Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

As Aurelia crossed the courtyard, she saw Suniaton. He had his back to her, and was carrying a basket of vegetables into the kitchen. Her spirits lifted even higher. If he was able to do that, his leg must have improved further. She hurried after him. Reaching the door, Aurelia saw Suniaton lifting his load on to the work surface. All the other slaves were busy in other parts of the room. ‘Suni!’ she hissed.

He didn’t react.

‘Pssst! Suni!’ Aurelia stepped inside the kitchen.

Still he did not respond. It was then that Aurelia noticed his stiff-backed stance. Claws of fear raked her belly. ‘Sunny, it’s so sunny outside,’ she said loudly.

‘I could have sworn you said S-u-n-i,’ Agesandros purred, stepping from the shadows beside the kitchen door.

Aurelia blanched. ‘No. I said it was sunny. Can’t you see? The weather’s changed.’ She gestured outside at the blue sky above the courtyard.

She might as well have been speaking to a statue. ‘Suni – Suniaton – is a gugga name,’ said the Sicilian coldly.

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Aurelia retorted desperately. Her gaze shot to Julius and the other slaves, but they were carefully pretending not to notice what was going on. Despair filled her. She wasn’t the only one who was scared of the vilicus. And her mother was still sick in bed.

‘Is this miserable wretch Carthaginian?’

‘No. I told you, he’s Greek. His name’s Lysander.’

From nowhere, a dagger appeared in Agesandros’ hand. He pricked it to Suniaton’s throat. ‘Are you a gugga?’ There was no response, and the vilicus moved his blade to Suni’s groin. ‘Do you want your balls cut off?’

Petrified, Suniaton shook his head vehemently.

‘Speak, then!’ Agesandros shouted, returning the dagger to Suni’s neck. ‘Are you from Carthage?’

Suniaton’s shoulders sagged. ‘Yes.’

‘You can talk!’ crowed the Sicilian. He rounded on Aurelia. ‘So you lied to me.’

‘What if I have?’ Aurelia cried, genuinely angry now. ‘I know what you think of Carthaginians.’

Agesandros’ eyes narrowed. ‘It was odd when this scumbag arrived, half-dead. With a recently healed sword injury. I bet he’s the runaway gladiator.’ Like a hawk, he pounced on Suniaton’s reactive flinch. ‘I knew it!’

Think! Aurelia told herself. Quickly, she drew herself up to her full height. ‘Surely not?’ she snapped haughtily. ‘That creature would have fled long ago.’

‘He might have fooled you, but there’s no drawing the wool over my eyes.’ Agesandros leaned on his blade. ‘You’re no simpleton, are you?’

‘No,’ Suniaton mumbled wearily.

‘Where’s your friend?’ the Sicilian demanded.

Don’t say anything, thought Aurelia pleadingly. He’s still not sure.

To her horror, Suniaton’s courage flared one last time. ‘Hanno? He’s long gone. With any luck, he’ll be in Hannibal’s army by now.’

‘Shame,’ murmured Agesandros. ‘You’re of no further use, then.’ Smoothly, he brought down his dagger and slipped it between Suniaton’s ribs, guiding it into his heart.

Suniaton’s eyes bulged in shock, and he let out a shuddering gasp of pain. His limbs went rigid before relaxing slowly. With an odd tenderness, Agesandros let him down. A rapid flow of blood soaked the front of Suni’s tunic and spread on to the tile floor. He did not move again.

‘No! You monster!’ Aurelia shrieked.

Agesandros straightened. He studied his bloodied blade carefully.

Panicking, Aurelia took a step backwards, into the kitchen. ‘No,’ she cried. ‘Julius! Help me!’

At last, the portly slave came hurrying to her side. ‘What have you done, Agesandros?’ he muttered in horror.

The Sicilian didn’t move. ‘I have done the master and mistress a service.’

Aurelia couldn’t believe her ears. ‘W-what?’

‘How do you think he’d feel to discover that a dangerous fugitive – a gladiator – had contrived to join the household, placing his wife and his only daughter in danger of their lives?’ asked Agesandros righteously. He kicked Suniaton. ‘Death is too good for scum like this.’

Aurelia felt herself grow faint. Suniaton was dead, and it was all her fault. She could do nothing about it either. She felt like a murderess. In her mother’s eyes, the Sicilian’s actions would be completely justifiable. A sob escaped her lips.

‘Why don’t you attend to the mistress?’ There was iron below Agesandros’ apparent solicitousness.

Aurelia rallied herself. ‘He’s to have a decent burial,’ she ordered.

The Sicilian’s lips quirked. ‘Very well.’

Aurelia stalked from the kitchen. She needed privacy. To wail. To weep. She might as well be dead, like Suniaton – and her father. All she had to look forward to from now on was her marriage to Flaccus.

Suddenly, an outrageous image popped into Aurelia’s mind. It was of her, standing on the deck of a ship as it sailed out from the Italian coast. Towards Carthage.

I could run away, she thought. Find Hanno. He-

Leave everything you’ve ever known behind to find one of the enemy? Aurelia’s heart shouted. That’s madness.

It was only the bones of an idea, but her spirits were lifted by its mere existence.

It would give her the strength to carry on.