By the time that their vessel had been at sea for a day, Aurelia was beginning to wonder if her decision to travel to Rhegium had been a wise one. Her restricted existence as a wife and mother had long irritated her, but it was easy to rail against such things from the safety of Rome. Now she was at the mercy of the elements, which were controlled by the gods, a set of beings with whom she had a troubled relationship. Since Cannae, she had been careful not to voice such feelings, yet she worried that the deities could discern her mistrust. She had made plentiful offerings before their departure, partly penitence for her behaviour, partly to ask that her husband might live — indeed, might recover from his injuries — and lastly, that they had a trouble-free voyage.
Neptune and the wind gods appeared not to have heard her requests. Within an hour of leaving Ostia, the bright, sunny weather had vanished; squalls and rain showers had battered the open-decked merchantman until well into the afternoon. The boat’s constant rocking motion had made Aurelia feel sick, but poor Publius had been worst affected, vomiting until nothing came up but bile. Tempsanus was little better, while Agesandros seemed completely unaffected. If anything, his mood lightened with each mile that they travelled south.
Things improved as the sun fell in the sky. The choppy winds died down, and a breeze from the north settled in at their backs, pushing them towards their destination. They made a good distance before the captain, a balding man with a little paunch, chose an anchorage for the night. Aurelia’s misgivings vanished on the second day, as they all but flew south on a gentle sea, under a blue sky. A school of dolphins rode in the ship’s bow wave for a time, delighting everyone, and veritable proof of Neptune’s favour.
At dawn on the third day, the captain announced that if the wind held and they saw no hostile vessels, sunset would see the end of their journey. Mention of ‘hostile’ forces set Aurelia’s nerves jangling, but hours passed without sight of anything other than an occasional fishing boat. Eventually, the lookout called that Sicily was in sight. They’d be docking at Rhegium within two hours, Tempsanus said with a smile. Aurelia’s mood lifted briefly, but her mind turned to Lucius, and fresh worry racked her. Was he even still alive? She prayed that he had not been claimed by Hades, that he would pull through. Such dark thoughts were averted by Publius, who escaped Elira’s grasp and scampered to her side. It was a welcome relief, and Aurelia began a game of Hide and Seek, using the mast to conceal herself from a delighted Publius.
‘Sail!’
Engrossed in the game, Aurelia didn’t pay much attention to the lookout’s call.
‘Where?’ asked the captain.
‘To the south, sir. It’s in the straits.’
‘Is it on its own?’
‘Seems to be, sir.’
‘What type of vessel is it — can you see?’ demanded the captain.
His tone caught Aurelia’s attention. She looked up the mast to where the lookout clung like a monkey, his hands gripping the wood and feet braced against a band of encircling rope.
‘I can’t see, sir. It’s too low down on the horizon.’
‘Neptune’s hairy arse crack,’ said the captain under his breath.
Pushing a laughing Publius towards Elira, Aurelia went to the captain’s side. ‘You’re worried,’ she said as Tempsanus joined them. Agesandros had somehow managed to put himself within earshot too.
‘There’s no point lying. I am.’ The captain made a sign against evil. ‘Marcellus’ ships dominate these waters, so more than likely it’s one of ours. But there’s no guarantee. The Syracusans send out vessels from time to time. It could even be a gugga trireme, blown north. The point is, we won’t know until we’ve got a lot closer, perhaps even entered the straits. If it does turn out to be unfriendly at that point, we’ll be so near that it might be able to run us down.’
‘What should we do?’ asked Tempsanus, his normal jovial expression absent.
‘Go a little closer, perhaps. See if the sail gives us an idea of its identity. Or we could just turn about, and row north. If it doesn’t follow us, so much the better. We can anchor off one of the Lipari Islands overnight and set sail before it gets light. We’d be in Rhegium in no time.’ The captain’s tone left no doubt that the latter option would be his choice, but he was not the master. Tempsanus was, because he’d chartered the vessel. Aurelia’s pulse beat a little faster as she glanced at her husband’s partner. She wanted to reach their destination as fast as possible, but not at any cost.
‘Avoiding trouble seems the best option,’ said Tempsanus, casting a look at Aurelia. ‘One more day won’t matter.’
Aurelia smiled in acceptance. I’ll be with you soon, husband, she thought. Hold on.
The captain was noticeably relieved by Tempsanus’ words. He cupped a hand to his mouth. ‘Reef the sails, and look lively about it!’
A dozen of the crew scrambled to the lines, but they had barely touched them when the lookout shouted ‘Sail!’ for the second time.
‘Where?’ yelled the captain.
‘Behind us, sir. It’s come out of nowhere. Must have been in the lee of one of the islands.’
All eyes turned to the ship’s stern. Perhaps a mile to their rear, a square sail, larger than theirs, could be seen plain as day. The captain cursed, and Aurelia felt a little sick. She didn’t need to be told that the newcomer had the wind behind him. If it was using its oars as well, they’d be overtaken before long.
‘Leave those lines be!’ roared the captain. He glanced at Tempsanus. ‘That one’s not friendly, sir, not the way he appeared. I don’t want to hang around to check, which leaves us no choice.’
‘To run south, and pray that the ship there is not an enemy?’ said Tempsanus.
‘If that’s all right with you, sir.’
‘Do as you see fit. A thousand extra drachms for you if we make Rhegium tonight.’
The captain’s teeth flashed. ‘I’ll do my best, sir.’ He stalked down the catwalk, ordering the fifty crewmen to their benches and for the oars to be run out. ‘I want us at top speed,’ Aurelia heard him tell the second-in-command. ‘Our best chance of outrunning them is now. You know what the wind’s like when we enter the strait-’
‘Unreliable as a Phoenician moneylender in a bad mood, sir.’
‘If it’s blowing to the south, we’ll be laughing. But if it’s the other way around?’ The captain grimaced.
Aurelia’s fear grew a fraction more. Prayer was her only resource. She tried not to feel hopeless about that.
Before long, their fortunes had taken a further turn for the worse. The ship behind them had caught up sufficiently to block their route north, and the sail that they’d seen to the south turned out to belong to a trireme. Bigger, faster, with more than three times the number of oarsmen, it scythed through the waves towards them. The painted eyes above its ram were hideous, and its decks bristled with soldiers and archers. A standard near the prow revealed it to be Syracusan.
Fear blossomed on Aurelia’s ship. The oarsmen slowed their stroke, yet no one said a thing. ‘They must row!’ said Tempsanus, a sheen of sweat decorating his brow.
‘What’s the point?’ retorted the captain. ‘We’re done.’
Tempsanus seemed about to protest when a voice speaking bad Latin carried across the water: ‘Heave to, or we’ll ram you!’
Throwing an I-told-you-so expression at Tempsanus, the captain ordered the oars shipped.
‘Can we not fight?’ demanded Tempsanus.
‘That lot? We’re sailors, sir, not soldiers.’
The trireme closed to within a long bowshot. It was aiming to come in beside their vessel. Men were clustered at the side rails, ready to board the instant that the two craft closed with each other.
‘I’ll make it worth your while.’
‘We’d be massacred, sir. Sorry to say, but your drachms are no longer worth a thing.’
Aurelia fought to stay calm. For a change, she was grateful for Agesandros’ presence by her side. ‘What will happen?’ she asked the captain, pleased that her voice was steady.
‘With a little luck, lady, they’ll just seize the ship and force us to serve as its crew, with a captain and officers of their own.’ He hesitated before adding regretfully, ‘As for you passengers, well, I couldn’t say.’
Aurelia’s gaze moved to Tempsanus’ face, which was twisted with fear.
‘We’ll be enslaved,’ grated Agesandros. ‘Killed if we’re unlucky.’
Aurelia locked her knees to keep them from folding. I’ve been so stupid, she thought. I should have taken Tempsanus’ advice, and stayed in Rome.
‘I can kill you now,’ muttered Agesandros. ‘And your son. It would save you both a lot of suffering.’
Horrified, Aurelia checked his face. The offer was genuine, she saw. So too was the concern in his eyes.
‘Terrible things could happen to you. You have no idea-’
‘No.’
‘What if Publius is sold to someone else? Have you thought about that?’
‘That will not happen! I will appeal to the captain. He’ll recognise that I’m a noblewoman.’
‘That will make little difference,’ said Agesandros.
‘You’re not killing us,’ she hissed. ‘What will you do?’
‘Let myself be taken. Slavery’s nothing new to me. I’ll escape when my chance comes. If I can help you then, I will.’
Aurelia swallowed, and prayed harder than she had at any time since before Cannae. Spare me and my child. Spare us all.
Another order came over, in the same poor Latin. ‘Lay your oars in!’
The captain hastily repeated the command, and the crew heaved in their sweeps, the port-side ones completing the task just as the trireme came gliding in alongside. Its oars had already been neatly shipped. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Timber ground off timber as the two hulls met. The Syracusans didn’t wait for their ship to stop moving. Half a dozen, then a dozen soldiers leaped on to the merchantman’s deck, their weapons drawn. ‘Throw down your arms!’ yelled one in mangled Latin. He repeated the command in Greek.
The few crew on the deck fell to their knees, begging for mercy. The men at the oars didn’t even lift their eyes. The captain raised his hands in the air and said in passable Greek, ‘We’re unarmed. The ship is yours.’
Agesandros stepped in front of Aurelia, who had beckoned Elira and Publius to her side. To his credit, Tempsanus did the same. ‘Stay calm, my lady,’ he whispered. ‘I will defend you.’
‘No, Tempsanus,’ she protested, but he had stepped forward. ‘We are civilians,’ he began.
The lead soldier’s reply was instant, and brutal. He shoved his sword into Tempsanus’ belly, right up to the hilt. There was a terrible ‘Ooooffff’ of pain, which quickly became a scream. Using his shield, the soldier pushed Tempsanus off his blade, and down into the midst of the oarsmen. There he roared in agony. The soldier eyed Agesandros, who was next, with cold eyes.
Aurelia felt Agesandros tense. Despite their troubled history, there was no point in him throwing away his life like this. It would achieve nothing. ‘Stop,’ she whispered, before stepping around him. ‘I am a Roman noblewoman,’ she said loudly in Greek. ‘Harm me at your peril.’
‘I’ve never fucked a Roman matron. Didn’t think to find one on this tub either,’ declared the soldier with a chuckle. ‘My luck’s just changed, brothers!’
His comrades laughed, and Aurelia felt her bowels loosen. Agesandros stirred beside her, and this time, she didn’t have the resolve to stop him.
‘HOLD!’ shouted the same voice that had ordered them to heave to. ‘No one is to be killed, or fucked, until I have had a look at them.’
Frustrated, the soldier stayed put and Aurelia breathed again. Another pair of feet thumped on to the decking and, a moment later, she found herself face to face with a handsome Syracusan officer. He hadn’t even bothered to draw his sword. ‘You are?’ he asked in an arrogant drawl.
‘My name is Aurelia, wife of Lucius Vibius Melito,’ she said, as calmly as her thumping heart would allow. ‘I am of the equestrian class, and I demand to be treated as such.’
‘You’ll demand nothing.’ His tone’s silkiness made it even more threatening. ‘If I but give the word, my men here will do every kind of vile thing to you, and to your female slave. Your child — by your expression I can see that he’s yours — will see every bit of it. I suggest that you shut your mouth, and give us no trouble.’
Aurelia could not remember ever being so scared, but was damned if she’d let him see it. She nodded.
The officer pushed past, pausing to look at Publius and Elira. ‘Bind them all, except the child,’ he ordered. ‘Transfer them to our ship.’
Aurelia found her voice again as the soldiers swarmed in. ‘Where are you taking us?’
‘Syracuse, of course.’
Aurelia shivered. She had been such a fool. She’d be lucky to escape this unharmed, and with Publius by her side. Who knew what would happen to any of them?
‘Mama?’ Publius’ reedy voice echoed through the dungeon. ‘Mama?’
‘I’m here, love.’ By now Aurelia’s eyes were so used to the gloom that she had no trouble walking to the moth-eaten blanket that served as their bedding. Elira was also there, asleep. ‘It’s all right, I’m here,’ Aurelia whispered.
She stooped to pick him up, savouring his small-child smell, his warmth. They reminded her of normality in this hellhole. Six other women shared the tiny space they had been thrown into after their arrival in Syracuse: skinny wretches in ragged clothing. Despite Aurelia’s attempts, none had spoken other than to say they’d been seized on a ship the previous week, and that they got fed once a day. Aurelia had no idea where Agesandros, the captain and the crew were. Poor Tempsanus was lying on the seabed, food for the fishes. And Lucius? Only the gods knew if he was still alive. Let Hanno find me, somehow, she prayed. The notion was crazy, but it was all Aurelia had.
‘I’m hung-y, Mama. I’m hung-y.’
‘I know, love, I know.’ Aurelia’s own stomach was rumbling. The blackness made it impossible to judge the time, but it had to be meal-time soon. ‘They’ll bring us something any moment, you’ll see.’
‘I want sau-sages.’
‘Maybe they’ll bring sausages. I don’t know, love. It might just be some bread, but that would be nice, wouldn’t it?’
‘Bread! Bread! I want bread.’
‘Soon, my love, soon.’ Stroking his hair, Aurelia walked the eight steps to the cell’s back wall, turned and returned to the tiny grille that opened on to the corridor. No one was there. It had been the same since their arrival. Moans and cries from other cells haunted Aurelia as she paced to and fro. At last Publius fell asleep. Worried that his hunger would wake him, she didn’t stop until the muscles in her arms were screaming for a rest. Thankfully, he didn’t stir as she laid him on the blanket and covered him up. She stared down at him, almost able to hear her mother’s voice, reprimanding her. ‘Impetuous behaviour will get you nowhere, child.’ Aurelia rallied what was left of her courage. It was done now. She had decided to travel by sea to Rhegium, and all of them would have to live with the consequences. Remembering the misery of the slave market in Capua, which she had seen as a child, Aurelia prayed: At the very least, let me stay with Publius. Being separated would be worse than anything, even death.
Death. Is that what it would come to? she wondered numbly.
All the mental preparations in the world could not have equipped Aurelia for the following morning. Along with the cell’s other occupants, they had been escorted by soldiers to a courtyard. Perhaps a dozen more women arrived soon after. The entire group was ordered to strip naked by the same officer who had taken their ship. Quiet sobbing filled the air as the reason behind this sank in — they were being readied for sale — but the women had little choice.
Trying to reduce Publius’ distress, Aurelia pretended that it was nothing but a game. In reality, of course, it was unbelievably degrading. She had not been without clothes in public since she was a small child, and the soldiers’ comments and groping hands only added to her distress. Buckets of water were hauled up from the well, and they were ordered to wash themselves. Worse was to follow. Their feet were dusted with white chalk, to signify their status, and they were bound with rope at the wrists and neck. Gods, give me strength, thought Aurelia, avoiding all eye contact. This is inhuman. It was what Elira, and Hanno, had both gone through, and Agesandros. So too had the slaves that her family and Lucius owned. Her previous attempts to empathise with slaves had been utterly romanticised. Nothing could have prepared her for this.
‘Why Mama tied up?’ asked Publius, his bottom lip jutting.
Aurelia was glad that the guards didn’t speak Latin. ‘It’s part of the game, my love,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘We have to go to a special place now, and find our clothes.’
‘Where?’ demanded Publius.
‘I don’t know, love. Follow me.’ Let it not be far, please.
To her relief, she heard one of the others say that the slave market was only a quarter of a mile away. The officer and several of his soldiers led off, carving a path through the busy streets, and the rest took up the rear. Bizarrely, the experience wasn’t as horrific as Aurelia had expected, because few people even noticed their passage. It was yet more bitter medicine to swallow: slaves weren’t worth looking at. They were the lowest of the low.
Publius was happy to trot alongside at first, but as the crowd grew denser, it became difficult for him to match the adults’ pace. At one stage, Aurelia had to stop to allow him to catch up. The rope that connected her to the next woman went taut, unbalancing her. Aurelia’s tearful apology to the soldiers and a promise not to do it again were enough — just. All she got was a heavy cuff around the ear. From then on, she made Publius walk in front of her, which forced him, complaining, to maintain their speed.
Before long, they arrived at the marketplace. Aurelia was grateful for this tiny reprieve. Publius’ limits wouldn’t be tested further, in this at least. A gate in the outer wall, and the strong smell of the sea, revealed the site to be adjacent to one of the city’s harbours. Seagulls screeched and cried overhead, concentrating on the food stalls that lined one side of the roughly rectangular space. Lines of slaves filled the central area, separated according to sex, age and also by owners. They were all the colours and races under the sun: fair-complexioned Romans, Gauls and Germans, brown-skinned Greeks and Egyptians. There were Nubians, black as pitch, and even a pair of yellow men with black hair and slanted eyes — Seres, Aurelia thought they were called. The slaves were old, middle-aged, in the prime of life, stripling youths, children, and babes that were still at the breast. Every single one was naked; most bore the same numbed, blank expressions. Some of the women and children were crying, but their vendors were quick to silence them with threats or blows, or both.
‘Is this where we get our clothes back, Mama?’
‘No, my darling. First, we have to go with someone to find them.’
‘Who?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
Publius’ attention had already moved on. Seeing a heavily built man chewing on a piece of grilled fish, he announced, ‘I’m hung-y! I want fish.’
‘Shhhh, my love,’ Aurelia urged, but fortunately none of the soldiers heard. After a little negotiation, the women were made to stand in a line close to a podium that stood in the very centre of the market. She managed to distract Publius by getting him to draw in the dust at their feet.
Time passed in a haze of fractured images. The purchase by an officer, for a few coins each, of a handful of old, sick-looking men. Every soldier in the garrison was needed for the city’s defence, the officer told the slaver. The wretches were to be set cleaning out a section of the sewers that had blocked. If they died on the job, it wouldn’t matter. A mother and her small son being sold separately; the screams of distress from both as their buyers forced them off in different directions. A raddled-looking man, perhaps a brothel-owner, mauling every young woman he could find, including Aurelia and Elira. She breathed again when his attention settled on a blonde Goth and her companion, an auburn-haired, full-breasted woman. He bought both, along with one of the youngest girls in Aurelia’s group.
The one constant, and oddly what kept Aurelia sane, was Publius’ whingeing. He was hungry, he wanted to go home, he wanted to cuddle with Aurelia, then Elira. Where was his daddy? Aurelia managed to keep him from wailing or crying, and Elira, who was beside them, played her part too. Yet desperation began to steal over Aurelia as tell-tale red marks appeared on Publius’ cheeks, and his voice grew a little shrill. He was tiring. Their ploys would not work for much longer. The guards were beginning to look irritated. She had seen at least one crying child ripped from its mother and sold to the first bidder, just to get rid of it.
‘Agathocles! It’s good to see you.’
Aurelia’s head turned. The officer who’d captured them was talking to a thin, well-dressed man with neat black hair. From the smiles and easy conversation, the two knew each other. A pair of soldiers, Agathocles’ bodyguards, stood nearby.
‘What are you looking for this morning? More women?’
‘Aye. Hippocrates has grown jaded with the last crop.’ Agathocles gave an expressive shrug. ‘You know what he’s like. Never happy.’
‘What have you become, brother?’ The officer lowered his voice. ‘Procuring fresh meat for Hippocrates? You should have joined the army, like me.’
‘Don’t start! You’re here, selling slaves on the generals’ behalf, aren’t you? There’s nothing to choose between us.’ Agathocles clapped the officer on the shoulder. ‘Let’s see if you have anything worth taking to Hippocrates this morning.’
‘There’s a Roman matron down the line. She’s reasonably attractive,’ said the officer, and Aurelia’s blood ran cold. ‘So is the Illyrian who was her female slave.’
Aurelia’s spirits lifted a fraction. She glanced at Elira, saw the same hope flare in her eyes. Fortuna, watch over us in this moment, Aurelia prayed. If we’re together, it won’t be as bad.
Agathocles selected one of the first women in the line, but he passed on the rest without a second look. ‘You haven’t many beauties here today, my friend.’ He came to a halt before Aurelia and looked back at the officer. ‘Perhaps I was being a little hasty.’
‘I told you. Hippocrates will like that one. She’s haughty.’
Agathocles caught Aurelia’s chin with one hand and turned her head from side to side. She tried not to show her outrage, but he noted the tension in her neck. ‘You don’t like that, eh?’ he said in Latin.
Aurelia didn’t reply.
He let her go and in the same instant, backhanded her across the face. ‘I asked you a question, you Roman bitch!’
Publius began to cry, and Elira tried to comfort him. ‘I don’t mind you touching me, no,’ Aurelia whispered.
‘Liar.’ His smile was all teeth. ‘My friend has the right of it. Hippocrates will enjoy breaking you, more especially because you’re Roman.’
‘She’s a noblewoman,’ called the officer.
‘Even better. I’ll take her.’ One of his hands lingered on her breasts.
‘And my child,’ said Aurelia at once.
Agathocles laughed. ‘Hippocrates is many things, but he’s no pederast!’
Aurelia sensed that in this place of desolation and broken hearts, pleading would make no difference. I cannot lose Publius! She pitched her voice so that Publius couldn’t hear. ‘If you take my son as well, I will pleasure Hippocrates as he has never been before.’ She prayed that the techniques taught to her by Elira when she’d first got married, and used successfully on Lucius, still worked.
Agathocles’ eyebrows rose; then he scowled. ‘You’ll do that anyway, or I’ll have the skin flogged from your back.’
‘The horse that’s rewarded for obeying makes a far better steed than the one that’s whipped,’ replied Aurelia. She licked her lips, scarcely believing what she was about to say. ‘I could do the same for you. So could my slave.’
Agathocles’ eyes shot to Elira, and Aurelia’s heart lurched in her chest. Elira had every right not to play the part that she’d just been given. Another owner might treat her more kindly. Aurelia could have wept when Elira flashed a seductive smile at Agathocles and said, ‘You won’t regret it, sir. I swear it.’
Agathocles studied Aurelia again, and Elira. He gave a brusque nod. ‘Go and stand by my men.’ Even as she gave silent thanks, he grabbed her by the throat. ‘Your brat best know how to keep quiet. If Hippocrates hears him, you’ll wish that he’d never been born.’
‘He’s a good boy,’ whispered Aurelia, genuinely terrified now. ‘No one will know he’s even there.’
He waved her away.
A monumental wave of shame and disgust washed over Aurelia as she, Publius and Elira made their way towards the soldiers. I’m no better than a whore. And a whoremistress, to treat Elira so. Yet part of her was glad. She had managed to keep Publius by her side. For the moment.
Despite the fact that Kleitos was Hippocrates’ and Epicydes’ man, Hanno still found him likeable. After finding Hanno a small but well-furnished room in one of the barracks, with a window that overlooked the courtyard, Kleitos had insisted that they visit an inn. ‘Your weapons can wait, but this cannot,’ he’d declared, offering a brimming cup of wine to Hanno. ‘To friendship, and to Syracuse’s alliance with Hannibal and Carthage!’ Hanno had responded with gusto, and they had had several drinks, each time swearing friendship between their two peoples, and victory over the Romans. Kleitos, thought Hanno, was a friend in the making, and a more decent individual than his masters.
Well lubricated, the two had then gone to the garrison’s armoury. There Kleitos had demanded the finest kit for ‘one of Hannibal’s best men’. Hanno knew that word of his arrival would spread fast, but Kleitos’ declaration made sure that everyone in the city would know it by the next morning. Part of him didn’t care. The Syracusan soldiers were delighted by his presence, and asked repeatedly how many men he’d brought with him. His previously prepared answer, that forces from Carthage would soon arrive on the island, seemed to satisfy.
Hanno chose a plain but serviceable bronze breastplate, and an Attic helmet. Kleitos was amused by his request for a Roman scutum and gladius. ‘What’s wrong with our Greek equipment?’
‘You may laugh, but we found out the hard way at Trasimene what happens when phalanxes meet Roman infantry. Hannibal had us arm ourselves afterwards with the weapons and armour taken from the enemy dead. We retrained to fight in blocks, as the legionaries do. It worked too.’
Kleitos’ face grew thoughtful. ‘No one can argue with what Hannibal did at Cannae. Still, it’s a different war here. We’re defending a city, not engaging the legions face-to-face.’
‘That day will come,’ said Hanno fiercely. Making improvements such as this was part of what Hannibal had sent him here to do. ‘And when it does, the Syracusans will have more chance of victory fighting as the Romans do, rather than the way they always have.’
‘Something tells me that Hippocrates in particular would not want his entire army retrained.’
‘I could just start with the soldiers of one phalanx.’
‘Hmmm. Let’s talk more about it, over some wine.’
‘What about my duties?’
Kleitos laughed. ‘They can wait. The Romans aren’t here yet, and Hippocrates and Epicydes won’t bother their arses asking what you’ve done. Seeing the best inn in Syracuse is far more important.’
‘If you’re sure …?’
‘I am. I order you to come with me. All we need to do is dump your kit in your room.’
It had been a long time since Hanno had been in a friendly city, with no concerns other than getting pissed. He grinned. ‘Well, if you put it like that …’
A short time later, they were wending their way down a street that led to Ortygia and the small harbour. Kleitos returned the greeting of a man in charge of a party of naked female slaves, but kept walking. Hanno gave them a casual glance as they strode by, but they were all staring at the ground. Poor wretches, Hanno thought. ‘A friend?’ he asked.
Kleitos shook his head in denial. ‘Agathocles? No. He’s an arse-licking busybody. Works for Hippocrates, finding him women. For, you know …’
Hanno gazed after the line of miserable women, his dislike of Hippocrates increasing. Don’t think about it, he told himself. You’re here to aid him and his brother in the fight against Rome. Everything else is irrelevant. Yet an unpleasant taste remained in his mouth. ‘How far is it to this inn of yours?’ he demanded. ‘I’m parched.’
‘Ha! That’s what I like to hear. It’s just around this corner.’
Hanno increased his pace. After a skinful of wine, he’d have forgotten his worries.
Mixed feelings continued to batter Aurelia in the two days that followed her arrival into Hippocrates’ part of what had been Hiero’s palace. There was overwhelming relief that she and Publius were together, and that Elira was with them. They had been supplied with fine clothing and plenty of food and drink. She had made use of the baths more than once. Publius enjoyed them too, although Aurelia was careful to take him early in the morning, before anyone else made use of the facility. Guards prevented them from leaving the set of interlinked rooms, but they did not offer any violence, sexual or otherwise. For the most part, the other occupants, four beautiful women, ignored them. There were occasional barbed comments, and plenty of hostile looks, but that was all. Physically at least, they wanted for nothing.
Mentally, it was a different matter. She belonged to Hippocrates now, and her only purpose was to serve as his concubine. It was not a matter of ‘if’ she would have to attend him, but ‘when’. It was the same with Agathocles, who whispered frequent lewd suggestions to her. This made every moment, every hour of waiting, of not knowing when she would be summoned, pure torture. The longer it dragged on, the worse she felt.
It wasn’t just that of course. Her promise in the market to send Hippocrates to Elysium and back would have been relayed to him already, of that Aurelia was certain, and she was terrified she would fail this test. Her experiences of lovemaking had been with Lucius, and bar one or two occasions, they had been short-lived encounters absent of passion. Lucius’ wellbeing, which had so concerned her, now rarely crossed her mind.
Desperate, Aurelia sought Elira’s advice one afternoon when Publius was napping. Their relationship had changed since their enslavement. Elira still deferred to her, but with less respect than before. Whether that had anything to do with her promise to Agathocles, Aurelia had no idea. She had apologised abjectly for it; Elira had brushed her off, saying that she would have done the same if she’d had a child.
Aurelia was much relieved when Elira readily gave her some new tips and techniques to try. ‘Once you learn what men like, they’re easy to please,’ Elira liked to pronounce. Aurelia hoped that it was so with Hippocrates. After Elira’s fruity description about to how keep a man from reaching climax, she even managed to find some humour in the situation. ‘Like that? You’re not serious.’
‘I’m telling you, they love it. Just try it and see.’
Aurelia giggled, but it didn’t take long for brutal reality to sink in again. How life could change, she thought miserably. If someone had told her a month ago that she’d be in Syracuse, a prisoner and concubine to one of its rulers, she’d have called them insane. Yet here she was.
As was so often the case, Publius saved the moment. He woke up and crawled across the bed to her, sleepily demanding a cuddle. Aurelia clutched him to her, wishing that she could transport them both away to safety.
The reprieve didn’t last. Agathocles came later that day. Aurelia was to be ready by sunset. She was to dress in a seductive manner. Hippocrates would receive her on the roof of the palace. ‘Disappoint him and you’ll pay,’ he advised in a steely voice. ‘Or more likely your son will.’
Aurelia flashed him a confident smile. ‘There’s no need for threats.’
‘We’ll see about that later. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you owe me either.’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Aurelia lied, caressing his face and wondering how she was going to get through the impending degradations with not one hideous man, but two. When Elira later offered her a cup of wine laced with a little poppy juice — obtained from one of the other women — she didn’t refuse. She had avoided it since the news from Cannae had shattered her world, but needs must. The pleasant, numbed feeling that it granted might help to block out the worst of what was to come.
Elira helped her to get ready, giving opinions on which dress to wear, the best way to style her hair, and which perfume to apply. Under normal circumstances, Aurelia would have enjoyed the experience — since having Publius, and with Lucius away, occasions to dress up had been rare — but the reason behind it threatened to drag her spirits into the abyss. She supped more wine and poppy juice, grateful to feel disembodied, able to look down on the surreal situation as if it weren’t she who would have to go through with it.
A short while after the first watch had been sounded, Agathocles arrived. Telling Publius that she would kiss him good night when he was asleep, Aurelia left him in Elira’s care. Elira gave her a reassuring look; Aurelia clutched on to the encouragement for dear life. Someone cared about her, thought of her as something other than a piece of meat. She was grateful that Agathocles did not try to engage her in conversation as they walked down a long passageway, past a number of sentries, finally reaching a set of stairs.
‘Remember what I said,’ warned Agathocles, his foot on the bottom step.
Aurelia didn’t trust her voice, so she nodded.
The view at the top took her breath away. It wasn’t the patterned mosaic underfoot, the fruit trees and cultivated vines, the murmuring fountain with Poseidon astride a dolphin at its centre; the staircase had brought them out on the edge of the palace’s roof, where they were able to look out to the east, over a harbour full of ships, and the bright, sunlit sea beyond. Aurelia fancied that she could even see the coastline of Italy in the far distance. Her heart bled; she had to force her legs to keep moving, following Agathocles towards the figure that lay on a couch near the fountain.
‘General.’ Agathocles bowed from the waist.
‘Yes?’ Hippocrates sounded irritated.
‘The woman you wanted. The Roman. I have brought her.’
‘Leave us.’
‘General.’ Agathocles performed obeisance again. With a stony glance at Aurelia, he walked away.
‘Approach.’
Her mouth was dry; she could feel sweat trickling down her back. Aurelia walked the few steps to Hippocrates’ couch. He was a slim man, perhaps twenty-nine or thirty years old. A close-shaven black beard couldn’t conceal his slender features. There the softness ended, however. His lips were thinned; his eyes glittered black and cold. She made sure to meet them for a moment before dropping her gaze. ‘I am at your disposal.’ The words tasted bitter in her mouth.
‘Agathocles said you were a looker.’
She didn’t know how to reply. Did he agree with the sentiment or not? ‘Sir.’
‘You are, I suppose, in an unusual way. I hope that your reputation is deserved. Get undressed.’
Aurelia couldn’t stop her gaze from flashing to the guards, the nearest of whom was only fifteen or so paces away. What did it matter? she thought. Many more people than these had seen her naked at the slave market. Doing her best to appear graceful, she slid the top of her dress off her shoulders. Slowly, she let it fall to her waist. There she paused, aware of Hippocrates’ keen eyes upon her. Swaying her hips, she walked to stand over him. He stared up at her, his lips open. He wasn’t ugly, Aurelia decided. It was a tiny consolation. When his hands reached up to pull her dress down further, she didn’t resist. Instead, she smiled.
Gods, help me through this, she asked. Gods, help me and Publius.