Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

‘Deep down, I’m sure he knows that. That’s why he stopped himself from calling you one earlier,’ Aurelia replied. Her face grew sad. ‘Obviously, I don’t think of you like that. But to everyone else, you are a slave.’

Hanno was about to tell Aurelia of his plans, when, out of the corner of his eye, he sensed movement. Through the open doors of the tablinum, he could see into part of the atrium. Outside the square of floor illuminated by the hole in its roof, everything lay in shadow. There Hanno could discern a tall figure, watching them. Instinctively, he pulled away from Aurelia. When Agesandros walked into the light, Hanno’s stomach constricted with fear. What had he seen or heard? What would he do?

Aurelia saw the Sicilian in the same moment. She drew herself up proudly, ready for any confrontation.

To their surprise, Agesandros came no nearer. A tiny smile flickered across his face, and then he disappeared whence he had come.

Hanno and Aurelia turned back to each other, but Elira and another domestic slave emerged from the kitchen. The brief moment of magic they had shared was gone. ‘I will talk to Quintus,’ said Aurelia reassuringly. ‘Whatever happens, you must hold on to your friendship. As we two will.’

Keen to make things as they were before he left the farm for ever, Hanno nodded. ‘Thank you.’

Unfortunately, Aurelia was unable to remonstrate with her brother that day. As she told Hanno later, Quintus had taken off for Capua without a word to anyone but the bowlegged slave who worked in the stable. The afternoon passed and night fell, and it became apparent that he would not be returning. Hanno didn’t know whether to feel angry or worried by this development. ‘Don’t be concerned,’ Aurelia said before retiring. ‘Quintus does this sometimes, when he needs time to think. He stays at Gaius’ house, and returns in a few days.’

There was nothing Hanno could do. He lay back on his bedroll and dreamed of escape.

Sleep was a long time coming.

Chapter XI: The Quest for Safe Passage

After the fall of Saguntum, Bostar took to visiting his wounded men every morning, talking to those who were conscious and passing his hand over those who were still asleep, or who would never wake. There were more than thirty soldiers in the large tent, of whom half would probably never fight again. Despite the horror of his soldiers’ injuries, Bostar had begun to feel grateful for his losses. All things considered, they had been slight. Far more Saguntines had died when Hannibal’s troops had entered the city, howling like packs of rabid wolves. For an entire day, the predominant sound throughout Saguntum had been that of screams. Men’s. Women’s. Children’s. Bostar squeezed his eyes shut and tried to forget, but he couldn’t. Butchering unarmed civilians and engaging in widespread rape was not how he made war. While he hadn’t tried to stop his men – had Hannibal not promised them a free rein? – Bostar had not taken part in the slaughter. Commanded by their general to guard the chests of gold and silver that had been found in the citadel, Malchus had not either. Bostar sighed. Inevitably, Sapho had.

A moment later, Malchus’ touch on his shoulder made him jump. ‘It’s good that you’re up so early checking on them.’ Malchus indicated the injured men in their blankets.

‘It’s my job,’ Bostar replied modestly, knowing that his father would have already visited his own casualties.

‘It is.’ Malchus fixed him with a solemn stare. ‘And I think Hannibal has another one for you. Us.’

Bostar’s heart thudded off his ribs. ‘Why?’

‘We’ve all been summoned to the general’s tent. I wasn’t told why.’

Excitement filled Bostar. ‘Does Sapho know?’

‘No. I thought you could tell him.’

‘Really?’ Bostar tried to keep his tone light. ‘If you wish.’

Malchus gave him a knowing look. ‘Do you think I haven’t noticed how you two have been with each other recently?’

‘It’s nothing serious,’ lied Bostar.

‘Then why are you avoiding my gaze?’ demanded Malchus. ‘It’s about Hanno, isn’t it?’

‘That’s how it started,’ Bostar replied. He began to explain, but his father forestalled him.

‘There are only two of you now,’ said Malchus sadly. ‘Life is short. Resolve your differences, or one of you might find that it’s too late.’

‘You’re right,’ replied Bostar firmly. ‘I’ll do my best.’

‘As you always do.’ Malchus’ voice was proud.

A pang of sadness tore at Bostar’s heart. Did I do my best by letting Hanno go? he wondered.

‘I’ll see you both outside the headquarters in half an hour.’ Malchus left him to it.

After telling his orderly to polish his armour, Bostar headed straight for Sapho’s tent. There wasn’t much time for getting ready, never mind a reconciliation. But their father had asked, so he would try.