Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

‘Helping a friend,’ replied Quintus simply. Placing the lamp on the floor, he tried a key on Hanno’s fetters. It didn’t work, but the second one did. A moment later, he had also unlocked the iron ring around his neck. Quintus grinned. ‘Let’s go.’

Hanno could scarcely contain his joy. ‘How did you know to come back?’

A wry smile tugged Quintus’ lips upwards. ‘You can thank Aurelia. The instant you had left, she sent Elira to find me. Next she set a fire in the granary.’

Hanno was still confused. ‘But the keys,’ he said. ‘There was no time to make an impression of them.’

‘These are the originals,’ replied Quintus. He saw Hanno’s bewilderment, and explained. ‘I commended Agesandros on his excellent work by giving him a jug of Father’s best wine. The fool was delighted. What he didn’t know was that I had laced it with enough papaverum to knock out an elephant. I simply waited until he had drunk it and fallen asleep. Then I took his keys.’

‘You’re a genius. So is Aurelia.’ He grabbed Quintus’ arm. ‘Thank you. I owe you both my life for the second time.’

Quintus nodded. ‘I knew that Agesandros was lying about you planning to kill us. If you wanted me dead, you wouldn’t have come back to save me at the hut. Besides, I know you would help me in a similar situation.’ He moved towards the door. ‘Now, come on. Dawn is not far off. Aurelia is at the pens, feeding the dogs scraps to keep them from barking, but she can’t stay there for ever. She said to say that you would be in her prayers.’ He didn’t mention his sister’s tears. What was the point? Hers was an impossible fantasy.

Sad that he would not see Aurelia, and unaware of Quintus’ emotions, Hanno followed him outside. The farmyard was deserted, and the only audible sounds were Agesandros’ loud snores. Within a hundred paces, they had left the buildings behind. Along the lane, the cypress trees stood tall and threatening, their branches creaking in the slight breeze. A crescent moon hung low in the sky, reminding Hanno of Tanit and home. And Suniaton. Suddenly, the immense relief he had felt at Quintus’ appearance began to ebb away. He might be free, but his friend was not.

Quintus stopped when they reached the shadow of the trees. He lifted the baldric over his shoulder and handed the gladius to Hanno. ‘You’ll need this.’ Next, he proffered his thick woollen cloak and a leather satchel.

Hanno muttered his thanks.

‘The bag contains food for several days, and twenty-five didrachms. Make your way to the coast and take passage to Syracuse. You should be able to find a merchant ship there which can take you to Carthage.’

‘I’m going nowhere without Suniaton,’ said Hanno.

Quintus’ face changed. ‘Have you gone mad?’ he hissed. ‘You don’t even know where he is being held.’

‘I’ll find him,’ Hanno answered stolidly.

‘And get yourself killed into the bargain.’

‘Would you leave Gaius behind if you were in my shoes?’ Hanno demanded.

‘Of course not,’ Quintus retorted.

‘Well, then.’

‘Stubborn bloody Carthaginian. There’s no telling you.’ Quintus scowled. ‘Going to Capua on your own is tantamount to committing suicide. I can’t let you do that. Not after all the trouble I’ve gone to. Can you find the shepherd’s hut where we fought the bandits?’

Hanno stared at Quintus, not understanding. ‘I think so, yes.’

‘Head up there and wait for me. I’ll see about finding Suniaton later.’

The immensity of Quintus’ offer sank in. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

‘I know.’ Quintus regarded him solemnly. ‘But you are my friend.’

A lump rose in Hanno’s throat. ‘Thank you. If I can ever repay this debt, I will. You have my word.’

‘Let us pray that I never have need to call on you.’ Quintus pushed him towards the hills. ‘Go.’

With a lightness in his heart that he had not felt since leaving Carthage, Hanno ran off into the darkness.

Hanno made his way to the hut without difficulty, reaching it less than two hours after sunrise. He spent the climb marvelling at how he’d escaped Agesandros’ clutches for the second time. Of course it was solely thanks to Quintus and Aurelia. Yet again, Hanno was forced to admit that Romans were capable of great kindness. They were not all the deceitful monsters described by his father. His charitable feelings did not last long. Hanno only had to think of Flaccus and his tale to remember the incredibly harsh conditions imposed on Carthage at the end of the last war, and the arrogant manner with which Rome had treated her over Saguntum. Even the genial Martialis didn’t like the Carthaginians. ‘Typical guggas,’ he’d said.