his father accepted the mission? Quintus cursed. The answer was startlingly simple. How would it look to Publius if Fabricius had refused a duty like this? Terrible. Quintus eyed Flaccus sourly. If the fool hadn’t put the idea in the consul’s head, they’d all still be safe on the Roman side of the river. Guilt soon replaced Quintus’ anger. By being so eager, he had probably helped push his father into accepting the suicide mission.

For, despite the fact that there was no sign of the enemy, that is what it felt like.

Quintus waited for only a short time before urging his horse forward to his father’s position. Flaccus was riding alongside. He gave Quintus a broad wink. It wasn’t entirely convincing.

He’s frightened too, thought Quintus. That made up his mind.

Fabricius was intent on scanning the landscape. His rigid back told its own story. Quintus swallowed. ‘Maybe this patrol was a bad idea, Father.’ He ignored Flaccus’ shocked reaction. ‘We’re visible for miles.’

Fabricius dragged his gaze around to Quintus. ‘I know. Why do you think I’m keeping such a keen eye out?’

‘But there’s no sign of anyone,’ protested Flaccus. ‘Not even a bird!’

‘For Jupiter’s sake, that doesn’t matter!’ Fabricius snapped. ‘All the Carthaginians need is one alert sentry. If there are any Numidians within five miles of here, they’ll be after us within a dozen heartbeats of any alarm.’

Flaccus flinched. ‘But we can’t go back empty-handed.’

‘Not without looking like fools, or cowards,’ Fabricius agreed sourly.

They rode in silence for a few moments.

‘There might be a way out,’ Flaccus muttered.

Quintus was ashamed to feel a flutter of hope.

Fabricius laughed harshly. ‘Not so keen now, are you?’

‘Are you doubting my courage?’ demanded Flaccus with an outraged look.

‘Not your courage,’ Fabricius growled. ‘Your good judgement. Haven’t you realised yet that Hannibal’s cavalry are lethal? If we so much as see any, we’re dead men.’

‘Surely it’s not that bad?’ protested Flaccus.

‘I should have refused this mission, regardless of how it looked to Publius. Let you lead it on your own. If anyone would follow you, that is.’

Flaccus subsided into a sulky silence.

His father’s outburst revealed the depths of his anger; Quintus was amazed.

Fabricius relented a fraction. ‘So what’s your bright idea? You might as well tell me.’

‘We will report that the enemy cavalry was present in such numbers that we were unable to proceed far from the Trebia,’ said Flaccus with bad grace. ‘It’s not cowardice to avoid annihilation. Who will gainsay us? Your men certainly won’t talk about it, and no one else will be foolish enough to cross the river.’

‘Your capacity for guile never ceases to amaze me,’ snarled Fabricius.

‘I…’ Flaccus spluttered.

‘But you’re right. It’s better to save the lives of thirty men in the way you suggest rather than throw them away through foolish pride. We will return at once.’ Fabricius reined in his mount, and turned to issue the order to halt.

Quintus sagged down on to his horse’s back. His relief lasted no more than a heartbeat. From some distance away came the unmistakable sound of galloping hooves.

The eyes of every man in the turma turned to the west.

A quarter of a mile distant, a tide of riders was emerging from behind a copse of trees.

‘Numidians!’ Fabricius screamed. ‘About turn! Ride for your lives!’

His soldiers needed no urging.

Trying not to panic, Quintus did the same thing. The ambush might have been sprung early, but it remained to be seen if they could make it back to the Trebia before the enemy horsemen reached them.

It soon became clear that they would never reach the river in time. The Numidians were physically smaller than the Romans, and their mounts were faster. They were operating to a plan too. While some continued riding in direct pursuit from the south, others angled their path outwards and to the west, effectively hemming the patrol against the Trebia. The Romans had to flee northwards. Naturally, they made for the ford. There was no other option. It was the only one for miles in either direction.

‘Get to the front,’ Fabricius shouted at Quintus and Flaccus. ‘Stay there. Stop for nothing.’

Flaccus obeyed without question, but Quintus held back. ‘What about you?’

‘I’m staying at the rear to prevent this becoming a complete rout,’ snapped Fabricius. ‘Now go!’ His steely gaze brooked no argument.