Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

Malchus did not answer. Instead, he glanced at Bostar and Sapho. ‘What do you think?’ he asked in Carthaginian.

Sapho bared his teeth. ‘He’s lying,’ he snarled in Iberian. ‘I say we tie the double-crossing dog down on the table and see what he says after I’ve cut a few strips of skin off him.’ He calmly placed a dagger before him. ‘This will make the shitbag sing like a caged bird.’

‘Bostar?’ asked Malchus.

Bostar studied the three guides, who seemed absolutely terrified. Then he looked at his brother, who was tapping his blade off the table’s surface. He didn’t want to upset Sapho, but nor was he prepared to see innocent individuals suffer for no reason. ‘I don’t think there’s any need for torture,’ Bostar said in Iberian, ignoring Sapho’s scowl. ‘These men have been with us day and night for weeks. They’ve had no chance to commit treachery. I think they’re probably scared of the Ausetani. But I see no reason why they shouldn’t fulfil their oath, which was to guide us until we discharged them.’

Malchus considered their answers in silence. At length, he turned to the lead guide. ‘Has my son the right of it? Are you frightened of the Ausetani?’

‘Yes, sir. They’re prone to banditry.’ There was a brief pause. ‘Or worse.’

Alarm filled Bostar. Before he could react, Sapho butted in again. ‘When, precisely, were you going to tell us this?’ he demanded.

He got no answer.

Sapho threw a triumphant look at Bostar. ‘Why don’t we just get the directions, and then kill them?’

Perhaps his brother was correct, thought Bostar resentfully. He didn’t want to admit that he’d made a bad judgement by trusting the guides.

His father’s challenge surprised him. ‘And if they had warned us? What would we have done?’

A flush spread slowly up Sapho’s face and neck. ‘Gone to the village anyway,’ he muttered.

‘Precisely,’ replied Malchus evenly. He glared at the guides. ‘It’s not that I wouldn’t end your miserable lives for withholding vital information, but I see no point in killing you when we would have followed the same course of action anyway.’

The three stammered their thanks. ‘We will be honoured to guide you to the Ausetani settlement tomorrow, sir,’ said the lead guide.

‘That’s right. You will.’ Malchus’ tone was silky soft, but there was no mistaking the threat in it. ‘Myrcan! Get in here.’

A broad-chested spearman entered from the corridor. ‘Sir?’

‘Take these men’s weapons and escort them to their quarters. Set guards at the windows and door.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Myrcan held out a meaty hand and the guides meekly handed over their knives before following him from the room.

‘It appears you both still have something to learn about judging men’s characters,’ Malchus admonished. ‘Not everyone is as honourable as you, Bostar. Nor do they all require torturing, Sapho.’

Both of his sons took a sudden interest in the tabletop before them.

‘Get some rest,’ Malchus said in a more kindly voice. ‘Tomorrow will be a long day.’

‘Yes, Father.’ As one, the brothers shoved back their chairs and headed for the door.

Neither spoke on the way to their bedchambers.

The guide’s estimate of the distance to the Ausetani village was accurate. After nearly a day’s ride, the fortified settlement finally came into view at the end of a long, narrow valley. Perhaps half a mile away, it occupied a high, easily defensible point. Like many such in Iberia, it was ringed by a wooden palisade. The tiny figures of sentries could be seen patrolling the ramparts. Flocks of sheep and goats grazed the slopes to either side. It was a peaceful scene, but the guides looked most unhappy.

Malchus gave them a long, contemptuous stare. ‘Go!’

The three men goggled at him.

‘You heard me,’ Malchus growled. ‘Unless you’d like to spend some time with Sapho here.’

They needed no further encouragement and had the sense not to mention payment. Turning their mules’ heads, the trio fled.

‘It appears that we are about to enter a den of hungry wolves.’ Malchus regarded each of his sons in turn. ‘What’s our best option?’

‘Go straight in there and demand to see the headman,’ Sapho declared boldly. ‘As we did in every other village.’

‘We can’t go back to Hannibal without some information,’ Bostar admitted. ‘But nor should we foolishly place our heads on the executioner’s block.’

Sapho’s top lip curled. ‘Are you afraid even to enter that excuse for a settlement?’

‘No,’ retorted Bostar hotly. ‘I’m just saying that we know nothing about these whoresons. If they’re as untrustworthy as the guide said, charging in there like raging bulls will get their backs up from the very outset.’

Sapho shot him a disbelieving look. ‘So what? We’re emissaries of Hannibal Barca, not some pisspot Iberian chieftain.’

They glared at each other.