Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

Catching sight of two Carthaginian officers in the soldiers’ midst, Hanno cursed. It was Sapho and Bostar. Both were dressed in their finest uniforms. Bell-shaped helmets with thick rims and yellow-feathered crests covered their heads. Layered linen pteryges hung below their polished bronze cuirasses to cover the groin, and contoured greaves protected their lower legs. No doubt they too were on their way to the meeting. Muttering an apology to the spearman, Hanno backed away, looking at the ground in an attempt not to be recognised.

Oblivious to Sapho and Bostar’s presence, Suniaton was snorting with amusement at Hanno’s collision. ‘Come on,’ he urged. ‘We don’t want to get there too late.’

‘Hanno!’ Bostar’s voice was genial.

He pretended not to hear.

‘Hanno! Come back!’ barked a deeper, more commanding voice, that of Sapho.

Unwillingly, Hanno turned.

Suniaton tried to sidle away, but he had also been spotted.

‘Eshmuniaton! Get over here,’ Sapho ordered.

With a miserable expression, Suniaton shuffled to his friend’s side.

Hanno’s brothers shouldered their way forward to stand before them.

‘Sapho. Bostar,’ Hanno said with a false smile. ‘What a surprise.’

‘Is it?’ Sapho demanded, his thick eyebrows meeting in a frown. A short, compact man with a serious manner like Malchus, he was twenty-two. Young to be a mid-ranking officer, but like Bostar, his ability had shone through during his training. ‘We’re all supposed to be heading to listen to the elders. Why aren’t you with Father?’

Flushing, Hanno looked down. Damn it, he thought. In Sapho’s eyes, duty to Carthage was all-important. In a single moment, their chances of a day on the boat had vanished.

Sapho gave Suniaton a hard stare, taking in his pack and the provisions in his hands. ‘Because the pair of you were skiving off, that’s why! Fishing, no doubt?’

Suniaton scuffed a toe in the dirt.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ Sapho asked acidly.

Hanno moved in front of his friend. ‘We were going to catch some tunny, yes,’ he admitted.

Sapho’s scowl grew deeper. ‘And that’s more important than listening to the Council of Elders?’

As usual, his brother’s high-handed attitude rankled with Hanno. This type of lecture was all too common. Most often, it felt as if Sapho was trying to be their father. Unsurprisingly, Hanno resented this. ‘It’s not as if the greybeards will say anything that hasn’t been said a thousand times before,’ he retorted. ‘Just about every one is full of hot air.’

Suniaton sniggered. ‘Like someone else not too far away.’ He saw Hanno’s warning look and fell silent.

Sapho’s jaw clenched. ‘You pair of impudent-’ he began.

Bostar’s lips twitched, and he lifted a hand to Sapho’s shoulder. ‘Peace,’ he said. ‘Hanno has a point. The elders are rather fond of the sound of their own voices.’

Hanno and Suniaton tried to hide their smiles.

Sapho missed Bostar’s amusement, but he lapsed into a glowering silence. He was acutely aware, and resentful, that he was not the senior officer present. Although Sapho was a year older, Bostar had been promoted before him.

‘It’s not as if this meeting will be a matter of life and death,’ Bostar continued reasonably. His wink – unseen by Sapho – told Hanno that all hope was not lost. He slyly returned the gesture. Like Hanno, Bostar resembled their mother, Arishat, with a thin face and piercing green eyes. Where Sapho’s nose was broad, his was long and narrow. Rangy and athletic, his long black hair was tied in a ponytail, which emerged from under his helmet. Hanno had far more in common with the gentle Bostar than he did with Sapho. Currently, his feelings for his eldest brother often verged on dislike. ‘Does our father know where you are?’

‘No,’ admitted Hanno.

Bostar turned to Suniaton. ‘I would assume, therefore, that Bodesmun is also in the dark?’

‘Of course he is,’ Sapho butted in, eager to regain control. ‘As usual where these two are concerned.’

Bostar ignored his brother’s outburst. ‘Well?’

‘Father thinks I’m at home, studying,’ Suniaton revealed.

Sapho’s expression grew a shade more self-righteous. ‘Let’s see what Bodesmun and Father have to say when they discover what you were both really up to. We have enough time to do that before the Council meets.’ He jerked a thumb at the spearmen. ‘Get in amongst them.’

Hanno scowled, but there was little point arguing. Sapho was in a particularly zealous mood. ‘Come on,’ he muttered to Suniaton. ‘The shoals will be there another day.’

Before they could move a step, Bostar spoke. ‘I don’t see why they shouldn’t go fishing.’

Hanno and Suniaton stared at each other, amazed.

Sapho’s brows rose. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Such activities will shortly be impossible for both of us, and we’ll miss them.’ Bostar made a face. ‘That same day will come for Hanno soon enough. Let him have his fun while he can.’

Hanno’s heart leaped; the gravity of Bostar’s words was lost on him.

Sapho’s face grew thoughtful. After a moment, though, his sanctimonious frown returned. ‘Duty is duty,’ he declared.