Fields of Blood

Chapter XII

North of Capua

Aurelia regarded her own face in the bronze mirror. Her complexion was good at the moment: her face unmarked by her inner turmoil. Even her hair, which Elira was brushing, had a lustrous gloss to it. It was as if her body had decided to act in the opposite manner to the way she felt, which was isolated and miserable. There was another reason that might lie behind how well she looked, but Aurelia didn’t want to think about that. Better for the moment to wallow in her loneliness — her new and constant companion. It wasn’t surprising. Her new abode was in the countryside, in a household of slaves whom she didn’t know. Lucius’ mother had long since passed away, and his father was a crusty old man whose only interest lay in the running of his estates. Lucius, whose company she now felt wary of, was rarely present either. Family business and political dealings kept him in Capua much of the time. When he was home, he tended to spend his days with his father, or out on the farm. They slept together, but the bedroom activity tended to be physical rather than verbal. Aurelia didn’t know why this was. She suspected it was because that they were now man and wife. Other than trying to get her with child, there was no need for him to make any effort with her. Although she still didn’t love Lucius, she missed the attention he had showered upon her. It was possible that she had the power to change the way he acted towards her, but Aurelia wasn’t ready to share her secret with him yet.

There was an occasional dry letter from her mother, which helped a little. Her father was alive; he was serving with the legions who shadowed Hannibal’s forces; there had been no further word from Quintus; the olives had been harvested, and preparations for winter on the farm were going well. There had been no sign of enemy troops in their area of Campania, which justified Atia’s decision to return home with Agesandros and the slaves. Not a word about Phanes, which she hoped meant that her mother was managing to meet his payments. The news eased Aurelia’s isolation only a fraction. If it hadn’t been for Elira, who had stayed with her after the wedding, her loneliness would have been unbearable.

Despite sharing many confidences with the Illyrian, Aurelia had not yet let her in on her innermost thoughts either. Her eyes flickered, studying Elira’s profile behind her, brush in hand, deft strokes freeing her hair from the tangles that had formed overnight. She would have to mention it soon, she decided, or Elira would guess. She wouldn’t be able to conceal her pregnancy much longer. At first, Aurelia had been unsure. Lucius had lain with her enough times but she had somehow felt sure that his seed would not have taken root. That had been but wishful thinking. A second month had gone by without the usual bleeding and her confidence had turned to anxiety. Of recent days, her belly had begun to tighten a fraction. Some mornings, she felt a little nauseous. The last of her doubts had been dispelled. Before long, the swelling would be impossible to miss, especially when she bathed. Soon, thought Aurelia, I will have to tell Elira soon. And Lucius. Or to act. Guilt filled her that she could even contemplate such a thing, yet the thought wouldn’t go away. Aurelia didn’t wish the baby any harm; the idea kept popping up because she had not resigned herself completely to the cold reality of her life as Lucius’ wife. Thus she had not been able to stop herself eavesdropping on the kitchen slaves talking about ending unwanted pregnancies: they used rue, but Aurelia had no idea where to find such a plant, how to prepare it or even what dose to take. There were old women in back alleyways in Capua who dealt in herbs and potions, but she had no pressing reason to go to the city. Her duty was to remain here, unless Lucius took her with him. Stop it! she commanded herself. Her pregnancy had not come about through violence or mistreatment. There was no point in trying to terminate it. Apart from anything, the process was dangerous. Her mother had told her once of a slave who had bled to death after a botched attempt at abortion.

And if she lost the baby, she would just have to get pregnant all over again. That would be Lucius’ — and everyone else’s — wish. Her purpose now was to provide his family with a male heir, and as soon as possible. Atia’s words came back to her. If she could carry a baby to term, and, even better, swiftly produce a second and a third child, her existence would become much easier. Lucius would leave her alone. Her life would be filled with the joy of raising her family. If Fortuna granted her favour, she might even find a lover, someone who thought of her not as a brood mare, but a woman. It was hard not to think that doing nothing was the best course of action. An image of Hanno came to mind, but, ruthless, Aurelia shoved it away. The bitter truth of it was that she would never see him again. Would never spend her life with him. It had to be better to accept her situation as it was. Otherwise she would condemn herself to a life of utter misery, in which the only fleeting happiness to be had was in her head — and that was the path to madness.

It was for the best that she was expecting Lucius’ child, she decided. That was part of her job now. Slyly, she slipped a hand to her belly. A thrill of excitement — of joy — touched her. It still didn’t feel real that she could have a baby growing within her. I will carry this child to term. For all that it is Lucius’, it will be mine too. And I will love it and cherish it, boy or girl. That will be my task in life. The decision pleased her. This was an area that lay, as so much else did not, within her control.

‘You look happy, mistress,’ said Elira.

Startled, she masked her expression. ‘Do I?’

The Illyrian regarded her through the mirror. ‘Yes. I thought I saw the hint of a smile, and the gods know that you don’t do that often.’

Aurelia scrambled for a plausible lie. ‘I like you brushing my hair. It looks good.’

‘You don’t normally smile when I do it.’

‘Well, today I am enjoying it,’ Aurelia declared in a tone that brooked no argument.

Elira’s eyebrows arched, but she said nothing.

Aurelia considered telling the Illyrian now, but immediately decided against it. They were in too public a place: just outside the marital bedroom, which gave on to the main courtyard. To have any chance of beautifying herself well — something she had taken to doing since her marriage — Aurelia needed daylight, hence her current position, on a stool. She had grown used to the slaves’ stares and, in time, they to her ritual. The majority now didn’t give her a second glance as they moved to and fro, performing their daily duties, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t eavesdrop on her conversation. It could wait until later, when she took her usual walk with Elira to the nearby river.

Deep in thought, she paid no heed to Statilius, the thin major domo, as he minced around the walkway from the tablinum. It was only when he gave a polite cough that she looked up. ‘Yes?’

‘Mistress. Your lady mother is here,’ he announced.

Aurelia blinked. ‘My mother?’ she repeated foolishly.

‘That’s right, mistress,’ he said, full of self-importance. ‘She has come on a visit. I’ve already sent a slave to find the master and let him know.’ He eyed the tablinum doors, which were open. ‘I offered her refreshment, a room to change, but she refused both.’

Still trying to take it in, Aurelia rose, gesturing Elira to stop. Atia swept into view a moment later. A body slave scurried behind her.

‘Mother.’ Although things had been awkward between them when last they met, Aurelia felt a rush of warmth towards Atia. She fought her urge to run. That was what a child would do. She walked instead. ‘What a surprise! What a pleasure!’

Atia’s lips turned upwards in reflex, but her eyes remained cold as they kissed. ‘Daughter.’

Aurelia’s stomach lurched. Something was wrong. ‘Have you had word about Father, or Quintus? Are they all right?’

‘I assume so. There have been no letters since I last wrote to you.’ Atia pulled her dark green woollen cloak closer around her shoulders. ‘It’s so cold out here. How can you bear to sit in just a dress?’

‘There’s better light,’ Aurelia explained, her mind racing. Why then was her mother here? ‘Come. One of the reception rooms has underfloor heating and a fire.’ To Elira, she said, ‘Fetch some warmed wine.’ To Statilius: ‘See that a suitable lunch is prepared.’

The reception chamber was a well-decorated room used to entertain guests. Everything about it oozed wealth. The plaster on each wall had been painted red; over this background, exotic scenes portrayed images from myths: Aeneas meeting Dido for the first time; Orpheus looking back at Eurydice at the gates of the underworld; Romulus and Remus sucking the wolf. There were hardwood dressers, comfortable couches and a mahogany table with an ornately carved top. A silver candelabrum hung from the ceiling. Aurelia saw none of it. As soon as they were within, she closed the door. Her mother’s face was still cold, unnerving her. ‘You are always welcome, Mother, but your visit comes as a complete surprise. Why did you not send word before you?’

‘There was no time.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘How could you, living out here, far from the city? It’s Phanes.’

There was a rush of blood to Aurelia’s head. Lightheaded, she put out a hand to the wall to steady herself.

‘Are you well, child?’ Atia was by her side, her tone at last that of a mother.

‘Y-yes. I’m fine. You mentioned Phanes.’

‘I haven’t mentioned the piece of filth in my letters because there was no point. Somehow, I was managing to keep up with the payments. There was no contact with him, which suited me.’ Atia took a deep breath. She looked older and more vulnerable than Aurelia had ever seen her.

She touched her mother’s arm. ‘Please go on.’

‘I was in Capua last week, buying supplies. As usual, I was staying with Martialis. Phanes must have eyes everywhere, because he appeared at the house the day after I arrived. He told the most outlandish story about being attacked in a temple in the town.’ Aurelia’s mouth opened, but a frosty look from her mother silenced her. ‘While he was worshipping, someone slipped in behind him with a knife. It was no robbery. They told him he had to forget all about our debts.’

‘Just our debts? No one else’s?’

‘He mentioned only our family.’

Confusion filled Aurelia. ‘Who was it that attacked him?’

‘I thought you might have the answer to that.’

Hanno? thought Aurelia. No, it couldn’t be. ‘Agesandros?’

‘No. He’s on the estate. Every slave in the place can vouch for him.’

‘Gaius?’

‘He would never do such a thing! Besides, he’s away with the army. Phanes said it was a slave. There was a struggle. He managed to break free and rip a scarf from around the man’s throat before the wretch fled. There was an “F” branded into his flesh. I know of only one slave who would potentially do such a thing. As far as I can recall, however, Hanno didn’t have a mark like that.’ Atia’s eyes searched Aurelia’s. Somehow, she kept her face impassive.

‘No, he didn’t. Anyway, how could it have been him?’ Aurelia exulted even as pain stabbed into her heart. He must have come back to try and find me! So that was how he came by such a terrible scar. Why didn’t he tell me what had happened to him?

‘I don’t know, child. Hannibal’s army wasn’t so far away at the time,’ snapped Atia. ‘Besides, what other slave would assault Phanes on our behalf?’

‘I have no idea.’ It had to be Hanno, thought Aurelia. There was no one else it could have been. Her heart leaped with joy, and a crazy notion of travelling to Capua to find him filled her head. Her mother’s unhappy expression soon made her delight dissipate, however. ‘What else did Phanes say?’

‘That he would not be threatened in such a way. He laughed and told me that his bodyguards were more than capable of dealing with one rogue slave. Then he doubled the repayments with immediate effect. When I protested, he waved the loan agreement in my face. Because we have missed so many monthly instalments, he can charge what he likes, when he likes.’

‘You couldn’t pay that much!’ cried Aurelia in horror.

‘I had three days to raise the money,’ said Atia heavily. ‘In the end, the only thing I could do was to sell part of the farm.’

‘No!’

‘I had no choice, child. It was that, or Phanes would have gone to the court to have the whole property seized. As it is, I won’t be able to meet the next payment without selling another parcel of land. I’ve written to your father, but I doubt that there is anything he can do to help. Martialis can’t either. He has almost beggared himself already lending us money.’

A chasm of despair opened at Aurelia’s feet. What did you do, Hanno? she shouted inside her head. Instead of making things better, you’ve made them far worse. ‘What are you going to do?’

A helpless shrug. ‘Sell off pieces of the farm a bit at a time. Try to get the best prices I can, although few men are buying at the moment. Perhaps I can hold on to some land until such time as your father can pay Phanes off.’

‘There must be something we can do!’

‘Pray,’ said her mother. ‘Pray that a lightning bolt strikes down that motherless cur before we’re ruined. He’d suck the last drop of blood from a corpse, I’d swear it.’

‘I can speak to Lucius,’ said Aurelia on impulse.

‘I won’t hear of it. It’s shameful enough that the family will be ruined. Asking for help is beneath us.’

‘Surely it’s better than losing the farm?’

‘No, it is not. Your father will win enough glory in the war to renew our fortunes.’

‘How do you know that? What if he’s killed? Then where would you be?’ Aurelia expected her mother to slap her, but it was Atia who looked as if she’d been struck. It made her realise how fragile was the façade that her mother presented to the world, and how easy it was for her, with a husband who was not away at war. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘No, you shouldn’t.’ Atia’s voice shook. ‘The gods will protect Fabricius, as they did before. Quintus too. That is what I believe.’

‘And I also,’ said Aurelia in as confident a tone as she could manage. Praying was her only method of helping her father and brother, but there was something tangible she could do about Phanes. The seed of a daring plan had germinated in her mind. Her mother couldn’t stop her from asking Lucius to help. The timing couldn’t be better either. He would be delighted when she told him about her pregnancy. Pleased enough perhaps to bring pressure to bear upon the moneylender? Aurelia wasn’t sure, but she had to do something to defend her family. What a pity it was that Hanno hadn’t just killed Phanes, she thought savagely. Yet to have done so might have placed him in mortal danger. Despite the repercussions of his actions, she was intensely glad that that hadn’t happened. Let his gods keep him safe too, she pleaded.

Elira arrived with the wine. Once it was poured, Aurelia was quick to dismiss her. Who better to tell first about her pregnancy than her mother? It would lift Atia’s mood too. ‘I’ve got some news for you as well,’ she said, suddenly feeling shy. ‘Good news, for a change.’

‘You’re with child!’ said Atia, quick as a flash.

‘How did you know?’ gasped Aurelia.

‘A mother’s intuition.’ At last, a warm smile. ‘How many months are you gone?’

‘Two, I think.’

‘Very early days, then. You mustn’t be complacent about it. A lot can happen in the first three to four months. It’s common to lose the baby.’ Aurelia’s face fell, and her mother took her hand. ‘We shall ask all the gods and goddesses to make sure that that doesn’t happen! It’s still wonderful news, my child. Does Lucius know?’

‘Not yet.’

‘When are you going to tell him?’

‘Soon. For now, I want it to be our secret,’ said Aurelia with a wink. She would wait until her mother had left before speaking with her husband. In fact, she would delay it until he had bedded her before doing so. Perhaps Elira could give her some advice on pleasing him? Her cheeks warmed at the immodest thought, but her resolve did not weaken. She would do everything within her power to aid her family. Aurelia didn’t know the exact details, but she had heard Quintus and Gaius talking and laughing with one another on enough occasions to know that bearing children wasn’t the only way to please Lucius. She just hoped that her newfound eagerness didn’t arouse his suspicions.

Aurelia’s opportunity came less than a week later. Atia had departed after just a few days, citing her need to return to the estate. Their relationship had improved in the short time together and they had taken an emotional farewell of each other. The day after, Lucius returned from a successful trip to Neapolis. He arrived with a rare gift for Aurelia, a gold necklace decorated with tiny rubies. She was delighted with it, especially as it gave her the pretext of seducing him by way of thanks. Lucius’ good humour was increased by the warmth of Aurelia’s welcome, the lavish dinner that was served that evening and the keen manner with which she drew him to bed afterwards. Once there, Aurelia was glad of the courage granted her by the sly cup of wine she’d consumed before leaving the dining room. When Lucius tried to roll on top of her as usual, she swiftly moved away, pushing him on to his back. Before he could do or say much, she had begun kissing his chest and belly, using her fingers to roam all over his hips and thighs. His surprise was clear as she let her mouth roam down to his groin, where it had never been before, but he did nothing to stop her. The little gasps that left his lips in the moments that followed, and the pressure of his fingers on her head, told Aurelia that Elira’s advice had been accurate.

Afterwards, he took her in his arms, which was rare in itself. Aurelia nestled against him, delighted by his evident pleasure. Deliberately, she said nothing.

‘That was quite a welcome,’ he murmured.

‘I’ve missed you.’

‘Clearly.’ His voice was wry.

A silence fell, more comfortable than any between them before. Lucius gently stroked her hair, another new development. Aurelia wondered if it was time to tell him about her pregnancy, but emboldened by her success, decided to follow more of Elira’s counsel. A little while later, her hand casually strayed downwards again. A few strokes and she felt him stiffen.

‘Gods, but you are eager tonight!’

Panic bubbled up inside Aurelia but she did not let her fingers stop. ‘I have missed you. That is allowed, isn’t it? And I love my new necklace. Besides, you are more than rising to the occasion, husband.’

He laughed and lay back, closing his eyes. It was just the opportunity Aurelia wanted. If he’d been looking at her, it would have been much harder to climb on top of him and ease his rigid length inside her. The moment she did, however, his eyes jerked open. ‘What are you doing?’

Rather than answer, Aurelia moved her hips to and fro, as Elira had told her. To her surprise, it felt very good — better than anything they had ever done before. Her enjoyment was enhanced by the way that his face kept morphing into Hanno’s. She felt a momentary guilt, but it was too pleasurable to banish the image.

‘Aurelia?’

‘Only trying to give you pleasure,’ she whispered. ‘Shall I stop?’

A faint groan; a muttered word that might have been ‘No’. Gaining confidence, Aurelia found her rhythm, rocked backwards and forwards as he writhed in ecstasy beneath her. When his hands reached out to grasp her buttocks, she let him guide the speed at which they moved.

It wasn’t long before Lucius climaxed. He made more noise than ever before. Aurelia felt a deep satisfaction as she rolled off him, not least because if their coupling had been that enjoyable, it could only be better with Hanno.

‘Where did you learn to do that?’ he asked, intruding on her fantasy.

‘My mother gave me some advice,’ lied Aurelia, knowing that he would never dare mention it to Atia.

A sleepy smile. ‘I’m in her debt.’

‘And I in yours.’

His eyebrows rose. ‘Why’s that?’

Moving to lie her chin on his chest, she gazed into his eyes. ‘You are to be a father.’

A confused look; then a surprised one. Last of all, an expression of unadulterated joy. ‘You’re pregnant?’

She nodded, smiling with satisfaction. ‘Only two months so far, but I thought you’d want to know.’

‘Ceres and Tellus be praised — that’s wonderful news!’

She chuckled as he touched her belly. ‘There’s nothing to feel yet.’

‘How can you be sure then?’

‘I’ve missed two cycles. Besides, a woman knows these things.’

‘You told your mother when she was here?’

‘Of course. But you’re the only other person who knows.’

He squeezed her to him, before self-consciously loosening his grip.

She pulled his arm back around her. ‘You won’t cause me any harm!’

He gave a sheepish grin, which made him look very young. ‘Let’s not say a word until you begin to show. It can be our secret.’ And then he was off, waxing lyrical about how proud his father would be, his favourite boys’ names, the games he would teach their son.

Aurelia joined in from time to time, agreeing with everything Lucius said. She offered up a silent prayer that the child was indeed male. The second baby could be a girl, but the first, for a multitude of reasons, had to be a boy. When he was done, she kissed him on the lips. ‘You’ll make a fine father.’

‘And you will give me a strong son!’

The iron was hot, thought Aurelia. It was time to strike. ‘It is such a shame that my mother wasn’t able to enjoy the wondrous news.’

‘I don’t understand. Her visit went well, did it not?’

‘Yes, it did.’ She let her voice tail away.

‘What then was the reason? Is she ill? Has there been bad news of your father or brother?’

‘No, it was nothing like that.’

‘Tell me.’ His voice was commanding but gentle.

Fortuna help me, pleaded Aurelia. ‘It’s nothing that concerns you. Just a family problem.’ She kept her gaze averted from his. A blaze of hope warmed her insides as he took her chin and tilted her face upwards.

‘You can tell me.’

Out it all came, told in suitably sorrowful tones. How her father had borrowed from Phanes after a few years of disastrous crops. He had kept up with his payments until going off to war. The subsequent pressure her mother had been under. Phanes’ threats; his increase of the interest rates; how Martialis had helped as best he could. She didn’t mention the attack on the moneylender — bringing Hanno into the equation was not something she wished to do — merely relating that of recent days Phanes had raised the monthly amounts so high that her mother had had to sell part of their farm. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, putting a tremble into her voice. ‘I shouldn’t have told you. Mother and Father would be so angry with me if they knew.’

‘I won’t mention it to a soul,’ he promised. ‘If it’s money that they need, I can lend them-’

‘Thank you, but no. They’re too proud to accept even a single drachm from you. Martialis practically had to force my mother into taking his money, and he’s known the family for thirty years.’ Aurelia didn’t say any more. Instead, she prayed that Lucius would come up with the notion of pressuring Phanes himself and think of it as his idea. Long moments went by. Her heart thudded off her ribs so fast that she worried he might feel it.

‘Phanes, you say his name is?’

‘That’s right.’

‘And he lives in Capua?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll see if someone can’t pay him a visit. Persuade him to think again on your family’s debts.’ He smiled as she looked up at him. ‘It’ll be nothing illegal. The dog just needs to reduce the payments to a fraction of their current level, so that your mother can continue to pay them. That’s not unreasonable, given that there’s a war on. Once your father returns, no doubt laden with honours from the Senate, the situation can be reassessed.’

‘You would do this for me?’

‘Of course! You are going to bear me a son. Besides that, it’s but a small thing.’

Genuine tears of gratitude and joy flowed from Aurelia’s eyes then. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

‘I will have a slave carry a letter to Capua tomorrow. There are people in the city who can look after this matter for me. Consider it done.’

She kissed him with real feeling. When her hand moved downwards from his chest, however, he stopped her. ‘A man needs his rest! Wake me again in the morning and I’ll be happy to oblige.’ Content that she had done enough, Aurelia relaxed into his arms. Lucius was a good husband, she thought. For the first time, she wondered if their life together could actually be happy. Yet that didn’t stop her thinking of Hanno again. Didn’t stop her fantasising that it was he who lay beside her, not Lucius. Fuelled by thoughts of how she had just behaved, her imagination ran riot. The temptation to ease the throbbing feeling in her groin grew too great. Moving with great care, she rolled out of Lucius’ embrace and on to her own side of the bed. He moved a little and then settled down again. When she was sure that he had not woken, Aurelia lay back. Her eyes closed, and an image of Hanno, naked, entered her mind. Her hand slipped down of its own volition, dipped into the wetness between her legs, began to rub.

As she reached the heights of ecstasy, she felt no guilt.

Calena, Samnium

It was a cold, blustery afternoon. The sun had vanished behind banks of grey cloud. Looming, swirling, ever changing in shape, they filled the sky from one horizon to the other, as they had since daybreak. The gale had risen at some stage during the night, and it showed no sign of abating. The Roman troops had learned to expect such weather. Mid-winter storms off the Adriatic were a regular occurrence in this part of Italy. The camp’s position on high ground didn’t help. Gusts of wind battered the tents, alternately pulling taut and slackening the guy ropes in a way that threatened to see at least some become airborne before the day’s end. The bitter air meant that the only soldiers who were abroad were those who had to be. Sentries on the ramparts of the large camp huddled below the level of the wooden battlements, with barely their heads visible. An occasional messenger hurried down one or other of the avenues. A mule-driver led his charges back from whatever scant grazing they’d found that day. Groups of unfortunate legionaries, who were being punished for misdemeanours, manoeuvred miserably to and fro on the open ground beyond the defences, threw javelins or went at each other with wooden swords and shields. Their officers stood in thick woollen cloaks nearby, pouring scorn on their efforts.

In the lines of Corax’s and Pullo’s maniple, everything was quiet. Men huddled in their tents, only venturing outside to answer a call of nature or to fetch fuel for the braziers that the more resourceful contubernia had obtained. Like his comrades, Quintus was not on duty — he had been on a two-day patrol that had returned the previous evening. He was inside too, lying in the midst of the nine other men who shared the tent. As the most senior, he had the best spot, by the small, three-legged brazier. Even better, he had a number of sheepskins to lie on: some bartered for, others the winnings from dice games — or plain stolen. Three months in camp with just an occasional skirmish against the Carthaginians meant that the priorities in life had changed somewhat. They were now all about how to make one’s existence in a leather tent in the cold and damp of winter more bearable. Fuel and bedding were always needed; so too were rations that warmed a man’s insides. Choice items like cheese or wine fetched premium prices.

Quintus had soon discovered that Severus, Rutilus’ former lover, was a born scavenger. It didn’t seem to matter what was needed; Severus could find it. Quintus had learned equally quickly to turn a blind eye to his soldier’s pilfering. The reason for this was simple. Everyone in the camp was at it; the trick was never to be caught. It helped that experienced centurions such as Corax tended ‘not to notice’ what was going on. At the start of winter, he’d made one pronouncement: that anyone caught stealing from their own maniple or those that directly neighboured it would receive thirty lashes. It hadn’t taken much to read between the lines that the units further away, or property outside the camp, were fair game.

There had been a tasty stew for the midday meal: the best food Quintus had had in days. Luxuriating in the comfort of his warm bedding, he lay back and let the chatter wash over him. For the first time in he couldn’t remember how long, he didn’t want to brood over Rutilus. That was all he’d done since the fight at the pass: simmer, and plot how he could revenge himself upon Macerio. Trouble was, it was hard to accomplish such a thing when there was no fighting going on. In the camp, everyone lived cheek by jowl; a man could barely take a shit without half a dozen others watching. The best opportunities to be had were in the thick of combat. At times like that, most men didn’t see what was happening five paces away, let alone ten. To his frustration, the war had ground to a halt since the onset of winter. That was the way it would remain until the fine weather returned in the spring. I’ll get the bastard eventually, thought Quintus. One way or another. Until then, it wasn’t a crime to relax a little in the safety of his tent mates’ company. To distract himself, he focused on what was going on around him. Five of the men were loudly playing dice. Filthy jokes filled the air; many concerned the farts one of them was emitting. Severus was whispering with two of the others, no doubt planning an expedition to thieve something new. The last man was dozing. At moments like this, Quintus reflected, life wasn’t too bad.

‘Crespo!’ The voice came from outside the tent.

With a silent curse, he ignored it.

‘Crespo! Corax wants you. Now.’

The request was unusual enough, but why was Macerio the messenger? Wide awake now and full of suspicion, Quintus sat up. His men were staring at him. ‘Don’t just look at me,’ he barked. ‘One of you unlace the flap!’ To Macerio, he growled, ‘I’m coming.’ Quickly, he strapped on his sword belt and donned his helmet. Throwing on his cloak, he stepped over the huddle of bodies and blankets to the entrance. Caution stopped him from exiting the tent. Was Macerio capable of trying to kill him in broad daylight, in the midst of their own unit? Surely not. Quintus could feel his men’s eyes on his back, and he began to move. The danger from Macerio was small, and he could not be seen to be indecisive.

‘What the hell are you at?’ Macerio’s voice dripped scorn.

‘I’m here,’ he growled, emerging. He made an obvious show of keeping his hand on his sword hilt.

Macerio regarded him mockingly. He was also wearing a woollen cloak, but his hands were empty. Quintus flushed, but he didn’t move his hand. Not after what had happened to Rutilus. His eyes flickered left to right, and behind him, over the tent. He saw no one. Relaxing a fraction, he glared at Macerio.

‘Looking for someone?’

‘Fuck you, Macerio. You know what I’m doing, and why,’ he said, almost amiably. ‘What does Corax want?’

‘Buggered if I know. I was on the way back from the latrine trench, minding my own business, when he collared me by his tent. Told me to get you, double quick.’

Quintus grunted, unwilling to admit his confusion. Macerio said no more, and the conversation died. In silence, they walked past the tents of the hastati. To Quintus’ even greater surprise, Corax was waiting for them by the entrance to his tent. An enigmatic smile played across his face. ‘Crespo. Macerio.’

Stamping their feet, the pair snapped to attention. ‘Sir!’ they bellowed in unison.

‘You’re probably wondering why I ordered you here on such a miserable bloody day, when you’ve only just returned from patrol.’ Corax’s smile broadened. ‘Course you’re both too smart to say so. Well, I’ve got a little surprise for you. Step inside.’ He indicated that they should enter.

Forgetting their enmity for a moment, Quintus and Macerio exchanged an astonished look. Neither had ever received such an invitation.

‘Come on, come on. All the heat is escaping.’

Quintus expected to find Pullo within, but instead he found a familiar figure with prominent ears. Beside him, he heard Macerio’s gasp of shock. ‘Urceus!’ Quintus cried. ‘You’re back.’

‘Didn’t think you could try to end the war without me, did you?’ Urceus limped forward and embraced Quintus.

Even Macerio’s perpetual sour expression eased into a grin. ‘Welcome,’ he said warmly, clapping Urceus on the shoulder. ‘You’re recovered, then?’

Urceus stepped back with a grimace. He rubbed his left thigh. ‘This still pains me, but I can fight. And I wanted to get back to you boys. All of you.’ His face darkened. ‘I was sorry to hear about Rutilus.’

Not half as sorry as you’d be if you knew what happened to him, thought Quintus, feeling his grief scraped raw yet again. ‘He will always be missed,’ he said.

Beside him, Macerio muttered something that at face value sounded genuine.

‘Many good men have already died. Plenty more will lose their lives in Rome’s service before Hannibal has been defeated,’ said Corax sombrely. He moved to stand before them, with his back to the brazier that stood in the middle of the large tent. ‘But none of us will rest until the job has been done, will we?’

‘No, sir!’ the trio chorused.

‘You’re good soldiers, the three of you. That’s why you are here. You are veterans too, not just of this summer’s campaign, but of Trasimene as well. Urceus, you were also at the Trebia.’

Quintus wished that he could reveal the same about himself.

‘Men like you are in short supply right now,’ the centurion went on. ‘You’ll have heard that they’re raising new, larger legions in Rome. The socii are enlisting many thousands more, but the vast majority of these new soldiers will be raw recruits. I don’t know when the day to face Hannibal on a battlefield will come around again. But I do know that when it happens, we’ll need soldiers with real backbone to stand and meet his troops. A rabble they might be, but they’re not short of courage.’

‘We’ll fight, sir. Have no fear of that!’ said Quintus.

Urceus and Macerio loudly voiced their agreement.

‘Aye, you will,’ cried Corax. ‘And as hastati!’

For a moment, a shocked silence filled the tent. It was broken by the centurion’s laughter. ‘Aren’t you pleased?’

‘You’re promoting us to hastati, sir?’ Quintus’ voice was incredulous.

‘That’s what I said.’

‘It’s a great honour, sir,’ said Urceus gruffly. ‘Thank you.’

‘I’m very grateful, sir,’ added Macerio. He shot a spiteful look at Quintus. ‘As you know, when Urceus and I enlisted, we had to prove our income and, with it, our right to promotion to the infantry. Shouldn’t Crespo here have to do the same?’

Quintus’ stomach lurched. The filthy bastard. Macerio couldn’t know his real background, but he knew well enough that Corax had taken him into the unit with few questions. It must have roused Macerio’s suspicions. If he were questioned now, he could say nothing about his true identity without the risk of being thrown out of the velites and returned to his father’s authority. That might not be quite what Macerio had intended, but it would still wreck his chances of staying in the infantry.

Corax’s brows lowered. ‘That won’t be necessary. Crespo here has earned his salt, and he’s proved his courage enough times for me to accept him at face value. In any case, I spend my time looking at damn paperwork. I have no desire to look at any more. He can produce the necessary details when this is all over.’

‘As you say, sir,’ Macerio said, failing to conceal his unhappiness.

Quintus threw the centurion a grateful look. ‘I’ll be sure to do that, sir.’

‘Have yourselves an evening off duty,’ ordered Corax. ‘See the quartermaster. Tell him that I have promoted you. You might be able to persuade him to give you an advance on your pay.’ He gave them a broad wink. ‘The three of you can start training with the hastati in a couple of days, when your heads have stopped pounding.’

The three stood, not quite believing what they had just heard.

‘Dismissed!’

They saluted and beat a hasty retreat. ‘It’s not that far to Larinum,’ said Urceus the instant that they were outside. ‘I say that we head there and get pissed out of our heads.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ replied Quintus. He glanced at Macerio, dreading that the blond-haired man would come along too. He couldn’t think of anything worse than having to spend an evening in his company. To his relief, Macerio made some excuse about having a bellyache; he congratulated Urceus upon his return again and headed back to his tent, there ‘to get some rest’.

Urceus gave an expressive shrug. ‘All the more wine for us, eh?’

Quintus’ loud agreement was as much from relief as a desire to get drunk. Nonetheless, he’d stay on his guard in Larinum. A dark alleyway there would be as good a place for Macerio to strike as in the middle of a battle.