Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

Fabricius took him by the shoulders. ‘Listen to me. War is not all valour and glory: far from it. It’s about blood, filth and fighting until you can barely grip a sword. You’ll see terrible things. Men bleeding to death for lack of a tourniquet. Comrades and friends dying in front of you, crying for their mothers.’

It was becoming more difficult to hold his father’s gaze.

‘You are a fine young man,’ said Fabricius proudly. ‘Your time to fight in the front line will come. Until then, gain every bit of experience you can. If that means you miss the war with Carthage, so be it. Those initial weeks of training are vital if you want to survive more than the first few moments of a battle.’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘Good,’ said Fabricius, looking satisfied. ‘May the gods keep you safe and well.’

‘And you also.’ Despite his best effort, Quintus’ voice wobbled.

Atia waited until Quintus had gone inside before emerging. ‘He’s almost a man,’ she said wistfully. ‘It only seems the blink of an eye since he was playing with his wooden toys.’

‘I know.’ Fabricius smiled. ‘The years fly by, don’t they? I can remember saying goodbye to you before leaving for Sicily as if it were yesterday. And here we are again, in much the same situation.’

Atia reached up to touch his face. ‘You have to come back to me, do you hear?’

‘I will do my best. Make sure that the altar is well stocked with offerings,’ he warned. The lares have to be kept happy.’

She pretended to look shocked. ‘You know I’ll do that every day.’

Fabricius chuckled. ‘I do. Just as you know that I’ll pray daily to Mars and Jupiter for their protection.’

Atia’s face became solemn. ‘Are you still sure that Flaccus is a good choice for Aurelia?’

His brows lowered. ‘Eh?’

‘Is he the right man?’

‘I thought he came across well last night,’ said Fabricius with a surprised look. ‘Arrogant, of course, but one expects that from someone of his rank. He was plainly taken with Aurelia too, which was good. He’s ambitious, presentable and wealthy.’ He eyed Atia. ‘Isn’t that enough?’

She pursed her lips.

‘Atia?’

‘I can’t put my finger on it,’ she said eventually. ‘I don’t trust him.’

‘You need more than a vague idea, surely, for me to break off a betrothal with this potential?’ asked Fabricius, looking irritated. ‘Remember how much money we owe!’

‘I’m not saying that you should call off the arrangement,’ she said in a conciliatory tone.

‘What then?’

‘Just keep an eye on Flaccus when you’re in Rome. You’ll be spending plenty of time with him. That will give you a far better measure of the man than we could ever gain in one night.’ She caressed his arm. ‘That’s not too much to ask, is it?’

‘No,’ he murmured. A relenting smile twitched across his lips, and he bent to kiss her. ‘You do have a knack of sniffing out the rotten apple in the barrel. I’ll trust you one more time.’

‘Stop teasing me,’ she cried. ‘I’m serious.’

‘I know you are, my love. And I’ll do what you say.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Flaccus won’t have a clue, but I’ll be watching his every move.’

Atia’s expression lightened. ‘Thank you.’

Fabricius gave her backside an affectionate squeeze. ‘Now, why don’t we say goodbye properly?’

Atia’s look grew kittenish. ‘That sounds like an excellent idea.’ Taking his hand, she led him into the house.

An hour later, and a deathly quiet hung over the house. Promising a quick victory over the Carthaginians, Fabricius and Flaccus had departed for Rome. Feeling thoroughly depressed, Quintus sought out Hanno. There was little left to do in the way of household chores, and the Carthaginian could not refuse when Quintus asked him out into the courtyard.

An awkward silence fell the instant they were alone.

I’m not going to speak first, thought Hanno. He was still furious.

Quintus scuffed the toe of one sandal along the mosaic. ‘About last night,’ he began.

‘Yes?’ snapped Hanno. His voice, his manner was not that of a slave. At that moment, he didn’t care.

Quintus bit back his reflex, angry response. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said sharply. ‘I was drunk, and I didn’t mean what I said.’

Hanno looked in Quintus’ eyes and saw that, despite his tone, the apology was genuine. Immediately, he was on the defensive. This wasn’t what he had expected, and he wasn’t yet willing to back down himself. ‘I am a slave,’ he growled. ‘You can address me in whatever way you please.’

Quintus’ face grew pained. ‘First and foremost, you are my friend,’ he said. ‘And I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did last night.’

Hanno considered Quintus’ words in silence. Before being enslaved, any foreigner with the presumption to call him ‘gugga’ would have received a bloody nose, or worse. Here, he had to smile and accept it. Not for much longer, Hanno told himself furiously. Just keep up the pretence for now. He nodded in apparent acceptance. ‘Very well. I acknowledge your apology.’

Quintus grinned. ‘Thank you.’