Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

‘Lighten up, Sapho. You’re twenty-two, not fifty-two!’ Bostar threw a glance at the spearmen, who were uniformly grinning. ‘Who would notice Hanno’s absence apart from us and Father? And you’re not Suni’s keeper any more than I am.’

Sapho’s lips thinned at the teasing, but he relented. The idea of Bostar pulling rank on him was too much to bear. ‘Father won’t be happy,’ he said gruffly, ‘but I suppose you’re right.’

Hanno could hardly believe what he was hearing. ‘Thank you!’ His cry was echoed by Suniaton.

‘Go on, before I change my mind,’ Sapho warned.

The friends didn’t need any further prompting. With a grateful look at Bostar, who threw them another wink, the pair disappeared into the crowd. Broad grins creased both their faces. They would still be held to account, thought Hanno, but not until that evening. Visions of a boat full of tunny filled his mind once more.

‘Sapho’s a serious one, isn’t he?’ Suniaton commented.

‘You know how he is,’ Hanno replied. ‘In his eyes, things like fishing are a waste of time.’

Suniaton nudged him. ‘Just as well I didn’t tell him what I was thinking, then.’ He grinned at Hanno’s enquiring look. ‘That it would do him good to relax more – perhaps by going fishing!’

Hanno’s mouth opened with shock, before he laughed. ‘Thank the gods you didn’t say that! There’s no way he would have let us go.’

Smiling with relief, the friends continued their journey. Soon they had reached the Agora. Its four sides, each a stade in length, were made up of grand porticoes and covered walkways. The beating heart of the city, it was home to the building where the Council of Elders met, as well as government offices, a library, numerous temples and shops. It was also where, on summer evenings, the better-off young men and women would gather in groups, a safe distance apart, to eye each other up. Socialising with the opposite sex was frowned upon, and chaperones for the girls were never far away. Despite this, inventive methods to approach the object of one’s desire were constantly being invented. Of recent months, this had become one of the friends’ favourite pastimes. Fishing beat it still, but not by much, thought Hanno wistfully, scanning the crowds for any sign of attractive female flesh.

Instead of gaggles of coy young beauties, though, the Agora was full of serious-looking politicians, merchants and high-ranking soldiers. They were heading for one place. The central edifice, within the hallowed walls of which more than three hundred elders met on a regular basis as, for nearly half a millennium, their predecessors had done. Overseen by the two suffetes – the rulers elected every year – they, the most important men in Carthage, decided everything from trading policy to negotiations with foreign states. Their range of powers did not end there. The Council of Elders also had the power to declare war and peace, even though it no longer appointed the army’s generals. Since the war with Rome, that had been left to the people. The only prerequisites for candidature of the council were citizenship, wealth, an age of thirty or more, and the demonstration of ability, whether in the agricultural, mercantile, or military fields.

Ordinary citizens could participate in politics via the Assembly of the People, which congregated once a year, by the order of the suffetes, in the Agora. During times of great crisis, it was permitted to gather spontaneously and debate the issues of the day. While its powers were limited, they included electing the suffetes and the generals. Hanno was looking forward to the next meeting, which would be the first he’d attend as an adult, entitled to vote. Although Hannibal’s enormous public popularity guaranteed his reappointment as the commander-in-chief of Carthage’s forces in Iberia, Hanno wanted to show his support for the Barca clan. It was the only way he could at the moment. Despite his requests, Malchus would not let him join Hannibal’s army, as Sapho and Bostar had done after their mother’s death. Instead, he had to finish his education. There was no point fighting his father on this. Once Malchus had spoken, he never went back on a decision.

Following Carthaginian tradition, Hanno had largely fended for himself from the age of fourteen, although he continued to sleep at home. He’d worked in a forge, among other places, and thus earned enough to live on without committing any crimes or shameful acts. This was similar to, but not as harsh, as the Spartan way. He had also taken classes in Greek, Iberian and Latin. Hanno did not especially enjoy languages, but he had come to accept that such a skill would prove useful among the polyglot of nationalities that formed the Carthaginian army. His people did not take naturally to war, so they hired mercenaries, or enlisted their subjects, to fight on their behalf. Libyans, Iberians, Gauls and Balearic tribesmen were among those who brought their differing qualities to Carthage’s forces.