Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

Chapter VII: A Gradual Shift

Hanno did little more than sleep and eat for the next three days. Under Elira’s approving eyes, he devoured plate after plate of food from the kitchen. His strength returned, and the pain of his injuries subsided. Soon he insisted that the strapping around his chest be removed, complaining that it was restricting his breathing. By the fourth day, he felt alert enough to venture outside. Fear stopped him, however. ‘Where’s Agesandros?’

Elira’s full lips flattened. ‘The whoreson is in Capua, thankfully.’

Relieved, Hanno shuffled outside. The yard was empty. All the slaves were at work in the fields. They sat down together in the sunshine and rested their backs against the cool stone of the stable walls. Hanno didn’t mind that there was no one around. It meant he could be alone with Elira, whose physical attractions were daily becoming more obvious. As the ache in his groin constantly told him, he hadn’t had a woman for many months. Yet merely to entertain such thoughts was dangerous. Even if Elira was willing, slaves were forbidden from having sexual relations with each other. What’s more, Hanno had seen the way she and Quintus looked at one another. Stay well away, he told himself sternly. Screwing the master’s son’s favourite slave would not be clever. There was a simpler way of satisfying himself. Less enjoyable, but far safer.

He needed something to take his mind off sex. ‘How did you come to be a slave?’

Elira’s surprise was instantly replaced by sadness. ‘That’s the first time anyone has asked me such a question.’

‘I guess it’s because we all have the same miserable story,’ said Hanno gently. He raised his eyebrows in an indication that she should continue.

Elira’s eyes took on a distant look. ‘I grew up in a little village by the sea in Illyricum. Most people were fishermen or farmers. It was a peaceful place. Until the day that the pirates came. I was nine years old.’ Her face darkened with anger, and sorrow. ‘The men fought hard, but they weren’t warriors. My father and my older brother, they…’ Her voice wobbled for a moment. ‘They were killed. But what happened to Mother was just as bad.’ Tears formed in her eyes.

Horrified, Hanno reached out to squeeze Elira’s hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.

She nodded, and the movement made the tears spill down her cheeks. ‘We were taken to their ships. They sailed to Italy and sold us there. I haven’t seen Mother or my sisters since.’

As Elira wept, Hanno cursed himself for opening his mouth. Yet the Illyrian’s sorrow made her even more attractive. It was hard not to imagine wrapping her in his arms to comfort her. He was therefore relieved to see Aurelia approaching from the direction of the villa. Nudging Elira, he scrambled to his feet. The Illyrian had barely enough time to pull her hair down around her face and wipe away her tears.

Aurelia felt a tinge of jealousy at seeing Elira so close to Hanno. ‘You’re up and about!’ she said tartly.

He bobbed his head. ‘Yes.’

‘How do you feel?’

Hanno touched his ribs. ‘Much better than I did a few days ago, thank you.’

Aurelia’s sympathy surged back at the sight of Hanno wincing. ‘It’s Elira you should be grateful to. She’s a marvel.’

‘She is,’ agreed Hanno, giving Elira a slanted grin.

The Illyrian blushed. ‘Julius will be wondering where I am,’ she muttered, before hurrying off.

Aurelia’s annoyance returned, but, irritated with herself for even feeling it, she dismissed it at once. ‘You’re Carthaginian, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Hanno replied warily. He’d never yet had a proper conversation with Fabricius or any of his family. In his mind, they were still very much the enemy.

‘What’s Carthage like?’

He couldn’t help himself. ‘It’s huge. Perhaps a quarter of a million people live there.’

Despite herself, Aurelia’s eyes widened. ‘But that’s far bigger than Rome!’

Hanno had the sense not to utter the sarcastic response that rose to his lips. ‘Indeed.’ Aurelia seemed interested, so he launched into a description of his city, picturing it in his mind’s eye as he did. Realising eventually that he had lost the run of himself, Hanno fell silent.

‘It sounds beautiful,’ Aurelia admitted. ‘And you looked so happy while you were talking.’

Feeling utterly homesick, Hanno stared at the ground.

‘It’s not surprising, I suppose,’ said Aurelia kindly. Looking curious, she tipped her head to one side. ‘I remember that you speak Greek as well as Latin. In Italy, only nobles learn that tongue. It must be much the same in Carthage. How did someone so well educated end up as a slave?’

Balefully, Hanno lifted his gaze to hers. ‘I forgot to ask a blessing of our most powerful goddess before I went on a fishing trip with my friend.’ He saw her enquiring expression. ‘Suni, the one you saw in Capua. After catching plenty of tunny, we drank some wine and fell asleep. A sudden storm took us far out to sea. Somehow, we survived the night, but the next day a pirate ship found us. We were sold in Neapolis, and taken to Capua to be sold as gladiators. Instead I was bought by your brother.’ Hanno hardened his voice. ‘Who knows what happened to my friend, though?’ He was pleased to see her flinch.

Annoyed, Aurelia recovered quickly. Handsome or not, he’s still a slave, she thought. ‘Everyone at the slave market has a sad story. That doesn’t mean that we can buy them all. Consider yourself lucky,’ she snapped.

Hanno bowed his head. She might be young, but she’s got spirit.

An awkward silence fell.

It was broken by Atia’s voice. ‘Aurelia!’

Aurelia’s face took on a hunted look. ‘I’m in the yard, Mother.’

Atia appeared a moment later. She was wearing a simple linen stola and elegant leather sandals. ‘What are you doing here? We were supposed to be practising the lyre.’ Her gaze passed over Hanno. ‘Isn’t this the slave whom Agesandros beat? The Carthaginian?’

‘Yes, Mother.’ A touch of colour appeared in Aurelia’s cheeks. ‘I was checking with Elira that his recovery was satisfactory.’

‘I see. It’s good that you are taking an interest in things like that. It’s all part of running the household.’ Atia eyed Hanno with more interest. ‘That broken nose isn’t healed, but otherwise he looks fine.’

Hanno shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable with being talked about as if he weren’t present.

Aurelia became a little flustered. ‘I suppose… Elira didn’t say when he’d be ready to return to work.’

‘Well?’ Atia demanded. ‘Are you sufficiently recovered?’

Hanno couldn’t exactly refuse. ‘Yes, mistress,’ he murmured.

‘He’s got three cracked ribs,’ Aurelia protested.

‘That’s no reason to stop him working in the kitchen,’ Atia replied. She stared at Hanno. ‘Is it?’

It would be far less effort than toiling in the fields, thought Hanno. He bowed his head. ‘No, mistress.’

Atia nodded. ‘Good. Follow us back to the house. Julius will have plenty for you to do.’

Secretly delighted, Aurelia followed her mother. She would no longer need an excuse to come and see Hanno.

‘Quintus wants us to watch him sparring with your father,’ said Atia in a proud yet wistful tone.

‘Oh.’ Aurelia managed to convey all of her disapproval and jealousy in one word.

Atia turned. ‘Enough of that attitude! Would you rather spend the time playing the lyre or talking Greek with your tutor?’

‘No, Mother,’ Aurelia muttered furiously.

‘Fine.’ Atia’s frown eased. ‘Come on then.’

Hanno was fascinated. All the girls he’d ever met were perfectly happy to stick with womanly pursuits. Aurelia was made from a different mould.

They entered the house via a small postern gate. It was incorporated into one of the two large timber doors that formed the entrance. Hanno looked around keenly. It was the first time he had been in the villa proper. The simple elegance of its design did not fail to impress him. Carthaginian homes were typically built for functionality, rather than beauty. Elegant mosaics and colourful wall paintings were the exception, not the rule.

In the courtyard, they found Fabricius and Quintus moving carefully around each other. Both were clad in simple belted tunics, and carrying wooden swords and round cavalry shields.

Seeing Atia and Aurelia, they paused.

Fabricius raised his weapon in salute to Atia, who smiled.

‘Finally,’ said Quintus drolly to his sister.

Aurelia did her best to look enthusiastic. This is better than music lessons, she told herself. ‘I’m here now.’

Quintus looked to his father. ‘Ready?’

‘When you are.’

The two stepped closer, raising their swords. The points met with a dull clunk. Both remained still for a moment, trying to gauge when the other would move.

Atia clapped her hands. ‘Fetch some fruit juice,’ she ordered Hanno. She pointed. ‘The kitchen is over there.’

He tore his eyes away from the contest. ‘Yes, mistress.’ Adopting the preferred slave walk, slow and measured, Hanno did as he was told. Happily, he was able to continue observing.

Quintus was first to act. He swept his gladius down, carrying his father’s blade towards the ground. In the same movement, he drew back his right arm and thrust forward, straight at the other’s chest. Fabricius quickly met the attack with his shield. With a great heave, he lifted it in the air. Quintus’ sword was also carried up by the move, which exposed his right armpit. Knowing that his father would strike at his weak point, Quintus desperately twisted to the left and retreated several steps. Fabricius was on him like a striking snake. Despite his father’s ferocity, Quintus managed to hold off the assault. ‘Not bad,’ Fabricius said at length, pulling back. They paused to catch their breath before renewing the engagement.

To Quintus’ delight, he drew first blood. His success came thanks to an unexpected shoulder charge at his father that enabled him to thrust his gladius around their shields. The point snagged in the left side of Fabricius’ tunic. Despite the fact that the blade was wooden, it tore a great hole in the fabric, raked along his ribs and broke the skin. He bellowed in pain, and staggered backwards. Knowing that his father would now find it agonising to lift his sword, Quintus prepared to follow through and win the bout.

‘Are you all right?’ Aurelia cried.

Fabricius did not answer. ‘Come on,’ he growled at Quintus. ‘Think you can finish me?’

Stung, Quintus lifted his gladius and ran forward. When he was only a step away, he feinted to the right and then to the left. A backward slash at Fabricius’ head followed, and his father’s response was barely enough to prevent the blow from landing. Quintus crowed with triumph and pushed on, keen to press home his advantage. Surprising him utterly, Fabricius backed away so fast that Quintus overbalanced and fell. As he landed, Fabricius spun round and placed his sword tip at the base of Quintus’ neck. ‘Dead meat,’ he said calmly.

Furious and embarrassed, Quintus got to his feet. Catching sight of Hanno, he scowled. ‘What are you looking at?’ he yelled. ‘Get about your business!’

Ducking his head to conceal his own anger, Hanno headed for the kitchen.

‘Don’t take it out on a slave,’ cried Aurelia. ‘It’s not his fault.’

Quintus glared at his sister.

‘Calm down,’ said Fabricius. ‘You were undone because you were overconfident.’

Now Quintus’ face went beetroot.

‘You did well until then,’ reassured his father. In the background, Atia was nodding in agreement. ‘If you’d just taken your time, I would have had no chance.’ He lifted his left arm and showed Quintus the long bloody graze along the side of his chest. ‘Even a scratch like this slows a man right down. Remember that.’

Pleased, Quintus smiled. ‘I will, Father.’

At that moment, Hanno emerged with a polished bronze tray. Perched upon it were a fine glass jug and four cups of the same style. Seeing him, Quintus beckoned peremptorily. ‘Get over here! I’m thirsty.’

Arrogant little shit, thought Hanno as he hurried to obey.

Fabricius waited until the whole family had a drink before raising his cup. ‘A toast! To Mars, the god of war. That his shield always remains over us both.’

Hanno blocked out the words as best he could and prayed silently to his own martial god. Baal Saphon, guide Hannibal’s army to victory over Saguntum. And Rome.

Gulping down his juice, Fabricius indicated that Hanno should pour him a refill. He frowned in recognition. ‘Fully recovered?’

‘Very nearly, master,’ Hanno replied.

‘Good.’

‘I was impressed to find Aurelia checking up on his progress,’ Atia added. ‘He’s not up to field work yet, but I didn’t see any reason why Julius couldn’t put him to use in the kitchen.’

‘Fair enough. He’s ready to go back to his cell then.’ Aurelia’s mouth opened in protest, and Fabricius raised a hand. ‘He’s not a horse,’ he said sternly. ‘That stable is needed. His manacles should be replaced too.’ Seeing the apprehension in Hanno’s face, Fabricius’ face softened. ‘Obey orders, and Agesandros will not lay a hand on you. You have my word on that.’

Hanno muttered his thanks, but his mind was racing. Despite Fabricius’ reassurance, his troubles were far from over. Agesandros would undoubtedly be holding a grudge against him. He would constantly have to be on his guard. Without thinking, Hanno remained where he was, close to the family.

An instant later, Quintus turned and their eyes met. I’d love to take you on in a swordfight, thought Hanno. Teach you a lesson. Almost as if he understood, Quintus’ top lip curled. ‘What are you still doing here? Get back to the kitchen.’

Hanno quickly retreated. He was grateful for the smile Aurelia threw in his direction.

The conversation resumed behind him.

‘Can we practise again tomorrow, Father?’ Quintus’ voice was eager.

‘The enthusiasm of youth!’ Touching his side, Fabricius grimaced. ‘I doubt that my ribs would permit it. But I can’t anyway.’

‘Why not?’ Quintus cried.

‘I must travel to Rome. The Senate is meeting to consider how it will respond when Saguntum falls. I want to hear for myself what they plan.’

War, thought Hanno fervently. I hope they decide on war. Because that’s what they’re going to get in any case.

Quintus was crestfallen, but he didn’t argue further. ‘How long will you be gone?’

‘At least ten days. Maybe more. It depends on the success of my other mission,’ Fabricius replied. He fixed Aurelia with his grey eyes. ‘To find a suitable husband for you.’

Aurelia paled, but she did not look away. ‘I see. I’m not to be allowed to fall in love as you and Mother did, then?’

‘You’ll do as you’re damn well told!’ Fabricius snapped.

Atia flushed and looked down.

‘Never mind, children,’ intervened Atia in a brisk tone. ‘It will be an opportunity for both of you to catch up on your studies. Quintus, the tutor reports that your grasp of geometry is not what it should be.’

Quintus groaned.

Atia turned to Aurelia. ‘Don’t think that you’re going to escape either.’

Even as she scowled, Aurelia was struck by an idea. Her heart leaped at its brilliance. If she could pull it off, neither of them would care about extra lessons. And it would help her not to think about her father’s quest.

Like all the best plans, Aurelia’s was simple. She wasn’t sure if Quintus would go along with it, however, so she said nothing until their father had been gone for several days. By then, her brother’s frustration at not being able to do any weapons training was reaching new highs. Aurelia picked her moment carefully, waiting until her mother was occupied with the household accounts. Quintus’ morning lessons had ended a short time before, and she found him pacing around the fountain in the centre of the courtyard, angrily scuffing his sandals along the mosaic.

‘What’s wrong?’

He glanced at her, scowling. ‘Nothing, apart from the fact that I’ve had to spend two hours trying to calculate the volume of a cylinder. It’s impossible! And it’s not as if I’ll ever use the method again. Typical bloody Greeks for discovering how to work out something so stupid in the first place.’

Aurelia made a sympathetic noise. She wasn’t fond of the subject either. ‘I was wondering…’ she began. Deliberately, she did not continue.

‘What?’ Quintus demanded.

‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ she replied. ‘Just a silly idea.’

The first trace of interest crossed Quintus’ face. ‘Tell me.’

‘You’ve been complaining a lot about Father being away.’

He gave an irritable nod. ‘Yes, because I can’t practise my sword play.’

Aurelia smiled impishly. ‘There might be a way around that.’

Quintus’ look was pitying. ‘Riding to Capua and back to train with Gaius each day isn’t an option. It would take far too long.’

‘That’s not what I’ve got in mind.’ Aurelia found herself hesitating. Say it! she thought. You’ve got nothing to lose. ‘I could be your sparring partner.’

‘Eh?’ His eyebrows rose in shock. ‘But you’ve never used a sword before.’

‘I learn fast,’ Aurelia shot back. ‘You said so yourself when you taught me to use a sling.’ She held her breath, praying that he would agree.

A slow grin spread across Quintus’ face. ‘We could go “for a walk” up to the woods, to the place where I train.’

‘That’s exactly what I was thinking,’ cried Aurelia delightedly. ‘Mother doesn’t mind what we do as long as all of our homework is done, and our duties are completed.’

A frown creased his brow. ‘What’s in it for you? You’ll never be able to do it again once you’re…’ He gave her a guilty look.

‘That’s precisely why,’ Aurelia said fervently. ‘I’ll be married off within the year, most likely. Then I’ll have to resign myself to childminding and running a household for the rest of my life. What an opportunity to forget that fate!’

‘Mother will kill you if she finds out,’ Quintus warned.

Aurelia’s eyes flashed. ‘I’ll face that day if, or when, it comes.’

Quintus saw his sister’s resolve, and nodded. In truth, he felt glad to be able to help her, even if it would only be a temporary affair. He wouldn’t want the future she’d painted. ‘Very well.’

Aurelia stepped in to kiss his cheek. ‘Thank you. It means a lot to me.’

The moment that their tasks were done the following day, they met up in the atrium. Quintus slung an old sack over his shoulder; within were two of the wooden gladii, as well as a few snares. The latter could be pulled out in the event of any awkward questions from their mother. ‘Ready?’ Aurelia whispered excitedly.

He nodded.

They had gone a dozen steps when Atia appeared from the tablinum, a roll of parchment in one hand. She threw them a curious glance. ‘Where are you two going?’

‘For a walk,’ Aurelia replied lightly. She lifted the wicker basket in her right hand. ‘I thought you might like some mushrooms.’

‘I need to set some traps as well,’ Quintus added. He tapped his bow. ‘This is in case I see a deer.’

‘Make sure you’re back well before dark.’ Atia had taken a few steps when she turned. ‘Actually, why don’t you take the new slave with you? Hanno, I think he’s called. While he’s working in the kitchen, he might as well learn about foraging and catching game.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ said Aurelia, her face lighting up. Despite the fact that Hanno now worked in the house, she had found there was still hardly ever a chance to speak to him.

‘Is it?’ asked Quintus, looking irritated. ‘He might run away.’

Atia laughed. ‘With the manacles he’s wearing? I don’t think so. Besides, you can both practise your Greek with him. You’ll all be learning something.’

‘Yes, Mother,’ Quintus muttered unenthusiastically.

With an absent smile, Atia left them to it.

Aurelia poked Quintus. ‘She didn’t suspect a thing!’

Quintus grimaced. ‘No, but we’ve got to take the Carthaginian with us.’

‘So what? He can carry the sack.’

‘I suppose,’ Quintus admitted. ‘Go and get him then. Let’s not hang around.’

A short time later, they were following one of the narrow tracks that led through the fields to the edge of the farm. Shuffling because of his manacles, a bemused Hanno took up the rear. Aurelia’s offer of a trip into the woods had come as a welcome surprise. Although his job in the kitchen kept him safe from Agesandros, Hanno had begun to miss being in the open air. He longed for the companionship of Galba, Cingetorix and the other Gauls too. Julius and the rest of the domestic slaves were pleasant, but they were soft, and did little but gossip with each other. He wouldn’t see the Gauls today, but Hanno liked the sound of picking mushrooms, an activity that was unknown in Carthage, and of hunting, something he enjoyed greatly. Today he would have no time to brood.

It was when the two young Romans stopped in a large clearing that Hanno started to feel suspicious. The mushrooms that Aurelia had shown him on the way up had grown in shady areas under fallen trees, and only a fool would lay a snare or try waiting for a deer in the middle of an open space.

Quintus stalked over. ‘Give me the sack,’ he ordered.

Hanno obeyed. A moment later, he was most surprised to see two wooden swords clattering on to the soft earth. Gods, but how long it had been since he’d held a weapon! He still hadn’t fully realised what was going on when Quintus tossed one of the gladii to Aurelia.

‘These hurt like Hades if you land a blow, but they’re not likely to spill your guts on the ground.’

Aurelia moved the blade to and fro once or twice. ‘It feels very unwieldy.’

‘It’s double the weight of a real sword, to build up your fitness.’ Quintus saw her frown. ‘We don’t have to do this.’

‘Yes, we do,’ she retorted. ‘Show me how to hold the damn thing properly.’

Smiling, Quintus obeyed, gripping her wrist to move it slowly through the air. ‘As you know, it was made to cut and thrust. But it can slash too, which is how we use it in the cavalry.’

‘Shouldn’t we have shields too?’

He laughed. ‘Of course. But I think Mother might have realised what we were up to. Give me a few days. I’ll take them up here on my own one evening, when she’s taking her bath.’

Quintus began to teach Aurelia how to thrust the gladius forward. ‘Keep your feet close together as you move. It’s important not to over-extend yourself.’

After a while, Hanno began to grow bored. He would have loved to take Aurelia’s place, but that wasn’t going to happen. He glanced at his nearly empty basket, and coughed to get the young Romans’ attention.

Quintus turned, a frown creasing his brow. ‘What?’

‘We didn’t find many mushrooms on the way here. Should I go and pick some more?’

Quintus nodded in surprise. ‘Very well. You’re not to go far. And don’t get any ideas about running away.’

Aurelia looked more grateful. ‘Thank you.’

Hanno left them to it. He cast about the edge of the clearing, but found no mushrooms. Unnoticed by Quintus and Aurelia, he moved off into the undergrowth. The sounds of their voices became muffled and then were lost. Sunlight pierced the dense canopy above, lighting up irregular patches of the forest floor. Nonetheless, the air felt heavy. Hanno’s presence made birds flit from branch to branch, sounding their alarm calls. Soon he felt as if he was the only person in the world. He felt free. Right on cue, the manacles around his ankles clanked, and reality struck. Hanno cursed. Even if he tried to run, he wouldn’t get far. The moment Agesandros was alerted, he’d get out the hunting dogs. They’d track him down in no time. And of course there was the debt he owed Quintus. Sighing, Hanno got back to his task.

His luck was in. A quarter of an hour later, he returned to the clearing with a full basket.

Aurelia saw him first. ‘Well done!’ she cried, rushing over. ‘Those slender mushrooms with the flat caps are delicious when fried. You’ll have to try some later.’

Hanno’s lips turned up. ‘Thank you.’

Quintus glanced at the basket, but didn’t comment. ‘Race you to the stream,’ he said to Aurelia. ‘We can cool off before going back.’

With a giggle, she took off towards the far side of the clearing, from where the babble of running water could be heard.

‘Hey!’ Quintus shouted. ‘That’s cheating!’ Aurelia didn’t reply, and he sprinted after her.

Hanno looked after them wistfully, remembering similar good times with Suniaton. An instant later, though, his gaze fell on the two wooden swords, which had been left on the ground nearby. Quintus’ bow and quiver lay alongside. Without thinking, Hanno walked over and picked up a gladius. As Aurelia had said, it was awkward to hold, but Hanno didn’t care. Gripping the hilt tightly, he thrust it to and fro. It was the most natural thing to imagine sticking it in Agesandros’ belly.

‘What are you doing?’

Hanno almost jumped out of his skin. He turned to find a dripping wet Quintus regarding him with extreme suspicion. ‘Nothing,’ he muttered.

‘Slaves aren’t allowed to use bladed weapons. Drop it!’

With great reluctance, Hanno let the gladius fall.

Quintus picked it up. ‘No doubt you were thinking about murdering us all in our beds,’ he said in a hard voice.

‘I’d never do that,’ Hanno protested. Agesandros is a different matter of course, he thought. ‘I owe you my life twice over. That’s something I will never forget.’

Quintus was nonplussed. ‘I only bought you in the first place because Agesandros didn’t want me to. As for when he was beating you, well, injuring a slave badly is a waste of money.’

‘That’s as maybe,’ Hanno muttered. ‘But if it weren’t for you, I’d surely be dead by now.’

Quintus shrugged. ‘Don’t pin your hopes on paying me back. There aren’t too many dangers around here!’ He pointed at his sack. ‘Pick that up. I’ve spotted a good place on the bank to set a snare.’

Stooping so that Quintus didn’t see his scowl, Hanno obeyed. Curse him and his arrogance, he thought. I should just run away. But his pride wouldn’t let him. A debt was a debt.

Quintus and Aurelia managed to fit in three more trips to the clearing before Fabricius’ return a week later. Atia had been so pleased by the basket of mushrooms that Quintus insisted Hanno accompany him and his sister each time. Hanno was glad to obey. Aurelia was friendly, and Quintus’ manner towards him had changed fractionally. He wasn’t exactly warm, but his high-handed manner, which Hanno despised, was no longer so evident. Whether it was because he had revealed the debt that he owed to Quintus, Hanno could not tell.

Although Fabricius’ homecoming meant that the secret trips stopped, Hanno was pleased to learn that his master was soon to return to Rome. Eavesdropping as he served food to the family, Hanno heard how the debates in the Senate about Hannibal were constant now, with some factions favouring negotiations with Carthage and others demanding an immediate declaration of war. ‘There’s far more interest in that than the eligible daughter of a country noble,’ Fabricius revealed to Atia.

Aurelia was barely able to conceal her delight, but her mother pursed her lips. ‘Have you found no one suitable?’

‘I’ve found plenty,’ Fabricius replied reassuringly. ‘I just need more time, that’s all.’

‘I want to know the best candidates,’ said Atia. ‘I can write to those of their mothers who are living. Arrange a meeting.’

Fabricius nodded. ‘Good idea.’

Let it take for ever, Aurelia prayed. In the meantime, I can practise with Quintus. It had been a joy to discover that handling a sword came naturally to her. She burned to train further, while she still could.

Her brother’s reaction, however, was the opposite to hers. ‘How long will you be gone?’ he asked glumly.

‘I’m not sure. It could be weeks. I’ll definitely be back for Saturnalia.’

Quintus looked horrified. ‘That’s months away!’

‘It’s not the end of the world,’ said Fabricius, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘You’ll be starting your military training next spring anyway.’

Quintus was about to protest further but Atia intervened. ‘Your father’s business is far more important than your desire to train with a gladius. Be content that he is here now.’

Reluctantly, Quintus held his silence.

Bending their heads together, their parents fell into a private conversation.

It was probably about her prospective husbands, thought Aurelia furiously. She kicked Quintus under the table and framed the words ‘We can go to the clearing more often’ at him. When he raised his eyebrows, she repeated them and thrust an imaginary sword at him.

At last Quintus understood, and a happier expression replaced the sullen one.

Hanno hoped that Quintus and Aurelia would take him along too. Agesandros could not do a thing to him while he was with them. Moreover, he had come to enjoy the outings.

‘Do you still think this is a good idea?’ asked Atia when the children were gone.

Fabricius grimaced. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You said yourself that no one suitable is interested in finding a bride at the moment.’

‘So?’

‘Maybe we should leave it for six months or a year?’

His frown deepened. ‘Where’s the benefit in that? Don’t tell me that you’re having second thoughts?’

‘I-’

‘You are!’

‘Do you remember our reason for getting married, Fabricius?’ she asked gently.

A guilty look stole on to his face. ‘Of course I do.’

‘Is it so surprising, then, that it’s hard for me to think of forcing Aurelia into an arrangement against her will?’

‘It’s difficult for me too,’ he objected. ‘But you know why I’m doing it.’

Atia sighed.

‘I’m trying to better our family. I can’t do that with a huge debt hanging over my head.’

‘You could always ask Martialis for help.’

‘I might owe thousands of didrachms to a moneylender in Capua, but I’ve still got my pride!’ he retorted.

‘Martialis wouldn’t think any less of you.’

‘I don’t care! I wouldn’t ever be able to look him in the eye again.’

‘It’s not as if you gambled the money away on chariot racing! You needed the money because of the terrible drought two years ago. There’s no shame in telling him that we had no crops to sell.’

‘Martialis isn’t a farmer,’ said Fabricius heavily. ‘He might understand if my problems were about property, but this…’

‘You could try,’ Atia murmured. ‘He’s your oldest comrade, after all.’

‘A friend is the worst possible person to borrow from. I’m not doing it.’ He fixed her with his stare. ‘If we don’t want the farm to be repossessed in the next few years, the only way forward is to marry Aurelia into a wealthy family. That knowledge alone will keep the moneylender off our backs indefinitely.’

‘Maybe so, but it won’t make the money appear from thin air.’

‘No, but with the gods’ favour, I will win more recognition in this war than I did in the last. After it’s over, I’ll secure a local magistrate’s job.’

‘And if you don’t?’

Fabricius blinked. ‘It’ll be down to Quintus. With the right patronage, he could easily reach the rank of tribune. The yearly pay that position brings in will make our debts seem like a drop in the ocean.’ He leaned in and kissed her confidently. ‘You see? I have it all worked out.’

Atia didn’t have the heart to protest any further. She couldn’t make Fabricius go to Martialis, nor could she think of another strategy. She smiled bravely, trying not to think of an alternative, but entirely possible scenario.

What if Fabricius didn’t come home from the war? What if Quintus never achieved the tribuneship?

Over the following weeks, it became the siblings’ daily norm to go to the clearing. Pleased by the constant stream of mushrooms, hazelnuts, and the occasional deer brought down by Quintus’ arrows, Atia did not protest. Because Aurelia had given Hanno the credit for their haul, he was allowed to accompany them. To Hanno’s surprise, Aurelia’s skill with the gladius was slowly improving, and Quintus had begun teaching her to use a shield. Not long after that, he brought two genuine swords with him. ‘These are just to give you an idea of what using the real thing feels like,’ he said, as he handed one to Aurelia. ‘I want no funny stuff.’

Hanno eyed the long, waisted blade in Aurelia’s hand with unabashed pleasure. It wasn’t that different to the weapon he’d owned in Carthage.

Quintus saw his interest and frowned. ‘You know how to use one of these?’

Hanno jerked back to the present. ‘Yes,’ he muttered unwillingly.

‘How?’

‘My father used to train me.’ Hanno deliberately made no mention of his brothers.

‘Is he a soldier?’

‘He was,’ lied Hanno. The less Quintus knew, the better.

‘Did he fight in Sicily?’

Hanno nodded reluctantly.

Quintus looked surprised. ‘So did mine. He spent years in the cavalry there. Father says that your people were worthy enemies, who only lacked a decent leader.’

No longer, thought Hanno triumphantly. Hannibal Barca will change all that. With an effort, he shrugged at Quintus. ‘Maybe.’

Quintus’ mouth opened to ask another question.

‘Let’s practise!’ interjected Aurelia.

To Hanno’s relief, the moment passed. Quintus responded to his sister’s demand, and the two began sparring gently with the gladii.

Hanno headed off to check their snares. Shortly afterwards, and some distance from the clearing, he found the trail of a wild boar. He hurried back with the news as fast as his manacles would let him. Because of its rich flavour, boar meat was highly prized. The creatures were secretive too, and hard to find. An opportunity to kill one should not be passed up. Hanno’s news immediately stopped Quintus practising with Aurelia. Sheathing the gladii, he rolled them up in a blanket and stuffed them into his pack. ‘Come on!’ he cried, sweeping up his bow.

Aurelia rushed after him. She was as keen as any to bring a boar back to the house.

Within a hundred paces, Hanno had fallen well behind. ‘I can’t go any faster,’ he explained when the young Romans turned impatiently.

‘We might as well give up now, then,’ said Quintus with a scowl. ‘Or you can just stay here.’ He had the grace to flush.

Despite this, Hanno clenched his fists. I found the damn trail, he thought. Not you.

There was a short, uncomfortable pause.

‘I can help,’ Aurelia announced suddenly. From inside her dress she produced a small bunch of keys. Kneeling by Hanno’s side, she tried several on one of his anklets before it fell apart.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ demanded Quintus.

Aurelia ignored him. Smiling broadly at Hanno, she opened the other. She couldn’t help thinking how like the statue of a Greek athlete he looked.

Incredulous, Hanno lifted his feet one after another. ‘Baal Hammon’s beard, that feels good.’

Quintus stepped forward. ‘How in Hades did you get those keys?’

Aurelia swelled with pride. ‘You know how Agesandros likes to drink in the evenings. He’s often snoring before Vespera. All I had to do was creep in and take an impression of each in wax, and get the smith to make them for me. I told him that they were for Father’s chests, and gave him a few coins to make sure he told no one.’

Quintus’ eyes widened at his sister’s daring, but he still wasn’t happy. ‘Why did you do it?’

Aurelia wasn’t going to admit the real reason, which was that she had come to abhor Hanno’s fetters. Most slaves didn’t have theirs removed until they’d been around for years and were no longer deemed a flight risk, but a small number were never trusted. Naturally, Agesandros had persuaded Fabricius that Hanno fell into this category. ‘For a day like this,’ she challenged, lifting her chin. ‘So we could hunt properly.’

‘He’ll run away!’ Quintus cried.

‘No, he won’t,’ Aurelia retorted hotly. She turned to Hanno. ‘Will you?’

Caught off guard by the bizarre situation, and stunned by Aurelia’s action, Hanno stuttered to find an answer. ‘N-no, of course not.’

‘There!’ Aurelia gestured in triumph at her brother.

‘You believe that? He’s a slave!’

Aurelia’s eyes blazed. ‘Hanno is trustworthy, Quintus, and you know it!’

Quintus matched her gaze for a moment. ‘Very well.’ He looked at Hanno. ‘Do you give your word not to run away?’

‘I swear it. May Tanit and Baal Hammon, Melqart and Baal Saphon be my witnesses,’ said Hanno in a steady voice.

‘If you’re lying,’ muttered Quintus, ‘I’ll hunt you down myself.’

Hanno stared stolidly back at him. ‘Fine.’

Quintus gave him a curt nod. ‘Lead on, then.’

Relishing the freedom of being able to run for the first time in months, Hanno bounded off towards the spot where he’d seen the boar’s spoor. Of course he thought of escape, but there was no way Hanno would break the vow he’d just made.

Frustratingly, the boar proved elusive to the point of exasperation.

An hour later, they had still not laid eyes on it. The animal’s trail had led them to a point where the forest thinned as it climbed the mountain slope above, and there it had disappeared. A large area of bare rock meant that their chances of finding it again were very slim.

Quintus looked at the darkening sky and cursed. ‘We’ll have to give up soon. I don’t fancy spending the night here. Let’s spread right out. That’s probably our best option.’

While Aurelia walked off to Quintus’ left, Hanno moved slowly to the right. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground, but saw nothing at all for a good two hundred paces. His gaze wandered to the slopes above them. Much of the ground was covered in short scrubby grass, and fit only for sheep or goats.

Hanno frowned. Some distance above them, and partially obscured by a scattering of juniper and pine trees, he could see a small wooden structure. Smoke rose lazily from a hole in the apex of its roof. Latticed fencing around it revealed the presence of sheep pens. It didn’t surprise him. Like most landowners, Fabricius’ flocks wandered the hills during the spring and summer, accompanied by solitary shepherds and their dogs. Makeshift huts, and enclosures for the animals, were situated regularly across the landscape, shelter in case of bad weather and protection against predators such as wolves. To his astonishment, however, Hanno heard the sound of bleating. He looked up at the sky. It was early for the animals to be back from pasture. He glanced at Quintus, who was still casting about for signs of the boar. Aurelia was visible beyond. She too appeared oblivious.

Hanno was about to give a low whistle, when something stopped him. Instead, he trotted back towards the two Romans.

Quintus grew excited as he saw Hanno approach. ‘Seen something?’

‘The sheep up there are penned in,’ said Hanno. ‘A bit soon, isn’t it?’

Quintus raised a hand to his eyes. ‘By Jupiter, you’re right,’ he admitted, annoyed that he hadn’t noticed first. ‘Libo is the shepherd around here. He’s a good man, not one to avoid work.’

Hanno’s stomach clenched.

‘I’m not happy.’ Quintus took off his pack and emptied it on the ground. He unrolled the cloak. Carefully shoving one gladius into his belt, he handed the other to Aurelia, who had caught up with them. ‘You probably won’t need it,’ he said with a falsely confident smile. Bending the stave with his knee, Quintus slipped his bowstring into place. There were ten arrows in his quiver. Plenty, he thought.

‘What’s wrong?’ Aurelia demanded.

‘Probably nothing,’ replied Quintus reassuringly. ‘I’m just going to take Hanno and check out that hut.’

Fear flared in Aurelia’s eyes, but when she spoke, her voice was steady. ‘What shall I do?’

‘Remain here,’ Quintus ordered. ‘Stay hidden. Under no circumstances are you to follow us. Is that clear?’

She nodded. ‘How long should I wait?’

‘A quarter of an hour, no more. If we haven’t reappeared by then, return to the farm as fast as you can. Find Agesandros, and tell him to bring plenty of men. Well armed.’

At this, Aurelia’s composure cracked. ‘Don’t go up there,’ she whispered. ‘Let’s just fetch Agesandros together.’

Quintus thought for a moment. ‘Libo could be in danger. I have to check,’ he declared. He patted Aurelia’s arm. ‘Everything will be fine, you’ll see.’

Aurelia saw that her brother was not to be swayed. She took a step towards Hanno, but stopped herself. ‘Mars protect you both,’ she whispered, hating the way her voice trembled.

And Baal Saphon, thought Hanno, invoking the Carthaginian god of war.

Leaving Aurelia peering from behind a large pine, the two young men began to ascend. Quintus was surprised by the imperceptible change that had already taken place in their relationship. Although they could see no human activity above, both were instinctively using the few bushes present for cover. As soldiers would. Don’t be stupid. He’s a slave. ‘It’s bandits,’ Quintus muttered to himself. ‘What else can it be?’

‘That’s what it would be in the countryside around Carthage,’ replied Hanno.

Quintus cursed. ‘I wonder how many there are?’

Hanno shrugged uneasily, wishing he had a weapon. It wasn’t surprising that Quintus had given the other gladius to Aurelia, but it grated on him nonetheless. ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

Quintus’ lips had gone very dry. ‘What if there are too many for me to take on?’

‘We try not to shit ourselves, and then crawl out of there on our bellies,’ Hanno answered dryly. ‘Before going to get help.’

‘That sounds like a good plan.’ Despite himself, Quintus grinned.

The rest of the climb was made in silence. The last point of cover before the shepherd’s hut was a stunted cypress tree, and they reached it without difficulty. Recovering their breath, each took turns to peer at the pens and the miserable structure alongside, which was little more than a leanto. His lips moving silently, Quintus counted the sheep. ‘I make it more than fifty,’ he whispered. ‘That’s Libo’s entire flock.’

Be logical, thought Hanno. ‘Maybe he’s ill?’

‘I doubt it,’ Quintus replied. ‘Libo is as hard as nails. He’s lived in the mountains all his life.’

‘Let’s wait a moment then,’ Hanno advised. ‘No point rushing into a situation without assessing it first.’

Hanno’s observation made Quintus bridle. Slaves do not advise their masters, he told himself angrily. Yet the Carthaginian’s words were wise. Biting his lip, he drew a goose-feathered arrow from his quiver. It was his favourite, and he’d killed with it many times. Never a man, he thought with a rush of fear. Taking a deep breath, Quintus exhaled slowly. It might not come to that. Nonetheless, he picked out three more shafts and stabbed them into the earth by his feet. Suddenly, an awful thought struck him. If there were bandits about, and he was outnumbered, his bow was the only advantage he had. That might not be enough. Quintus was prepared for the potential danger he’d placed himself in, but he hadn’t really considered his sister. He turned to Hanno. ‘If anything happens to me, you’re to run down and get Aurelia the hell out of here. Do you understand?’

It was too late to say that Quintus should have given him a sword, thought Hanno angrily. It would have been two of them against however many bandits might be in the hut. He nodded. ‘Of course.’

It wasn’t long before there was movement inside the building, which was perhaps twenty paces away. A man coughed, and cleared his throat in the manner of someone who has just woken. Quintus stiffened, listening hard. Hanno did likewise. Then they heard the rickety door on the far side of the hut being thrown open. A short figure wearing a sheepskin waistcoat over a homespun tunic stepped into view. Stretching and yawning, he pulled down his breeches and began to relieve himself. Glancing sunlight lit up the yellow arc of his urine.

Quintus cursed under his breath.

Despite the other’s reaction, Hanno had to ask. ‘Is that the shepherd?’ he whispered.

Quintus’ lips framed the word ‘No.’ Carefully, he fitted his favourite arrow to his bowstring and drew a bead on the stranger.

‘Could it be another shepherd?’

‘I don’t recognise him.’ Quintus drew back until the goose feathers at the base of the arrow nearly touched his ear.

‘Wait!’ Hanno hissed. ‘You have to be sure.’

Quintus was again angered by Hanno’s tone. Nonetheless, he did not release: he too had no desire to kill an innocent man.

‘Caecilius? Where are you?’ demanded a voice from inside the hut.

The pair froze.

With a final shake, the man pulled up his trousers. ‘Out here,’ he replied lazily. ‘Taking a piss on the shepherd. Making sure he’s still dead.’

There was a loud guffaw. ‘Not much chance of the whoreson being anything else after what you did to him.’

‘You can’t talk, Balbus,’ added a third voice. ‘He screamed the most when you were using the red hot poker.’

Quintus threw Hanno a horrified glance.

Balbus laughed, a deep, unpleasant sound. ‘What do you think, Pollio?’ There was no immediate answer, and they heard Balbus kicking someone. ‘Wake up, you drunken sot.’

‘The point of my boot up his arse should do the trick,’ Caecilius bellowed, heading for the door.

Desperately, Hanno turned his head to tell Quintus to loose before it was too late. He barely had time to register the arrow as it flashed past his eyes and shot through the air to plant itself in the middle of Caecilius’ chest. With a stunned look, the bandit dropped to his knees before toppling sideways to the dirt. He made a few soft choking sounds and lay still.

‘Well done,’ whispered Hanno. ‘Three left.’

‘At least.’ Quintus did not think about what he had done. He notched another shaft and waited. The layout of the hut was such that if the remaining bandits merely looked out of the doorway, they would see Caecilius’ body without exposing themselves to his arrows. Jupiter, Greatest and Best, he begged silently, let the next scumbag come right outside.

Hanno clenched his teeth. He too could see the danger.

‘Caecilius? Fallen over your own prick?’ demanded Balbus.

There was no answer. A moment later, a bulky-framed man with long greasy hair emerged partially into view. It took the blink of an eye for him to notice his companion’s body, to take in the arrow protruding from his chest. A strangled cry left Balbus’ throat. Frantic to regain the safety of the hut, he spun on his heel.

Quintus released. His shaft flew straight and true, driving deep into Balbus’ right side with a meaty thump. The bandit cursed in pain, but managed to get through the doorway. ‘Help me,’ he cried. ‘I’m hit.’

Shouts of confusion and anger rang out from within. Hanno heard Balbus growl, ‘Caecilius is dead. An arrow to the chest. No, Sejanus, I don’t fucking know who did it.’ Then, apart from low muttering, everything went silent.

‘They know that I’m just outside,’ Quintus whispered, suddenly wondering if he’d bitten off more than he could chew. ‘But they have no idea that I’m on my own. How will they react?’

Hanno scowled. You’re not on your own, you arrogant fool. ‘What would you do?’

‘Try to get away,’ Quintus said, fumbling for an arrow.

In the same instant, loud cracking sounds filled the air and the back wall of the hut disintegrated in a cloud of dust. Three bandits burst into the open air, hurtling straight towards them. In the lead was a skinny man in a wine-stained tunic. He grasped a hunting spear in both hands. This had to be Pollio, thought Hanno. Beside him ran a massive figure carrying a club. Hanno blinked in surprise. It was not Balbus, because he was two steps behind, clutching the arrow in his side with one hand and a rusty sword with the other. Despite being twice Balbus’ size, the big man was his spitting image. The pair had to be brothers.

The two sides goggled at each other for a heartbeat.

Pollio was the first to react. ‘They’re only children. And one isn’t even armed,’ he screamed. ‘Kill them!’ His companions needed no encouragement. Bellowing with rage, the trio charged forward.

Perhaps fifteen paces now divided them. ‘Quick,’ Hanno shouted. ‘Take one of the bastards down.’

Quintus’ heart hammered in his chest, and he struggled to notch his arrow correctly. Finally it slipped on to the string, but, desperate to even the odds, he loosed too soon. His shaft flashed over Pollio’s shoulder and into the wreckage of the hut. He had no time to reach for another. The bandits were virtually upon them. Dropping his bow, he pulled the gladius from his belt. ‘Get out of here!’ he shouted. ‘You know what to do!’

Facing certain death if he stayed without a weapon, Hanno turned and fled.

‘Let him go!’ shouted Pollio. ‘The shitbag looks as if he can run like the wind.’

Quintus had just enough time to throw up a prayer of thanks to Jupiter before Pollio, leaping over a fallen log, reached him.

‘So you’re the one who would murder a man while he takes a piss,’ the bandit snarled, lunging forward with his spear.

Quintus dodged sideways. ‘He got what was coming to him.’

Leering, Pollio stabbed at him again. ‘It was a quicker death than the shepherd had.’

Quintus tried not to think of Libo, or of the fact that he was outnumbered three to one. Holding his gladius with both hands, he swept the spear shaft away. Sejanus, the big man, was still a few steps away, but already there was no sign of Balbus. Where is the son of a whore? Quintus wondered frantically. He might be wounded, but he’s still armed. The realisation made him want to vomit. The bastard’s coming to stab me in the back. All Quintus could think of doing was to place himself against a tree. Driving Pollio off with a flurry of blows, he sprinted towards the nearest one he could see, a cypress with a thick trunk. He could make a stand there.

To Quintus’ exhilaration, he made it.

The only trouble was that, a heartbeat later, he had the grinning bandits ringed around him in a semicircle.

‘Surrender now, and we’ll give you an easy death,’ said Pollio. ‘Not like the poor shepherd had.’

Even the wounded Balbus laughed.

What have I done? Somehow, Quintus swallowed down his fear. ‘You’re fucking scum! I’ll kill you all,’ he shouted.

‘You think?’ sneered Pollio. ‘It’s your choice.’ Without warning, he thrust his spear at Quintus’ midriff.

Quintus threw himself sideways. Too late, he realised that Sejanus had aimed his club at the very spot he was heading for. In utter desperation, he deliberately fell to the ground. With an almighty crack, the club smacked into the treetrunk. The knowledge that the blow would have brained him if it had landed drove Quintus to his feet. Seizing his opportunity, he slashed out at Sejanus’ arm and was delighted when his blade connected with the big man’s right arm. The flesh wound it cut was enough for Sejanus to bellow in pain and stagger backwards, out of the way. Quintus’ relief lasted no more than an instant. The injury wouldn’t be enough to stop the brute from rejoining the fight. To survive, he immediately had to disable or kill one of the other two.

With that, a sword hilt smashed into the side of his head. Stars burst across Quintus’ vision, and his knees buckled. Half-conscious, he dropped to the ground.

Hanno had probably run fifty paces before he glanced over his shoulder. Delighted that no one was pursuing him, he sprinted on for another fifty before looking back again. He was on his own. In the clear. Safe. So too, therefore, was Aurelia.

What of Quintus? he wondered with a thrill of dread.

You ran. Coward! Hanno’s conscience screamed.

Quintus told me to, he thought defensively. The idiot couldn’t bring himself to trust me with a gladius.

Does that mean you should leave him to die? his conscience shot back. What chance has he against three grown men?

Hanno screeched to a halt. Turning, he ran uphill as fast as his legs could take him. He took care to count his steps. At eighty, he slowed to a trot. Peering through the trees, he saw the three bandits standing over a motionless figure. Claws of fear savaged Hanno’s guts as he took refuge behind a bush. No! He can’t be dead! When Pollio’s kick made Quintus moan, Hanno was nearly sick with relief. Quintus was alive still. Clearly, he wouldn’t be for long. Hanno clenched his empty fists. What in the name of Baal Saphon can I do?

‘Let’s take him back to the hut,’ Pollio declared.

‘Why?’ complained Balbus. ‘We can just kill the fucker here.’

‘That’s where the fire is, stupid! It won’t have gone out yet,’ replied Pollio with a laugh. ‘I know you’re injured, but Sejanus and I can carry him between us.’

A cruel smile spread across Balbus’ face. ‘Fair enough. There’ll be more sport with some heat, I suppose.’ He watched each of his comrades take one of Quintus’ arms and begin dragging him towards the hut. There was little resistance, but they retained their weapons nonetheless.

This is my chance. All three men had their backs to him, and half a dozen steps separated Balbus from the others. Hanno’s mouth felt very dry. His prospects of success were tiny. Like as not, he’d end up dead, or being tortured alongside Quintus. He could still run. A wave of self-loathing swept over him. He saved you from Agesandros, remember?

Clenching his teeth, Hanno emerged from his hiding place. Grateful for the damp vegetation, which muffled the sound of his feet, he stole forward as fast as he could. Balbus was limping after his comrades, who were alternately grumbling about how much Quintus weighed and waxing lyrical about what they’d do to him. Hanno fixed his gaze on the rusty sword that dangled from Balbus’ right hand. First, he had to arm himself. After that, he had to kill one of the bandits. After that

… Hanno didn’t know. He’d have to trust in the gods.

To Hanno’s relief, his first target didn’t hear him coming. Taking careful aim, he thumped Balbus near the point where Quintus’ arrow had entered his flesh, before neatly catching the sword as it dropped from the screaming bandit’s fingers. Switching it to his right hand, Hanno sprinted for the other two. ‘Hey!’ he shouted.

Their faces twisted with alarm, but Hanno’s delight turned to fear as they dropped Quintus like a sack of grain. Do not let him be hurt, Hanno prayed. Please.

‘You must be a slave,’ Pollio growled. ‘You were unarmed before. Why don’t you join us?’

‘We’ll let you kill your master,’ offered Sejanus. ‘Any way you want.’

Hanno did not dignify the proposal with a reply. Sejanus was nearest, so he went for him first. The big man might have been injured, but he was still deadly with his club. Hanno ducked under one almighty swing, and dodged out of the way of another before seeing Pollio’s spear come thrusting in at him. Desperate, Hanno retreated a few paces. Sejanus lumbered in immediate pursuit, blocking his comrade’s view of Hanno. There was a loud curse from Pollio, and Sejanus’ attention lapsed a fraction.

Hanno darted forward. As the other’s eyes widened in disbelief, Hanno slid his sword deep into his belly. The blade made a horrible, sucking sound as it came out. Blood spurted on to the ground. Sejanus roared with agony; his club fell from his nerveless fingers and both his hands came up to clutch at his abdomen.

Hanno was already spinning to meet Pollio’s attack. The little bandit’s spear stabbed in, narrowly missing his right arm. His heart pounding, Hanno shuffled backwards. His eyes flickered to the side. Despite being in obvious pain, Balbus was about to join the fray. He’d picked up a thick branch. It wouldn’t kill, thought Hanno, but if Balbus landed a blow, he’d easily knock him from his feet. Panic bubbled in his throat, and his sword arm began to tremble.

Get a grip of yourself! Quintus needs you.

Hanno’s breathing steadied. He fixed Balbus with a hard stare. ‘Want a blade in the guts as well as that arrow?’

Balbus flinched, and Hanno went for the kill. ‘Creating fear in an enemy’s heart wins half the battle,’ his father had been fond of saying. ‘Carthage!’ he bellowed, and charged forward. Even if Pollio took him down from behind, Hanno was determined that Balbus would die.

Balbus saw the suicidal look in Hanno’s eyes. He dropped his length of wood and raised both his hands in the air. ‘Don’t kill me,’ he begged.

Hanno didn’t trust the bandit as far as he could throw him; he didn’t know what Pollio was doing either. Dropping his right shoulder, he crashed into Balbus’ chest, sending him flying.

When he turned to face Pollio, the skinny bandit was gone. Pumping his arms and legs as if Cerberus himself were after him, he tore up the slope and was soon lost to view among the trees. Let the bastard go, Hanno thought wearily. He won’t come back. A few steps away, Balbus was in the foetal position, moaning. Further off, Sejanus was already semiconscious from the blood he’d lost.

The fight was over.

Elation filled Hanno for a moment — before he remembered Quintus.

He rushed to the Roman’s side. To his immense relief, Quintus smiled up at him. ‘Are you all right?’ Hanno asked.

Wincing, Quintus lifted a hand to the side of his head. ‘There’s an apple-sized lump here, and it feels as if Jupiter is letting off thunderbolts inside my skull. Apart from that, I’ll be fine, I think.’

‘Thank the gods,’ said Hanno fervently.

‘No,’ replied Quintus. ‘Thank you — for coming back. For disobeying my orders.’

Hanno coloured. ‘I’d never have been able to live with myself if I hadn’t.’

‘But you didn’t have to do it. Even when you did, you could have taken up the bandits’ offer. Turned on me.’ A trace of wonder entered Quintus’ voice. ‘Instead, you took on the three of them, and won.’

‘I-’ Hanno faltered.

‘I’m only alive because of you,’ interrupted Quintus. ‘You have my thanks.’

Seeing Quintus’ sincerity, Hanno inclined his head. ‘You’re welcome.’

As the realisation sank in that they had survived the most desperate of situations, the two grinned at each other like maniacs. These were strange circumstances for both. Master saved by his slave. Roman allied with Carthaginian. Yet both were very aware of a new bond: that of comradeship forged in combat.

It was a good feeling.